the prince - suguru geto
“eye contact is way more intimate than words will ever be”
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includes: yandere prince!suguru x fem!reader
i.e. during an annual event where the aristocracy meets to discuss trade and treaties, prince suguru becomes fixated on you- a lowly servant of the gojo empire.
warnings: yandere themes! drugging, kidnapping
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a.n. - i took some inspo from a great book as a little easter egg for one specific scene. if you get it right, you get a gold star!
words: ~4.6k
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a sewing needle pressed into your thigh keeps you awake as you glance sleepily around the extravagant royal event. the seamstress must have accidentally left one in your uniform while fixing a hole. or maybe not.
you swear the old woman hates you.
it’s the third ball this month, seemingly getting more frequent as if your beautiful prince just can’t help himself. you stifle a yawn, shifting from one foot to the other.
all the other servants stand beside you in a neat row against the far back wall, just waiting until one of the elite needs a refill of wine, or to fetch a plate of food, or whatever else they might need from the help.
as a royal servant of the gojo empire, you’re used to events like these.
grand royal balls commenced beneath cascading crystal chandeliers that drip golden light onto the sea of nobles below. silk-embroidered lanterns sway from gilded arches, the warm glow dancing across marble floors, casting intricate shadows that seem to whisper of century-old secrets.
laughter and the sound of clinking glasses rise like a song of polished ignorance (or perhaps just indifference). but the room stills suddenly as the grand doors open and the prince arrives- not because he demands the attention, but because he truly is the only thing worth looking at.
he’s beautiful.
with his sly smile and cunning eyes, prince gojo could find a princess bride in just a day if he truly wanted. the quiet sighs of the servants on either side of you reach your ears, and you roll your eyes at their swooning. but, secretly- it’s all for show. you’d be lying if you claimed to not find satoru dangerously enchanting.
his snow-white hair drips down to his blue eyes- so bright they could almost glow. he’s chatting very animately now with anyone who would listen. in almost the 10 years you’ve worked in this castle- since you were a little girl- you can’t think of a single time he’s shut up. you have to stop yourself from snorting at your own thoughts, and you feel an elbow hitting your side. your friend, a maid around the same age as you, gives you a stern look.
“stop it.” she hisses, though the amusement in her eyes betrays her. you just shrug at her in response, biting back a smile.
suddenly, you catch sight of something you’ve been waiting for all night. the quick gesture of a raised hand, a glance in your direction. your eyes flick to the empty glass in the esquire’s hand, and you hurry to grab an extra bottle from the wine cart.
your walk is swift and polished, careful to avoid any drunk and swaying aristocrat. eventually you reach the man, noticing his heavyset figure bloating out of his perfectly-crafted suit. you purse your lips in indignation.
the people are starving.
but you suppose a man like that has no reason to care.
if i were queen, you think, but nope. don’t go there. it’s profanity to speak against the nobility. the royal’s blessings they claim to have given to the people seem more like empty promises- the kingdom still suffering quietly while the high family stays locked away in their gilded towers.
you give a fake, sugary-sweet smile to the nobleman, refilling his glass steadily. but just as you raise the bottle to finish, he swipes his hand to knock it away.
“that’s enough!” he slurs, obviously intoxicated. the bottle from his movement splatters wine all over the white cotton tablecloth, and once noticed he looks up at you in irritation.
“what did you do?” he hisses through his teeth, grabbing your wrist in a tight grip. you wince at the contact, his disgustingly hot breath on your face.
“i’m so-i’m very sorry, sir. can you please let go of my arm? i will clean this up at once,” you attempt to keep your voice light, to not let the smile drip from your face.
“you should know better! this is unacceptable. i traveled hundreds of miles to get here for this ball and this is the service i recieve? i am a nobleman, i deserve-”
“let go of her arm.”
just as fear began entering into your bloodstream, making your heart pound as you worry for your poor wrist, a dark, smooth voice fills your ears.
both the esquire and yourself look up to see a regal figure with raven-black hair cascading over sharp, chiseled features. dark, expressive eyes peer intensely at you from his tall stance.
“i won’t ask again,” he murmurs, and the drunk man lets go of your wrist. with a disgruntled curse, he gets up from the table and stalks off, leaving you alone with the mysterious gentleman.
the bottle was set down sometime during the chaos, and you can’t stop yourself from bringing your arm up to your chest, rubbing at the bruise with your other hand.
your eyes drift downward, afraid to look at the man. the individual is obviously of high status, and you scared to wonder which hierarchal step he stands on.
