The De Lucas were known to be nothing short of lavish – every party, no matter how small or simple, was rumored to be something to behold. Men in Brioni Vanquish II suits wearing Philippe Patek watches that would even put Rolex to shame. Women sauntering about with their jewelry and Chanel bags on full display, as they danced and mingled with the next great thing.
The De Lucas were extravagant by far, and perhaps even she would have been bedazzled by the charm of it all but, alas, she was a Venturi, and the Venturi pride in Elise begged to differ as she watched the crowd mingled and chatter, all wide eyed and excited.
Certainly the Venturis can hold a grander party than this... She mindlessly mused, almost caught in the atmosphere of empty vanities and competition herself. Elise was never a girl fond of luxury and money, much less the fame that followed, but her family's blood still ran through her veins and if she lost even this little dignity she had as a Venturi, no matter how superficial, what would she even have or be anymore? Save for a family name meant for destruction?
With a sigh, she looked at her watch and then her phone, waiting for the long-awaited news from Romilda but... There was nothing. And while nothing was usually a good sign, it was different this time. Their assassin was supposed to be out by 10:30PM.
It was 10:56PM now.
As Elise ventured nearer to the targeted room, lingering around the hallways and pretending to clean, she swiftly sent a message to Romilda, her stomach twisting into knots of anxiousness.
[ Elise, 10:57PM: Consigliere, what's going on? Why is Gii not out yet??]
An abundance of thoughts ran through her mind as she found herself walking towards one of the large balconies, occasionally glancing at the room Gii was likely in.
How badly did she want to go in and check for herself, check on Gii who had been nothing but loyal to the Venturis ever since she'd join their gang. The both of them encountering one another at a tender age of 12, and while they were more than acquaintances but less than friends, Elise always had high regards for the other. She'd accomplished so much more, afterall, despite having so much less.
The balcony's lights turning on due to her presence, she walked closer toward the railing when a voice called out to her from below. A voice she'd come to familiar herself with, one that brought comfort rather than hate, something she could've never have expected.
“Fjord…” It was barely a whisper as she said his name - one that tasted so sweet on her lips rather than bitter.
The man standing down there, hand casually placed atop the head of a marble statue, the billion dollar grin etched on his lips… For a second, she found him far more stunning than the carved statue. Far more beautiful than the things her eyes had laid upon that evening.
It was moments like these which reminded (reassured her) money couldn't buy everything as the Venturis had been taught. Because she knew, for a fact, no amount in the entire world could buy her a moment of solace as the one she strangely felt whenever he was around.
Fjord... He was truly warmth wrapped in a person.
And yet...
He shouldn't have been standing there.
This warmth should've been extinguished minutes ago.
"My prince, what a surprise! Should I not be asking you that question?" She cheekily replied, a smile naturally appearing. "What have I done to be graced by your presence tonight? Especially with…” Briefly turning to the side, Elise casually pointed behind her where the event was taking place, reality settling in once again. One where Gii was still nowhere to be found, one where there should've been a hit taking place.
One where the target was the man standing below her.
But I digress. she thought, stopping herself from thinking any further on the subject. No matter what, no matter the compagna still missing, or the darling principe in her sights, she had to stay calm, stay focused.
Digression or deviation was out of the question, she simply couldn't. Not when she needed to stay sane.
"... A royal ball taking place. What is the center of attention doing outside here, all alone? Should you not be with them?"
It was funny really, how she said 'them' as if she wasn't truly one of those people herself. The ones who'd tasted luxury and wealth from a very young age. The one who had friends whose names she couldn't quite remember, and close relatives that could very well throw them under the bus the very same second.
Perhaps if it were someone else, she wouldn't have said it that way. Be more than fine adapting herself with people of her own kind, but Fjord was not just someone else. He was something more, someone she wanted to tell the truth to (and the truth being: I'm not like them. I never was).
It was moments like the day before when everyone was busy bustling about, plotting the murder of someone (and someone who may have meant something to her than the friends or wealth she held. But alas, who would ever take the time to ask dear principessa for her thoughts? They only ever asked for her nod of approval, afterall) as if it was just another task in one's daily schedule, did she think how meaningless their life was despite it seeming so rich. So beautiful to the people watching on the other side of the field.
There were times she wondered if she hadn't been the one standing and watching from the outside, would she have also turned into one of them; vicious, tenacious, and cruel. She wondered if she'd shamelessly paint the town red with no cares in the world just as they did, and if the ones who thought rubbing shoulders with her family and the likes would think shedding blood was worth it all.
