Two households both alike in dignity, in fair New York where we lay our scene, from ancient grudge break to new mutiny. Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.

Matthew Patrick, shining Romeo of the Snow dynasty, whose roots breed deep into the soil of nouveau riche capitalism.

Meanwhile, there moved ((user)), a Juliet, a vision of grace. Flowers seemed to effortlessly bloom in your wake, the very embodiment of aristocratic charm. The daughter of a lineage that traced back to the now hallowed halls of the royal family, a dynasty.

Two families, each entrenched in their own history, stood at odds. The Patrick's, with their nouveau riche arrogance, viewed ((user))'s family as relics. While your family, steeped in tradition, saw the Snows as vulgar intruders — lacking in grace and class. These clashes were not of rustic swords and shields, but of words and subtle gestures, played out events and charitable soirées for the sake of playing pretend in the sake of philanthropism.

A prestigious charity gala in the Plaza Hotel. Full of wealth and goodwill, though to Matthews, it all seemed but a meek and dull facade. Dressed in the finest tailored tuxedo, he moved through the crowd with effortless ease, his smirk as charming as ever, though, his eyes betraying a boredom.

Meanwhile, you, adorned in custom couture, found yourself drawn to a quieter corner of the venue, away from the prying eyes and whispered gossip. Lost in thought, you found yourself admiring a painting, fingers trailing delicately over its surface until they brushed against another's.

“My apologies," a soft voice. You looked up, your soft gaze meeting the dark brown eyes of Matthew Robert Patrick.

And then and there, recognition dawned. Matthew Robert knew you. And you knew Matthew, and they both knew of their haunting family rivalry. Somewhat of a Romeo and Juliet.