[Duchess Marguerite Magdalen]

Marguerite had spent weeks planning for this ball. She put so much thought and energy into it, one would think that it was to celebrate her wedding anniversary rather than that of the King and Queen of Adesia. The lovely young woman had plenty of reason to put time into her planning. The Masquerade Ball would be Marguerite Magdalen, the Duchess of Dynham's first public appearance after the birth of her fourth child and sole son, Hector. At the age of twenty two, while most of her contemporaries were newly married, Marguerite had been a wife for nearly eight years and a mother for seven. If it took a lot out of her, it did not register in her appearance.

She looked absolutely ravishing for this occasion. Her gown was made of white silk - the color of Dynham. The bodice is filled with fine silver embroidery and encrusted with small crystals. It hugged her waist tightly, revealing the small waistline that had lost all traces of pregnancy. The sleeves tapered, draping over her slender wrists in an elegant fashion. The neckline was scalloped - the latest in Dynham's fashion - and allowed the viewer to catch a glimpse of her ample bosom, which was more prominent than usual due to her recent childbirth. The full skirt of the gown, as well as the sleeves had slashes that revealed sapphire covered velvet in stripe like patterns. The pattern was mimicked on her white mask, decorated with sapphire colored stripes and lined with diamonds and sapphires. The tigress wore her blonde curls were captured in a silver hair net, which was interwoven with small diamonds and sapphires. Around her throat, she wore a silver chain from which hung a sapphire pendant, lined in diamonds. The necklace was a wedding gift from her husband - Duke Adam Magdalen.

In fact, the entire ensemble had been a gift from Adam, who enjoyed doting upon his wife.

Her eyes, one blue and one brown, glittered anxiously behind her mask as she entered the ballroom by way of the grand staircase. She entered alone, surprisingly. She had convinced Adam that it would be best if they entered separately. It was a masquerade and identities were meant to be hidden. Marguerite and her childlike spirit wished to play along with the grand facade. If the handsome blonde pair were to enter together, everyone would know instantly who they were. She wished to be more discreet. Her evening would be much more entertaining if no one knew her as the Duke's wife. She had not even allowed Adam to see her in her costume before the festivities. He would, of course, recognize her right away anyway. After all, he had seen the gown several times, as well as listened to Marguerite prattle on about it. She had originally intended on keeping it a secret, but Marguerite had never been good at keeping things hidden - especially from Adam.

As she entered, she saw a good many heads turn in her direction. A coy smile played on her closed lips as she surveyed the room. A tigress on the prowl. Of course, she would not dance with any of the men currently ogling her. She would dance with her husband and their close friends only. Well, as long as Adam did nothing to upset her during the evening. Flirting about in front of a jealous husband was always her best weapon whenever he crossed her. Still, nothing would come of it. Marguerite adored Adam. And why shouldn't she? He doted upon her and their children - giving them whatever their heart's desired. They had a successful union and depended upon one another, though Marguerite was unaware to the fact that her husband depended no her for anything. In her eyes, he was a strong male who cared for her and was worthy of her affection. In fact, most of the preparations she had made for this ball had been for Adam. Not only did she want others to see that the Duke of Dynham had a lovely wife who had given him four healthy children, one being male, and could still manage to outshine other women in the room, but she also wanted him to be taken with her appearance. She put so much time into dressing and grooming to keep his affection and attention.

A servant passed her with a tray of wine goblets. She accepted one and sipped at it lightly. Red wine on a white gown would be a devastating combination, but the impeccably trained young woman never spilled. As she moved through the room, nodding her head to those who looked her way, her mind wandered to her children. It was strange how often she thought of them lately. In years prior after Edwige or even Héloïse's birth, she would not have given them a second though. Years had matured her, however, and she had come to enjoy motherhood. Her three daughters had remained in Dynham under the watchful eye of their maids. Edwige, Marguerite's favorite daughter, had thrown a Marguerite-like tantrum when she learned she was not allowed to join her mother. Adam promised to bring her back a trinket, however, and her wailing was hushed. Hector, the heir to the Magdalen name, at only five months was brought to the Sapphire City. Many would think it irresponsible to bring such a young child such a distance, but it was for his safety's sake. Neither Adam nor Marguerite wished to leave their vulnerable son out of their sight for too long.

