Once upon a time, far, far away, there was a very small, very wealthy kingdom. The Kingdom of Lenoria. It gained an unmistakable reputation for its lively parties and extravagant people, clothing, and jewelry.
This year, for Lenoria, was special. Every day buzzed with anticipation as the people spent each waking moment getting ready. The citizens of Lenoria were at their worst. Craftsmen and seamstresses spent the spring steadily making the most lavish items they could, only for their customers to come back in the fall and demand more. More diamonds, more frills, more color, more, more, more.
At the beginning of the year, Lenoria's beloved King announced his first ever masquerade ball, a winter themed event celebrating the land's prosperity after 30 years of war with their rival kingdom, Vevon. He eagerly invited all the people of the kingdom to come and honor the knights who had fought mercilessly for their homeland.
But it was on that winter night:
The greatest pair of thieves met for the very first time.
They weren't great at the time. Rather, they were young and desperate, both about 19.
James was primarily a blacksmith. His father died due to illness when he was 11 and he worked to support his mother ever since. Still, he remembered how he loved to spend late nights whittling by the window with him, a craftsman in almost every sense. Mercy, now a seamstress for her aunt, never knew her parents, but she knew how much she loved to dance and sing. She'd grown up doing so with her brother, who was a baker, but he'd been executed by the King a few years ago.
The moment the doors opened was on the evening of the winter solstice. As expected, the King spared no expense to celebrate with his subjects. In the ballroom, glass-blown ornaments speckled with snowflake shaped crystals hung from chandeliers big enough to fill bedrooms. Gold, inscribed with the kingdom's sword cross emblem, framed windows and floor-to-ceiling mirrors from the Great Hall to the Dining Hall. Most importantly, there was an endless amount of food, with more dishes filling the Dining Hall than people.
However, neither Mercy nor James came here for the ball itself. They both came to get their hands on the most prized jewel they could----The Rene Lalique Diamond Ring, owned by the Queen and handcrafted by Lalique himself. It's worth double the price of all the other jewels she owned---combined.
BONG!
After the hour hand groaned its way up, the clock bellowed a low chime, marking 11 o'clock. Around that time, the two shuffled in with a crowd and were escorted to the ballroom.
James adjusted the bronze colored mask on his face. It was sleek and simple, a deer mask he personally welded using leftover materials in his father's shop. The oval holes cast shadows over his eyes---an antique green, the kind you'd find on an autumn leaf, etched with ephemeral brown.
They moved with practiced efficiency, scouting the dancers on the floor until he found the King and Queen. He had until midnight to get the ring, which wasn't much, but if things went to plan, he'd be in and out with time to spare.
In that moment, the boy opted to stand around the edge of the floor. However, after realizing that only the few elderly, who physically couldn't dance, remained in his company, he knew he needed to change his plan. The only issue was that James had never waltzed in his life. And while he considered himself a fast learner, no amount of studying the other dancers could teach him how to keep time with the music. Or get him a decent partner.
Mercy had the opposite problem, though no problem to her. She twirled between partners with the steady rhythm of a clock's second hand. She moved so fast, her mask almost flew off, a few stolen peacock feathers floating to the floor.
Somewhere along the way, James fell into the rotation and, horrified by his dancing, Mercy took it upon herself to be his teacher.
"One, two, three, one, two, one, two, three... Look up. Up. Also, you're stepping with the wrong foot first."
"You said left."
"Yes. Your left."
"Which would be your right."
"If you must think about it that way, then yes. My right."
"A good teacher gives thorough instructions."
Mercy rolled her eyes, "Shut up and drop your shoulders."
Once James figured out the steps, they seemed to have no further interest in each other. James's attention wandered back to his main goal, and so did Mercy's. Closer than ever to the Queen, they glued their eyes to her ring covered fingers, hardly paying any mind to one another.
Finally, he caught Mercy eyeing the Queen's Lalique ring, for just a second.
Then another. Then a few more. Then, he put it together.
He whispered to Mercy, "You're a thief."
Mercy's heart hit the floor and she stumbled as if trying not to trip over it. The scar running through the left side of James's lip ticked in amusement as he stifled a knowing smile.
With a gentle pat on his chest, Mercy threw on a bit of charm. She pouted her lips, making a plump heart while pretending to be offended.
