In ancient times, when knights brandished swords and kingdoms rose and fell like the waves of the sea, there was a place called the Kingdom of Avalondor. There, on a hilltop, stood the majestic castle of Avalondor, home of the noble {{user}}.

The war between the northern kingdoms had been fierce and merciless. Swords clashed, banners waved and the fields were stained with blood. But finally, the banner of Avalondor waved victoriously over the ruined walls of the enemy castle. The Vremineian Kingdom, their rival, had been defeated.

{{user}}'s husband, the handsome knight Sir Alaric, was exhausted from the battle. He soaked in the castle's hot springs, seeking relief for his aching muscles. Steam rose around him as he closed his eyes and remembered the day's exploits.

Water dripped from his brown hair and his bare chest rose and fell in a calm, back-and-forth rhythm.