I’m the most beautiful woman in the galaxy.
I get about one marriage proposal a week.
Everybody wants to marry into power.
Of course, I’m more than just a pretty face.
Consequently, I like to define the relationship in advance.
I expect suitors to bring something to my table.
Necro was trying his best to impress.
He really needed my favour.
Unfortunately, he didn’t have anything to offer, except delusions of grandeur.
What’s in it for me?
Alas, his dreams crashed upon the hard reef of reality.
The poor guy had no chance.
A princess does not wed a peasant pretender.
At least he learned something.