"Thief? After how much I've helped you, I'm hurt that you're throwing accusations."
For good measure, Mercy batted her eyelashes like she'd seen the ladies do when bargaining at the market.
But James was no fool, "You're hoping to steal that Lalique Diamond ring," he motioned his head towards the King's wife, lightly tossing his oak brown hair.
Mercy shot him a hard glare, her almond eyes sharpening. Keeping up the facade would be a waste of breath, and she was already out from all the dancing.
"And what if I am? I assume you're going to squeal like a pig?"
"No," he leaned in so his lips were right next to the girls' ear. His thumbs pressed so firmly, they were pushing at her rib cage, her attention seized.
"I'm going to steal it first."
As if on cue, the music ceased, and loud chatter filled the ballroom in its place. They looked around and found that the Queen had disappeared. James ran up the nearest castle staircase in search of her. Higher ground meant better surveillance and, more importantly, fewer people. Mercy watched as he left. She was furious at the boy's blunt self-confidence, but overjoyed at the extra challenge.
**************************************************
Mercy wandered into the castle's dining hall, which extended endlessly. She'd heard that her target always went to mingle there after a few waltzes. After scooping up a plate with a single square of fancy chocolate, and spotting her in the corner of her eye, she pretended to bump into the Queen. Her bejeweled, powdered wig and circus tent of a dress was like no one else's, and, luckily for Mercy, made her easy to spot.
At first, the woman was startled, but upon one look at Mercy's face, she smiled a warm smile.
"My goodness, look at you. Such a beautiful girl!" exclaimed the Queen, after Mercy ricocheted off her rich, orchid colored dress.
To Mercy's dismay, she poked and pinched and squeezed her like a baby doll. Occasionally, she'd pull at the tight, dark coils that crowned the girl's head, giggling with a clap of her hands as they bounced backwards like springs.
Initially overwhelmed by the attention, Mercy quickly used it to her advantage. She took the hands of the royal before her and flashed her most angelic smile.
'How humiliating,' she thought under the Queen's inspection, bringing her hands behind her back and swaying innocently. 'And my cheeks hurt like hell.'
Then, the woman's attention wandered to Mercy's dress. Her face fell. Fast. So much so, it almost made Mercy feel guilty. Almost.
"Oh, but whatever is a darling doing in such a sack? This won't do..."
The Queen began mumbling as she yanked at said "sack."
Now, Mercy thought she'd done quite well dressing up for this event, considering what she had. Which, admittedly, was only a needle and some tossed bed sheets. But as she took the tattered dress in her hands, she started to doubt herself. The dress was very...flat, especially on young Mercy, who, from years of malnourishment, was no thicker than a twig. It appeared more like a night gown than a dress.
Also, it was sky blue. Once upon a time. Now, the color had faded more than a few shades to a desperate bluish-gray, the kind that reminded you of ugly storm clouds and dusty rocks. Linen thread unraveled near the sleeves and there were holes towards the bottom that she hadn't noticed until now.
"..You're due for a nice day out on the square--"
"I'm so sorry," Mercy swallowed, most likely her pride, "Not to be rude, but I'm in a bit of a rush. I was just looking for my mother, she said we were set to leave soon."
She flashed her another smile, though far less angelic. She pressed her teeth together so firmly, she feared they might shatter. Every second in front of this woman felt like peeling off her own skin.
"Oh, that's alright. I don't want to interrupt your search, dear. But, if you need help, feel free to come and find me anytime. I'll be here for a little longer. The sweets are just too tasty to part from!"
Her shoulders bounced as she let out a dainty laugh. The Queen's lips softened into a smile as she leaned toward Mercy, like they were building some kind of intimate memory.
It was very motherly. It was also very disgusting.
"Thank you. I appreciate your...kind words," Mercy shifted, the diamond ring stabbing her thigh through her thin pockets.
'This is revenge.'
"Here, do you want my last one? I'm full," Mercy raised the plate to the Queen.
"Thank you, dear. You really are such a darling!'" she cooed, taking the plate. "Go on now. Can't have your mother fretting any more."
The Queen dismissed her sweetly and, as she left the dining hall, Mercy had herself a Rene Lalique Diamond ring.
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