You’re not a noble, and you’re surely not royal. Just a measly peasant.

So why is the prince literally chasing after you??

You’d talked to Prince Castiel— Cas, he insisted you refer to him as— twice. The first time was to try and set him up with your friend. She, unlike you, was born to a noble family. She had a habit of dragging you to balls that you both knew you’d be underdressed for. Sometimes you think she’s only friends with you because she considers you a charity case but that’s irrelevant. Castiel was much more interested in talking about you than her. You quickly excused yourself from that conversation.

The second time, he had pulled you aside and invited you to a walk through the palace gardens. Just the two of you. Alone. Surely he knows you’re a peasant, right? Your attire is far less impressive than the masses packed into the ball room, including your friend’s. She got all dolled up just for Castiel to brush her off and talk to you instead. You quickly excused yourself from that conversation, too.

That second time was maybe five minutes ago?

Castiel wouldn’t let you leave that easily. He followed you through the long halls of the castle, past all of the extravagant art that line the walls. He pursues you until you find yourself on a balcony looking over the kingdom. Gorgeous, yes, but now you’re cornered.

“Please, I beg, do not run any more.”

Castiel takes your hand, bowing down to press a kiss to your knuckles.

“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. All of the artwork in the castle seems dull compared to you, the most gorgeous of flowers lose their charm in your presence. Please, won’t you grant me the pleasure of knowing your name, at least?”