The ballroom was crowded as the eligible women of the kingdom emerged into conversation, quietly glancing into the spiraling staircase, awaiting the royal family. The entire guest list had arrived when Amie entered through the side door, unseen by the chatty guest. Her black and white gown flowed behind her as she made her way over to the shadows of a corner behind a few clumps of women. She adjusted her mask to overcast her eyes: the right one green as the post-spring meadows of the Verte Forest and the left one blue as the crashing waves of the Glacèau Ocean.
Her icy eyes landed upon the royal family as they graced the guest with their appearance, over an hour late. The Prince waved and marched down the stairs; one hand grasping the right side of his black coat. He seemed content with the atmosphere of the ballroom. He glided down across the ballroom greeting the many plastic faces of the women, who were shuffling and bumping to have their hand touch by the Prince. They giggled and humored themselves as he kissed the tips of their moisturized hands. He falsely promised them a dance.
Amie stayed hidden in the back, surveying the area, looking for an easy escape route. She fiddled with her garments, picking the bits of fuzz off her gown. Her eyes landed upon the Prince as he moved in the general direction her umbrage shadow of the country flag.
When their eyes, the Prince and Amie, meet, Prince Jean tilted his head in curiosity. He became oddly fascinated by her reclusive style of presenting herself, as her mask shadowed her eyes. An aura of mystery misted over her as he drunkenly staggered towards her. The women parted like the red sea as he crossed through; all eyes upon Amie now.
“It’s pleasure to meet you….” The Prince bowed as he held his hand out for hers.
“Amie. It’s an honor.”-Amie mocked as she curtseyed as she extended her hand.
“I am sure.” The Prince kissed the back of her hand as he became uncomfortable by the tone of her voice.
Amie lifted herself up as she smoothed out the wrinkles in her hoop skirt. The Prince shifted from each of the balls of his feet as he measured Amie up with his gray eyes. He found her to be a bit taller than his usual type; she did, however, fill out the black laced, strapless white gown quite nicely. Her sequined black mask shadowed much of her sun kissed face, as her eyes remained hidden. Her lips were a natural pink as tulips. She pressed them together in a fine line of irritation. But her black silk hair, curled itself down one side of her face, pulled tightly with a black ponytail. Her fingers seemed antsy as she curled them in and out of her palm.
“Grace me with a dance.” The Prince stated more than asked. Amie sighed as she placed her hand in his, allowing him to lead her back down the parted women gossiping. Prince guided her onto the floor as the harp breezed a note upon the guest, and the rest of the orchestra rested their instruments to their lips. They waltz around the room, as the guest stared envyingly. His parents smiled happily for he was to be crowned King within the year’s end, which implied a wedding within the next few months, for it was already June. The party was just a chance for the Prince to meet all the eligible women in the kingdom.
The King and Queen gazed upon her as she twirled around the room with their son. They finally halted as the flute breathed its last note; the crowd obediently clapped.

“I wish for you to meet my mother and father; the King and Queen.” Prince Jean tugged at her arm as she stood still. The door, abruptly, busted open. A man, drenched from the late evening rain, stepped into the ballroom as his black hunter boots squeaked, leaving a muddy trail behind him. His brown trench coat hung to his ankles. A wicked smile pressed upon his lips as the fellow men entered behind him. Amie beamed at the men with hatred as she gripped the Prince’s wrist.

“Ya’ll seem to have missed placed my invitation, Your Royal Highness.” Rhyane hissed as he stepped closer towards the Prince. No guards came rushing in for Amie knew half or more were dead alongside the corridors or captured for future use. King Rupert stepped between the man with his sword drawn to protect his son and Amie. The man peeked at Amie.

“Beware the girl with the meadow eye.”- Rhyane mocked though his tobacco infested mouth- “For she has another eye tainted blue. Bad luck follows this Le Chat Noir!” Rhyane repeated the tale that had spread throughout the kingdom. His hand was pointing at the very Madame that was beaming through her mask. Amie had gotten a bad reputation from this group, the Main Noir, after she deserted them during an assassination attempt.

Amie sighed as she removed her mask; a mummer waved through the crowd. Everyone took another step back except for King Rupert. The Prince just marveled at her two tint eyes, icy and sharp as the icebergs of the Nordmer Ocean.

“Leave now!” King Rupert threatened as he held out his sword beneath Rhyane’s chin. He just chuckled as he snapped his fingers in a Morse command. An arrow was fired into the air aimed at King Rupert’s chest, until a hand that snatched the speeding arrow from the air.

