It’s the eve of my wedding and I’m going to run away.

I have to if I ever want to live my own life and be my own person. I’ll forever be a puppet on strings if I ever marry that conceited jerk, William.

A shiver runs up my spine as I think his name. Prince William, who, arranged by my father, King Gregory, is to be my husband and the future ruler of our small, but powerful country, Anglica. My father has this delusional idea that William is the one for me, yet if I had it my way, I’d be marrying not William tomorrow, but Sebastian.

A loving smile takes over my anxious face as I think about my Sebastian. He is the one I really love, the one who knows everything about me and accepts me for who I am, and the one I’ll be eloping with later tonight. My father would never allow Sebastian and me to be together. Never in his mind would he see it acceptable for a princess and servant of the House to be together, which is why I must run away.

With that depressing thought I close my black, inconspicuous suitcase, now filled with my absolute necessities that I’ll need when we elope. I glance around my enormous bedroom, filled with countless memories that can never be replaced.

Everything here holds a memory, from the pink silk bed where I spent my nights dreaming impossible things to the light pink cascading curtains that hid me from my late mother when would play childish games and the pure white marble tile floor where I danced away my fears for countless hours of the day.

I’m going to miss this life.

About an hour after I finish packing and have hidden my suitcase from the prying eyes of others, my father and William come into my room to see how I’m feeling about the wedding.

“Hello, my darling daughter,” my father says as he strides from my bedroom door to my bedside, places a kiss on my forehead, and ruffles my thick, jet black hair, as if I were still his little girl. “How do you feel about getting married tomorrow?” he asks me thoughtfully.

“I’m having cold feet about the wedding,” I answer him honestly as I look into his gemstone green eyes, eyes identical to my own, the only attribute that I have of my father. Yes, I think to myself, I will miss him greatly; he will be the hardest to leave. My eyes start to fill with tears.

“Now, come on, my Jewel,” William says from his rooted spot at my bedroom door, no doubt an attempt to appear a gentleman. I stare daggers at him and his sculptured fair hair and his piercing electric blue eyes. “Jewel” is what my beloved late mother used to call me. He knows extremely well that I can’t bear it when another person calls me by that name. “We were made for each other.” He pleads unemotionally.


I can’t stand the sight of him. He is only going to marry me so he can become king of my country and have all of the wealth and power that comes the title. He is only agreeing to this in the name of greed, and I loathe him for that. I feel like going up to him and punching the snot out of him.

My face must have displayed my thoughts, for now my father takes my tan hand in to his alabaster and says to me, “Juliet, a marriage between the two of you will strengthen Royal family ties and help our country flourish. You will be very happy with William as your husband, I am sure of it.”

He says this with such warmth and certainty that I feel compelled to believe him, however, I know that I will never be happy if I am destined to marry that Royal brat, William.

“Yes, Father,” I say nevertheless to lessen his worry for me. I’ll miss you, I add silently to myself. He pats my hand affectionately and kisses my forehead once more.

“Come along, William. We must finish preparing for tomorrow,” my father says triumphantly. He strides towards the door where William awaits.

“Good night, my Jewel,” William says to me once again, this time to annoy me for sure.

“Sweet dreams, my darling daughter,” my father says to me before he and William leave my bedroom.

“Goodbye,” I whisper after my father, but he’s already left. I start sobbing uncontrollably.

TAP! TAP! TAP!

I wake from my sleep startled and glance at the digital clock on my night stand. 12:00 A.M., it says to me. I must’ve fallen asleep sometime after I stopped crying, I realize groggily, part of my mind still asleep.

TAP! TAP! TAP!

The taps are more insistent this time, and then it hits me, Sebastian.

I roll out of my bed and run over to my window. Through the window I see the familiar face of my Sebastian. My heart jumps at the sight of him. I quickly unlatch the window and let him into my bedroom.

“Juliet,” he says to me as he pulls me into his embrace. I burry my head into his shoulder as he buries his into my hair, black as the night sky outside the window. We stay like that for a timeless moment, and then he starts to pull away.

“Are you sure you still want to do this” he asks as he stares into my eyes.

“I am absolutely sure,” I say to him, staring back into his eyes, his honey eyes that could melt my soul. “I want to run away from this Royal life, be my own person, and most importantly, be with you.” I tenderly push back a lock of his fiery red hair that has fallen across his face.

“Alright then, as long as you’re absolutely sure,” he looks at me once more, to be certain that I am certain of my decision. He doesn’t want me to do anything that I’ll regret later, I think. I want to say more to him, but I know that we are short on time.

