She was beautiful, as he'd already known from long before their unmasking. Breathtaking. Perfect. Everything about her had struck a wonderful melody in his heart... save for her name.  He knew she was not fabricating it; she bore a resemblance to what he had seen of her parents. He knew her name, as well; she wasn't just a LaVelle, but the daughter of the very head of their family, just as he was the heir to the Murnau.<br/><br/>His upbringing had conditioned his mind to loathe everything about her, yet his heart urged him to keep her in his arms and never, ever let go.  The conflict raged within him as he started to speak, his mask joining hers on the ground.<br/><br/>"Milady Miranda," he whispered, a quiver in his voice, "the night has brought us strange enchantments, indeed... a cruel trick of the Fair Folk that the only one to capture my heart be of the house of my opposition. Were that we met under other auspices, I'd have spared you no second glance, despite your beauty."<br/><br/>She looked so vulnerable; she wasn't a LaVelle. She was a woman, hurt and confused. His hand slipped up tentatively to cup her cheek, his breathing almost laboured. "But tonight... I wish to glance upon no other."