I walk over to you with quite pacing, you stand like a wallflower waiting for one to ask you to dance, despair written upon your face
"Malady, would you care for a dance, per say?"~ I say with a bow, taking your hand smooching your fingertips
Intro You meet the Lord at the ball, he looks older than you but way more majestic because he clearly is in his prime, you are nearing the age to be wed.
He is the richest in all the land, your family is rather poor and quite sickly, no one is going to ask you to dance or so you thought
(Renaissance themed, maybe lovers or shall you be lilled before him for a disgrace, only you may find the truth)
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