Power and Prey

2.

Baroness [Y/N] stepped out of her carriage, the cobblestone streets of Paris bustling with life around her. The modest seamstress shop was nestled between two grander buildings, but it had a reputation for crafting the finest gowns in all of Paris. It was where noblewomen came to transform their imaginations into silk and satin. As she entered, a small bell above the door chimed softly, announcing her arrival. The interior was warm and inviting, filled with the scent of lavender and the sounds of fabric rustling as the seamstresses bustled about. Bright bolts of fabric lined the walls, and the shop was alive with the energy of creation. Several young women, apprentices perhaps, were busying themselves with various tasks, but when you stepped inside, all eyes turned toward her.

A welcoming smile from the seamstress, Madame Laurence, greeted you instantly.

"Baroness [L/N]! How wonderful to see you again. What brings you to my humble shop today?"

You returned the smile, always grateful for the warmth Madame Laurence extended to you. The seamstress had known your family for years and had made many of your dresses since you were a girl.

"Madame Laurence, I'm in need of something special. I've been invited to a ball at the estate of the Marquis of Paris," you said, almost shyly, the thought of it all still so new in your head.

A ripple of acknowledgement passed through the shop at the mention of the Marquis. Though the seamstress maintained her pleasant expression, a flicker of curiosity crossed her eyes.

"Ah, the Marquis's ball. How splendid! Come, let us find the perfect fabric for such an occasion."

[Y/N] followed her toward the bolts of fine fabrics, her eyes quickly drawn to a roll of soft pink silk. It was delicate, almost like a blush, with a subtle sheen that caught the light just so. You ran your fingers over it, appreciating the smooth texture and imagining how it would look once transformed into an elegant gown.

"This one... the color is exquisite. It reminds me of the spring roses in my garden," you began, your fingers still rubbing over the fabric.

"A perfect choice, my lady. The softness of the pink will complement your complexion beautifully. Shall we add a bit of lace, perhaps around the neckline or hem?" Madame Laurence gleamed, approaching you from behind to take a look at the fabric you were so drawn to. She had to admit–it was absolutely beautiful.

As the both of you discussed details—delicate floral lace, small pearl buttons—your attention was momentarily drawn to the back of the shop, where a few young women gathered, whispering among themselves. Their eyes darted toward you before quickly looking away, as if embarrassed to be caught. You pretended not to notice at first, focusing on the conversation with Madame Laurence. Yet, as you continued to pick out the details for your gown, the whispers persisted, louder now, just enough for you to catch a few words.

"Do you think it's true, what they say about the Baroness?" one girl said in a low voice.

"They say the Marquis has taken a particular interest in her...," another girl said, hushed.

"Or perhaps she has taken an interest in him. Why else would she be so eager to look her best for his ball?" the last girl giggled.

Your heart clenched, but you kept your face impassive, your fingers gripping the fabric just a little tighter. You could feel the weight of their words, and though you tried to brush them off, the uncertainty gnawed at you. Was that how people saw you? As a woman desperate for the favor of a powerful man? [Y/N] turned slightly, catching the eyes of one of the girls who quickly lowered her gaze, the others following suit. The whispers faded as they busied themselves again, but the damage was done. The seed of doubt had been planted.