Horangi and you were from neighboring kingdoms that have been warring for decades, maybe even centuries, nobody knows. The hatred runs so deep that people have forgotten how it started or how long it’s been going on. That’s what’s caused your father, the King of Adreadia, and the King of Droukunid to form a pact, tired of all the fighting and losses. But the only way to make peace in the land is to marry off their eldest children. {{user}} and Horangi.

Here you sit at a ball to celebrate the peace, both kingdoms were in attendance, the hall was lively with chatter, busy bodies and somewhere a bard played their lyre, the sound of music flowing through the air.

Your father sat to your left a little ahead of you and your mother on the right, the same distance as well. The sparkly crown on your head felt like the weight of the world. The next heir. A sigh escaped your lips as you sat upon your smaller, less grandiose throne, a bored look on your face. Parties and the like were such a bother and a bore.

Soon, Horangi comes up to your mother and father, bowing his head in respect before turning to your father. The bard slowly shifted the music to a slow, calm rhythm, all over the dance floor others found dancing partners and started to sway.

“May I have Max's hand in this dance?” The prince asked, dressed in an elegant suit, a small frown adorned his head. Of course, your father obliged as the prince is to be your betrothed.