Iago stood on the balcony, onyx and emerald mask framing his golden eyes. He had been glad to see the princess had not been relegated to greeting guests at the door, saving him the trouble of having to introduce himself. It seemed a foolish thing for a masquerade ball, but then again the nobles were always prone to such foolish things. And most would want their status and importance known. He scanned the room, playing at arrogant boredom. One arm resting on the rail, he leaned over the edge, watching the pathetic noblewomen dance with their craven men. The other hand held a glass of wine. He'd made it a point to look as though he was drinking it, while secretly pouring it out into various plants and windows. He needed his head completely clear. Taking a deep breath, he straightened up, tucking a single stray lock on his forehead back into place. He'd already gotten several looks from women. Long delectable looks through feminine dark lashes. He could have whisked any one of them across the dance floor, and in fact already had. But he had a mission, and that mission would not stand for too many distractions. The people of this land were counting on him and he was their savior. He had no intention of letting them down.<br/><br/>He watched the young man seated beside his father, not feeling the slightest bit guilty about their plans. he knew from his informants just how often the two were in each other's company, even at his young age learning the art of cruelty and excess. Innocent the boy may have been once, but he was too far gone for change, and he would have to be removed in order for their plans to come to fruition. Iago had it on good authority that the prince had forced one of his maids to cut off one of her own fingers for miscounting the gems on his snarky little crown. Such a display was more than enough to convince the revolutionaries that he had chosen the right child to assassinate this night. It was a shame really. If they’d gotten to him when he was younger, say seven or eight, he could have been raised properly, guided into being the king his people wanted, the ruler they craved. Granted the rest of the nobility would still have to be removed, but it would have been the boy Iago was kidnapping, and not his elder sister.<br/><br/>Gloved hand on the banister, the dark haired man descended to the floor of the main room, depositing his now empty glass on a servant's tray. He neglected to pick up another, moving towards the edge of the dance floor. Searching for the princess, he didn’t have to look far. She was rumored to be a creature of radiance, and rare as a flower blooming in the desert. Of course he had expecting naught but a pig faced wench, painted to look like a rose. Royal inbreeding was fairly unkind to the children, and though she had the fortunate graces to have a mother who was a captive bride from another elven kingdom they'd absorbed, he had doubted if the fates had been kind to her face. Still, he was grateful for the maid he'd paid off. Thanks to her, he knew exactly what the princess was wearing, and what her mask would be. Getting that information had not been easy, but he'd reassured the woman all he wanted was to make a good impression on behalf of his shamed family. It was something the poor dear could surely understand. His father had always been kind to the poor and needy, something that had infuriated the king. The lower classes were there to be subjugated and ruled over, not treated with dignity like they had as much right to the land as did the nobles. This would change under his system. Everyone of influence would be here at this ball, and he would see them ended.<br/><br/>And than he found her amongst the nobles, advisors, and other dignitaries. She fit the description he’d been given by the maid, but he was stunned for the briefest of moments. A young woman of genuine elegance and grace, polite and courteous, almost oblivious to the looks she was getting from the men around her. Surely she could not be that naive. It had to be an act. No one, no matter how sheltered could be that guileless. He refused to believe it. The blonde young woman moved so gracefully he couldn’t help but wonder if she was real, or if the king had commissioned a porcelain doll brought to life with some form of occult magics to play the part. And yet the more he watched her, the more he could almost see the metaphorical strings that bound the young woman in place, keeping her from making any move that would displease her father. With his study of the inner political workings of this kingdom, he was able to accurately predict whom she would gravitate towards next to speak to as though her mere presence, every move of her life itself all choreographed. The would-be Assassin almost felt bad for her. But they all had their roles to play in the coming revolution. Her’s had been chosen a long time ago and nothing could change that.<br/><br/>A tray moved past him and he picked up the glass, thanking the young woman softly. He’d seen the faint mark on her neck, recognising her as one of his. With glass in hand he slowly moved towards the balcony door, needing some air. He had time yet, plenty of it. He had to give a signal before they would even arm the charges, but he had no intention of delaying or calling off their operation. He was not expecting her to be so tightly choreographed, making him getting closer to her that much more difficult. But he was Iago Moriarty, a skilled leader and a natural tactician. He’d figure it out.