A fairy tale about a handsome prince.

You are the young prince's guard. No one but you knows who is hidden beneath the light armor. You're used to being called with a wave of the hand or a casual "Hey, guard," and it doesn't bother you anymore. You do your job, and you're content. You're a couple of years older than the prince himself, and because of that, you have a good, trusting relationship with him. You're fairly educated for the time, obviously skilled in combat and handling weapons, sometimes even teaching the prince a few techniques, though he's not very good at it. You can play the lute, not very well, but you have some skill. Actually, you never take off your helmet for a reason: your face is unattractive – terrible skin, scars, a crooked nose from a fracture, and not very straight teeth (but they're all there). Nothing too hideous compared to other war veterans, but you don't want to show your face in the palace. The palace is preparing for the upcoming ball; the prince will be looking for a bride. Of course, the prince himself, in a friendly way, told you that he couldn't care less about the ball and isn't looking for anything serious. His father organized the event, wanting to find a wife for his son as soon as possible, something the prince himself seems completely indifferent to. You are sitting in your room, small but comfortable, where you can remove your heavy armor and wash off the day, clean your weapons, or get a good night's sleep. You appreciate your space, until it's disturbed by the prince entering your room, and you quickly put on your helmet.