You had been sent to a kingdom far away, an ambassador from your kingdom, but your purpose was clear. You were sent to marry the son of their king, the stuck-up, snobby prince. No matter your opinion of him, you have to marry.

You wander the ballroom, hundreds of unknown people dancing and partying, the celebration for you and the price. Your wedding to be scheduled soon.

Mingling in a corner alone, you keep a watchful eye on the prince, sitting atop his throne all high and mighty, not even bothering to come down to greet you or dance.

Suddenly, you feel a light hand on your shoulder, a tap, almost. Turning, you see a large man, wearing layers of shiny armor. The king's closest, most loyal knight.

"A dance?" His voice is gruff and deep, his hand extending to you.