#palace on wheels photos

[palaceonwheels]

Palace on Wheels: A Visual Feast of Opulence

The Palace on Wheels is an embodiment of royal grandeur combined with the finest luxuries modern travel has to offer. As one of the most prestigious luxury trains in the world, it takes passengers on a remarkable journey through India’s cultural and scenic landscapes. The Palace on Wheels images perfectly capture this blend of tradition, elegance, and comfort, making the train a photographer’s paradise.

A Royal Introduction to the Palace on Wheels

The Palace on Wheels is a luxurious train that transports guests back to the age of Indian royalty. Its design is inspired by the personal carriages of Rajput princes, featuring intricate detailing, bold colors, and traditional motifs. Every part of the train, from the exterior to the interiors, reflects the richness of India's heritage. The Palace on Wheels pictures show off the impeccable attention to detail, from the royal architecture to the exquisite decor.

Travelers on board are treated to a unique blend of modern comforts and regal opulence, ensuring they experience both history and luxury. Whether you are traveling for leisure or capturing moments for your portfolio, the Palace on Wheels photos reflect the splendor of this extraordinary journey.

Unraveling the Visual Splendor: Exterior Highlights

Royal Inspiration in Design

The exterior of the Palace on Wheels is designed to resemble the lavish royal carriages of yesteryear. With ornate patterns, rich colors, and regal insignia, the exterior is as visually appealing as it is historically significant. Every element of the train's exterior, from its windows to the gold embellishments, is crafted to provide a royal feel.

For photographers, the train offers a wealth of opportunities to capture the grandeur. Whether stationed at a platform or gliding through the scenic landscapes of Rajasthan, Palace on Wheels photos highlight the beauty of the train against India’s iconic backdrops.

Photo-Ready Exteriors

The exterior of the Palace on Wheels is a visual masterpiece. The bold design of the train, coupled with its majestic appearance, makes it an irresistible subject for photography. Palace on Wheels images showcase the exteriors as the train halts at some of India's most beautiful locations, offering a contrast between the luxurious train and the rustic beauty of the countryside. At each stop, photographers have the chance to capture the train as it reflects the golden hues of the Indian sun.

Step Inside the Palace: Interior Opulence

Lavish Cabins and Suites

Step inside the Palace on Wheels, and you are immediately enveloped in royal opulence. The cabins and suites are designed to resemble the chambers of kings and queens. Richly adorned with handcrafted furnishings, each room provides both comfort and style. The Palace on Wheels pictures of the interiors display the rich tapestries, plush seating, and vintage décor, all of which contribute to the overall royal ambiance.

Travelers enjoy not only the luxury of space but also the thoughtful design elements that evoke a sense of India’s regal past. Palace on Wheels photos often capture the intricate detailing, including handwoven carpets and artistic touches that make each suite unique.

Royal Dining Experience

Dining on board the Palace on Wheels is an experience like no other. The two elegant restaurants, "Maharaja" and "Maharani," provide a royal setting for gourmet meals. The dining cars are as visually stunning as they are comfortable, with grand chandeliers, royal table settings, and an atmosphere of regal splendor. The Palace on Wheels images of the dining cars often feature beautifully laid tables, luxurious seating, and exquisite décor, all of which enhance the overall visual appeal.

The restaurants serve a wide variety of delicacies, blending traditional Indian cuisine with international flavors, and these gastronomic delights are perfectly complemented by the royal ambiance. For photographers, capturing the artful presentation of dishes along with the regal dining environment adds to the collection of Palace on Wheels pictures.

Luxury Lounges and Spa

Beyond the cabins and dining cars, the Palace on Wheels offers several other luxurious spaces, including elegant lounges and an onboard spa. These areas provide passengers with the perfect place to relax and enjoy the royal treatment. The luxurious spa offers a range of treatments that help travelers unwind after a day of sightseeing. The lounges, with their royal furnishings and comfortable seating, offer a cozy yet opulent environment for socializing or enjoying a quiet moment.

Photographers can capture moments of relaxation, elegance, and luxury, further enhancing the visual narrative of their journey. Images of the Palace on Wheels train often include these luxurious spaces, highlighting the attention to detail and the comfort provided to each guest.

Capturing Opulence through Photography

Framing Regal Interiors

Photographing the interiors of the Palace on Wheels requires a keen eye for detail. Each cabin, dining car, and lounge is filled with textures, patterns, and colors that make for stunning photographs. Symmetry plays a major role in framing shots that capture the regal essence of the train. Palace on Wheels photos highlight the use of chandeliers, rich fabrics, and artistic embellishments that reflect India’s royal heritage.

For photographers, capturing these elements in the right light can create images that tell the story of luxury and tradition. Palace on Wheels images of the royal cabins and dining spaces are often characterized by their intricate detail and the warmth of natural light streaming through the windows.

Natural Light and Interior Shots

The best time to capture the Palace on Wheels interiors is during daylight hours, when natural light enhances the beauty of the rooms. Mornings and evenings provide soft, golden light that adds a glow to the already grand interiors. Images of the Palace on Wheels train taken during these times often showcase the rich textures of the fabrics and the grandeur of the décor, offering a perfect balance of light and shadow.

Photographers can experiment with different angles and compositions to bring out the opulence of the train's interiors. Whether it’s the rich upholstery or the artistic wall hangings, each shot can highlight a unique aspect of the train's luxury.

Landmark Destinations and Cultural Visuals

Cultural Heritage Stops

The Palace on Wheels takes its passengers on a royal journey through some of India’s most significant cultural landmarks. From Jaipur’s pink palaces to Jaisalmer’s golden sand dunes, the journey is filled with visual delights. Palace on Wheels pictures often include iconic landmarks like the Amber Fort, Udaipur’s City Palace, and Jodhpur’s Mehrangarh Fort. These stops offer endless opportunities for photographers to capture India’s rich history.

At each destination, travelers can document not only the grand architecture but also the cultural vibrancy of the local people. Palace on Wheels photos from these heritage stops often reflect the grandeur of India’s past combined with the warmth of its present-day culture.

Scenic Landscapes Along the Route

The journey on the Palace on Wheels also offers stunning views of India’s natural beauty. As the train passes through the desert landscapes of Rajasthan or the lush greenery of Udaipur, photographers have the chance to capture breathtaking landscapes. The Palace on Wheels images of these scenic views showcase India’s diverse terrain, providing travelers with unforgettable memories.

From the desert sunsets over Jaisalmer to the serene lakes of Udaipur, each landscape offers a new perspective for photography. Images of the Palace on Wheels train taken against these stunning backdrops highlight the train’s regal presence amidst India’s natural beauty.

Enhancing Social Media Presence with Opulent Content

Creating Visual Impact for Instagram and Pinterest

The visual appeal of the Palace on Wheels makes it a perfect subject for social media platforms like Instagram and Pinterest. Palace on Wheels pictures of the luxurious interiors, grand exteriors, and scenic views are ideal for creating engaging posts that attract travel enthusiasts and luxury travelers alike.

Travel bloggers and influencers can use these stunning visuals to build content that resonates with their followers. Palace on Wheels images featuring the train’s royal elegance can elevate any social media profile, offering a glimpse into one of India’s most luxurious travel experiences.

