Chapter 1

A/N: First FanFiction! Yay! :D This is basically a love story set back about in the 15-16th century in England. I know that this story may not accurately represent all the cultural aspects of this time frame but oh well! Sorry for any grammar errors in here, I looked through this as thoroughly as I could! Well, hope you enjoy!

I was brutally yanked out of the peaceful bliss that is sleep by the lone beam of sunlight that managed to slip past my thick black curtains. For a big bright ball in the sky, it sure does have great aim. Every morning it manages to angle itself perfectly to bombard my eyes with its blinding light. Never fails. Adjusting my curtains doesn't help either. Trust me, I've tried countless times.

Groaning in protest, I rolled over, trying to prolong my sleep. I was about to cross the bridge into dreamland when a shrill, obnoxious voice pierced the air.

"Sammykins!" The door opened; I groaned again. "Time to rise and shine!"

"No thanks," I replied sourly. I wasn't a morning person, and no matter how many times I tried to tell my mother that, it wasn't getting through her thick skull.

"But Samantha, its such a beautiful day! You can't stay cooped up in this… this… dreadful, depressing room all day! I've been telling you we should put some color into this room- liven it up a bit."

"For the billionth time, its Sam. And no, I like my room just how it is and I feel like staying in here a little while longer, so if you don't mind…" I retorted through clenched teeth while stuffing my head under my pillow.

"Fine, I'll leave," she spit back, disappointment and anger very clear in her voice. She then changed to an all-too-chipper tone to add, "Oh but one more thing, just so you're aware, your father has purchased some more help with the Manor." Then she left, shutting the door behind her.

'Help'. The 'polite' way my parents referred to the slaves. Honestly, it made me sick. I mean, yeah, we needed people to work our large estate, but can't we at least pay the poor people for their work? We had plenty of money to afford it. My parents, however, insisted that, "Why pay for the service we can get for free and spend our money for more practical reasons." Yeah, like all those ridiculous parties they have just to show off their wealth to their shallow friends, as if it was a competition. Gag me.

I wonder what poor innocent souls my parents dragged in this time. Oh well, I'll find out soon enough, but for now, sleep time.

…

I slept for as long as I pleased, waking up refreshed and in a better mood than earlier. I stretched my muscles to prepare them for getting out of bed. It felt nice as I flexed and relaxed, getting out all the stiffness that sleep left me. I went completely limp for a moment before darting out of my bed, dancing and twirling around my room. I don't know why, but I was just in a great mood today. Probably because I had plenty of free time to catch up on my book.

I dashed over to my dresser, pulling out a long dress. I didn't particularly like dresses, but having them black, violet or both was a nice compromise with my parents. I was a fairly simple dress; the fabric was a deep violet. It came a couple inches down from my collar bones and stretched past my feet. Shiny black buttons traced down the front, from the collar down past my belly button. My long sleeves silt up past my elbows, revealing a midnight black fabric underneath. It wasn't much, but it was fairly figure flattering. I stuck some black flats on my unseen feet and brushed out my onyx, shoulder-length hair and left it free.

I grabbed my book off the shelf and headed out. I liked reading outside on the bench by the small pond in the shade of the willow. It was very beautiful, and quite peaceful. I enjoyed nature. It gave me an escape from the judgments, the ridicule, and the pressures society and my parents put on me to be perfect. It just accepted me for who I was and loved me and all my imperfections.

I wasted no time, opening my romance novel and stumbling down the stairs. I had a fetish for love stories. I figured I would never be able to find my "Romeo", so I settled for reading about other people's perfect love story. Its not that I wasn't pretty, but I don't particularly stand out- not like the Sanchez's daughter, Paulina. Plus, in the eyes of many, I was seen as "weird". My unique personality scared off many of my potential suitors. Oh well, that's what I get for being an individual in this society.

It did hurt, though. Not that I cared about those brainless idiots my parents set me up with, but constant rejection and shunning can wear on even the strongest of people. I often found myself surrounded by happy dancing couples at parties; guys lining up just to get two minutes with lovely young woman my age, yet not even bothering to spare me a second glance. It's not that I want men like that, but I dream of meeting a guy who can be so much deeper… a guy who sees beyond looks and can understand a appreciate my personality without automatically labeling me as a 'freak'. It was discouraging to go to party after party, praying to finally meet the guy of my dreams with no luck at all. I was beginning to give up hope. My life would never turn out like a fairytale love story.

I made it down the stairs and burst out the front door, trying to free my mind from those depressing thoughts. Once outside, I took in the lovely scent of fresh air-which did improve my mood-all the while not letting my eyes leave my book. I was deep into my trance of reading when I hit something. Hard. Rubbing my aching head and groaning, I searched around for my book, only to be drawn from my search by a male voice.

"Oh my gosh, I am so sorry, are you okay?"

As I looked towards the voice, I found myself entranced by the most beautiful blue eyes I had ever seen.

A/N: Did you like it? Haha I hope so! I'll try to update as often as possible and Chapter 2 should be posted soon! :)