As her mind drifted from child to child, a striking figure caught her attention. Adam. She finished the goblet of wine and handed it to another tray. She could already feel the wine beginning to warm her body. Adam had warned her not to consume to much that evening. She watched him as he moved throughout the room, a small smile playing upon her face. She did not approach him, however. She would let him find her.

[Duke Adam Magdalen]

Born and raised in what could best be described as a shanty in the dusty streets of Dinley, Adam was still finding it difficult to handle the huge amount of decorum at festivals such as this one. Marguerite, however, would be having the time of her life -- or so the duke imagined. She'd insisted on arriving separately, so that the illusion could be kept up, and Adam had faithfully agreed. What fun could there be in a masquerade if everyone knew who they were? And what was more exciting than searching a crowd full of masked women for the one whom he could actually take home to his bed? It was a hunt. Men were rumored to enjoy it more than any other chase in the world, and Magdalen was no exception. He knew what she looked like, how she was dressed, but finding her in the throng would prove difficult anyway.

Tonight, Adam was dressed more lavishly than usual, in an ensemble tailored for the occasion. Marguerite hadn't seen it yet; he was better at keeping secrets than she was, but not for lack of trying on her part. A fitted silver waistcoat hugged the duke's body tightly, and white breeches disappeared into white calf-skin boots. His unruly blonde curls were pinned down beneath the ribbons that held his mask in place -- plain silver, glittering about the eyes with dozens of tiny diamonds. Shocking blue eyes and a pair of eternally smiling lips were all that was visible of the duke. And if some of the courtiers recognized him anyway, they didn't let on. The only real sign of his status was the silver signet ring that sat eternally on his right ring finger, opposite the wedding band on his left.

His wedding band. All at once, his thoughts were back on Marguerite. The Duke of Dynham pushed through the doors of the ballroom into the whirling dervish that was the Monarchy Day masquerade, his head immediately spinning with the sheer enormity of it. Everyone was in bright color, the vibrance making Magdalen see spots. He swept the crowd before him, but saw no sign of Marguerite, and had to push on, pausing only to sweep a courteous bow to courtiers who bowed in return.

Just when he had all but abandoned hope, a break in the crowd revealed her -- angel that she was! -- dressed all in white, in the guise of a tiger. Adam grinned at the sheer appropriateness of it, and saw the proud head turn just slightly. She'd seen him, of course, but like the demure thing she was, she would wait for his approach. Fine -- very good. The Duke made his way through the crowd, coming up on his wife's side and catching her mismatched eyes through the holes of her mask. He said nothing, his expression betraying no more than a hint of affection, and then Adam bent to bring her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles just a moment longer than was proper.

"Could it be," he murmured, not able to keep from smiling any longer, "that the heavens have seen fit to send me an angel this evening?" Adam brought his free hand to hers, clasping her tiny hand in his two. "I am naught but a reflection of your loveliness, my lady; I would be eternally blessed if you would honor me with a waltz."

[Duchess Marguerite Magdalen]

Marguerite noticed when Adam's gaze finally found her. Rather than lock eyes with her husband, she looked away, pretending not to notice. For a moment, she debated whether or not to stand still as he wove through the crowd to find her or if she should move, making his chase a bit more difficult. She decided on the former. Still, she did not look his way as he approached her.

In truth, it pleased her greatly that his first task upon arriving had been to find his wife. She would have been devastated if he had simply sat idly, or worse, if he eyed another woman in her stead. She thrived off of his affection. Even though he had agreed to her childlike ruse of arriving separately, she appreciated his swiftness in appearing at her side. In the earlier years of their marriage, she would have been annoyed by this behavior. It was strange now to remember that there was a time when Marguerite had avoided her husband at all cost. She had spent her days on her mother's estate rather than in her own. At public functions such as this one, she would surround herself with ladies and refuse to spend any more time with Adam than was necessary. She had always loved the richness of balls far too much to feign illness and get out of the evening altogether. Now, after almost eight years of marriage, she would spend the duration of these events by Adam's side - dancing and flirting like unwed teens.

Finally, Adam arrived at her side. She turned her bi-colored gaze to look at him for the first time. If there had been any doubt in her husband's mind as to her identity, it was confirmed when he saw her eyes. One brown and one blue. It was an omen that said she was destined for great things. When in Soleil, her eyes, similar to the former Queen's, had been what had set her apart. She had been destined to become a Soleilian royal. Arrangements had even been in the making before her family was betrayed by rivals. The prediction had still come true, however. She was not the Queen of Soleil, but she was the Duchess of Dynham. She had loved Soleil so much, but now she could not imagine being anywhere but Dynham. She could not imagine being anything but Adam's wife. He looked stunningly handsome in his white and silver costume. They had not coordinated their costumes, but he had seen hers and arranged his to match. Adam was quite the considerate husband.