Building Content for Travel Blogs

For travel bloggers, the Palace on Wheels journey offers a wealth of material to create compelling content. High-quality Palace on Wheels photos paired with detailed descriptions of the journey can engage readers looking for luxury travel experiences. The rich imagery combined with the narrative of a royal adventure makes for captivating blog content that draws readers in and keeps them engaged.

[sukirichi]

[ DUSK ‘TILL DAWN : 013 ]

“we who bear the burden of the crown do not need to love. you only need to stay here, with me, in power, in greed, in lust – in victory.”

cw. modern royal au. infidelity. slight angst. toxic characters & toxic relationships. 18+. smut (nothing explicit.) unedited. suggestive. fluff. alcohol consumption.

notes. feedbacks / reblogs/ comments are appreciated <3 ALSO!! i am very bad at describing places (i tried my best) but just so you guys can visualize things better, i included photos of where this chapter took place at the end of the fic

wc. 12.1k

series masterlist 

[ THIRTEEN ] it hurts to be something, it’s worse to be nothing with you. i’ve done the math, there’s no solution. we’ll never last – why can’t i let go of this?

“Rin,” you stopped his hands from going any further, your fingers closed around his. He paid you no mind as he merely flicks your hands away. The top three buttons of your blouse have already been popped open, the white lace of your bra visible to his eyes. They visibly darkened with lust. Grasping his hand again, you held him tighter this time around, preventing him from exposing you to him. “Rin, please. Stop.”

Rintaro finally stopped. His fingers froze in the air, his thumb caressing the button like he’s fighting back an itch to completely rip your blouse apart. Maybe on another day, you would’ve found his hunger to be flattering. But not here, not in the middle of nowhere, and definitely not when he smelled like smoke. Not when he smelled like all the horrible things he’d gotten from her.

Cocking his brow, he leant back at the hood of his car. He stared up at you, his pretty eyes narrowed into slits.

“What? You don’t want me to touch you?”

You vehemently shook your head no. You awaited it – some sort of angry response from him. It wasn’t often you rejected his advances, but it was written crystal clear on your face: he made you uncomfortable. He found it sickening, how you looked at him like he was some vermin.

“Fine,” he spat out, rounding the vehicle as he opens his door. “Get in the car.”

“But… I can’t just leave–”

“I’ll have someone take care of it. Get. In. The. Car.”

You glance back at your car. Kuroo’s cellphone was still inside, along with your gun engraved with your family crest. If anyone were to peek inside, it wouldn’t be far to assume that you were out to kill someone. Not to mention, it was your private vehicle, not the Palace’s issued ones. Quickly, you raise a finger to Rintaro and ask him to wait, running back to your car before slipping the phone inside your pockets. In less than a minute, you’d opened the passenger’s seat and buckled the seatbelt.

The silence was painful.

There’s nothing but the smooth hum of the car’s engine, the rhythmic tapping of Rintaro’s hand against the wheel. He didn’t bother turning the radio on, and you were too lost staring at the trees whizzing by to strike up a conversation. There were too many things to ask, too many answers that demanded your attention, and so little time for it all. You wanted him to break the silence first, until sleep beat you to it. With the clock reading half an hour past four, you found yourself nodding off, shaken awake by the constant road bumps ahead.

Six am.

You straightened your back. The scenery had shifted from the dense forestry. Beside you, Rintaro looked half-awake, cracking his neck from side to side.

You watched as the gentle fingers of dawn painted the sky in hues of rose and gold. With the car travelling along the coastal road, you glanced sideways, captivated by the mesmerizing vista unfolding before your eyes. You’d seen the sea before, but never at this time – never when the sun was beginning to stretch its arms as if to embrace it. The sea, that of liquid sapphire, shimmered under the first light of day, each tiny, soft wave crested with a translucent luminescence – something both haunting and mysterious that made it hard to look away. It was deep and bewitching, like it would whisper to you the secrets of the deep if you looked close enough.

Rolling the windows down, you gazed at the horizon – right where the ocean kissed the sky, and birthed with it the symphony of color. Pastels of pink and lavender blended into a cerulean blue. The sun, a radiant gem emerging from its slumber, cast a golden path across the water and shimmered across the ripples, inviting the soul to wander its glittering trail. You felt the need to reach out to it – to skirt your fingers across the horizon, wondering if somehow the sea could drown you in its beauty and your pain could be forgotten.

As the car cruised along, your eyes remained transfixed on the sea. Drawn to its endless, vast rhythmic dance of a push and pull. The waves rolled in a timeless cadence, their gentle roar a comforting lullaby. Each surge and retreat of the water mirrored your own steady breaths – in and out – a silent meditation that made you feel as if everything was almost okay.

Through the open window, the scent of salt and the crispness of morning air filtered through. It filled the car with the essence of the sea, masking the scent of Rintaro’s stumped cigarette. For a moment, you were filled with a profound sense of peace. A moment of stillness amid the journey. The sea, with its infinite expanse and eternal ebb, seemed to hold all the answers. It wasn’t like Itachiyama whose beauty brought calmness to your soul and silenced all your fears. It was entirely a beauty of itself, one that haunted you and prodded at your bones, picking your soul apart and gently sewing back them together.

Like an unstoppable force, like watching a car crash into another – it was hard to take your eyes off of it.

“Where are you taking me?” you broke the silence after a while, choosing to keep the windows rolled down. Beside you, Rintaro spared you a quick glance before turning his eyes back to the road.

“You’ll find out when we get there.”

Nodding, you propped your chin onto your arm. Now that you were awake, the events from the past few hours finally caught up to you. The meeting with Kuroo, Atsumu’s sex tape, being chased by Rintaro, and your call not reaching Kiyoomi – Kiyoomi. Gods. He must be so worried. But your phone’s battery died long ago, and there was a bigger matter at hand – Rintaro’s accusation, and the way he’d hid his hurt with a smirk.

It was a side of him you’d never seen before.

Sure, he’d been angry when you did anything that concerned Iris, or when you left for Itachiyama after his displeasure about it. But this time, he looked more hurt than angry, as if he couldn’t believe you would go so far.

You rolled the windows up. The sounds of the humming of the car and the breeze slipping through muted.

“Rin,” you mumbled, toying with your fingers in your lap. “I didn’t try to kill you, you know.”

Your husband snorted. “Oh, you didn’t? Could’ve fooled me. It’s not every day you see your wife’s new maid slipping something in my drink, but if you truly did not have anything to do with it, then I guess it’s safe to assume your maid is out to assassinate me,” grip tightening on the wheel, he forced himself to exhale through his nose. “Do you deny this?”

“Airi has nothing to do with this.”

“Do enlighten me, then, because I don’t know what to think of you anymore,” he gritted his teeth, and you were shocked into silence. It was quite the confession coming from him. “I have made mistakes. Many of them. I have hurt you, again and again, but do you really wish to end my life?” he shot you a look, only to turn his head away – staring out into the sea before you. You wondered if it’s because he couldn’t stand to look at you, or he didn’t want you to see whatever might show in his face.

“I didn’t think you could be so cruel, Princess.”

Your face fell, the light in your eyes dimming as his words sunk in. “I told her to crush some sleeping pills in your tea so I could sneak out without you noticing. I wasn’t trying to ‘kill’ you.”

“And where would you go without me? A lady like you should never leave the castle premises unsupervised,” he reminded, the edges of his lips curling into a dissatisfied smile. “Unless you don’t want me knowing who it is you’re meeting.”

