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One thing was made clear to Maya the second she stepped through the doors: If royals knew anything, it was how to throw a BITCHING party.
Every guest was fitted with intricate masks and expensive formalwear. Quite frankly, despite wearing similar garbs, Maya felt underdressed.
Those who weren’t mingling — a more casual term for ‘turning everything into a political battle’ — on the sidelines were engaging in what looked to be an intensely choreographed waltz. And while Franziska had spent hours training Maya on the specifics of the choreography, she ultimately decided it was safest to ignore that training and head over to the more passive crowd.
Franziska, Maya’s assigned partner for this leg of the mission, had suffered too many stubbed toes at the hands of Maya to argue with the decision.
The minute they paused, an action that was determined by how deep they were into the crowd (quite deep at this point), Maya made sure to turn Franziska and give her a pointed glare. Not a malicious glare, but a glare that signaled that all the words about the come out of her mouth were not actually directed at Franziska, no, they were directed towards Trucy, whose voice currently made its home in Maya’s earpiece. “How’re things?”
Franziska nodded, continuing the conversation with a shallow and vague answer, something that allowed the conversation to avoid suspicion but also Maya to tune out of the conversation and focus fully on Trucy. “Just fine, darling, why do you ask?”
The answer wasn’t impersonal enough, with the sound of ‘darling’ eliciting a warm blush in Maya’s cheeks and domestic thoughts in her mind.
Darling. The word fell out of Franziska’s mouth so easily, as if she didn’t even realize the effect it would have on lovesick Maya. But saying it ‘fell’ out of her mouth didn’t seem right. No, a word that ‘fell’ wouldn’t have such an impact.
Maya noticed the way Franziska’s accent wrapped around the word. The prolonged ‘a’. The clipped ‘i’. The smile that must’ve subconsciously come with the ‘ng’ sound. It was fascinating watching Franziska just...say stuff because of this. Every word she said sounded so official, every sentence inspiring. It made Maya’s heart do flips and the butterflies in her stomach flutter wildly.
Lost in her thoughts, Maya nearly missed Trucy’s response. Luckily, that was a ‘nearly’ and not a ‘totally’.
“Things are going good! Honestly, you don’t need to worry about anything except the guards. As long you keep an eye on them through the party—“
“Yeah, yeah, I know.”
Trucy huffed. “No need to interrupt me, big shot.”
Maya stifled a laugh at this, something that Franziska absolutely noticed and absolutely glared at. Maya never had been good at professionalism on jobs, while professionalism was Franziska’s strong suit. It was a mystery why they worked so well together despite this. Perhaps they balanced each other out.
Blushing furiously, again, at the thought, Maya hooked her arm around Franziska’s, signaling the beginning of pointless mingling with pointless people.
First stop: some old man and his distinctively younger date. A bitter taste filled Maya’s mouth at the sight, but nonetheless, they — just Franziska, really — engaged in conversation with the pair.
“Duke and Duchess of Usgil, honored to finally meet you.”
The young von Karma plastered a smile on her face as she greeted the two, and as fake as it was, it still managed to make Maya’s knees weak.
“Ah yes, and you are…?” The ‘Duke of Usgil’ had a typical crotchety old man voice. He was a walking stereotype, and it would’ve been arguably hilarious if it didn’t make Maya sick.
Franziska seemed to ignore the man’s general slimy demeanor, holding her hand out as elegantly as one possibly could. “Duchess’s of Aclesia.”
The Duke didn’t take her hand, instead scrunching up his wrinkly face in confusion. “Sisters co-acting as duchesses? Unheard of!”
Oh. So he really was that type of old man. Sure, he had a weird presence, but Maya was actually expecting him to be...awful, to put it bluntly.
Franziska simply laughed, holding her head back in a way that only Maya was able to clock as dramatic. “No, no, we’re married, sir.”
Maya took this as a cue to hold out her hand, adorned with a large, beautiful diamond ring (stolen). The Duke just stared in disturbed amazement, while his wife failed to hide a scowl.
All he had to say was, “Incredible! I didn’t know people like you were real!”
...What.
Franziska seemed to take this as a sign to say bewildered goodbyes, while Maya hurriedly began to tug her away from their bizarre company. Keyword there is ‘began’, as they were both quickly interrupted by a surge of the crowd, on that pushed both of them over to the makeshift waltz floor.
Maya wasn’t sure why there was a sudden mass of people eager to waltz — especially since they had the opportunity to do so all evening, like, it wasn’t like there was a major change in music, people just started moving for no discernable reason — but it didn’t matter how abrupt it was, what mattered was that Maya and Franziska needed to go along with it so as to not compromise the mission.
So, putting the aforementioned ballroom dancing practice to the test, they danced. They spun, they stepped, they even dipped at one point, which wasn’t typical waltz behavior, but the dance did call for it. And as the music came to a slow, Maya found that her lips met Franziska’s.
And with that, she completely forgot the circumstances. Maya forgot about thieving, about crown jewels, about endearing little children in earpieces. All she could think about was Franziska. Franziska, Franziska, Franziska; Her brain was like a broken record. She could only focus on the fact that Franziska’s inhumanely soft lips were on hers, and how that made all of Maya’s yearning over the years bubble up into one big ache in her joints.
Maya gently placed her hands on Franziska’s cheeks, leaning into the kiss. The masks they wore scraped against each other, but neither woman seemed to care, too caught up in their own longing to notice.
And as the two separated to catch their breath, Franziska smiled. Not a fake, plastered on smile like the one she had given the Duke earlier, no. This one was special. It was somehow better than the kiss, the way it lit up the room. Maya did her best to reciprocate it, but knew she could never compare.
Franziska, however, would’ve begged to differ.