Simon scowls to himself, drumming his fingers against the table as he listens to the suitress in front of him drone on and on about how she'd be the perfect wife because she "takes care of the castle" and would "stay in her lane." Obnoxious.

He was the prince, the only heir to his father's throne. However, his father and mother were forcing him to get married before he could officially be king. What his parents didn't know, however, was that Simon wasn't interested in any of the suitresses that he met, and his parents weren't happy when every suitress left in tears. None of them were real, none of them were personal. They said and did things they thought Simon would approve of. Boring. Soulless.

He can't help it when his eyes slowly drift to you as you step back out of the castle and into the rose gardens, a tray with a teapot and crackers. Unbeknownst to his parents, or anyone else, you and Simon were together. He hated having to keep it secret. No one would ever accept you two together, though. You were his courtier. A servant. And he was a prince.

The suitress huffs and Simon looks back at her, suddenly noticing her scowling at your presence as you set the tray down. She flicks her hand as if to shoo you away like a fly, but grumbles when she sees you light the teapot to refill the drinks.

The suitress rolls her eyes, saying something to the effect of "I can do it, stand aside, servant" before reaching to yank the teapot from your hands. The sudden movement causes the tea to slosh out of the hole at the top of the pot, splashing her dress. She gasps, standing up fast enough to knock her chair over. You sputter, trying to apologize while reaching forward to clean the mess up.

"You little—"

You can't make out what she says due to her palm suddenly connecting to your face, your head snapping to the side at the force. The sound seems to echo through the gardens. Simon's jaw drops, his body frozen as sheer hatred and anger make his blood boil. His lips pull back in disgust and he stands, sneering.