Sighing, you let your head drop to your hands. “Enough with the accusations, Rin. How many times do I have to tell you I have never cheated on you?” you rolled your eyes at him, your arms crossed to your chest, irked. “If you really must know, I met up with Kuroo Tetsurou – yes, the man who wrote that article about your tryst and ruined your reputation. You know what I did? I paid him to disappear from this country, and to completely erase any traces of what he’d written. I did it for you. I did it because I no longer want to see you suffering from the hands of another, so don’t you dare go around treating me like I’m your enemy, because at the end of it all, I’m the only one on your side. Do you understand?”

It was a half lie, but a white lie in your defense. The end would justify the means. Rintaro didn’t have to know the whole truth, not when there was a chance he’d ruin your plans. He only needed to let his guard down, to completely trust you on this because that last part you would not lie about.

He could hurt you – take your heart and crush it until there was nothing left. But it would not change the fact that you were his wife, and he your husband. It wouldn’t change the fact you were bound by vows you’d spoken in front of Her Majesty, in front of the Gods they worshipped in a sacred chapel. You would never, and could never, go as far as to make Rintaro detestable in the eyes of others. He was yours to hate and love. No one else could take that right away from you. He simply wasn’t for the world to pick apart.

Silence clouds the car. With a quick glance, you saw his grip loosening on the steering wheel, his shoulders visibly relaxing as his brows pinched together. “You did that… for me?”

You scoffed. “You have no idea the things I would do for you.”

“Then why keep it a secret from me? I would’ve gone with you. I could’ve sorted it out myself.”

“You couldn’t. You’ve barely been touching any of your work ever since the scandal happened,” you pointed out, holding your hand up to flash him your ring – the one you never dared took off, not even in the shower, and especially not when Kiyoomi had been nudging his way into your heart. “I’m your wife. I promised to share the burden of the crown with you. If a time comes that you’re unable to handle the troubles coming your way, then I will step in and do it for you.”

Rintaro blinked rapidly, as if clearing away the images that troubled him. “I’m sorry,” he finally said, “I’m just… You said you hated me, and that you regretted marrying me. So when I saw Airi mess with my tea, I immediately thought you wanted me out of your life.”

You looked out the window. Pursing your lips, you couldn’t help but think to yourself – if only it were that easy.

“You’re my husband. I would be devastated if you died.”

Rintaro drove around for a few more minutes before finally arriving in a gated community. Although community was a stretch, considering there were no other houses around. Not a single person could be seen. The entire beach was closed off from that point on. He wouldn’t answer any of your questions either, simply smiling to himself as he drove past a grove of trees until you broke through – the sounds of the waves audible and muted, as if they were from a distance. Before you stood a large white mansion, hidden by the tall trees, but peeking just enough to be highlighted by the golden dawn.

“We’re here,” Rintaro announced, bouncing out of his seat to run around your side and open the door for you. You couldn’t help but snicker at his sudden chivalry. Nevertheless, you slipped your hand into his, following him as he led you to the pebbled walkway leading up into the house. “I bought this beach for us.”

“Rin, you can’t do that. The beaches should be open to the public.”

Rintaro squeezed your hand. There was a lightness to his step, almost as if he was floating through air – or maybe your reassurance had simply made his body feel lighter. “Indulge me a little, wife. Let me show you around first, and if you really don’t like it… then I’ll put it up for sale, okay?”

You couldn’t argue with that. It was hard to, anyway, when he struggled to open the doors as he refused to let go of your hand. After fumbling for the keys, he finally got them in and pushed the doors open.

You could see much from where you stood. At the break of dawn, the sun’s first golden rays began to dance across the tranquil surface of the sea, casting a gentle, shimmering glow that greeted the grand beach house with a tender embrace.

The luxurious abode, with its elegant arches and expensive terraces, stood proudly against the backdrop of the awakening sky. Its hues of pink and orange melded seamlessly into the lingering blue of the night. Your eyes widened, watching as the colors bounced off the water and reflected back onto the sturdy white pillars of the house’s exterior. The soft, ambient light illuminated its exquisite architecture, revealing intricate details and the soft contours of its stone façade.

Stepping onto the grounds for the first time, you let your hands run through the textures of the pillars, feeling its smoothened out surface. 

The house, a vision of opulence and warmth, beckoned you with its ethereal allure. Each window and glass wall, strategically placed, welcomed the sunrise with open arms, allowing the light to flood the interior spaces with a radiant glow. The reflections danced upon the surface of the pristine pool outside, playful patterns dancing along the walls and the ceiling. It made the entire house seem alive with its morning gentle touch.

You felt your breath get caught in your throat – stunned by the beauty of it all.

You moved towards the edge of the expansive backyard, where the manicured lawn stretched out like a verdant carpet leading directly to the soft sands of the secluded beach. The sound of the waves, a soothing melody, called out to you. It mingled with the rustling leaves of the palms that framed the house. The air, crisp and salty, invigorated your senses and filled you with a sense of profound peace and connection.

Unbeknownst to you, Rintaro was drunk on your expressions. He lit up each time you smiled at a corner, his heart blooming and swelling he felt it would burst out of his chest. For one of the few times in his life, he felt proud of himself.

“I bought this mansion a year after I started courting you,” he said, his gaze transfixed on the way your hands were still intertwined. It caused him to trail after you like a lost puppy; not that he minded. He just liked being here with you. With that thought in mind, he absentmindedly caressed your wedding ring with the pads of his thumb. “I didn’t have concrete plans in mind yet, but I knew I would end up marrying you someday, and the Palace didn’t seem like a good place for us to enjoy our married life. But here… we can live separately from the rules imposed on us. Here, we are not Princess or Prince. It could just be the two of us.”

You bit your lip, your heart hesitant. It fluttered at the sincerity of his words, swooned at the revelation he’d been planning this for years. You could imagine it – Rintaro walking through this property a year into your courtship, the young Prince nodding to himself because he just knew this place would be yours.

“It’s still mostly empty, of course. I didn’t want to decorate it without asking for your opinions, and I figured maybe you’d want to take the lead in that area,” he encouraged with a smile.

And really, who could say no to that? When he gave you such a beautiful house and handed you the reigns to do as you pleased, then you would turn this house into something you could call your home.

Every detail of the beach house was meticulously designed for both grandeur and intimacy. The spacious terraces offered the perfect setting for private dinners and joyful gatherings with family and friends, promising countless evenings of laughter and love under the starlit sky. You could already envision long, leisurely breakfasts on the balcony, the sea’s gentle murmur a constant, comforting presence.

You would sip your morning coffee in your nightgown, reading the newspaper, or letting your eyes close as you let the sea breeze gently wake you up from the remnants of your slumber. Behind you, your husband would sneak up in nothing but his sleep shirt, his voice deep and croaky with sleep laced to it. He would wrap his arms around your waist, coo good morning in your ears as he buried his face on the crook of your neck.

It was the perfect house to live the married life in.

The moment is too beautiful that it let the walls you’d put up slowly crumble. It gave way for your mind to entertain the thought of hope, of second chances, of a life where Rintaro apologized for everything he did and you forgave him for it. A life where he finally left Iris behind, and moved in here with you – being a loving husband and wife like he’d promised.

Regardless of his mistakes, you couldn’t deny he chose this haven with care.