“are you okay?” he croons at you. he bends down slightly, crouching his knees and tilting his head to meet your eyes. you can see his face more clearly this way. handsome now feels like an understatement. he’s gorgeous. porcelain skin, strong jaw.
but a man of status, lowering himself to a servant? unheard of. your cheeks warm, and you feel slightly perturbed at his lack of appropriate conduct.
your eyes meet his, though not by your own choice. you nod, slightly, not knowing if you’re even allowed to speak. it’s obvious he has authority, and you’re nervous to see what he commands with it. his eyes continue to search your own, looking for something. he seems to find it- whatever it is- and gives a nod of his own, a small smirk forming. the look on his face is pure amusement, and you have to wonder for a quick second if he’s enjoying this.
he rises back to his full height, as do you. it’s clear he’s around your age, maybe a bit older, though your head barely meets his shoulder. he’s standing close to you (too close, almost), and you step back to get some space. the corners of his mouth widen in response.
“well, uh, thank you. i should-” you move to grab some cleaning supplies- or at least a replacement tablecloth- but he stops you before you can, inturrupting your exclamation.
“what’s your name?” his head tilts again, with the same intensity as before. you shiver.
you pause before you respond. because why does he care? you suppose it would be even worse to deny his request for your name, so you give it, reluctantly- bit suspicious.
he hums, thinking. then he repeats it, trying it out on his own tongue. after you suppose he’s finished, he looks at you like he’s waiting for something. he still has that smile, like he knows something that you don’t.
you realize with a start that he’s waiting for a special little question of your own.
“oh! uh, what’s…your name?” you cringe at the question. you can’t believe yourself. asking that as a servant- a lowly maid- to an aristocrat? you must be going crazy.
he chuckles at you, softly. his eyes crinkle at the sides, and you swear he hasn’t blinked once during the entire conversation.
“suguru. prince suguru.”
the first thing you notice is that he didn’t give you a last name, only a primary. as if he didn’t even want you to have the option of calling him by his surname.
the second thing you notice should have been the first thing. prince.
he. is. a. prince.
you think you’re going pale. you feel the warmth seep from your face and your hands give a little shudder at the word. you assumed you were talking to an esquire, or at the very most an earl or even a duke. but a prince?
a man like him has no business talking to a lowly servant, if only a wave of the hand when in need. this is wrong. this is not appropriate, this is-
“are you okay?” he snickers, eyes ablaze once again. you zone back in to his words, but you can’t bring yourself to speak. you get out a few sputters, before gesturing with your hands that you need to attend to the table. you leave him there- he never excused you to leave, by the way- because you think your heart might stop beating if you spend another second talking to a prince.
that word keeps repeating in your head. prince. prince. prince.
you think you might be going crazy. he knows your name now- should you be afriad? did you insult him by leaving suddenly without his permission? will he retaliate? get you fired…or worse?
quickly, you glance over your shoulder. prince gojo is laughing as he approaches prince suguru (oh how you wish you knew his surname), clapping him on the shoulder. you can hear his boisterous “welcome!” from across the room, and you know at once that they know each other. they’re friends, for sure.
what have you gotten yourself into?
————
the next day, the halls of the palace are still bustling with people- those with status and servants alike.
before the ball was commenced last night, you were told that the event would be a special one. people would be traveling from across the kingdoms to attend- something about peace treaties and trade? you never bothered yourself with the specifics. why would you, after all?
even after the night of celebration, there is still much to be done. almost every room in the palace is filled with guests, and your fellow maids and maidservants rush to attend to the specific room that had been assigned to them.
the room number your head maid had assigned to you is somewhere on the west wing. which unfortunately for you, is the royal wing.
most maids would be ecstatic to be serving the royal wing for such an event like this, but there is also more risk involved. messing up a task for a duke, for example, would get you punished lightly- like a slap on the wrist. but messing up for a royal? you shudder at the thought.
but alas, you can’t just not go, so you pack up your supplies- cleaning, and whatnot- and head towards your assignment.
