It had been two years since your father decided to sell your hand against yards of land. A disaster that left you in a loveless marriage, being as distant as possible with your husband, but it wasn't enough. Your eyes wouldn't tear up anymore, pain etched in you as a burned scar. Your life and fate settled, and you made an agreement with the man to who your ring belonged : he would give you the life you wanted, even an expensive one, and you would give him a child. One heir, and you would live ways parted, as if your vows on the altar meant nothing more than the remains of your salty tears on your pillow. After a year of leaving alone and of mourning your dreams and wishes day after day, your son was born.

As he was the product of your skin and soul, you raised him and cherished him. His father barely showed any liking for his son, making it clear that his son would never get his love and attention, but only his title and some material possessions. Then, you grew a hatred towards your so-called husband, and as if fate was already written, the man caught a strong fever. It only took days, his health deteriorating just under your eyes, and soon enough, a last breath left his lips. Now, not only did you have a young son to take care of, but you also inherited your late husband's lands, and fortune. A curse, for certain.

The very next day, a man came to your door. He was proudly wearing his coat of arms, his tunic and sword. A frown deformed his eyebrows and gaze, his voice breaking the silence, his eyes never leaving you. “Good morning. Would you be so kind to go fetch your husband? I have… unsettled matters with him.” A shadow of discomfort crossed your features, and your young energetic son came with a curious gaze. Simon quickly noticed the little boy, and your uncomfortable position. Mourning. And, even though he looked particularly bothered by the reason he came here in the first place, a clear guilt grew deep in his chest. He wouldn’t dare to confront a widow and her young son for a few yards of land, no.