Chapter 1: Send my Condolences

A man in a sweater and jeans peeked through a tunnel of bibs and bobs. Ancient Greek sculptures are hidden in shadows, a painting of Rubens in exquisite colours celebrating Peace triumphing over War. He always wondered how Rubens painted the shields so exquisitely and how Mars stared at that woman with a heavenly crown with such submission. That sight was indeed marvellous to look up while drinking a cup of coffee. Dog-eared books chronicle obscure topics he does not care about (except the thoughts of Anna Karenina which he mildly enjoyed). Surely they will bring a fortune to an ordinary man.

And the only figure capable of getting his hands on these objects, without dropping some hard cash for them is no other than Gascon Brossard. A skinny figure who seems to be taken out of the ballads of Robin Hood and placed in the modern world. Maybe it is just for kicks, but honestly, he always aimed bigger - to appear all over social media platforms for impossible steals.

That itself is the thrill of the game.

"You heard about the news, boss…"

"What…" Gascon pursed his lips slightly into a boyish chuckle. "A new discovery of an obscure Asian artist? A watch worn by Cary Grant, just stolen that from a previous millionaire… Or wait, better…" as he slung a replica of a necklace into his hands. "Or a tipple to add to my collection."

One of his men shrugged slightly at his excitement "Well, you figure… Check your phone, dude…"

Gascon ran his fingers through his hair, as he flicked through his phone playfully. Newsflash about a certain sculpture lost in the crevices of history found in a house. "It supposed to be a symbol of protection against the evil for samurais. No surprise." He zoomed in on the details of that figure. "I would be shit scared if I ever crossed paths with him…"

"That seems interesting…well, who does own this….?"

One of his men simpered quietly. "Well, you figure, boss, you know what is up…" And soon Gascon has a big grin on his face as he fiddled over the notifications in the phone. It seems that news went on forever and ever until his eyes peered quietly to a certain hint.

"The rarest of all fell to a rich bastard – Reginald… owner of many corporations, a philanthropist and at most, has many priceless treasures that could attract all…" He glared quietly at her photograph, she seemed magnetic as Grace Kelly herself, should she lived in modern times "It seems that she would be interested; we must pay a visit to that heiress."

Meanwhile, Meve winched slightly as Reynard fixed that wound on her lip with stitches and rubbing alcohol. "Damnit Reynard, you should be a little gentler…"

"Sorry, madam…"

Reynard swallowed slightly. It seems that their kickboxing session went a little too heavy-handed. "I knew that you tried to out best me…" Meve gently gripped his hand and did a flip, throwing Reynard over her back. His look of surprise satisfied her spirit. Reynard groaned in pain "Madam… you have been sharp… using your charms to your will…" Meve beat her hands up and down with a smirk painted on her lips.

"I know my way around…"

"You're sure?"

Reynard held his hands up with defeat. "Madam… you seem to be on the edge…" As he took the towel and wiped himself sheepishly. "Perhaps there is something that you wanted to tell me." He noticed the bloodstains on the towel, probably Meve punched him too deeply on the nose. "Caldwell is setting all the matters from your late husband. You should not worry about these things, focus on taking care of your sons and managing our guests."

"Reginald…"

Meve throttled slightly his reckless actions. "Well, he did not listen to me, took no lessons. Pretty expected of him… He has been secretive over things, not just his debt due to his hoarding of priceless art." Reynard dabbled his mouth, watching Meve frown in disappointment. Everything seemed to be rushed so quickly, not to mention she had to manage the funeral arrangements. "For reasons, madam…", he simpered quietly "I knew him for years - yes, he could be eccentric, but it was all the matter of time, people would get their hands on his collection…"

"For now we must figure what to do next…"

Meve heaved a sigh as she plaited her hair. "Yes…Reynard…" as she wiped away the sweat with a towel. "I hope it all runs smoothly without anything flashing on the news…" Reynard gave her a tap in the shoulder. "I am sure, everything is guarded and no one will be able to break in the house, even before our next move." However, Meve had a sinking feeling in her stomach as they both walked away from the gym. Maybe there is something that Reginald did not spill, let alone to her sons who inherited certain aspects of his eccentricity. "It is best, madam that we made appearances in such a difficult time."

