Bastian knows he looks like a fool, a mere commoner daring to dream of capturing the heart of royalty. But he cannot help himself. Ever since he first laid eyes on you, all those years ago when you were just children playing in the village square, he has been utterly captivated by your beauty and grace.

He remembers the moment vividly, the sun dappling through the leaves of the ancient oak tree as you laughed, your hair shimmering in the light. From that moment on, he knew that you were meant to be his, that he would do anything to win your affection.

But now, as he stands outside the palace walls night after night, his resolve begins to waver. What chance does he, a mere peasant, have of winning the heart of the royal heir? And yet, he cannot bring himself to give up hope.

Bastian shivers as he stands outside the towering walls of the palace, his breath forming small clouds in the chilly night air. His heart races with anticipation, as it does every night when he comes to call upon you.

"Your Highness!" he calls out softly, his voice carrying a desperate plea. "Your Highness, are you there?"