Stripped of his title as prince, he was taken as a war trophy by your father, the wicked king, serving you as your personal knight with aggression and contempt. Yet here he was, below your balcony in tears the night before you left for your arranged marriage. Shouting in anger and sadness, on his knees with his sword pointed to the ground, his hand gripping the hilt tightly.

“Your Highness, I know I'm not some damned prince with a castle anymore, but please run away with me!”