————
the first thing you notice when you step into the room is how neat it is- almost meticulously clean. you think that you’re the only maid assigned to this room, so you’re a little perplexed. most nobles couldn’t care less about cleaning, leaving the task to their attendants instead.
setting your little rugsack down, you glance around, looking for any sign of life. confident that you’re alone, you decide to look around to see what you can start cleaning.
you notice a few books neatly stacked on the desk, clothes folded neatly in shelves, polished boots near the door. bed made, towels folded, soft azure curtains tied gently to the side of the window.
honestly…there’s not much else you could do for this mysterious person. you have half a mind to go back down the servants’ staircase to check that this room hasn’t been double assigned.
you pad over to the desk in the corner, only to find a notebook spread open on the wooden surface. you don’t mean to look…honestly, you don’t. but curiosity wins over.
it’s your name.
written over and over and over again. some renditions neat, orderly. others seem like it was written furiously. there’s ink splotched all over the paper, as if the quill was pressed into the paper so hard it splattered. top to bottom, its just your name. you look at the page in horror. could it be about someone else? so incredible confused, you’re not sure what to make of it.
your eyes drift to a stack of papers next to the notebook. official documents, it seems, talking of trade and expenses. who stays in this room that has enough authority to deal with trade? a duke, maybe? deciding not to pry futher, you back away, but not before seeing a name in the top right corner.
~ Suguru Geto- Prince of the Geto Empire ~
a gasp get stuck in your throat. you feel frozen. no. not him. please.
you turn to remove yourself from the room, but before you can, the sound of footsteps behind you alert you to a new presence.
you already know who it is. who else could it be? you can already feel his stare, his knowing smile. his condescending tone, his beautiful, dangerous face.
a maid has been caught snooping.
“i wasn’t expecting you so soon, but i can’t say i’m disappointed,” he says, calmly.
slowly, you turn around to meet him. his gaze shift from your figure to the notebook behind you, then back to you. he says nothing, just tilts his head at you.
“something wrong?” he asks. what did he want you to say?
you lower yourself into a curtsey, hoping that he won’t speak on the position he found you in.
“prince geto! welcome. if there is anything i can do for you, please let me know.” you hope your formality will make up for your unprofessionalism.
but his eyes narrow at your words, ignoring the latter half of your sentence.
“my name is suguru.” his tone is blunt, speaking like you’ve done something wrong. you blink at him, not sure how to respond. yes, his name is suguru, but…what has that to do with you? he is a prince, therefore you must address him as such.
as though he senses the war in your head, he clarifies.
“you can call me suguru!” he smiles, cheerfully. you wonder if prince satoru has rubbed off on him since he arrived, the switch in demeanor making you feel dizzy.
you rise back up with your arms at your sides, feeling awkward all of a sudden. you’re not sure what to say. your cheeks redden and your eyes glance around the room.
“uh, well, do you need anything?” you say, a bit meekly. he just hums as a response, still smiling.
————
eventually, you manage to find some excuse to leave, and hours later, you still can’t get that notebook page out of your mind. why did he write that? could it have been about someone else? you wrack your brain, trying to remember any other royal with your name, but you come up empty.
it just simply makes no sense. there is no motive for his attention on you. no reason why he cares.
the next morning, its clear that prince suguru has located which room you stay in. a letter, delivered to you by a wide-eyed maid. undoubtedly, she saw who it was from- his name written in beautiful cursive on the envelope. it takes you a few minutes to open it, but you do eventually with shaking hands.
“at the event tonight, wear this dress. i had it made for you.” short, simple, almost sweet if it were to come from anyone else.
right, the event tonight. it’s is the last night before the guests leave, the last night to mingle with other kingdoms before returning home. it will be similar to the first, but you briefly remember hearing talk of a masquerade and courting dances. the princesses are to attend tonight, hoping to catch the attention of the new generation of royals- suguru and satoru included.
but the dress? you’re not sure what he’s referring to, since the only thing you received was a letter. however, a few minutes later, the same maid comes barreling in, holding a parcel of some kind. she’s huffing, out of breath.
“sorry,” she coughs, bending down to put her hands on her knees, “this came with it. i didn’t know.” she leaves, and you open the parcel to pull out a heap of fabric. you stand up, holding it out to see what it is.
a dress- gorgeous blue the color of the sky at dusk, with silver beads that look like stars running down the length in swirls. its so, so beautiful.
you sigh. how could he think you could wear this? there’s no way you could. a maid, showing up to a ball in a dress made for one of the elite. it would be treason.
you hear a thump behind you, and you glance down to see what fell. its a mask, of some kind, the same color of the dress. you pick it up, and notice the details: dark and blue lace and silver beads, with a small string to tie it back.
tonight is a masquerade, right? did he really think you’re going to go through with this?
will he be mad if you don’t?
you don’t get the chance to wonder for long. gasps ring out behind the closed door of your room, and your head shoots up at the sound of it right before knuckles knock against the wood.
someone’s here. desperately, you look around to see where you could possibly hide the dress. shoving it into your bed, you pull out your covers to hopefully hide what you can.
as a maid, are you allowed to own something like that? could you be accused of stealing it?
you spin around, the door opens, and there he is- in all his glory. the prince.
