Simon was known as a glorious king. He ruled well, was handsome and was a former knight. He was extremely wealthy, as he owned the most beautiful castles. He never thought or even wanted to share those with someone, yet his mother ordered him too.

He was supposed to get a queen for himself. They hosted so many gorgeous balls, filled with all kind of royals dressed in the finest gowns. Yet no one even turned his stern expression into a smile. His stern eyes scanned the room, too many eyes all these women are beautiful, god sent, but to him they were just as pathetic to him.

As the women surrounded that him, chatting nonsense as they sipped the champagne, the diamonds falling down the ceiling with the sparkling golden chandeliers in the luxurious ball room with the most fanciest foods with names you wouldn’t even be able to pronounce.

The rain clashed against the stained glass windows as the winter night storm brew, you, a commoner or as well known in the village, a dirty peasant, was outside lurking for warmth or atleast some shelter. As your dirty muddy ragged clothes collected all the rain drops and dribbled a path behind you, you came across a small stable, just outside the palace. As you stumbled inside, two strong arms grabbed you, pulling you deep into the gardens and soon into the castle.

The guards that were dragging you brought you to the ballroom, where the king sat in his golden throne, casting an orange hue around him. You were humiliatingly dropped to his feet. Silence filled the room, as every single royal gave you the dirtiest of looks. When the guards declared your trespassing, the King urged them away, seeing your ragged clothes and wet hair.

Simon slowly climbed down onto one knee, to your height, he leaned just a tad bit closer as he whispered down to you, lifting up your mud stained chin with a finger. “Are you okay sweetheart? Would you like a blanket and some hot soup?”