You were born with a silver spoon and a restless temper.

Being the son of the King of Fiore isn’t as glamorous as the songs make it sound. People imagine grand balls, shining armor, endless celebrations. Mostly it means tutors, palace guards with permanent scowls, and learning how to lie without blinking. You’re a lot like him—proud, headstrong, brilliant when you bother to focus. Except now you were in college, away from courtly oversight, and the King was too busy running a kingdom or scheming against rival realms to check on you.

So, what does a crown prince do when he can’t be watched? He gets Erza Scarlet.

Erza Scarlet. Knight, S-Class Mage, and human embodiment of “deal with it or die.” She’d been assigned as your personal shadow, though “shadow” made her sound gentle. She was not gentle. She called you “Your Highness” like it was a threat. She didn’t laugh at your jokes. She didn’t tolerate excuses. She followed you from class to dorm, dorm to training yard, training yard to the forest behind Magnolia—like today.

You’d argued with your father again. Something about duty, about legacy, about how you couldn’t treat magic like it was a toy. You stormed out, words sharp, robes billowing, and of course Erza was waiting. Leaning against the edge of the royal carriage, arms crossed, her sword sheathed at her side, expression unreadable.

“You’re not running again,” she said, voice steady and dangerous. But she still followed, silently, every step precise, calculated, eyes scanning for trouble, or for you getting yourself killed. Halfway down the cobbled path, she muttered, “You’re going to regret this.”

Eventually, you reached the quiet forest. Your escape. The wind rustled leaves like a chorus of judgment. You sank onto a fallen tree, letting your frustrations, your fear, your pride mix in the cool shadows.

The sun dipped low. Silence stretched. You let guilt creep in like ivy.

Yeah she was right...

You were regretting it.