“you’re here,” you sputter, in complete surprise.
“i’m here,” he answers, grinning, obviously enjoying your lack of formal greeting. sensing your mistake, you quickly drop into a curtsy before rising. his smile drops.
“stop that.” he’s stern, and you find yourself gulping. stop what? you’re not even sure.
“prince suguru,” at the use of his first name, his smile returns. “…what are you doing here? this is no place for a prince.”
he smiles knowingly, almost teasingly. he leans down and smirks.
“it’s no place for a princess, either.” you blink at that, not knowing how to respond, but you decide to continue with the banter.
“well…there’s no princess in here.” he laughs at your words, a boyish sort of laugh, and you have to reprimand yourself internally at the effect it has on you.
he looks around your room, at all your little nicknacks and belongings. he seems to be searching for something, and his eyebrows furrow when he doesn’t see it.
“you didn’t get the dress?” he asks, and at his words you remember how you stuffed it under your covers.
“well i thought,” you pause, before coming to a different realization. “..wait, why send me it in a parcel with a letter if you were coming here yourself anyways?”
at your words he shrugs lightheartedly. “you needed an official invitation. now you have one.” he says it so confidently, like you should have known from the beginning.
he steps around you, pulling back drawers and crouching to look under your bed. you’re slightly embarassed as he studies all of your meager possessions. eventually, he pulls back the covers, revealing the dress.
he looks over his shoulder at you, raising an eyebrow, as if he’s saying really? you shrug, not giving him a response. it dawns on you then, how casual you’re being with each other. talking like you’re friends.
“wear this tonight. please.” he towers over you. but you sigh and look down.
“i can’t, suguru. like i really, really can’t.” he’s silent, unnervingly so. confused at his lack of response, you look back up. his lips are pursed and his face is set in a way that screams “listen to me.” and suddenly you remember once who you’re talking to.
he steps even closer, and tilts your face up. you shiver at the contact, and try to pull away, but he brings you back with a hand on the back of your neck.
he holds you there, face so close you can feel his cool breath on your cheeks.
“stay still,” he murmurs. his eyes bore into yours, and you can see emotions swirling around, gaze fixated on you.
you can’t even remember a time when suguru wasn’t looking at you like he it would kill him to look away. it scares you.
he inches closer, and you shut your eyes. it’s silent for a moment, and you don’t know what’s happening, only that he’s holding you so close and you don’t know what to do with your hands.
his lips touch yours- almost hesitantly. a soft, featherlight touch. he does it again, and again, each one gaining in fervor. eventually you pull back (but only because he lets you) to breathe, small gasps of air puffed out against his neck.
he leans down to your ear.
“you will go to the ball. and you will wear the dress.”
and with that, he steps out of your small room, and closes the door.
————
hours later, you’ve managed to put on the dress and the mask. you stand on a balcony overlooking a sea of colorful gowns and sleek, fox-like masks that swirl and twirl in the brisk night lit by candlelight. musical notes of violin dance through the air as you gaze down upon the scene.
you see him, from where you’re standing. down, near the back of the event, sits suguru next to satoru. the both of them, laughing, surrounded by beautiful women in dresses similar to yours. you can’t bring yourself to go down. how could you?
the mask is not enough to hide what you truly are. while you highly doubt anyone would truly recognize you, you would know of your deceit and that is somehow enough to warrant your absence.
you see him glancing around every now and again, eyes searching for a girl he will not see. you know now, you cannot go. the mask isn’t enough. and this beautiful dress…it will never be for you.
eventually, after you’ve had enough time to think, you take yourself back down to your room, where you change out of the gown and fold it neatly back into the parcel. walking fast, you make it to suguru’s room, placing it on the bed. you grab a piece of paper and a pen, and write a note of your own.
-thank you for the opportunity, it would have been a wonderful night. but you chose the wrong girl.
i’m sorry.-
you avoid running into anyone else on the journey back to your room, already imagining his disappointed eyes. but what was he expecting? he needs to turn this kind of attention onto a princess, not a servant like you. it’s unfathomable how you’ve let it go on for this long.
it needs to end.
as you get ready for bed, you sip on the tea that was placed on your nightstand. from another maid, you guessed. what a nice thing to do. it’s a sweet tea, the herbs rich in flavor. expensive tea, maybe? but you’re suddenly too tired to think on it more.
you tuck yourself into bed, grateful that by tomorrow, the prince will be on a carriage, far away from the castle you deem home.
