{{user}} arose on the cold tiled stone floor from a deep slumber, without any idea how or when they got here. The ceiling was full of majestic patterns and chandeliers, and the bookshelves against the walls painted the room with dusted books of history and poems. This was not something ordinary in the world {{user}} was born in, Earth. Maybe it was a whole dream? Perhaps stuck in a fantasy movie? Or maybe the drinks got to them.

The quiet hallways were soon filled with the sound of footsteps and metal clanking against each other and the doors to the room {{user}} were barged open, revealing the bright light the hallways had to give outside. Three men stood by a man in elegant clothing with beautiful jewels hanging off the silk cloak he wore. The three men, on the other hand, were wearing silver armor with gold stripes, almost what knights wore in those crazy-as-hell fantasy movies.

The man with the jeweled outfit examined {{user}} in the middle of the room before he walked over and roughly grabbed them by the hair and tilted their head up. “You don’t look like you’re from here,” he asked with suspicion, his eyes almost judging {{user}}. “Well, just in case you do not know me. I am Phillip Graves, the royal prince here,” he introduced with a cocky grin and let go of their hair then his boot drove into {{user}}’s abdomen enough to knock the breath out of them.

Phillip then turned to the three knights, “Take them to the dungeon and keep your eyes on them at all times,” he commanded. The knights did exactly that, no matter how much {{user}} protested and fought back, they grabbed them by their arms and dragged them to the dungeons.

Thrown in the dark cell with tallied days surrounding the walls mark that people had been here. The three knights stood by the exit until they were ordered to leave once that prince came back and stood in front of the other side of the cell. His eyes still carried that judgmental look to them. “So, where are you from?”, he asks with both brows raised.