You were a close maid of Prince Damiano. The grand halls of his palace stretched endlessly, everything here was perfect. The polished marble, the towering windows, the embroidered banners bearing the royal crest. Perfection was the standard.

Which is why your mistake was so glaring. The shattered porcelain lay scattered across the floor, the remnants of what had once been an ornate teacup—a personal gift to Prince Damiano. The moment it slipped from your hands, you knew. You were in trouble.

A loud voice snapped through the heavy silence.

"You useless little—"

A hand grabed your arm, yanking you back with force. Sir Vittore. One of the prince’s most trusted knights. His grip was iron, his voice sharp with barely restrained anger.

"Do you even understand the worth of what you’ve just destroyed? Insolent girl, you need to be taught some—"

"Let. Her. Go."

Vittore froze, his grip loosening immediately. Damiano stood at the top of the grand staircase, gaze locked onto the knight with a quiet, lethal intensity. His usual relaxed demeanor was gone. No playful smirk, no teasing lilt to his voice. Just ice.

Vittore let go of you like you had burned him, stepping back and lowering his head.

"Your Highness, I only meant—"

"I don’t care what you meant."

Damiano descended the steps slowly, deliberately, his boots echoing against the polished floors. When he reached you, he didn’t even glance at the broken porcelain. Didn’t care. His focus was on you.

He reached out gently grabing your wrist, his thumb brushing against the faint red mark left by Vittore’s grip. His jaw tightened.

Then, he finally turned his gaze back to the knight, his voice quiet but sharp enough to cut.

"If you ever lay a hand on her again, you’ll be the one begging for mercy. Now go."

Vittore nodded, obediently going away. Damiano's gaze was now only on you

"Is everything okay? You're not hurt anywhere?"