Meve came over at the drawing room, it used to be the part of Reginald's haunts and deals with Caldwell, a personal lawyer to the Rivia family. Instead of papers and new artworks all wrapped in bubble wrap, it was arranged with wreaths of white roses and lilies. She walked over the coffin of her husband, and she smiled bemusedly. Indeed the embalmer did a great job of fixing up what remains of him. Reynard came to the coffin calmly "I suppose you have any wishes for my husband. Now it is the time"

Reynard held his silence. He gave a nod to him. And soon he could see a stream of mourners coming by "We better be ready…" Meve could only do, at that moment is to stay composed.

Later, at the funeral, Meve pursed her lips slightly, kissing a group of strangers clad in black. To be honest, she hated the choice of flowers that Reynard chose for the funeral, for it made her stomach turn slightly. And what made it worse, is that her sons took that role too well, especially Villem. In fact, a former flame of her husband came to the funeral and wanted to initiate small talk with Meve. She could smell her breath tingled with tequila which made her nauseated. Thankfully Reynard took the trouble to set her aside on the nearby table, where she sobbed noisily that she should have married him.

Gascon tipped his sunglasses slightly, as he scurries through the funeral. He always liked to imagine what would the rich think of Reginald as they gathered around his casket somberly, maybe he was a man filled with life and joy - while one or two would despise him. He would rather think of the other. He suddenly observed a stout man with peering eyes as he shuffled to the heiress. She donned herself in a simple black shift dress and her face obscured by a veil. Despite her grief, she stood tall and strong, ready to face anything.

"It seems tragic that your husband took the worse in his recent diving trip." Gascon overheard intently the conversation as he quietly pressed the button in his cuff. "It must be difficult, Meve, you own something greater and I have yet to draft out what will be next for the auction." He notices the drawl in that man's voice. He seems to hold great importance as he passed a certain document.

"Please do not cloud me with condolences, Caldwell, he should have known better, even the reports pointed out to one source, but alas…"

Caldwell gave her a reassuring look. "Do not worry, I am no torturer… I too wanted to be done quickly lately - your husband's collection gave food to the gossip circles, and in fact, I am surprised that all will come not to pay their last respects but to glimpse treasures, which I am afraid you will not comprehend. True, he had a kind heart, but it was in the wrong place."

"Alas, it must be…"Meve shook her head slightly. "I assume that the plans for the auction went well…" Caldwell paused, watching over the crowd. "It is indeed, have you thought about the eulogy about your husband…?"

Somehow Gascon helped himself to the canapés, as he bit off the toast from his plate. He suddenly brushed to that lady's shoulder, causing a commotion between the heiress and him. "Oh, my apologies… Damn, where the hell…" He quickly scrambled for his sunglasses and covered his face "Why are you wearing this…" Meve raised an eyebrow slightly and Gascon hid his face as he quickly pressed the button from his cuff. "Well… it is something to deter from people…" Meve raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Oh, condolences to your dead husband…" Gascon tutted slightly, as he managed to scrape this off at the back of his hand. He quickly texted one of his men "Make a commotion…"

"Do not kid me, who the hell are you?"

Gascon's pulse quickened at that, he must leave the scene quickly without anyone knowing his identity. "Well… I am an old friend of your husband…" He tried his best to change his accent to something unusual. For now, in his mind, he thought to impress the heiress, a Brooklyn accent would be sufficient. "We used to go to college together, and I took his…." even before Gascon could finish up these words, Caldwell glared at him. "Who the hell are you?" There was ice in his voice.

"You are not invited…"

Caldwell watched him intently. "I knew his contacts well. And you seem to stick out from the crowd like a sore thumb…" Gascon's heart raced as he felt Caldwell grip his wrist. He stared at the security cameras with bated breath and hoped that things will turn for the better. "That is it, I am calling security to escort you out." Dammit, why do I have to think now? He constantly looked over at the cowering guards coming over to him and raised his hands in surrender "Fine…fine.. fine…I will move off.. if only…", he gave Caldwell an irritating grin, watching them crowd by that handsome figure, Gascon could guess it was the god Apollo reaching his hands to the heavens. "I was talking to her, before we got interrupted, after all. I am connected to something greater." He smirked cheekily at Meve, as he snapped the document from her hands. And before she could say a word, a glass window shattered at the distance.