He understood your yearning for a sanctuary that felt both majestic and personal. You could see his vision in every corner of the house – in the way the morning light filled the rooms, in the carefully carved openness that invited the outside world to become part of your home, and in the promise of countless memories waiting to be made within its walls.

“It’ll get very bright here in a few minutes,” he murmured, his voice echoing through the spacious expanse. “I know you hate dark places, so I wanted something that had a lot of room for sunlight.”

You hummed. “That was thoughtful of you.”

“I only had you in mind when I was looking for our place.”

Tugging at your hand, you let Rintaro drag you upstairs and show you around. “This is our bedroom,” he gestured, and you stepped inside, glancing back at him and down at your intertwined hands in a silent query. Rintaro smiled, nodding as he gently let go of your hand to let you look around the room.

Taking small, careful steps away from him, you let your eyes take in the sight before you. The room was a sanctuary of tranquility, bathed in the soft, warm hues of the rising sun. The bed, dressed in crisp white linens with accents of deep red, invited you to sink into its comfort. Candles flickered softly on a low, modern nightstand, casting a gentle, ambient glow that complemented the natural light streaming through the expansive glass wall.

The true masterpiece, however, was the view.

The entire far wall of the room was made of glass, offering an unobstructed vista of the ocean beyond. Palm trees gently swayed in the morning breeze, framing the horizon perfectly.

You moved closer to the glass, your heart swelling with awe and contentment. Outside, on the spacious terrace, two elegant lounge chairs awaited, promising peaceful mornings and serene evenings spent with the one you loved. The lush greenery surrounding the room blended seamlessly with the view, making it feel as though you lived in harmony with nature.

“Want to see the best part?”

You giggled. “You mean to tell me something could get better than this?”

“Of course. You know I’m only choosing the best for you.”

Leading you into another room at the end of the hall, Rintaro smirked – proud and barely holding back his excitement as he swung the door open. As you stepped inside, a gasp of pure delight escaped your lips – followed by bubbling laughter in disbelief.

The morning sun streamed through the grand, arched windows, casting a warm, golden light that danced sprightly across the room. The room seemed almost enchanted, a perfect blend of nature and comfort, invite you to lose yourself in your own world and let the time pass you by.

Towering bookshelves lined the walls, filled to the brim with volumes of all kinds, promising endless hours of exploration and discovery. The rich, earthy scent of aged paper and polished wood filled the air, wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. A graceful spiral staircase wound its way up to a second level, where more books awaited, their spines gleaming in the soft light.

Your eyes were immediately drawn to the cozy seating area, where a plush of sofa beckoned you to sink into its depths and get lost in a story. The soft, muted colors of the cushions and throws added a touch of warmth, making the space feel lived-in and inviting. A quaint reading lamp stood nearby, ready to cast its gentle glow over late night reading sessions. Behind you, you could hear Rintaro move through the room as well – gently picking up knick-knacks placed along the way.

“–And here is your reading corner, or… whatever you’d like it to be really. If you want to crochet, or paint with Tobio, you can use this room.”

“I thought you said this place was empty,” you joked, gazing up at the myriad of books displayed.

“Yes, it is,” smiling to himself, he leant against the wall and crossed his arms across his chest, content to let you indulge yourself by exploring. “But I made sure to fill this place up first, as I figured this would be the room you’d spent the most time in. I went ahead and collected all the books I know you liked, along with other things I thought you would enjoy.”

There it was again – the thumping of your heart over his words.

It was too easy to get carried away, especially when Rintaro was being unnecessarily sweet. It almost felt as if… nothing was wrong at all. And for a moment – just for now – you let yourself forget everything and focused on the present. With your heart tucked and hidden away for safety under your sleeve, you pointedly averted your gaze from your husband. You knew you wouldn’t be able to handle seeing him like that – content, unguarded, with hooded eyes watching you tenderly. Like he was in love with you, and he meant it when he said he wanted no one else to spend his future with.

You turned your attentions back to the room, the lush greenery that adorned the space, with ferns and potted plants that brought a taste of the outside world in.

You could already imagine yourself curled up on the sofa with a book, the sounds of the waves gently crashing in the background, or perhaps sitting by the window on a rainy day – the patter of raindrops providing a soothing soundtrack to your literary adventures.

You couldn’t help but feel your heart swell in adoration, even as you tried so hard to fight against it.

The Prince had carefully curated this heaven for you. He’d ensured you could have a space where you would spend countless mornings in, a cup of tea in hand, watching the sun rise over the horizon. Afternoons would be spent exploring the vast worlds in the many books that lined the shelves, each one a new journey waiting to be embarked upon.

This reading room was more than just a space; it was an escape from the world. A place where you could retreat and recharge, surrounded by the things you loved most. As you stood there, bathed in the soft morning light, you were bombarded by a mix of emotions – an internal debate whether to feel elated or depressed.

How could someone know you so well, and still hurt you in the process? Love truly was a dangerous thing.

However, you pushed that thought out of your mind. You did not want any arguments tainting this space, this home. Rintaro’s efforts didn’t deserve to be shattered, either. You would save it for another time. For now, you would explore every inch and corner of this house. “And here’s the backyard – plenty of space for our future kids to play in. I’m thinking twins, one boy and one girl, and then we’ll stop trying for another. Two little devils should be enough. The boy needs to be the eldest though, so he can protect his little Princess,” his eyes lit up, and you can see it already.

Rintaro must’ve seen it, too – the scene of your children running around, chasing other. Your little boy would be screaming at the top of his lungs, your little girl blowing bubbles as her hair bounced around her cute little face with each tiny step she took. If she ever tripped, her brother would immediately be there for her. He’d cradle her soft cheeks in his equally small hands, wiping her tears away and telling her it’d be okay. And then they would run to their parents for comfort – Rintaro would bring them into his arms, pressing kisses to their foreheads before he brought them back to their mama. Then, you’d pull out the first-aid kit, plastering band-aids on every scraped knee and kissing all the boo-boos away.

It was a beautiful thing to imagine. Letting your kids grow up in a beautiful place, with a loving father who would stop at nothing to ensure their happiness, building a family.

It put a smile to your face. “You do know I can’t control who comes out first, right?”

“Yes, but a man could dream,” he shrugged and faced your way, his eyes softening as he scanned your face. You didn’t know why Rintaro looked so beautiful in that moment. The picture perfect image of a Prince Charming, his hazel eyes seeing things you couldn’t, his smile hesitant yet hopeful. “I hope our little girl looks like you. She’d be very pretty just like her Mom.”

Heat rushed at the nape of your neck. It was a flood of emotions all at once – flustered, flattered, frustrated.

You immediately pointed your body in a different direction. Sliding the glass doors aside, you kicked off your heels and sunk your feet into the grass. It was a much needed reprieve after walking and driving for hours with those darned heels. Soon enough, you could hear Rintaro trailing behind you – a quick, curious glance letting you know he’d picked up your heels, your shoes dangling on his crooked fingers.

“Can we have a dog?”

“We could have a dog,” he grinned, and then gestured for you to come follow him. Feet sinking into the sand, your hands found solace in his bicep. Rintaro practically puffs up with male pride the moment your nails sunk into his skin. It was silly, enough to make you roll your eyes, but you kept on walking and walking – the sounds of sand crunching beneath your feet and the delicious warmth emanating from your husband a great way to start the morning. Eventually, you’d made it to the front of the house, where the crystalline pool stood just before the sea announced its presence.

