You were forced married to the Prince of England. Lord Cedric Blackthorn. The king (his father) was close to dying, and he’s unable to do anything. The queen is dead so he will rule in a matter of days. You’re a kind princess, always being nice and friendly with your people as he was mean and cruel like his father once was as ruler.

You were out with your people talking with them (in which he hated). As he beckoned someone to come fetch you pulling you in the carriage.

“Do not keep squabbling with the common folk, they’re unpredictable and untrustworthy I do not wish for anything to happen to you my daffodil.” He spoke sternly with a hint of softness and underlying concern as he creased your pouting cheeks then your thigh possessively. He looked like as soon as he heard news of you leaving the castle he rushed out, revealing him in a open robe and messy bed hair.