Amie snapped the arrow within her palm as her lips curled into a stern hatred as she drew a knife from the ruffles of the dress; she steadied the steel knife as she focused her attention to the man instead of the mutation of reflecting colors. She juggled her knife between her index fingers as she swung it forward, slicing the throat of one of the archers. Everyone gasp as he went down, drowning in the pool of his own blood. Amie just straightened her posture as she smoothed out the bell of her gown.
King Rupert made the first move by clashing down upon Rhyane’s sword which was now exposed from its holster. They battle each other as the guest stared in wide-eyed expression. The other men, behind the two locked in combat, rushed forward with death smeared in their eyes.



Amie just sniggered as she gripped the side of dress, raising it above her shoes. “Prince, we must go.” Amie commanded.
“And what makes you think I’ll take orders from a peasant? And furthermore…”-Prince Jean annoyingly imposed, but Amie just continued on with her part of the mission. Prince Jean was tugged away as Amie dashed en route of the exit. The other men’s footsteps echoed into the dark, humid tunnel.

Amie, shifting her eyes to focus in the dark, tore through the tunnel as her hair fell from its ponytail, and her dress hemline was tattered and torn along the base of the hoop skirt. Her mask was left upon the dance floor of the ballroom. Lights flicked around the tunnel, as the men’s silhouettes dashed across the canvas of the black walls. Amie twisted down the left corridor as she ran on the balls of her feet to lessen the sound of her heels. Prince Jean ripped his hand free. Amie halted as she grew antsy of the incoming sound of the following men.

“Prince Jean,”-Amie whispered so low that Prince Jean had to lean in to her words-“Please, you must trust me.” Amie quickened her speech as the men’s voices and their torches reached the corner of the passage. King Rupert had given her a task, and she wasn’t going to allow any interruption. Prince Jean just gave a slight nodded.
They continued to run until they came upon the mouth of the cave. The late evening rain was still falling as the moon and stars, Amie’s only compass, vanished from the midnight sky. She stared at their only escape: the edge of the cliff. Amie touched Prince Jean’s shoulder.
“This might sound absurd, but we need to jump.” Amie informed at the mouth of the cave became lit with the fire of the torches.
“I told you once before, I don’t take orders from peasants.” Prince Jean criticized as he wrapped his arms around his drenched body.
“For your information, My father was the royal commander for the cavalry when the Great War struck your kingdom.” Amie hissed as she eyed the edge of the cliff, motioning for Prince Jean to jump.
Prince Jean raised an eyebrow as the voices reached the entrance of the cave. He suddenly gripped Amie’s arm, flinging her over the edge as he jumped after her. Amie had been glancing up, when she felt the icy splash of the surrounding kingdom’s river, Rivière de Po. Amie was beaten under as the rapid white horses flung her forward into his gallop. A pair of hands tucked themselves under her armpits and swam her to shore. She climbed out as the water; weighed down by her tattered dress. She shuffled towards the woods as Prince Jean just silently followed.





Prince Jean picked up the black sequenced mask off the ballroom floor as the servants cleaned up the other night’s festivities. He fiddled with the blue gem in the middle of the mask; he remembered how the gem reflected her blue tinted eye. He sighed through is nose, tucking the mask into the inside of his coat.

He had awoken early that morning to find Amie gone, and a pair of guards waited outside to escort him home. The fate of intruders spread through the palace: three had drowned in the river, two had been slain by the army at the kingdom’s border, and the other five had been arrested for treason while Rhyane escaped. His father had been struck by Rhyane’s blade but was expected to make a fast recover after a few days of bed rest. For now, Prince Jean was in charge, and within a month, king. His father had decided to pass on the crown at the end of the summer.


At the correlation ball, Prince Jean strolled down the stairway, bearing the crown of his father; marking the beginning of his rule. He sighed as he waved, greeted, and shook hands, playing role of the king. He waltzed with many dazzling women, but his cared for none.


A whisper erupted in the ballroom for a figure entered as a mask covered her face. Prince Jean gasped at this mysterious figure as he released his current dancing partner.


Prince Jean peered into the masked figure, swaying beside him. He chuckled, while giving a sweet grin, lifting the mask from the figure’s face. A pair of eyes met his: one green and the other tainted blue.


“I have heard a great tales about you, Le Chat Noir.” Prince Jean teased her. “For instance, how you caused a whole fleet to perish when you spat on the commander’s shoes.”


“Think about what I can do if I kissed the Prince.” Amie smiled up at Prince Jean.


King Rupert, with Queen Geneva at his side, marched down to greet this girl. Amie curtseyed as King Rupert bowed.


“I owe you my thanks for escorting and protecting the heir to the Po Dynasty. My dear, you are always welcome here.”


Prince Jean beamed a smile as he snatched Amie away to waltz again. Amie just giggled and shook her head as he spun her around. As they danced for the guest, Prince Jean pulled out the old black sequenced mask.


“For you, my love.” He handed her the black sequenced mask as a golden ring fell upon her palm.