“And in the beachfront, well, we could do pretty much anything. Barbecue, invite friends over for dinner. Oh, and there’s a wine cellar in the basement. I think I had that filled up, too. Do you want to have a quick drink before we go?” Shaking your head at him, Rintaro nods, gnawing at his lip before he decides – fuck it – and finally lets his hand rest on top of yours.

The position was oddly intimate. You weren’t embracing each other, yet you’d never been so close to him before. Your sides pressed against one another, your hand curled onto his arm, with his large, veiny hands caressing yours. It’s a little too perfect, and it makes you just a little too in love. Unable to help it, and drunk in the serenity of it all, you let your head fall back to his shoulder. Eyes closed, breaths shallow – your heartbeat in sync with his.

Thump, thump, thump. The schwaa of the waves. The whoosh of the wind.

It was like heaven on earth.

Above you, Rintaro cleared his throat. “So? What do you think? Is it to your liking? If it isn’t, I could always look for a different house–”

“It’s beautiful, Rin. Thank you.”

“You like it?”

“I love it,” you told him, opening your eyes to smile up at him, your cheek still smooshed against his broad shoulders. “It’d be a perfect home for us.”

“O-Okay,” he blushed, averting his gaze from you as he stared at the sea instead. The motion made you chuckle. It wasn’t always Rintaro could be such a flustered, affected man, but you adored the rare times when he was. Just then, an idea popped up in your head and you grinned, tapping his shoulder with your nails.

“Hey. Why don’t we have a little housewarming party to make it feel more like home?”

“We can?”

“We can do whatever we want, Rin,” you reminded him, and then scrunched your nose as you thought of the whole process. Furniture shopping, talking with interior designers, adding your personal touch, bringing in some of your most important things to this beach house that was literally miles away from the Palace. “–Although decorating it would take a lot of time and you must be busy–”

Rintaro’s eyes widened in panic. “I’m not busy. Well, I am, but I’ll make time. Let’s – Let’s decorate. I want to turn this into our home, too.”

You squeezed his bicep, warmth flooding your senses.

As you wandered through the house, your heart swelled with love and gratitude. The beach house wasn’t just a place to live in; it was a dream woven into reality. A testament to the life you would build together. Standing there, bathed in the tender embrace of the sunrise, you felt an unbreakable bond to this place, knowing that it would be the backdrop to your love story – however complicated it may be – a place where you both would grow, laugh, and find solace in each other for the years to come.

For the next few months following your arrival, you and Rintaro dedicated yourselves to transforming the beach house into a true home. It was a long, arduous process – infusing every corner with your touch, and Rintaro with his love for knick-knacks. Countless mornings were spent wandering through local markets, hand in hand, searching for pieces that spoke to you – the future you would create.

It was a great opportunity to fool the media, too, a silent declaration to the world that your marriage would not be swayed by petty rumors.

Well, they were not just rumors, but the Queen seemed ardently pleased by the amassed support.

Rintaro, suddenly the considerate partner and doting husband, would often pause to hold up a delicate vase or an intricately carved wooden sculpture, his eyes seeking your approval. You, in turn, would smile and nod, trusting his impeccable taste and loving the way he always seemed to know what would make your heart sing.

It was as if he knew what you’d like before you even said it out loud. Maybe it was because he’d spent two years of his life courting you that he now knew you like the back of his hand.

Whatever it was, the media ate it up. The article regarding his cheating scandal eventually became nothing but measly gossip. You remained in contact with Kuroo, however, his article about Iris only waiting to drop at your signal.

It should’ve been released months ago. You could’ve ruined her already, snatched your husband back right under her nose – you just couldn’t do it. Not yet. Not when she’d been pointedly avoiding Rintaro, and your husband was acting like he forgot she existed. Could it be both of them couldn’t handle the criticism, after all? Did they care more about their reputations and image than their ‘passionate love affair’?

But then again, neither of them wanted to be exposed for their trysts.

It was all Atsumu’s doing.

And that actress – poor Hiroda Yuki – still remained oblivious to the sex tape you hid under your closet. A secret you would bury there forever, a secret you’d take with you to your grave. You hadn’t heard news of her getting knocked up, and her career was still soaring. For now, you had nothing to worry about. It seemed peaceful – for now.

In the meantime, you dedicated your afternoons in the arrangement and rearrangement of everything you’ve collected – snow globes from your trips overseas with your parents, Rintaro’s random collection of weapons and key chains from his own adventures. The living room, with its expansive glass walls and view of the endless ocean, became a canvas for you to experiment with. There were no rules here.

You placed a soft, oversized rug in the center, its deep blues and greens echoing the colors of the sea. Comfortable chairs and sofas were positioned to invite conversation and relaxation, while vibrant cushions and throws added splashes of color and warmth. You insisted on color, ensuring that the beach house had to be vibrant and thrumming with life. You refused to let it be like the Palace – dull yet overwhelming with all its arching marble statues and golden chandeliers.

And then the dining area, envisioned as the heart of your home, where family and friends would gather, received special attention. You chose a large, rustic wooden table, its surface polished to a warm glow. Around it, you placed mismatched chairs (which greatly bothered Kiyoomi when you sent him photos), but you told him that each had its own story and character. The space was an organized mess, eclectic yet coherent. Above the table, Rintaro hung a chandelier of delicate glass orbs that cast a soft, magical light during evening meals.

The master bedroom was a different tale itself. It was the room you and Rintaro spent the most time on. You established several rules before proceeding, drilling it into his head that:

Rule no. 1: He was not allowed to bring any women inside. (He scoffed at it, offended, but agreed anyway.)

Rule no. 2: Lavender essential oils were the only scents allowed. Vanilla scents were forbidden. (He didn’t understand why you were so vehemently against it, but again – whatever makes the wife happy, was what he said. That alone made you question… did he not know what Iris smelled like? He knew all your favorite perfumes by heart, yet could not recognize the distinctness of vanilla? You quickly dropped the subject.)

And finally, Rule no. 3: No arguments inside the bedroom.

(Rintaro was barely able to hide his shock at you suggesting it. His eyes widened for a moment, an expression he quickly schooled into that of nonchalance. “Of course,” he’d said, “Any conversation that may require a debate will always be had outside. Never here.” To which you replied, “Never here, Rintaro. This is our space. We will not be enemies here.)

There it was, the master bedroom, a sanctuary of tranquility and intimacy. Soft, sheer curtains were chosen to filter the morning light. The bed was adorned with luxurious linens and a variety of textured pillows, making it a perfect retreat after long days spent exploring the island or entertaining the guests you would have over.

Personal touches, like framed photographs of your wedding, and the candid ones he’d taken of you each time he called for you in the Yuzuru Estate, were placed on the nightstands.

All that was left was to invite his brothers over for the housewarming party.

You and Rintaro decided to keep it a secret for now. After all, it wasn’t every day that the brothers all gathered together for dinner outside the Palace. You debated inviting the Queen over, too, but after that recent fiasco and her snide remarks about your mother, you were heavily against it. Rintaro, on the other hand, couldn’t care less. He just wanted to spend time with his brothers – saying they’ve never done that before. Hopefully, it wasn’t too late for them to rekindle their brotherhood.

It sounded like an absurd idea at first, you admitted. You didn’t have to go so far to help your husband get along with his own brothers, but whether you liked it or not, you were married – and marriage often came with demanding responsibilities.

