DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Tamora's characters or her world, I only own Monica.
Chapter 1:
Masquerade Meet
Monica of Conte stood bare before a large, long mirror that had been set up in her room as one of her ladies in waiting helped her to dress for the event that would be taking place that night. As the girl stepped around the room, her slipperd feet making hardly a sound, the young princess listened, hearing the nobles already filing into the great hall. Their incessant chatter and gossip causing the roar of laughter and merriment to grow with each person that was allowed through the large, heavy palace doors. As the ladies and servants bustled around her room, she couldn't stop thinking—with growing anxiety—about all the types, and possibly ugly, revolting, brute-like and stuck up men that she would be forced to be paired with at the ball. She cringed inwardly as she thought with discomfort of how they would most likely yank her around the dance floor, doing whatever it took to get a balcony kiss…
She laughed aloud after a moment at the thought, causing the women around her to pause in their work before continuing as if nothing had ever happened at all. Such simple minded people those men would be, to think that such a thing could or ever would actually come to be. 'No, not even in their dreams…' she thought to herself, closing her eyes as one of the other girls tied her mask over her eyes, opening them once the colorful thing was secure and staring into the shimmering amethyst pools that belonged to her alone… 'Yes, that's it. Not even in their dreams...'
Monica waited until everyone was in the ball room, just as she always had, year after year. The only difference that had come about the last few years in the way things were done, was her entrance, as well as the fact that any young man could approach her, or she them. She no longer entered with her parents, but on her own instead… When the trumpets sounded, and the doors were opened wide so that she could take her steps down the main staircase, her heart was hammering in her chest, just as it always way, the same as every other year that had come before.
The event was the annual masquerade ball, hosted annually by her mother and father for their closest friends, or at least, those that they assumed were their friends, and the personal soldiers that served their kingdom. Mage lights bobbed around in orbs, forming a constant, shifting pattern with the golden light they caused while the guests mixed and mingled with one another. The noblemen and women walked, drank, ate and visited with one another, some masked while others had decided to go without and in an attempt to make it easier for themselves to get on the good side of higher ranking courtiers.
In the center of the dance floor there was a raised platform which was illuminated by even more bobbing mage lights. Beneath the shifting light of the magic imbued orbs, couples whirled and danced, some had eyes only for their partners, while others glanced around every now and then, wondering if there was anything better swimming about in the sea of colorfully dressed nobles. Every girl that was in attendance walked—no, they glided—with immense amounts of grace and civility, though none seemed to be able to match the grace of the girl that was descending the main staircase. Their fine silk gowns, imported from great kingdom of Carthak no doubt, rustling and glimmering beneath the lights.
The princesses' own garment had been sent as a gift from the Copper Isles, an island kingdom that her country had just entered a pact of peace with. Her snowy bangs and a bit of the silky locks on the side were pulled back and fastened into a fashionable white bun while the rest of her hair hung loosely down her back and came to brush against her waist. The bun atop her head was tied using a cord of leather that had petals made of soft chiffon sewn to it. Threaded through her hair was a decorative, dark blue colored hair-stick that stood out beautifully against her snowy white hair.
Around her throat was a beautifully crafted collar that had been created using a deep blue velvet ribbon with black box-pleated satin ribbon to top the blue velvet while at the base of her throat the black satin had been gathered to create the appearance of a "mock" jabot. Her bodice was trimmed with black lace and bonded at the seams. The stomacher had been crafted of sapphire blue jacquard while the body of the bodice was made of a cream poly jacquard with a grommet back closure.
The royal child's long skirt was made of deep blue silk taffeta, the overskirt of which—which was sewn to the bodice—was made from champagne poly chiffon. The over-sleeves of the finely made piece were made of the same poly champagne that the overskirt was, and sewn into them permanently at the elbows and wrists were golden buttons. The final two pieces that completed her costume was a strand of hair beads that hung by the right side of the girls face; the colors that were strung onto it consisted of bright shades of gold, dark blues and whites. The final piece of her costume, of course, was her mask. It sat on the bridge of her nose, the inner most feathers around her eyes a deep shade of blue, while the outmost feathers were a cream and the very top feathers were a gold color.
Indeed, the lady's gown was extremely fine, and she wore it with as much grace and self-assurance that the other ladies wore their own, and it was as light as a wildflower's petals…
'What's the point?' she thought to herself as she watched the nobles and courtiers dance and laugh while others still revealed their gluttonous natures, though all attempted to do so in a somewhat dignified fashion.
The princess was currently standing with a group of girls that had converged slightly beside an alcove lined with plush cushions, a small glass of wine poised in an elegant hand as she listened to their idle gossip, utterly bored out of her mind by the aggravating topics that the other young women chose to occupy their time with. How could other women stand such annoying topics? She was just about to open her mouth to interrupt them, to end this insufferable chatter when a strange figure caught her eyes.
He was tall, his cheekbones sharp and his chin square with a subtle hint of a point. His mouth was long and slender, his lower lip a bit fuller than the upper. His hair was short and black as night, and as she came closer to him-unaware that she had left the other noblewomen at all-she was surprised to see that beneath his skin there seemed to rest almost unnoticeable feather patterns and she idly began to wonder whether it was real or simply a mage trick.
A beautifully crafted black mask that carried special trimmings along its surface-which made some portions of it lighter than others-that had allowed the maker of the ornament to shape and detail the features of a bird. The area meant to cover his nose protruded outward to a point, giving it a subtle resemblance of a beak. She idly began to wonder what his eyes looked like, began to wonder what his name might be as butterflies stirred in the pit of her stomach as her own crystalline blue orbs took in his costume. With a well-made black tail coat, white courtier shirt, silk red waist coat, long black trousers and black hunting boots, he looked as if he were attempting to portray a bird…