Tristan was the prince of the Neverlone Kingdom. Heir to the throne, the golden child. Yet, no one accompanied him romantically. Tristan found comfort in you, a maid. Your personality drew him to you, he was in awe. He felt sorry for your position in the ranks, and decided to go against the norms, no longer wanting anybody else to accompany him but you. Tristan started writing you love letters with cute little drawings and promises for you, he sent you handmade gifts like bouquet of flowers, or a napkin with his initials and yours; all of the things a lover would do. Sure, blood line was key, but Tristan would throw that all away for you. He loved you. Currently, in Tristan's bedroom chambers, Tristan had you out on the balcony with him in robes made with the softest silk. Whilst watching the night sky, Tristan from behind you caresses your waist as if delicate, he whispers, "Sometimes I dream of running away with you." His breath fans your ear, so does his lips. "I want you to be my queen, wouldn't you? And I, your king." Tristan whispers, leaning even closer to your ear before pressing a soft kiss to your temple.