Of course, there was still the issue of Iris: would she be invited or not?

You gauged it for the first few weeks. Waiting, listening, and watching with a careful eye on how Rintaro would be acting. You’d also piloted the agenda, peering over it like a hawk to see if he would sneak in a thing or two. Or maybe he had a room for her. But – much to your surprise – there was none. There were exactly nine guest rooms; one for each brother and their wife, and one for the Queen or your parents, whoever wanted to visit.

Still, it made you turn your nose upwards.

You didn’t fancy the thought of Kiyoomi sharing a room with Iris. In fact, the image of them sharing the same bed was enough to make your stomach turn upside down. But knowing Kiyoomi? He’d probably make her sleep on the floor than be anywhere near her.

Finally, after some finishing touches, you both sent out the invitations.

The housewarming party was an intimate, private event. It was challenging at first – their schedules did not align with each other, and Prince Wakatoshi was not warming up to the idea. However, his son, Wakashi, badly wanted to see the sea. That was all it took before he’d agreed, and soon, even the busybody Shinsuke accepted the invitation – with the promise Airi could also come.

Pride bloomed in your chest. It seemed like an impossible feat at the beginning, gathering all the Princes into one place. But they’re all here now – Keiji was reading books to Wakashi, Tobio is playing beach volleyball with Tooru, Rintaro, and Atsumu. Osamu declined his brothers’ invitation as soon as he caught sight of your kitchen, pushing past his blond-haired twin and declaring that your kitchen was now his. You all laughed about it, and Osamu hasn’t left since.

Wakatoshi was there in your living room, cuddled up on the couch with his wife, Camilla. They both snoozed in peace, lulled by the Princes’ distant shouts and yells from their game. Behind them, Shinsuke crouched over the paperwork he’d brought with him, Airi happily gazing at her Prince as she wiped glasses and silverware.

Kiyoomi and Iris, for some reason, did not participate in any of the activities. The Second Prince has worn a stormy expression the moment he parked his car, his wife in tow. Iris didn’t look great either – her face pale and lips chapped.

You made a mental note to ask him about it later. For now, you would enjoy yourself.

Stepping out of the living room, you walked past the pool and to the beach. The Princes were still playing on a 2v2, Tobio and Tooru on one team, Rintaro and Atsumu on the other. As you got there, your sundress puffing up from the wind, you noticed Maiko was already on one of the lawn chairs – smiling fondly at her husband who scored once more.

You followed her gaze. Now that was a sight, indeed. All the Princes were shirtless – their muscles rippling with each jump or aggressive spike of the ball. They’d already been tanned after playing under the sun for hours, their healthy golden glow illuminated by the setting sun. Rintaro himself had you struggling to look away. Wearing sun shades, a black compression arm sleeve, and his shorts hanging low on his hips – it suddenly felt hot despite the breeze.

Shaking your head to yourself, you tore your gaze away from him and sat next to the Princess. “Maiko,” you greeted, handing her a watermelon juice.

“Your Highness!” she beamed, gladly accepting the drink and playing with the umbrella before she continued, “Thank you for having us over.”

“It was my pleasure,” Smiling, you watched her closely, not missing the way her cheeks flamed each time Tooru scored and he looked her way. The movement was subtle, barely noticeable from another’s eye, but it was clear in that moment it meant the world to Maiko. Beside you, the Princess hid her giddy smile behind her drink, her bare toes curling into the sand beneath you. “So. You and Tooru seem to have gotten along more.”

“Hmm, I wouldn’t say that,” she scrunched her nose, “He was really worried for you, you know. He wouldn’t stop telling me how he was going to beat the Crown Prince up. And when that article went out…”

“We’ve moved past that.”

“You have?” she perked up, “I mean, that’s good. Have you forgiven him?”

You took another sip of your drink, and then snorted. “Of course not. But I think we’re at this point in our marriage where we’re pretending to be happily married, and it’s hard for me to not play my part,” when Maiko titled her head to the side, confused, you gestured to the grand abode behind you. “He’s bought me this house, helped me decorate it. We spent many nights talking about how we’d like it to be, and now we’re all here. His brothers, their wives – everyone is laughing and having fun. How could I ruin it by dwelling on the past?”

Maiko didn’t look entirely convinced. You couldn’t blame her – you weren’t very convinced yourself.

Things were going a little too smoothly for your liking. Until now, you still had your doubts that everything was suddenly okay, that Rintaro and Iris have suddenly decided to end their relationship. But you’d asked around, bribed the maids in Belleview Manor, and they all said the same thing.

Rintaro and Iris have not spoken to each other ever since your return.

It felt as if Rintaro had been sincere when he said he only slept with her because he felt lonely with you. A pathetic excuse, of course, something only an imbecile would fall for. But you’d long accepted that Rintaro was an oddity and complexity of itself.

The only way to truly understand him was to let him show all versions of himself, both the good and the bad, before you could see which one of him you could love the most.

And this Rintaro?

The loyal, caring husband who’d given you this home? The one who wouldn’t stop stealing kisses even when no one was looking? The one who proved to you that the master bedroom upstairs indeed had very soft, luxurious beds by fucking you in it all the way until the morning?

You liked that Rintaro very much.

“I’m always here for you,” Maiko said after a moment, her smile genuine as she gazed upon the secluded area. “The house is beautiful, by the way. I can see why you looked so happy ever since the Crown Prince showed this place to you.”

“It’s our home. It was the best thing he could’ve given me.”

Saying it loud felt like an accomplishment. Your mother had always told you that you would be great at managing your own house someday. It felt surreal to see with your own eyes that she’d been right.

“To be honest, I never expected I would have moments like this,” quipped Maiko, her smile wavering as she plucked out the cocktail umbrella. “Before I married Tooru, it was lonely in the Rai Estate. My mother died giving birth to me, and my father married the next woman who presented herself to him. Sometimes I think he did that because he wanted me to grow up with a mother, but my stepmother was never fond of me. It was a lonely childhood, I must admit,” she confessed with a sarcastic chuckle, lifting her head to stare at her husband. “But then Prince Tooru came along. The Queen started bringing him along whenever she visited my father, and the Prince and I would always have playdates. I remember I would cry each time they had to return to the Palace.”

You tipped your head to the side, curious. “The Queen brought Tooru to the Rai Estate?”

Maiko nodded. “Yes. You didn’t know? Her Majesty is my godmother,” she informed, absentmindedly spinning the ring on her finger. “She was close friends with my father, and they remained in contact even when she married the King. I’d say she was the closest I ever got to having a mother figure, but Her Majesty is too busy to waste her time looking after a little girl.”

“I see,” you murmured, and reached over to clasp her bare shoulder with a comforting squeeze. “I’m sorry about your mother, Maiko. I hadn’t known she’d already passed.”

“It’s alright, not a lot of people mourned her death anyway. And people easily forgot she existed because my father remarried very soon,” she shrugged, a forlorn look crossing her sharp features. “My father said I don’t look like her. Sometimes, I think that fact made it easier for him to move on, because he never saw her in me.”

“Did your father love her?”

“Probably not. You know how marriages between nobles are; I wouldn’t be surprised if it was arranged. He never talked about her either, so I wouldn’t know.”

You hummed to yourself, “Does the Queen still visit Lord Rai?”