————
you groan, waking up after what feels like hours of sleep. you see the sun shining behind your eyelids, and you’re worried that you may have slept in. your head maid would be furious.
you groan once more, a searing headache finding itself between your eyebrows. your hand massages your forehead as you sit up, and you feel something on your lower back, pushing you as if to help you. you open your eyes, squinting, and the inside of a carriage greets your vision.
you’re not in your room, you realize. groggily, you take in your surroundings.
“ah, i’m so glad you’re awake.” a voice rumbles next to you, and you crane your head to find a man sitting next to you. you jolt in panic when you realize you had been laying your head in their lap.
“don’t be frightened,” the man says again, and you curse whatever is making you feel so strange. its suguru, you recognize after a moment.
“prince..suguru?” your voice comes out scratchy, and it sounds almost muffled in your ears. the thing on your lower back, his hand, you realize, starts rubbing back-and-forth soothing motions.
“you’re alright,” he croons at you. “take your time.” his dark eyes track your movements, black hair tied up neatly.
you glance around, looking outside the small opening into the environment. you don’t recognize it, you realize. wherever you are, it’s further than you’ve ever ventured in your life.
“where are we?” you ask, your voice panicky. “what did you do?” you cry out, pushing away from him to the other side of the carriage.
“easy. don’t hurt yourself.” he holds his arms out to steady you. scratchy fabric pulls your attention downward, and you find yourself wearing the gown from the night before.
you didn’t go to the party…you fell asleep in your own bed…but….
the tea. you feel your heart drop.
“what? what?” you mumble, shaking your head. “no…no why did you-” he shushes you with a finger to your lips, and smiles so soft, with that expression he’s given you since the beginning.
so understanding, so kind, so…patrionizing. he looks at you like you’re a baby in need of guidance.
“you’re okay, everythings okay. oh, honey, i wish you came to the ball last night. it would have been so much easier.” he holds up a paper in his hands. it looks like a legal document, a little like a birth certificate. it has your name on it- large, cursive letters surrounded by other information about you.
there’s a title at the bottom, written in blocky letters:
“born princess, heir to the throne of the {} kingdom.”
you realize with a start that its a forged title document, given to children at birth of noble titles. it’s used to enter prestigious balls- without specific invitations- and to marry those of similar titles. you never received one, being that you’re from the lower class.
you’ve never heard of the name of the kingdom written that has your surname attached to it, but you suppose it doesn’t matter much with the ever-growing world. you feel your jaw go slack. he’s made you- forged you- into a royal.
he laughs in glee as he notices your expression of horror at what he’s done. your headache pulses in your head, and your vision swims as you try to keep up. what is happening?
“don’t worry, i know you’re tired, my beloved. once we arrive, the wedding ceremony will only take an hour or two,” he hums, patting your head.
the ceremony? a sheen of light catches your eye and you look down. an engagement ring.
you collapse, not able to take anything else, the drugs in your system fighting against your mind. consciousness drifts away as you feel him drag you back onto his lap.
“you’ll be okay.”
—————————
bonus-
suguru looks down at you, finally content. so much time spent waiting for just this moment- when he could finally get you back.
years ago, prince suguru visited the gojo empire with his parents to sign a peace treaty with the kingdom. finally, peace at last.
while wandering the halls, he caught sight of a young girl outside a window, picking flowers. a bit bored and needing entertainment, he found himself approaching her.
they talked for hours, playing in the gardens, talking about anything that came to mind. he told her that he’s a prince, but the girl didn’t know what that meant yet- too young to understand.
everyone treated him like he was made of glass, like he was a god. even satoru couldn’t understand- he’s always loved the attention.
but you didn’t treat him any differently. you spoke to him like a friend.
that day, you told him everything that was on your mind, dragged him to all your favorite parts of the palace, and judged him of his “weird clothing” (his princely attire). you treated him like an actual person.
he supposes that if he’s ever been in love, it was with you. he was devasted when his parents dragged him away. they scoffed at his behavior, not knowing what their perfect son saw in a little servant girl.
he was a bit sad when you didn’t remember him at the first gala, but you were so young when he first met you. he didn’t blame you.
to him, you were everything. his only true friend, despite only knowing you for a week. being a prince is devastatingly lonely, but the memory of your laughter kept him company in even the darkest parts of his childhood.
he vowed that one day, he would find you again.
and once he did, nothing could stop him from taking what’s his.
——————————
i literally can’t tell if this is good or bad so lmk what you think 😛!
like/comment/repost!!
not proofread, picture found on pinterest, quote not mine!
