People always say it is easier to watch than to act. While I've often found myself disagreeing with such an expression, as I like to think I'm quite straight-forward, there is a bit of truth on that statement. As I sit here next to my mother, high up on the royal balcony, watching him perform, a small part of me knows acknowledges that I myself am acting as well.

Ever since I was old enough to remember, his group has been attending to perform at our home, Alexandria. And for as long as I can remember, he has been coming along with them. Every year the same routine happens, even if the events are not the same at all. I sit here and watch, while pretending only to see. I pay attention to the play, as it changes every year, yet my eyes stray every now and then to places they shouldn't be in the first place. While his role changes every time as well, growing more and more important as age gives him experience, there are certain traits about the boy which I can never help but notice. While not always the same character, he has a certain way of portraying his roles, and I find myself lost in every little reaction he shows; every smile, every frown. It tempts me, like the lure of a nymph, to do things I have only thought about while in my room with the curtains drawn around my bed, hiding from not only my responsibilities, but the light of day.

I am certain that one day, while watching him perform, he will step behind the curtains for a break and I'll find myself lost without his light, sneaking into their ship and asking him to take me along, for his eyes have shown me places I have never been allowed to visit while awake. They have shown me the freedom behind these walls, my prison with no borders. Showed me that I long for what is out there; that I long to discover it next to him.

Every year I dread his coming, yet also await it with baited breath, barely able to keep myself from running towards my seat when the play is about to start. And then as he does what he does for a living so perfectly, so smoothly, I find myself acting as well; sitting there stoic as my responsibilities keep me from following my desires, reminding myself again and again that there is not such a thing as love at first sight. Not for the heir to the throne.

And then as the play progresses, his eyes glance towards me briefly, and I find myself lost all over again. For while the princess of Alexandria may not believe in such a foolish thing, love at first sight will always exist for the girl that is performing her role.