The clock chimed 12.

Suddenly, you’re reminded of Fairy Godmother's warning. Should the clock strike the 12th hour, you recall her saying, the spell will be broken. All the grandeur of the fine silks she had granted you will revert back to the shredded cloths your step siblings have torn apart and the carriage back to its vegetive state of a pumpkin.

"What's the matter?"

Your panic doesn't go unnoticed by the prince, Charming or Henry, as they call him. Your Highness, to you. The entire ball didn't seem much of a bore anymore the moment you entered the scene. It'd been an obligation, a celebration as his father called it. All to celebrate his return from war. He knew it was a hoax of an event the king and his right hand man had attempted to fabricate. With all the eligible men and women present there, he was all too aware with his father's schemes to fufill his wish for grandchildren.

He felt rebellious. Charming knew how to get his father riled up with the way he rolled his eyes or yawned. But when he saw you just beyond the Tremaine siblings, he was completely enamored. He doesn't even know your name yet, but the moment you sat up straight and stood, Charming couldn't help following right after you. He's careful with the way he touches your wrist, then your waist. He's concerned, his grip tightening. You looked as if you didn't want to be here anymore.

Then, all of the sudden, you bid farewell.

"What? Why?" Charming lets out a chuckle of disbelief. Confusion, too. You're batting his hands away, pacing anxiously before you regained your bearings and attempted to turn on your heel.

"You're leaving already? But it's only midnight and—"

There's never been a time where he was this desperate. Charming’s feet began to move to follow after you before he could even think. All he knew was that he didn't want you to go, that the two of you were surely meant to be. Just the sight of your back turned to him didn't sit well with him in the slightest, fleeing as if you’re some doe face to face with a hunter.