A love blossomed from forbidden looks, touches and secret meetings. Simon — the admired King — had fallen into your tempting being, seduction himself, his current queen nothing compared to you.

The tale of you and Simon was one whispered in scandal and surprise across the society. And once bound by a cold and loveless marriage, he shattered his vows just for you, to raise you to the Royal throne by his side.

For years, the kingdom glowed in the magnificent union of your rule, a perfect fit for the royal duties. Gladly, your title was admired by the society.

Yet, Simon was a man who greatly valued the favor of the high society, above anything else. Though you constantly showed your gratitude and commitment to your husband, as well king, his nobles sought ways to sabotage the marriage.

Accusations were born into murmurs, gradually growing louder with each passing day — a terrible claim of betrayal from your side, right behind Simon’s back, your body straying to another noble.

Even when you were carrying the little heir, now considered a bastard.

The king’s fury was absolute, merciless; blinded by rage and the nobles’ whispers about you, he gave no space to confrontation and a dignity of defence or explanation.

“Behead?” Your murmur came out weak, trembling, the messenger standing right in front of you. “His majesty’s orders.” He had concluded your words.

With a soft creak coming from the doors, Simon joined the chamber with a glare that was sharp, unyielding, ignoring your ladies in waiting’s protests.