Brief note: all chapters of this story are based off the non-gree version of Be My Princess. Unless noted otherwise, they will follow the paid app's individual storylines for all the princes. That being said, I borrow pieces of the MC's personality from the GREE version, specifically in Keith's chapters, because there's no better MC than an MC who regularly calls out their love interest on being an asshole.

Forget Me Not

Chapter 1: Keith & MC.

Prompt:

"Please don't say you love me."

I can't breathe. Her thoughts said what she couldn't voice, the lump in her throat a direct response to the tension in the air around them. She wasn't sure at what point the music had stopped or when his gaze had gone from gentle to heated, but the dread building in the pit of her stomach had been there from the moment Luke had come to stop that ship from returning to Charles. The arms around her waist had failed to capture her attention, the calm depths of his eyes having long ago pushed any other thoughts away from her mind.

"Your Highness..." When she finally found her voice, it was weak and unfamiliar to her own ears. Her lips pressed firmly together before she could get anything else out, and as if she had pulled him out of his own head, his expression relaxed at the sound of her voice. Not missing a beat, he smiled, though beneath the surface, she thought she saw a twitch at the corner of his lips. Was he nervous? The boisterous, confident, assertive lion prince?

"It's the opposite of that day, isn't it?" He sounded hoarse, the remnants of raw emotion leaking into his own voice as he regarded her with careful scrutiny. The furrow of his brow returned for a split second, but he wasn't one to be deterred, even if her form had begun to tremble in his grasp. He tightened his arm around her waist, raising one hand to thumb at a loose strand of hair that had fallen loose from her bun. She winced and his closeness wavered.

She hadn't stayed, and still, he'd come after her. She'd made a conscious decision to leave before this very scene could play out and yet there they stood, a confession on the tip of his tongue and sobs on the tip of hers. This isn't right. It won't work. We can't work. She'd told herself this over and over and over, preparing herself to get on that ship and he'd ruined it. He'd ruined it because he was too stubborn to see what she could, too stubborn to understand her position in all of this. Royalty didn't equate to getting what he wanted. She'd tried to teach him that. Even now, it'd fallen on partially deaf ears.

"This time, I'm proposing to you." His voice lowered, a whisper only she could hear. As if in respect, she saw a flicker of movement from the corner of her eyes and surmised that both Zain and Lord Michel (Mike, she chided herself) must have averted their attention for the time being. The hand that had been hovering by her cheek closed the distance, hesitant fingers finally brushing against her heated skin. She was sure everything to the tips of her ears were red, but the turmoil in her eyes had to have betrayed her. Her gaze fell away from his, and she swallowed thickly, trying to calm herself.

She felt like she would throw up or burst into tears. Both, maybe.

As she pondered what his shoes would look like were the worst to happen, and wondered at how angry he'd get at her for ruining the moment, she couldn't help but note how gently he was treating her. His confidence had waned because of her silence. She knew it. He knew she knew it. His hand pressed more firmly against her cheek; whether to lift her head back up or to keep his fingers from shaking, she had no idea.

"I-"

"Don't." It came out before she even thought about it, and immediately, she felt herself choke up again. Her eyes widened in surprise and his narrowed. He wasn't angry, though. She knew the signs of his anger; everything from the furrow of his brow to the subtle frown on his lips. He was faltering, and without her noticing, the thumb that had been stroking her cheek stilled. No, she begged, her body tensing in his hold. Don't look at me like that. Don't. "Don't say it."

They both knew. He was stubborn but not stupid, and while she wasn't the quickest to catch on to the emotions of others, there was a certain point where obliviousness stopped being cute.

Her hand reached up to grab his and, as if she were handling glass, she pulled it away from her. She took a step back, and much to her surprise, he let her, although his lips tightened in a way that told her he wasn't exactly going to let her go without protest. It must have been something about the way she looked that kept him from getting annoyed, however, because he didn't lash out. There was no childish argument at the end of this. Throwing around a few insults and finding some way to gravitate towards one-another in spite of it wasn't going to resolve whatever... this was.

"Please don't."

"You don't want to hear how I feel about you? Impertinent... Interrupting me at a time like this..." There was a small quirk at the corner of his mouth, but it wasn't humorous at all. There was a pang in her chest, because he was almost desperate in his attempt to lighten the mood, which was very unlike him. At least in accordance to his usual behavior. Sometimes even she had to remind herself – there's so much more beneath the surface. "Listen to me..."

"No." Another step back and her resolve faltered again. She couldn't get it out. She couldn't just tell him to let it go. They couldn't do this. His world was beyond her reach; her world was beneath his. She closed her eyes, her hands raising to signal him to stop when she heard him take a few steps forward. "Please don't say you love me. Don't. Your Highness... you're royalty. I'm... We can't."

