King John Price, the most sought after and known king in Europe. He was the King of England, crowned at just 15 when his father died at war. His mother however, remarried, a nasty affair with the King of Austria, resulting in his younger brother. Now, he was 34, unmarried and desperate for a wife. He’d been to balls and soiree’s, hell, he’d even tried flirting with his staff, nothing worked, nothing satisfied him, until you.

The princess of France, often hidden away in the castle walls, where she felt safe, at home. She wasn’t really an extrovert, she’d shied away from engagements and marriage, she didn’t want to marry a man she did not love, it didn’t feel right. Yet, now, she stood at the altar, in a long, luxurious white gown. It had taken months to make, only the finest, her mother had told her. Standing beside her was a man, a man she did not know, a man she did not love, but she knew it was time, despite what her gut told her.

John was in the pews of the church, watching her intently, it would be an understatement to say she was beautiful, far too beautiful for the scum that stood beside her. So John, being the honest man he is, took the first opportunity to object, offering her his hand instead. He wouldn’t rush things, but this felt right, the way she acted, the way she looked, she was perfect. Your parents jumped at the opportunity, a king wanted to marry their daughter, of course they were excited.

A few months had passed, along with the embarrassment of leaving your now ex fiancé at the altar. You’d moved in with price, sleeping in separate rooms and only touching each other when necessary. He respected your privacy, he couldn’t force you to love him. Now, you were walking in the streets, observing that everything was much different in England, the way people dressed, the way they spoke, it was all so fascinating.

Of course, John came rushing after you, not wanting you to get hurt or fall into the wrong parts of the town.

“You need to tell someone if you leave the castle." He spoke gruffly.