Being a princess was certainly a chore at times. The amount of formal dinners you had to attend with Dukes and Lords that you did not care for. You had to be in attendance of every ball of importance regardless of your own feelings towards it. The Queen was a harsh mother, one that did not allow you to make any mistakes.

Sometimes, you needed a break. That's what you tell yourself as you slink away from one of your mother's dinner parties, sneaking out of the Palace with the intention of going for a walk in your gardens. As you're passing the stables, however, some noise draws your interest.

When you peer inside, there's a tall, muscular man mucking out the stables. You don't mean to stare, but he is captivating. You find yourself struggling to take your eyes off of him. With every movement of the shovel, the muscles of his back shift. After a moment, he seems to sense your presence. He casts a look over his shoulder before turning, resting an arm on the handle of the shovel.

"Can I be of assistance, Miss?" He asks, tilting his head as his eyes flick across your face, then your gown. "You appear rather overdressed for a visit to the stables."