“Not lately, no. She got occupied handling the Kingdom’s affairs when His Majesty passed away, but they still send each other letters during birthdays. I’m not sure the Queen has written back to my father in a while, though,” as quickly as she said it, Maiko’s back straightened, her free hands waving frantically in the air. “Oh, I hope this doesn’t change the way you see me, Princess. I promise the Queen does not hold any special favors to me.”

“Not at all, Maiko. You’re still the same Princess in my eyes.”

“TAKE THAT!”

Both of your heads snapped in the Princes’ direction. Tobio, pumping his arms in the air as Atsumu tugged at his blond locks from the other side of the net. Tooru was running around – or more like bouncing – while your husband was down on one knee, panting heavily with sweat dripping down his chest.

Before you could process what was going on, Tooru bolted for Maiko’s direction, whooping and hollering as he picked her up and twirled her. Maiko’s squeal was lodged in her chest upon Tooru’s crushing hug. He kept spinning her, enough to have Maiko wobbly on her feet when he finally put her down, holding her at an arm’s length away as he exclaimed, “Did you see that? Rintaro couldn’t receive my serve!”

“It was just a lucky serve!” defended your husband.

“Yeah, right.”

Rintaro turned to you, his ears turning red as he stood up and dusted the sand of his abs. “It was a lucky serve.”

You put your hand up to your mouth, concealing your laughter. “I’m sure it was.”

As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the horizon, the air buzzed with excitement and the scent of blooming flowers from the garden. The sound of waves crashing softly in the background added a serene rhythm to the lively conversations that flowed as effortlessly as the wine. The brothers, their bond evident in their playful banter and shared stories, mingled around the spacious terrace, their laughter mingling with the music that floated through the air.

You eventually left Maiko, seeing as the Princes did not have any plans on stopping their game anytime soon. You didn’t want to rush them into dinner either, not when Rintaro looked like he was having the time of his life.

Dusting sand off your dress, you took yours and Maiko’s empty glasses back inside. Airi and Osamu were still in the kitchen; the former smiling at you when you handed her the glasses, while Osamu remained elbow-deep in some dough. You left them soon to their devices, heading out of the kitchen when you nearly bumped into a firm chest.

“Hey.”

“Kiyoomi,” you blinked up at him, joy radiating from every pore now that he was here. Kiyoomi looked handsome in just his cream, short-sleeved linen shirt, his curls tousled and falling beautifully to frame his face. Until now, you were still beguiled by his striking beauty. “Thank you for coming on such short notice. I heard you’d been occupied with some things in Itachiyama.”

“Nothing out of the ordinary, and I would never decline an invitation from you,” he said softly, dipping his head so you could hear him better. His close proximity set your heart racing, and before you noticed it, you had your dress balled into your fists. “You did a great job with the place. It’s lovely.”

“Thank you,” you breathed out, voice light and airy as you gestured outside. “Are you not going to join your brothers in their game?”

Kiyoomi shook his head, a mischievous smirk gracing his handsome features. “If I did, then Rintaro’s team would lose.”

“Oh, are you a better player than him?”

“I’m better than him in all aspects,” he declared, offhandedly gesturing to their brother on the couch.  “Though I could never hit as hard as Wakatoshi. You should’ve seen him in his prime – he was a monster as long as he had the ball in his hands.”

“I didn’t know you played volleyball, too.”

“We used to play a lot when we were younger. Before duties called.”

You nodded, silently escorting him out of the kitchen. You could already feel Airi’s gaze burning holes at the back of your head. “How is Iris, by the way? I don’t think I’ve seen her around.”

“She said she wasn’t feeling well, so she’s been holed up in bed ever since,” informed Kiyoomi, scratching his cheek in thought. “Did she have a fight with Rin?”

“No, I don’t think so. I think… it’s because Rintaro is ignoring her, and she might be upset about that,” wrinkling your nose, you raised both hands in the air as a form of surrender. “But let’s not talk about unpleasant things. How was your trip to Itachiyama? And Kanami! How is she? I didn’t get to properly say goodbye to her last time.”

Kiyoomi’s lip twitched with amusement. “She’s fine, just a little mad that I took you home without informing her beforehand. She really wanted to spend more time with you.”

I didn’t want to leave either, you almost told him, biting back your tongue at the last moment.

Finding yourself alone with the older Prince, the air thickened with unspoken tension. A palpable static seemed to crackle between you two. Every glance exchanged was laden with unvoiced words, and every accidental touch sent a jolt of electricity through you. He stood close to you, his presence comforting and warm, yet an invisible barrier held you apart – neither brave enough to bridge the gap.

Your heart raced as you felt the weight of his presence beside you, the magnetic pull urging you closer. The silence was almost deafening – filled with the potential of what could be said, yet the fear of breaking it kept you mute.

Finally, Kiyoomi, with a nervous swallow and a shy, almost boyish smile, broke the silence.

“How was the meeting with Kuroo?” he began, his voice soft but trembling with the same tension you felt.

You told him everything without a detail to spare. Your words were hushed, voice barely above a whisper in case anyone accidentally walked in on you. Kiyoomi nodded as he took everything in, the tension on his shoulders increasing. “I see. Has he contacted you ever since?”

“The last message I got from him was from a few days ago. He says he’s got everything he needs – he’s just waiting for the green light.”

“So we’re just waiting for him to drop the bomb.”

“Practically, yes,” you agreed, when an idea formed in your head. Clapping your hands together, you tugged at Kiyoomi’s sleeve. “Actually, could you come with me? I wanted to show you something.”

Kiyoomi wasn’t able to say his response before you’re dragging him upstairs. You already knew the house like the back of your hand, confident you could navigate through it even with your eyes closed. Once you’d reached your destination, you swung the doors open – arms outstretched to show it off. “This is my reading corner, a library of sorts. And here–” you led him to a wall you’d intentionally kept empty, “–is your corner.”

“My corner?”

“Yes, you know, like how everyone has their own space in your library back at the farmhouse.”

“That’s a family house. This is your house with your husband.”

“Rintaro bought it because he wanted to have a safe space with his family, and you’re his brother. That makes you my family too, doesn’t it?”

Your smile was warm, sincere and elated upon presenting him his ‘corner.’ Kiyoomi couldn’t blame you for not noticing the fleeting hurt in his eyes, his disappointment quickly masked with a practiced, cordial nod.

“Family. Right,” he echoed, “I’ll make sure to add my own things someday here. Thank you.”

“FUCK YEAH!” roared Atsumu from below. All too quickly, the moment is broken. You and Kiyoomi stepped away from each other, both releasing a breath you didn’t noticed you held.

“I should go–”

“Of course,” Kiyoomi agreed, his nods a tad too hurried. He’s looking at everywhere but you now. “I’ll follow in a bit.”

You were hesitant to leave. It’d felt like forever since you’d last spoken to Kiyoomi. Ever since that night your call did not push through when Rintaro chased after you, Kiyoomi had been restless. He’d text you every morning and night, without fail, to reassure himself you did not come to harm. He was sweet – undeniably so – and it felt like a waste. Everything did. You couldn’t spend time with him, or speak to him freely like you did in Itachiyama anymore. Here, in Inarizaki, the cameras devoured everything you and Rintaro did.

It came without question you’d unknowingly distanced yourself from the Second Prince.

With a heart heavy of doubt, you exited the room. The last you saw of Kiyoomi was him slouched over his corner, his eyes closed and his head resting on his arm.

