Manon's Ascension

Queen of Mercy

Queen of Mercy

"Your majesty, you are positively radiant with a divine, inner light that positively blinds me with its illumination!"

Manon ignored her obsequious tailor as she turned, looking herself over in her mirror. The man was annoying, he had a disturbing tendency to grope his husband regardless of the time, place, or appropriateness of the action, and his grandiose way of speaking made everything he said seem false and untrustworthy.

But she could admit that the man was also highly talented.

Following Felicie's advice, she had found out who made her favorite five dresses and, to her surprise, they were all made by the same hand. She had then found the man and asked him to be her personal tailor – to which he enthusiastically agreed.

She hadn't known then how much he loved the sound of his own voice or that he considered any time to be a good time to remind his husband how desirable he found him – despite the fact that said husband constantly looked embarrassed at his exploits. It was almost enough for her to change her mind and find a new tailor.

Except the man really was a damn good dress designer. She turned herself this way and that, looking over her reflection in all three of her large, angled mirrors. He hadn't even blinked when she had told him what kind of dress design she needed to hide her many weapons. He had only looked eager to get started, talking about how much fun he could have with the concept.

She wasn't entirely sure if he was fully aware that she needed her weapons for deadly purposes because he acted more like it was a game. She also didn't particularly care because the rose pink gown with gold and pale brown accents he had designed was feminine, delicate, flowy, and hid both of her arm sheaths – ugly leather monstrosities, apparently, that he was already talking about redesigning – her thigh dagger, and the boning for her corset could be pulled out and used as assassin spikes. He was talking about designing shoes with knives hidden in the heels or along the soles as well as other places he could put weapons on her person – like it was some sort of fun puzzle.

But he was good at it, and she looked amazing. No matter how she turned herself in the mirror, she couldn't help but admire her reflection. The comparison to the drab, conservative dresses she had been wearing before was laughable.

"I'll have your full wardrobe completed soon, my queen." he assured her, patting his husband's butt as he passed by the man who was bent over, checking Manon's hem. The other man chirped in surprise but, other than a red faced look, didn't stop in his task. "Am I going to be making your gown for the summer festival?"

"You know, I believe you are," Manon said, pulling Jacques' dark brown coat over her shoulders. "Your work is outstanding."

"Thank you," he preened. "You are going to be the most beautiful flower at the festival. And it's going to be a good one this year. Peace and love shall overflow our hearts and manifest in-"

Manon tuned him out as she stepped down off the platform. She still had work to do today, but this morning trying on gowns, picking patterns and colors, had been fun. She normally didn't care one way or the other for this kind of thing, but after so many days of endless work and responsibility, something easy like this was a relief.

"May I fix your hair and make up?" The quiet husband asked, his voice soft and clear, like a bell, as her exuberant tailor continued to proclaim her beauty and his excitement over the coming festival and the good omens for the future.

Manon nodded and let him lead her to chair where he got to work. Her lady's maids were talented, loyal, and eager to learn, but there was no doubt that they were still learning these things. None of them had been trained for the position and they could not have guessed that they would ever be asked to do it in their years in the prison or the Aqua Isles.