Of course he didn't stop. Because Keith was Keith. He was presumptuous and annoying and every goddamn thing she ever said to him went in one ear and out the other. And she wished that made her hate him because then this would be so much easier.

It was like hugging a plank of wood. His arm wrapped around her again, this time pulling her full against his chest. "Because I'm royalty...? Who cares?" He sounded agitated from above her, his cheek resting against the top of her head as his free hand rose to toy with stray strands of her hair. Her heart broke because she could hear his breaking. There was a subtle tremble in his voice. He was hurt.

"I do." She felt him pause and at once, she admonished herself for that word choice. This wasn't the circumstance under which he'd hoped to hear those words, and on the verge of panicking, she let out a gasp that turned into a sob halfway through. Finally, the last straw broke and she felt something tickling her skin; the heat of tears making her once again try to push away from him in embarrassment. This time, he wasn't so accommodating. He tightened his hold, which in turn caused her to struggle, and finally, she forced herself away from him. "I care! Keith, I...!"

One look at his face gave her pause. The false anger she'd pinpointed had become more overbearing. He was glaring at her, his hands balled into fists at his side, but the rims of his eyes were red.

"...I'm scared." She finished meekly, the muscles in her body loosening up one by one until she thought she'd collapse then and there. Scared. She felt so stupid, admitting it. She was scared of disappointing him. She was scared of disappointing herself. Failing his family, failing Liberty. A commoner had no place among royals. To nudge him in the right direction – that had been one thing. To stand beside him and address an entire kingdom as if she had any right to be their Queen... She wasn't even one of them. A commoner – a foreigner – an impertinent woman who talked back.

She was no princess.

"That's what you're worried about...?" She had to give him credit for managing to sound exasperated even when all his emotions, heated on a normal day, were at their boiling point. "That's ridiculous."

"It's not!" She found her bark without meaning to, and all at once, her own expression became one of frustration. He didn't understand. How could he!? He had no sense of what he was asking her to do; no idea how hard it was or how terrifying. To stand up and try even when you didn't believe you were good enough...

It wasn't fair. This wasn't fair. Why him? Why did it have to be him?

"..." In her silence, he seemed to be at a loss. His tongue was bit, trying to remain cordial even though it was not in his nature to do so. He wanted to grab her and throw her into the car returning to Liberty. He wanted to tell her she had no choice. Even more so, he wanted to tell her how he felt; how much he needed her because there was no one else like her. There was no one else who would go head to head with him and stand their ground against him, even when he thought he was in the right. There was no one else who would make him laugh ten minutes after yelling at him, or who would greet him by calling him an asshole and still make him smile. There was no other woman he would ever find who would grab his attention the way she had; who would somehow, against all odds, make him fall in love with her and change his way of thinking for the better.

He wanted to beg her to stay, so that next time he woke up, she would be there with him. So that he wouldn't have to roam the castle halls calling out for a love he was terrified he'd somehow driven away. So he didn't look back, years from now, and admonish himself because the one time he'd wanted someone with him more than anyone else he'd ever crossed paths with, he'd been too proud to fight for them.

"Then go." What came out, instead, was the opposite of everything he needed to say and against his better judgment and the regretful, fast pounding of his heart, he sneered at her. "If you don't want to hear what I have to say, just leave. I'm wasting your time and you're wasting mine."

She startled against his harsh tone, her eyes widening with the shock and hurt when she realized what he'd said. He wasn't sure how long they stood there in silence, but after some time, her gaze softened and he hated her for it. He hated her because he knew that she had caught on; that he didn't actually want her to go, but they both knew she was going to leave anyways. He briefly entertained the thought of turning and being the one to leave her there, but for once, he allowed his pride to take the hit. He wouldn't be the one who walked away from this. He wouldn't be the one who walked away from the possibility of them.

"I'm sorry..." His gaze tore away from her and locked onto something off to the side. Whilst he tried to distract himself in wondering where Michel and his butler had disappeared to, she slowly, carefully stepped around him, one hand pressed against her mouth to muffle her sobs as she did. It didn't do much; he could still hear her sniffles.

Last chance, he couldn't help but remind himself as he heard her heels clicking against the floor. He saw her figure pass by from the corner of his eye and listened as her steps grew quicker. Last chance. It was his last chance to reach out; to chase after her, to tell her how he felt, to reassure her that they could make it. That she didn't have to be afraid because she had him.

Something painful swelled up in his chest. He took a step and began to turn towards her, but stopped last minute. Keith's lips pressed together, and as the seconds ticked by, the sound of her steps grew distant and faint. He stood there for a while longer, letting it sink in that she'd be gone from the castle grounds, most likely, by time he managed to reach the entrance. And so, as he took a deep breath and turned to go search for Luke, he told himself, oh well. You tried.

There was a sore ache in the back of his throat and a stinging in his eyes that assured him that they hadn't tried hard enough.