I retrieve my suitcase and silently hand it to him as he goes back out the window. My suitcase isn’t so big or so heavy that he will fall off the ladder as he goes down and crash onto the ground two stories below. “Be careful,” I whisper to him nevertheless.

“Always,” he says to me, a twinkle in his brilliant eyes. Only when he is safely on the ground below do I start heading down the ladder. One foot, and then another, I remind myself cautiously. It takes me about a full two minutes before I am on the ground next to him, shaking from fright.

“That was terrifying,” I say to him shakily. He chuckles lightly and kisses my forehead lovingly, and then he heads over to the ladder and quietly places it on the ground. I grab my suitcase, which is right next to his, also black. He walks back to me and he grabs his suitcase in one hand and takes ahold of my hand in the other. “We must hurry,” he says, and then we’re off.

We quietly run across the courtyard to the car garage, avoiding all of the guards beautifully. I try to avoid looking at the altar where it was planned that I would be married and all of the other wedding preparations made in my honor, but they’re kind of hard to miss.

Sebastian squeezes my hand softly, as if to ask me once again if I’m sure about what we are doing. I kiss him lightly on the lips in response to his unspoken question. He smiles crookedly and leads me to the door of the car garage, which just looks like a big black square in the night.

Sebastian pulls out a brass key from his back pocket and sticks it into the lock on the door. It fits perfectly. There is a soft click as the door unlocks. We step into the car garage, pulling our suitcases in behind us silently. As Sebastian turns on the lights, I ask him where he was able to attain the key.

“From Brooklyn,” he says to me. Yes, I think, that makes sense. Brooklyn is a servant of the House, like Sebastian. She also handles the car garage and is couple years older than us. Brooklyn is a person who has always loved the idea of Forbidden Love, and tirelessly tries to help those who have it, like Sebastian and I.
“You two are like Romeo and Juliet,” she would say to us whenever she could, a twinkle always in her soft brown eyes. “I just hope you don’t end up like them,” she would also say, though more seriously. I had always laughed at the idea, for we are in a more modern age, yet now I see what meant. Anything could happen tonight.

Sebastian pulls me back to reality and to the black Volvo at the same time. He has the keys in his hand, which he got from one of the key hooks by the entrance door. “This is the fastest car here, so we’ll take this one,” he says to me matter-of-factly.

I place the suitcases in the trunk as he starts the car, which happens to make a lot of noise. Quickly, I open the garage door that allows the cars inside to exit, and I get into the car, which is now purring with life. Sebastian takes ahold of my hand and grips it tightly.

“I love you,” I say to him, putting all of my emotion behind these three little words.

“I love you, too, Juliet,” he says to me with equal emotion, and then he floors it.

The guards outside try to stop us from driving away, but they can’t outrun a Volvo. We cruise across the courtyard, and send wedding material flying everywhere.

Sebastian drives into the thin forest that surrounds the castle, obscuring us from the guards that will surely be on our trail soon.
He drives in the forest for a while, but soon drives us onto the countryside, and we drive along it in silence, afraid that even the sound of our voices will give away our position. I look out the window from the passenger’s seat and stare at the ocean, which is remarkably beautiful at night.

My country, Anglica, is an island off the coast of Italy, which is the country where we’re headed and where Sebastian and I plan to take refuge. I hope that Italy will give us what my Anglica could not: the freedom to be together. I hope that we’ll have a good life there.

After it’s been about half and hour of driving around the perimeter of the island, we pass a fork in the road that connects us to the main road, the road that leads to the castle and that the guards most likely took to follow us.

When I can see the docks my heart jumps with excitement. We’re so close, I think, we’ll make it. However, at that moment I also notice five cars moving relatively fast behind us, and they carry the sign of Anglica. “The guards,” I whisper terrified, although I know Sebastian has already seen them.

“I know,” Sebastian says, a bead of sweat dripping from his brow. “Hold on,” he warns. I do as told and hold on to the car seat as he drives even faster. I can see the guards’ cars speeding up and getting closer from the rearview mirror. We’re almost there, I think frantically, tears springing to my eyes.

Suddenly, we hit something, I don’t know, maybe a rock, but it makes the Volvo swerve out of control. We are now skidding along the road. I hear Sebastian scream my name as he desperately tries to take control of the car, but to no avail. I see the ocean getting nearer, and nearer.

I think of what Brooklyn would tell us, about how she didn’t want us to end like Romeo and Juliet. I’m so sorry I brought you into this Sebastian, I think, I love you. I’m still holding onto Sebastian’s hand as the car goes into the air momentarily and then-