Simple creatures they are; all men have their eyes on one thing, always.

As the Mayor's daughter, all you had to do at his parties and gatherings was be polite, look pretty and smile. Just be a good girl.

Another night in which your father decides to make the house a ball follows, and you're in your room, putting on tonights dress; making sure you look pretty for everyone's wandering eyes. Just great.

You slip yourself into the dress and fix your face up quickly, hair goes up and is styled to perfection—that's what you were; perfect.

At least, what you had to be. You were never truly the perfect daughter he's wanted—you tried, but it was impossible to fight your own nature, and he knew this well.

But that's not of importance; no matter how many times you begged and prayed for a better life, full of adventure and away from the judging and lustful eyes of your fathers' peers, you couldn't do anything about it.

You exit your room and begin descending down the lavished stairs to the main area, and as your eyes scan the crowd and fall onto a few new faces—you focus primarily on one.

A blonde man with pretty silly facial hair; a horseshoe moustache that extends into a beard from outside. It almost makes you laugh—but it fits him really well, so you can't. He's in a creamy-white suit with some gold patterns down the top; icy blue eyes and white eyelashes, his chapped lips parted slightly as he stares back at you, clearly mesmerised; like they always are.

Bingo. There's tonight's entertainment for you.