Thread: On the Twelfth Night... (Madam Mim and Xana)

Versailles, 1670 Good evening, my lady, a voice straining for baritone saluted, bowing at the waist in the mirror. They stood upright then, and examined themself from several angles before exhaling hard and shaking their head. For fucks sake, it will never work, the same voice complained, this time with a distinct, if deep, feminine timbre. Now, now. Didnt you just seduce a buxom blonde the other night? Another voice, this one undoubtedly male called, leaning against the wall with ankles crossed over one another. Sandy blonde hair and laughing blue eyes met her own earthy brown eyes. Viola laughed, smirking at the memory, Bernadette. You might do a bit better with the ladies, if you bothered to learn their names, Antonio. Oh? Is knowing their names how you make them scream as if they were dying? Antonio jabbed, smirking knowingly. There is a reason its called une petite morte. And it turns out you can be a much better lover when you dont think with your cock. Viola riposted, pining her own dark hair up. I cant help it. Its so big and thick, it requires all the blood to drain from my head, Antonio leered, while Viola groaned in disgust. You are positively vulgar. Hey, this is how men talk. He insisted. Not gentlemen, Viola countered. Even gentlemen, when there are no ladies present, Antonio fired back, Youre going to need to know that, Sebastian . Viola sighed, and returned to the mirror. This is the most absurd plan. How am I supposed to masquerade as my brother until he recovers? It could be a month or two still! It worked on Bernadette, Antonio reminded her. It works in dimly lit taverns, when half the patrons are already drunk. Viola explained, My parents should just push back the wedding until Sebastian recovers. Yes, with just enough time for someone else to step in, and sweep Countess Olivia off her feet, Antonio retorted. Viola just frowned. Courtly politics were delicate matters, and the subterfuge was a necessity, or so her parents had assured her. At first Viola thought it was amusing that the proclivities to pose as a man and take a woman to bed, which her parents normally found distasteful, were the very skills she would use to best serve her family . But as the reality of what she intended to do sunk in, the less she felt she was up to the task. If only her hot headed brother hadnt insulted Marquis Hugo, or been foolish enough to accept his challenge to a duel. If only he remembered that the Marquis was a fierce duelist, or remember to protect his flank after a charge. Then he wouldnt have been grievously injured, and she wouldnt have to pose as Viscount Sebastian Baccarin on his wedding day. Leave me, I need to finish getting ready so I can meet my bride to be, she sighed, shooing him out. I thought I could help you wrap your chest, Antonio teased, running his hand down her back. With swift reflexes she angled her epee , until the tip was kissing his neck. You may be my brothers best friend, but Id be well justified to end you now, Viola threatened lightly. Scoffing, Antonio left the room, and Viola got to work. The white military coat with gold trimming was well tailored to her statuesque figure, helping to cover those feminine curves that hadnt been tamed by tightly wrapped bandages. Though she was taller than nearly every woman she knew, she was still shorter than her brother, which she made up for with heeled boots. They made her calves look amazing, and much of the nobility were favoring them, especially since Louis XIV started wearing them. Matching white pants finished her outfit, just tight enough to be appropriate, but not to give anything away. As ready as Ill ever be, she sighed to herself, looking in the mirror to make last minute adjustments. Now it was time to meet Countess Olivia, the woman who would be her wife.