Romeo and Juliet

It began as it always does.

I, nearly fourteen years old, had only one great worry: being married off to Count Paris, an associate of my father, kinsman to our dear Prince Escalus. Please don't misunderstand, I find nothing particularly offending about the Count, I simply do not desire him. I must admit that I do not know the ways of love, having never been in love myself, but I do understand that there ought to be some level of desire. And to me, Count Paris is nothing more than a man my father knows. He is simply a man that has been to our house for dinner on occasion. He is simply the man that desperately wants to marry me,

It's a pity, really, that I don't return his feelings.

For my own cause, I had no real great desire to be married at all. I considered it an honor, of course, but it had never been exceptionally pleasing to me. I quite enjoyed being a maid, to be honest. I found nothing more appealing than to be playing games out in the yard, running with my skirts lifted up to my knees so that I would not trip. My father, at first, seemed to agree.

I remember quite clearly a conversation with a cousin of mine about love.

"Oh, sweet Rosaline, tell me all about it!"

"Juliet," she said with a laugh. "You know my aunt Capulet will beat me for telling you such things. These are conversations for your nurse and your mother, not your silly woman cousin."

"I've heard enough talk," I insisted. "My father thinks to marry me off to Paris! I must know something of what I may be getting into." It had been the perfect bait; she bit it eagerly.

"His name is Romeo, and he follows me like a lost puppy," she admitted finally, seeming quite amused at it all. "He is quite charming, I must admit, but nothing like the man I shall marry. For starters, he is a Montague! The nerve of such a man thinking he has a chance with me."

"A Montague?" I asked, completely shocked. "Tybalt daren't dream of letting one such as him follow you around!"

"Tybalt is quite unaware," she told me, sushing me. It was not hard to do - I wanted to hear the whole story, every juicy piece. "And he shall remain so, do you understand Lady Juliet?" I nodded, eager for more. "He is a dream," she admitted finally, dancing around my room, completely lost in her daydream. "His eyes are like the calm before the storm, and his lips are like sugar."

"Sugar?" I asked, confused. "How can that possibly be?"

"Oh, silly girl. This is only proof I shouldn't discuss such things with you." She sighed, returning to earth before I'd had my fill of her story. "Don't worry, you," she told me, a friendly smile on her lips. "If my uncle Capulet does indeed decide to marry you off to Count Paris, you shall be happy. You shall always be happy, whatever you decide to do."

I could not dream then that she was as wrong as she could have possibly been.