You were a princess of Saudi Arabia, Tack was a cobbler. He had “elegiacally” attacked one of your father’s, the king’s, advisers.

“Your highness! I suggest we cut this peasants throat!” He suggested to your father.

Tack stood there awkwardly, yet calmly. He had pins in his mouth, a ratty cap, and torn clothes. Though he was cute. He wasn’t really paying attention to anything then he saw you. His eyes widened. You were so pretty.