But if they'd seen what she'd seen, witness what she'd witnessed... Elise couldn't help but wonder if they would possibly still feel the same. Or would they, like her, yearn for the other side of the field.
One filled with blissful ignorance and peace. Something not even money or fame could possibly hope to give her.
Thus, whenever she smiled kindly at the people who looked at them enchantedly, false naivety painting her expression, Elise couldn't help but be envious. And perhaps, this was an painful reminder that she, in truth, wasn't so different from her famiglia, after all. For they were always longing for more, and more, and more, weren't they?
But... She digressed in thoughts, once again.
"So Fjord, pray tell, what are you doing here? What would the attendees think or say if they saw their prince talking to the help on this lovely night?"
@fjorddeluca
He sees her, the girl who stands on the balcony, looking down upon him as a party happens just a few walls, and lifetimes, away. He could become lost in her, the beauty and joy that radiates from the girl who would so callously called herself the help.
She is more than that.
The world she stands in now, high above him in the darkness of the sky as glasses clink and guests enjoy their small, idle talk, is one that his parents would lambast him for inviting into. But it is more than that too.
Looking up at Elise, he thinks that he might just be a boy who looks upon the face of love, if such a thing were to exist. There is no blood feud with another family, no need to be more than he is now, his gaze settling upon her. She is not the help but the beauty he has come to steal away on horseback, to pull into the Italian countryside, never to be seen again.
"Them..." he echoes her words, the side of his mouth tugging up until it has formed a smirk. "They are boring people. Drab in their existence, talking only of their wealth and how to gain more..."
His fingers clutch the marble, biting into the brick; he wishes he could climb to her, to take her into his arms so that they could sway to the small orchestra that plays only the best music.
If he could do that, he would forget all about the hasty attempt to clear away what he knows to have been a hit. If he was the mark, they were not successful but that will only leave the Venturis deeply enraged; he would not think for a moment that it was another person. They would not have the capabilities to send an assassin on a covert mission to end the bloodline of the De Lucas.
But perhaps his own assassin is the being above him, so lovely in her disposition that he is moving from the statue without another thought.
"I'm not alone..." he remarks, drifting closer to her. "I'm with you, am I not?"
A simple remark but one that would end in trouble. His family will be on edge as is, the guests unaware of the world that is about to befall them if the truth were to slip out. If the tremble of his hand became a voice that would announce to them that he had survived the impossible and did the worst.
His family can keep it quiet, tightening their hands over the mouth until it is drowned out in the world of beautiful moments that they fabricated with their wealth and their words. How many politicians has his father managed to talk over tonight? How many bored wives of businessmen has his mother convinced to talk to their husbands? When the night is over, how many jewels will sparkle and why is it already certain that his will be the dullest?
The beautiful girl before him could never be it and Fjord is aware of such a notion; she is nothing like those in the mansion and that is why he had needed to see her now.
His hands might be stained with blood but if Elise cannot see that, then he will not linger on it.
"You might be the help in their eyes," he tells her, stepping so close now that he must crane his head back to see her. "But not to me... You are so much more in my eyes..."
A confession of sorts, one that he combats by allowing that tingle in his mind to work. Impulsivity, as it was said in a report, and it is what drives him to climb to her the same way it had saved his life not too long ago. He pulls himself up with the sole purpose of reaching the delicate beauty before him.
The perfectly trimmed hedge is sturdy, his actions are that of a man driven man, he knows it but if he were to stop for just a moment, he would realise what he is doing.
He does not want to realise what he is doing.
So, he climbs.
Thorns that prick his soul at the mere suggestion that he will be seen; smooth stone is under his palm a moment later, when she is clearer in his vision and he is almost face to face with her. So closed that he could brush his fingers over her cheek, to sweep the hair that falls into her face out of her eyes.
He could kiss her.
"I see a princess," he remarks, reaching out until his fingertips drift over the top of her hand. A ghost of a touch but the promise of more, to pump life back into the ghost until it thrives without the need to whispers and secret moments lost within the bright roses of a garden.
"Would this princess be willing to escape this party with me?" he asks delicately. "I wouldn't take you far, just —" he half turns, motioning towards the maze of hedges and within the middle, a lake decorated with lily pads and filled with koi fish. "Just to the middle of a labyrinth..."
It is where their golden boy has always deserved to go, after all.











