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The plan was simple.
Clean, efficient, foolproof, and most importantly of all; exceptionally amusing.
A court social gathering was to be held tomorrow night in the Erikson's royal ballroom. It's purpose was not clearly stated, but if Dominique's hunch was correct, it was all about creating a false sense of security after Prince Amir's death. The King probably wanted to assure his royal court that everything was fine, and the kingdom was in good hands. There was bound to be some mentions of funeral plans and mentions of mourning, but given the King and Queen’s wardrobe choices, there would be no real sadness behind whatever speech they deigned to give at the party.
No, there would only be a false sense of grief- a quick, sad little mask. Because this party was all an illusion for the public. It was a show, a display of the royal family’s control and wealth. A message to their court assuring them to continue on with their celebrations and folly, their gold and their greed.
Which, of course, meant it was an absolutely perfect party to ruin.
Dominique would send her own message, one that would make all attending realize that they were utterly powerless. Unprotected and weak against the forces of the ECL.
Anyone in support of the royal family, noble or not, was not safe.
Tonight, Dominique would make sure that nobody forgot that fact.
More accurately, it would be Blake and Lyra that sent ‘the message’. During the party, Dominique would be the distraction while Blake and Lyra slipped away from the crowd to spill some noble blood. Naturally, Amber rather disliked the very mention of murder, and decided to stay at the base and prepare her healer’s station in case of a medical emergency. Dmitri wasn't quite comfortable in party settings, so he was tasked with keeping Amber company at the base while she did whatever it was that she planned to do.
Dominique appreciated Amber's thoughtfulness, but doubted there would be any need for medical attention. Lyra and Blake were exceptional at quick, discreet assassinations, and would be met with little to no resistance. Nobles may hold the wealth of thousands in their hands, but, those hands couldn't wield a sword if their petty lives depended on it. For that reason, most of the royal guards would also be stationed in the ballroom, where they could keep an eye on the revelers.
After the deed was done, Blake and Lyra would flee through a pre-planned pathway. Dominique would stay at the party until someone discovered the body, which would hopefully bring an end to the night. Either way, she was determined to make the most of her night, she would ensure that it was perfect.
--
The morning of the court party, Dominique was restless. After uselessly pacing around her office, she decided to focus her energy on looking her best for the event. She was going to be the distraction after all, so she supposed that she would make herself a gorgeous one.
Stepping into the bathroom across the hallway, Dominique prepared her tools. Rouge for her cheeks, powdered kohl to line her eyes, and her favorite red lipstick. She slowly smeared and smudged the makeup, drawing on her disguise, her armor. Once she had finished, Dominique grinned at her reflection. As always, she looked perfect.
The next few hours were comprised of other grooming tasks; styling her curls into a chic up-do that framed her face, applying a sweet perfume, and most importantly, choosing her dress. After rustling through her wardrobe for a while, Dominique eventually picked a dusty rose gown from her collection. It was made of chiffon and gathered georgette, hugging her curves and cinching her waist with laces that ran up the back. It's neckline plunged downward, but not low enough to be considered scandalous.
All things considered, it wasn't a dress Dominique would normally have been drawn to. It was too unassuming, too sweet and bright. But Dominique wasn't attending the party as herself. She was going as one of her numerous personas, someone more approachable and casually stunning - if that was an attainable quality.
After Dominique had managed to slip into the gown, she heard a series of knocks on the bathroom door.
"Come in," she responded, struggling with the laces out of her reach.
Blake stepped into the room, looking dashing as ever. They had combed their ebony hair back, donning a respectable charcoal suit and waistcoat. Dominique noted that they had chosen to present a masculine persona for tonight, and smiled as Blake studied their reflection in the mirror.
"You look handsome," she remarked genuinely, still struggling with the laces.
Blake grinned, giving Dominique a little spin. "Thanks! I'm going as 'Sir Benedict Templeton' tonight, so I hope I look the part of some fancy nobleman."
"You certainly do. The scruff really sells it," Dominique noted, surveying the touches of masculinity Blake had added across their face. Blake held the rare power to manipulate physical appearances. Which, during undercover missions such as these, was invaluable.
Blake nodded, touching their face absently. After a few more moments of fruitless attempts to lace up the back of her dress, Dominique turned to Blake.
"Lace me up?"
"Sure. I can also set up your disguise while I do it," they responded, moving behind Dominique while she steadied herself at the edge of the counter.
"That'd be wonderful, thank you Blake."
"Sure thing. What do you want to change?"
Dominique peered into the mirror, taking note of her face, her hair, her eyes. She wanted to pick a disguise that would ensure she would be noticed and memorable, but not associated with her actual appearance. A reflection of her best qualities, but not a recreation.
"Lighten my skin and eyes, maybe give me freckles? Oh! And my hair, could you make it blonde as well?"
Blake nodded, taking the laces of her dress into their hands. As they slowly tightened the strings, Dominique watched as her face changed in the mirror. Her olive skin turned pale and pinkish. Freckles sprouted across her shoulders and cheeks as her once dark hair lightened to a creamy blonde. Lace after lace, change after change, Blake wove Dominique into a new person. One with brighter eyes and rosy cheeks, cream curls and a disarming smile.
Once Blake had finished, Dominique barely recognized the woman staring back at her. It was perfect.
"Thank you, it's stunning."
"No, I think you're the stunning part."
"I know." Dominique grinned, caught off guard when more knocks sounded on the door.
This time, Lyra walked into the bathroom, dressed and ready. She wore a classically cut sapphire gown that softened her normally angular look. Blake had already altered her appearance, giving her a rounder nose and chestnut hair.
"Are you two almost ready? We'll have to leave soon," Lyra commented as she yanked the train of her skirt into the room.
"Almost, we should just confirm the plan with each other, and our cover stories," Dominique explained, excitement thrumming through her chest.
"Okay, sure. Blake and I are Mr. and Mrs. Templeton. We've been married for a year now, and are generally not very interesting. We aren't involved in court gossip, and throughout the night, we'll just make casual conversation about the weather or something. When you give us the signal, I'll say I feel faint, and Blake and I will head into the hallway to find 'fresh air' or some crap like that. Then we do the thing, and get out of there," Lyra said flatly, adjusting the lace trim of one of her sleeves.
"Good, how do you feel about that Blake?"
"Fine."
"Excellent. As you know, I'll be the distraction for tonight. Valerie Morgenstair; the pretty new socialite attending her first court gathering. She's got decent money, and no suitor in sight. I'll give you the signal after our target is in place, and I'll return to the base when the time is right."
"Noted."
"Alright! Let's go then, the carriage I paid for is probably down the street right now waiting for us," Lyra said, already making her way out the bathroom and towards the back exit.
"Let it begin," Dominique whispered to herself as they filed out into the evening, bathed in the wash of the setting sun and the promise of a bloody night.
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