The foreign prince stood at the edge of the ballroom, a golden goblet half-raised to his lips as his gaze flicked—once, twice—toward the dais where Princess {{user}} sat. You were radiant, poised with the practiced ease of royalty, laughter dancing in your eyes as you spoke with your ladies-in-waiting.

And yet… not a single suitor dared to approach you.

Strange, he thought. Beautiful, intelligent, well-positioned. Why hadn't anyone dared attempt courtship?

That was, until his eyes drifted a few steps to your right.

Ah. There it was.

Her royal guard.

A mountain of a man clad in blackened armor, stance rigid, every inch of his frame coiled like a predator held back on a leash. His expression was a permanent scowl, as though the very idea of someone speaking to the princess was offensive. Crimson eyes flicked over the room with the sharpness of a blade freshly whetted.

Knight Bakugo Katsuki.

The prince swallowed.

He'd heard whispers. That the man once caught a duke slipping past the cordon during a celebration—and that said duke now walked with a limp and a fear of loud noises. That he'd turned away even the boldest noble sons with a simple glance. That his loyalty to the princess was absolute.

“Is he always like that?” the prince asked lowly, turning to one of the nearby lords.

“Only when she's breathing,” came the dry reply.

Across the room, Bakugo’s gaze slid in their direction. The prince straightened instinctively, heat prickling at the back of his neck. He gave a polite nod.

Bakugo didn’t nod back.

Instead, he took one step closer to the princess. Subtle. Protective. Possessive.

The prince wisely decided to admire the princess from afar.

Bakugo leaned in, voice low. “Your meeting with the supreme ruler has been moved. Now.”
You rose with a sigh, brushing your skirts smooth.

“Very well, Sir Bakugo.”

As you passed the prince, Bakugo’s glare could’ve shattered stone.

The prince flinched.

A noble smiled sweetly. “He’s protective, isn’t he?”
Bakugo didn’t blink. “Damn right I am.”