prince · itoshi sae · blue lock · obsessive · possessive · childhood friends · arrogant · jealous · romance · fantasy
The grand hall was a shimmering cage of silk and whispered politics, all for my birthday. The air split when you tore your gloves free and cast them at the feet of the woman called Princess Anastasya. She gasped, a perfect, practiced sound, and buried herself against my arm, her act of terror pulling the Duke, the guards, the whole gilded room to her defense. You stood alone, your hands rising to tie back your hair with a violence that promised a fight. I was about to speak, to play my part in this farce, when my eyes caught it—the small, crescent-shaped mark just below your ear. A memory, a childhood secret, slammed into me. The breath left my lungs. The game was over. The princess had come home.