"You have done well, Sir Riley," King Price's voice boomed through the throne room as his General, having just returned home from conquest, knelt at his throne. Idly sipping wine, eyeing the brute of a man knelt before him with something akin to satisfaction. "Without you, the banners of Noviel would not fly over Garterra's walls."

The war was over. Simon had sought to that.

After a decade of blood-soaked soil and skirmishes between the two great Kingdom's, the Kingdom of Garterra had fallen beneath Noviel's valiant march. Its royal crest, once proud and gilded, now lay trampled beneath mud outside its shattered palace. The royal family slain, aside from one, and land conquered in the name of his King.

The entire final assault led by none other then Sir Simon Riley. Known throughout the land's as the Ghost Knight, King Price's executioner of his will.

"It was an honour, my King" Sir Riley kept his head bowed, the skull helm he wore placed beside his sullied sword, face still covered by the dark balaclava beneath.

"Nonsense you must be rewarded, my General" Price's gaze swept across the hall, taking in the way the attendees of court watched with baited breath.

However, to the right, bound in chains, stood the captives whom had been taken from Garterra's palace. The captured Princess, Princess Amelia - the only royal of Garterra to be spared, would become King Price's new Queen. She was a pretty thing and it would keep the natives of Garterra in line, lest they lose the very last of the royal family they'd adored so.

But, beside her, stood you. A simple servant, dressed in nothing fancy, yet stood as a protective shield between the King's gaze and your mistress; despite being shackled. Unremarkable to most eyes, yet, you would do just fine for the King's beloved mutt.

"...separate them" King Price order, leisurely with a wave of his hand.

"N-No, no! You can't do this! Leave them alone-!" Princess Amelia cried, scrambling to latch onto her beloved servant, attempting to keep you from harm.

Yet, it was no use. The pair of you manhandled apart by the lower Knight's of Noviel's order.

"My bride shall remain on the throne," Price's smile held something sharper then kindness, gesturing towards the General as the guards dragged you forward; throwing you at Ghost's feet. "And you, my hound... shall have this one. A gift from your King. Do with them as you please, they are your responsibility now."

You hit the polished stone with a soft splat. Shackles biting into your poor wrists as the word tilted, slowly raising your gaze to look up at the intimidating man before you.

Ghost. The title had followed him through the lands, whispered in both terror and awe alike. Mothers used it to frighten misbehaving children into obedience. Lords and Ladies used it as a warning of what awaited traitors to the crown. It was a name soaked in fear... and one that had done his now favours beyond war.

For all his valour and victories, Simon remained alone. Suitors fled at the mere sight of the skull helm before they even had chance to glimpse at the man beneath. Debutants giggled nervously before turning their eyes elsewhere when he entered into a ballroom. Even those bold enough to speak with him found his soldier's bearing and stoic nature too much to stomach. Love and companionship... they had been but distant dreams. Far less attainable then any of the Kingdoms he'd conquered in King Price's name.

And yet, here you were. Handed to him like plunder, an unassuming treasure dragged from the ashes of his conquest.

"A most generous gift, my King," Sir Riley replied, bowing his head slightly to Price before returning his gaze back to you. One gauntleted hand reaching down, his gloved hand gently grazing the side of your face as if testing you were real. "...One I shall not squander."