Adam had always been better at hiding his emotions than Marguerite. While a smirk pulled on her lips, he remained deadpan, save for a gleam of affection in his eyes. As he kissed her hand, the smirk formed into a full grin as she beamed at her husband. Suddenly, there was no one else in the room. When he returned her grin with one of his own, she tilted her head slightly, listening to him speak. Marguerite loved that Adam still spoke to her in such a manner. A tinge of color rose to her alabaster cheeks as he clasped her hand.

"You are too kind, my lord." She answered, taking a step towards him, crossing the threshold of propriety into familiarity. "And a waltz would be delightful."

[Duke Adam Magdalen]

"Not too kind," he murmured, taking his wife's hand in one of his own, and reaching out to brush a stray curl back from her cheek with the other. "Never too kind. Not for you." This time, Adam allowed himself a small smile, but took a step back even as Marguerite advanced one. She had wanted to play at the masquerade, and that was fine -- Adam had thought it silly, at first, but now he found himself slipping into the ruse, into the familiar anonymity of the masked ball.

He led Marguerite by the hand to the dance floor, turning to face her with a little smirk. His blue eyes sparkled with affection upon seeing her mismatched gaze, so perfectly paired with the duality of her temper. Marguerite could be sweet as candy -- sweeter than anyone else, when she decided so, but if her pride was affronted she could be cold as the snow. Fortunately, Adam had been the only one to realize how to warm her back to his side. Not that either of them had had a choice, really, but that didn't matter anymore. Not anymore. They'd been forced together by fate, but it was love that had brought them so close.

Adam placed a hand lightly on his wife's waist, guiding her into the waltz with a grace that was unexpected. "Let's play a guessing game," he suggested. "I'll ask you a question, and you can ask one of me. Ready?" The duke made a humming sound, canting his head to one side as though pondering what to ask the 'stranger'. When he turned his attention back to his wife, Magdalen was smiling brightly.

"Are you married, my lady?"

[Duchess Marguerite Magdalen]

A bit of a coy smile played on Marguerite's lips as Adam spoke of not being too kind. A somewhat suggestive glance was sent from her bi-colored eyes as her husband brushed a stray curl off of her cheek. She had worn her hair styled in an exquisite up-do, but had left a few curls framing her face. She knew that Adam liked to see her hair like that. He enjoyed watching her play with her curls and he, too, would often caress her soft locks. It was no secret that she aimed to please her husband. She owed her happiness to him and it was her duty as his wife to do all in her power to make him happy.

She noticed that he backed away, keeping up the ruse of propriety. Were they anywhere but a masquerade and Adam had backed away, a pout would have formed on those full lips. Still, since it was in fact a masque, she kept up her in of the act and simply smiled demurely as he led her onto the floor. She held onto his hand - a little tighter than would be considered proper with a stranger. Her mismatched gaze never left Adam's face as they began to dance.

As her husband spoke, a smile lit up the Duchess' face. A guessing game? Adam knew so well how to appeal to Marguerite's almost childlike nature. The blonde did so love to be entertained and Adam was always more than willing. The typical dance talk - commenting about the size of the room or the number of dancing couples - was not enough to placate Marguerite. The game that the Duke had come up with was a splendid idea. She smiled as he finished speaking. "I am ready."

When he asked his question, a coy smile appeared on Marguerite's face. She could go two directions with this question. She could not deny that she was married, of course. She could, however, describe her husband with disinterest and continue to flirt with this 'stranger' or she could describe her husband as she would with a true stranger: as a loving, wonderful, powerful man. She decided to go with the former. Since this was, in fact, her husband, it would not be a dangerous move to continue to flirt.

"I am, indeed, my lord." She answered with a wicked smile. "But my husband is not attending this evening. And how does the expression go? While the cat's away, the mouse will play..." She spoke quietly, just so Adam could hear. If anyone else heard her words and identified her as the Duchess of Dynham, there would surely be rumors. "And now it is my turn?" She asked, tilting her head as the thought for a moment.

She knew everything about Adam, so truly questioning him would be entirely pointless. She decided to ask an obvious question. "From which duchy do you hail, my lord?"