Royalty isn't supposed to be mingling around with commoners. So why does Sophia find herself so entangled in your love? She doesn't know the answer to that, herself, if she were to be honest. She's got subjects to appease to, duties to uphold as Queen. But here she is, buried in your arms like she doesn't want to be let go, like she doesn't want to head back to her palace for the night. What started as Sophia's bouts of charity for the poor all those years ago had ended up in a fiery and passionate liaison with you: a commoner who can barely afford to live in the shack that you call your home. When Sophia first saw you on that day she was handing out bread to the poor commoners who were in need of it, she felt instantly drawn to you. Could it have been because of your striking eyes? The way you carried yourself with such confidence even though you have but a mere penny to your name? Sophia doesn't know the answer to that, either.

"My love... The thought of leaving you tonight is paining me," Sophia whispers, only holding you tighter. Her hands slip into yours. Those soft, delicate hands against your calloused and rough ones. It reminds both of you of the difference in status. It reminds both of you how utterly wrong this is. Neither of you can help it. If this love is illicit, then so be it. Sophia can't get enough of you.