It had been a normal day for Mason up until roughly twenty minutes into his world history class. 

The professor had spent the past fifteen minutes explaining their upcoming assignment, Mason was barely even paying attention, too focused on staring at his phone. He had texted Paris just before the lecture began and she still hadn't responded. He was getting a little impatient. 

"Now, if everyone can please flip over the sheet of paper in front of you." There was a sheet of paper in front of him? 

Mason shook his head to clear his thoughts, following the instructor's directions and turning over the notecard on his desk. "Whatever is written on this paper will be what you are researching, whether it be a kingdom, a war, or a person."

Mason's paper read The Mysterian Kingdom; he'd never even heard of it before. 

"The assignment is due in two days." Well shit. Mason didn't even know what he was supposed to be submitting, he was totally fucked. 

His phone vibrated just then and he almost knocked his laptop off the table in his haste to pick it up. He grinned as he saw Paris's contact name, absentmindedly thinking that he should change it to something other than just her name now that they were dating. He just wasn't sure what. 

Mason's chest warmed as he read the text. It wasn't an especially sweet or flirty message by any means, she was simply asking if he had eaten (he had a terrible habit of forgetting when he had earlier lectures) but it still made him happy to know she was thinking of him. 

He quickly responded, informing her that he had in fact eaten that morning, before finally turning his attention to the assignment. Hopefully Mason's professor had emailed everyone the instructions as well; she usually did. 

Mason quickly checked his inbox, sighing in relief when he noticed the most recent email was for his current class. 

After quickly skimming the longer-than-necessary paragraph he finally surmised that he was supposed to be writing a research paper. He could definitely do that. 

He swiftly typed the topic he was given into the search bar, eyes growing comically wide when the first photo to pop up featured a very familiar face. "What the hell," he muttered confusedly. 

Was that Paris?

"Holy shit," he whispered to himself with a grin. 

There was no way in hell that this was how she was getting back at him. He couldn't even begin to imagine what she had to do in order to get his professor involved. And - seeing that Mysteria was a real place based on the map on the corner of his screen- he was wondering how the hell she managed to guarantee her photo would be the first to come up.

To think she had done all this for a silly ass prank; Mason had to give the girl props.

He laughed softly, disbelieving as he clicked on the link that the photo led to. But wait- why was the article dated over a year ago?

His stomach dropped. 

He quickly went back to the search page, going into the Images tab and scrolling only to see dozens upon dozens of photos with Paris in them. He enlarged a photo featuring only her - albeit she was surrounded by a group of people - wearing a very expensive looking outfit. 

The caption was Princess Anastasia Paris Middleton of Mysteria visiting her people.

Mason reeled back as though he was physically hit, his mind struggling to wrap around the newfound information and his hands beginning to shake. 

Even if she had been planning it since the day they met, it would be physically impossible for her to do all of this unless she had somehow mastered the art of fucking time travel. He foolishly wished it was the latter. 

Because if it wasn't, it meant that Paris (no, Anastasia) had been lying to Mason this entire time. Since the first moment they met she had purposefully hidden who she was; whether it had just been her title and name or everything else about her too, he couldn't say. Because he didn't fucking know. 

And that's what made him the most uneasy. 

Was everything a lie? Was their relationship even real?

~~~

He hadn't meant to bring it up like that. He hadn't meant to completely explode and take all his frustration out on her. But it was too late now. 

God, he was a fucking idiot. 

"I- what?" Pari- Anastasia's face had grown so pale that Mason wondered if she might actually faint. 

He was supposed to tell her gently, was supposed to leave her alone and give her a moment to think about it like he had been given the chance to in class earlier that same day. But that had been completely thrown out the window as soon as the argument started. And he couldn't leave her now, not like this and not in the middle of a fight. 

Mason sighed, "Shit. I didn't mean that, well I did-," he was fucking this up so badly. "This was supposed to go differently," he began after a breath of deafening silence. "But then I heard your mom say she never even heard about me and it just made me feel so- I don't know." 

Mason shrugged clumsily, trying (and failing) to make sense for once in his goddamn life. "Are you embarrassed of me," he finally managed to say. 

He couldn't imagine her not being embarrassed of him; she was royalty for fuck's sake and he was - well - him. He had just secretly hoped that she wouldn't be but, based on her parents input, she most likely was. 

But she glared at him then and it was like everything was right again. "Of course not. I'm just surprised that you know; how did you even figure it out?" She shook her head, eyebrows furrowing with evident confusion.

"To be honest, I had to look up your kingdom in my history class," he admitted. 

And look up he did. 

He had spent the rest of his lecture just reading articles about her, and it was safe to say she was completely different than what he expected royalty to be like. Whilst her parents and the rest of her family members rarely ever left the castle, it seemed that Princess Anastasia was rarely ever inside the castle. 

According to every single website he had seen, the eldest princess had visited the kingdom's town and her people on a weekly basis. In one particular interview, Anastasia had claimed that she frequented the town so often because she wanted to ensure that they were doing well. 

When the interviewer argued that the royal family had specific people for that task, she simply stated that a person's words could never rival her own experience. 

She had also apparently only left the interview that day after stressing how important it was to create personal connections with the people in town, as they were the soul reason her kingdom even existed in the first place. 

He couldn't believe someone as caring and wonderful as her even fucking existed. 

Anastasia snorted, "I should've known you didn't actually figure it out by yourself." Mason rolled his eyes. "I can't believe your professor was the one who ratted me out."

"So you're really a princess? And your parents are the king and queen?" He sat next to her on the bed, absentmindedly wondering if it was a bad time to kiss her when she bit her lip. He shrugged the thought away. 

She nodded softly, "I really am."

"Why are you here then?" Why was a princess attending college in Pennsylvania? And more importantly, why was she dating Mason? 

She sighed before leaning her head on his shoulder and he smiled as he wrapped his arms around her. "I just wanted to. I wanted to experience what everyone else does, I wanted to live a life outside of the castle before I was stuck in one."

Mason frowned, "Why would you be stuck in one?"

"My parents want me to marry into royalty, and most men in power tend to be a bit dense when it comes to women and their roles in society. I wouldn't be surprised if he made me some sort of stay-at-home babymaker."

"Could I technically get in trouble for saying your parents sound like assholes?" Mason joked to shift the conversation away from the current one. He didn't exactly like when she talked about being with another man, let alone marrying one. 

She giggled, "Probably."

"Then I didn't," he winked at her.

"Trying to change the past again, Mason?" Jesus. Mason's eyes almost rolled back. 

He always forgot how fucking addictive it was hearing her say his name. She didn't say it very often (she didn't need to, he knew if she was talking to him or not just by hearing her tone of voice) but when she did- fuck. 

He smirked at her, "It worked last time, didn't it Anastasia?" He lowered his voice upon saying her name, making sure to ghost his mouth across her ear. She shivered against him and he tightened his hold. 

Good, he thought, just as responsive as I had hoped. 

"Ana," she suddenly whispered breathlessly. His arms loosened slightly as he shifted to make eye contact with her. "I like being called Ana."

~~~