"What the hell, send Reynard to check this out…"

And before long, Gascon slipped away amidst the madness with a bemused chuckle. He watched the hordes of guards searching over for him. It was fun to blend in the crowd of the rich and famous though he despised the taste of Reginald and his family with the gold-flaked marble pillars and of course the way how badly he arranged his possessions in a disarray. No surprise the management team had a difficult time handling his affairs. But nevertheless, it was a moment he will never forget. And it helped that he managed to get a glimpse at the heiress, which by now was flustered about the mysterious break-in.

Damn. She is beautiful. Pity, she has to take care of the affairs, Gascon thought wistfully. He read briefly that her affairs with Reginald were nothing but flickers of passion. Most of the time she had to manage the mounting finances of Reginald, and on top of that deal with her meddling sons, which he could infer from conversations with friends that they became rivals. He gave a last look at the mansion before he glanced at the bus. He thought the breaking in is a little excessive judging by the bodies moving in the mansion. He hoped that it will distract them for a long period before the funeral service.

The bus came over and he slung his backpack to his lap. He somehow couldn't help but think of her. All of the sudden his daydream broke out when a buzz rang in his ears. "Dammit, a bit much…" Gascon hissed slightly, as he adjusted the frequency of the earbuds. "Sorry boss, got myself caught up in some shit…" Gascon slipped his headphones quietly as he looked over the messages of the phone. Data of the mansion flowed rapidly as he quickly zoomed in on the plans of the house. "It seems that hacking the system of the Rivia mansion is like taking over Helms' deep…" Gascon rolled his eyes slightly. "Enough of that reference, get to the point…"

"Well, it may be your most ambitious steal to date… How are you going to do that?"

Gascon cracked his neck slightly. "Well, I got one part settled… Now it is just the rest….". And soon he unveiled what he has stolen. A document of the will of Reginald. "I am going to read this all up, maybe it will point us to the location of the statue…"

"We are going to give our dear heiress and all associates a ball of a lifetime."

Gascon gave a cheeky grin as he looked over the buildings and unto the rows of apartments. For that moment, it all seemed in place.

Meanwhile, Meve clenched her fists as she watched her cleaners dust up the shattered glass pieces. "Damnit, who is that bloody stranger who intrudes the wake…" Caldwell moped his eyebrow slightly, catching his breath. "Barely caught sight of him, but I knew of his actions. Rumours said that he challenged himself to steal the biggest treasures known to the world. Called himself 'The Thieving Magpie'…"

Meve flexed her eyebrows. That seems interesting that he seemed to have a particular taste of music. "Like that Rossini piece…"

"I hate that, to be honest…"

Caldwell seemed troubled by that intrusion. She watched Reynard crossing his arms with fury. "No sights of the mysterious invader." Meve squeaked slightly.

"We tried, it seems that he did not do this all alone, I think there is another accomplice that helped him to sneak through the funeral…" Reynard slowly signalled to one of his guards to find another man with a bloodied nose, grinning at Meve. "Seems that he works for that 'Thieving Magpie'."

"Damnit, I need scans from our security cameras and search from all forces to find this thief."

Caldwell gritted his teeth. "No luck, Meve…", as she watched him heave. "He also took something else from you during that brief encounter. Thankfully I saved a backup in my computer. I think, Meve, to ensure the safety of your husband's inheritance we should do the auction under closed doors after his burial."

"Yes, Caldwell…" Meve pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation. "Reynard, do an inspection of the patrons when they come to view our private gallery, make sure that there is nothing suspicious."

She swore that she will clip the wings of that thieving magpie whoever the hell he is. He will indeed pay for the invasion.

A/N: So this story, The Thieving Magpie, is way different from my usual fanfics as I called it a Hitchcock film within a body of work (In fact as I was making a graphic for one of the aesthetic challenges, which was inspired by a ficlet which I wrote a while back, I keep thinking of To Catch a Thief (1955) starring Cary Grant and Grace Kelly, especially the relationship of Robie and Frances, well you should watch that if you want to know the feel). It helped me to see how my word count is which is pretty awesome. I am glad I am able to work this, not only as stress relief from Christmas retail hell and also a way to distract me from the passing of my grandfather this week as I escape with these characters.

I am very grateful for my tiny Thronebreaker fandom for being so sweet and also my beta reader highkingofhuckleberries (Her fanfics are like amazing) who has been patient and supportive over my work.

Anyway if you are on tumblr and want to follow the story, please DM me as shade-without-color and I will try to tag you in the next chapter, which I am working now.

As usual feedback and likes are appreciated.