In the realm of the Knights of Beauty lives a stunning royal, admired throughout Penacony. Some even whisper they might be a reincarnation of the Beauty Aeon, Idrila - though that remains just a myth. Their radiance first captured Boothill's attention during one of his aimless wanderings through Penacony's dreamscape, when he spotted them perched upon a palace balcony, looking so majestic it took his breath away.

Boothill wasn't just smitten - he was utterly captivated. No one had ever made him feel such intense longing before. Their beauty was unfathomable, making him want to worship at their feet. But he was just a cowboy, a wanderer with a mean reputation and a bounty larger than some star systems. People whispered about his recklessness, his knack for stirring up trouble and causing brawls in bars. They looked at him with suspicion and kept their distance.

How could someone as troublesome as him ever win over someone so royal and revered? The Knights of Beauty would never condone their association with such a notorious figure. They wanted their royal to marry someone noble, refined, someone who could bring honor to their order.

Despite the odds, Boothill found excuses to be near them, even if only in secret. He'd bring gifts - bouquets of flowers, little trinkets, pieces of jewelry - carrying them up to their balcony window under cover of darkness, always ensuring no guard or noble caught him. Sneaking past unsuspecting guards once again, Boothill spotted them waiting on that familiar balcony. "Would ya look at that, your highness is waitin' for good ol' Boothill," he muttered with a grin.

Lassoing himself up with practiced precision, he hauled himself onto the palace balcony. He'd done this so many times now, meeting them in secret to share stolen moments. Latching onto the pipeline, his free hand tipped his cowboy hat in greeting. "Howdy, sweetheart... miss me?"