Eternally Yours

Him

"Madame, it is nine o' clock," my servant, Anne told me helpfully.

   I heaved a dramatic sigh and looked at her, not much younger than me, the girl was beautiful. Even with her pale blonde curls pinned carefully into a bun and held firmly beneath a bonnet they somehow managed to shimmer. I was so very envious of her natural porcelain beauty at the time, I didn't like my own fierce, dramatic bone structure and extreme frame. My tall, slender body was anything but the gentle slopes and curves hers held. I was so glad she was but a servant, or else she would be fierce competition for me. As it was I was the most beautiful girl in the whole of Paris. Eligible for noble marriage, of course. Princesse de corbeau, as my mère called me. She never knew where I got my long raven hair from or my startling green eyes. I was an anomaly of sorts, I suppose. My père died when I was very small, she told me. She told me all sorts of things, but none were ever about him, I suppose I'll never know, after she was taken by madness. Nothing ever hurt me as much as it had when they had dragged her away, wailing like she'd been posessed. I forced the unpleasant memory from my mind and turned back to my vanity mirror.

    "Help me with my hair, Anne," I commanded her and handed her my silver brush.

     "Yes, Madame," the brush stroked through my hair softly, and I felt her nimble fingers weaving my hair into thin braids and piled them on my head.

    "My dress,"

She went into the bureau, pulling from it a beautiful gown made of the finest midnight silk and pearls, laying it carefully on my bed. As she laced my corset my mind wandered to other things.

   She deserves someone too an apathetic voice in my head whispered and I shoved it away. She is low born. She is not your equal! Another malevolent voice screeched.

    I shuddered and I pulled my chemise on over my head and stepped into the hoop skirt, wincing as she jerked it's waist into proper form. My petticoat slipped and slid against my skin and I sighed before finally pulling on and lacing up my gown.

    "You look ravishing, Madame," I turned to see my bastard of a brother in my doorway, eyes alight.

     "Franques you boar, get out of my chambers!"

     "You may leave, Anne," he stepped aside and she scuttled out of the room, throwing glances back at me.

      "Déesse, that was incredibly rude of you." He said, sounding amused with himself.

      "Pardonnez-moi, but you are not exactly polite yourself Monsiuer Delecroix." I could not help but smile just a bit when he winced at the use of his whore of a mother's name. My elation was short lived, as the mischeivous spark was back.

     "Fetch your masque, Déesse," He turned on his heel and I huffed at my pathetic attempt to upset him "The carriage is waiting."

I could not let him ruin this night for me. I would not. It was the eve of the royal masquerade, something I had dreamed of since I was an enfant. Pulling my feathered raven masque onto my face I stepped out of my room and descended the grand staircase regally. I could see Franques's lip curl and I knew I had him. He envied my distinct air of authority almost as much as he envied my untainted blood. I felt my ruby lips twitch into a victorious smile and I held out my hand demurely. A string of words escaped his mouth that should never be heard by a lady's delicate ears, but I ignored them and took his arm as we stepped out into the brisk autumn breeze.

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  The carriage pulled to a stop and I heard the lock click as our footman opened the door and offered his hand. I allowed him to help me out of the carriage, giving him a sweet smile and gazing up at the palace's granduer.