You skipped down the stairs, careful of the ankle-length of your sundress. The living room was already a mess when you got there – Atsumu was shaking Wakatoshi awake by the shoulders, screaming that he’d won against ‘stupid Tooru.’ Tooru, on the other hand, was being comforted by his wife, a pout permanent on his face.

“Hey,” an arm wrapped itself around your waist. Tensing, you quickly smiled when you saw it was just Rintaro – now dressed in a plain white button-up, the top three buttons left open to cool himself.

“Hey back.”

“Why didn’t you watch me play?”

You almost laughed at him. It was a comical sight – your tall husband slouching and pouting like a kicked puppy. Shaking your head at him, you let him pull you into an embrace, his arms engulfing you completely. You’re wholly warm like this, his head on top of yours, your cheek on his warm chest that’s still slightly damp with sweat.

“We have guests over, Rin. I have to make sure everyone’s settled.”

“But I played good,” he whines above you, his head dipping to playfully nibble at your ear. Rintaro crushes you in the embrace, your bodies pressed close enough that the growing tent in his trousers poked you through your sundress. Breath hitching, your tilted your neck to give him more access – warily looking out for onlookers. Thankfully, his brothers were all occupied with searching for snacks.

“I’m not inviting my brothers over next time. They take up too much of your attention.”

“Don’t be weird,” you teased, “I’m all yours tonight.”

Tipping your chin to look him in the eye, Rintaro presses a tender kiss at the insides of your wrist. “All mine for a lifetime, hopefully.”

“We’re married. I don’t think we have much of a choice in that aspect.”

When Rintaro smiled, his whole face lit up, his teeth flashing wickedly. Squeezing your waist, his eyes took in the warm, golden lights of your house. The bustling noise his brothers made, and the aroma of dinner being prepared. “We really outdid ourselves, huh. This place turned out better than I expected.”

You patted his firm stomach. “Should we all celebrate with some dinner?”

Nodding, Rintaro pressed a kiss to your forehead before disappearing in the kitchen. Atsumu followed not long after, complaining that ‘Samu was taking ‘too darned long’ preparing his food. You can’t help the smile making its way into your face. Rintaro was right; you really outdid yourselves. The night was a success – everyone was happy, and it finally felt like everything was normal.

“Nee-chan,” Tobio appeared before you, a towel wrapped around his neck. His grin is bright, cheeks flushed from the game and still breathing heavily. “Thank you for the party. I don’t think I’ve had this much fun before.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, Tobio,” you beamed at him, watching from behind him as Wakatoshi shook his head at all the noise his brothers made – not missing the way his lips curled just the slightest when his son joined in on the joyous atmosphere.

“You should teach me how to play volleyball someday.”

“Of course!” Tobio said, a little eagerly. Just then, his eyes dimmed, his smile wavering as he approached you, a hand cupped at the sides of his mouth. “But sis… are you sure you’re okay with Rintaro? He seems oddly clingy to you today. If he bothers you, let me know, okay? I’ll beat him up. I’ll ask Shinsuke-nii to help me too–”

“Calm down. No one’s getting beaten up today. Let’s just enjoy dinner, alright?”

Tobio sulked, his shoulders closing in together with a frown. However, all that disappeared when Osamu and Airi appeared with dinner. Within minutes, all of you were situated in the long table. Everyone dug in, a mumbled ‘thanks’ and a quick prayer led by Wakatoshi.

Beside you, Rintaro squeezed your thigh before standing up. The scraping of his chair alerted everyone – multiple pairs of heads turning your way as he raised a glass.

“I wanted to make a toast – to thank everyone for coming despite their busy schedules. This home – our home – means the world to me, and there’s no one else but family who I’d rather share this moment with. I want to thank my wife, too, for bringing light into my life,” he gestured your way, causing a bout of sniggers coming from Atsumu. You rolled your eyes and decided to ignore him. “Also, I am very happy to announce that the scandal has been officially cleared. The writer of that article has left the country, and the media is no longer attacking me. I am officially an honorable man again.”

“To honor?” Osamu raised his wine with a snort, and everyone glared at him. “Oh, my bad, I thought that’s what we were toasting for.”

“Osamu,” warned Shinsuke.

“To good memories,” you announced, followed by a chorus of echoes, “And to family.” Pointing your drink in Kiyoomi’s way, the Prince raised his drink, his small smile hidden behind the glass.

“To family.”

As twilight deepened into night, the garden lights twinkled like stars, and the gathering moved inside to the cozy warmth of the living room. Stories and laughter continued late into the evening, the house filled with the comforting sounds of family and the promise of many more cherished moments to come.

It was a night of celebration, not just of a new home, but of the bonds that made it a true haven—a place where love, laughter, and the warmth of family would forever reside.

It was a moment you would cherish while it lasted.

Everyone headed straight for the wine cellar after dinner.

It caused a ruckus – half of the Princes were passed out drunk in their rooms, while the rest stayed up playing Mario Kart. It had been Tobio’s idea, and with Rintaro eagerly joining in, it soon turned into the competitive bout it was now. Whoever lost would skinny dip in the pool without turning the heater on.

You shook your head at their antics.

You cleaned up after everyone, Maiko and Camilla apologizing that they wanted to tend to their drunk husbands and couldn’t help. You quickly waved them away, unbothered. If anything, you appreciated how the noise slowly dissipated – leaving you alone with Kiyoomi who’d volunteered to help clean up. The silence is comfortable as you maneuvered around the dining room.

“Your Highness!” exclaimed Airi, wiping her hands on her apron as she rushed to you both. “Please, leave that behind, I’ll take care of it!”

As gently as you could, you snatched back the wet rug from her hands. “Airi, darling, you can go ahead and rest. I’ll take over here.”

“Oh but Princess, I could never! I’ll clean everything up–”

Kiyoomi smiled at her. “It’s okay, Airi. I’m sure Shinsuke’s been dying to talk to you, too,” Airi flushed red, causing the Prince to rumble in laughter beside you. “Go. We’ll handle this.”

“T-Thank you.”

Airi dashed upstairs, sending you both one last grateful glance before disappearing.

Guilt washed over you at the sight of her. Airi and Kita seemed to be happy together, but you knew the harsh reality that the chances of them working out were low. Not only was she a maid, but she had completely nothing to her name – no family, no college degree, and had a mouth that required dire control. At least here in the privacy of your home, they would receive no criticism, but as soon as you all returned home to the Palace… you sighed.

You couldn’t tell whether you were comforted at the thought you were not the only one suffering when it came to love.

You’re elbow deep in the sink washing the dishes, Kiyoomi at your side silently wiping the plates, when you remembered an empty seat at the table. “Iris didn’t come down for dinner. Should I bring her some leftovers?”

Kiyoomi grumbled, uninterested. “I’m sure she’ll come around once she’s hungry, and that should be soon. She’s had a mad appetite lately.”

Speaking of the devil, a light tap came from the countertops. You whipped your head at the soft, lilting voice. Iris stood a few feet away from you, a basket covered with red cloth held in front of her stomach. She looked sheepish; her brown hair falling down her in graceful waves, but her eyes were red and swollen, as if she’d been crying the entire time.

You snuck a glance at Kiyoomi, questioning, but he merely shrugged, turning his back to her and resuming with his task.

“Your Highness. May I speak with you?” her eyes darted to her husband’s figure, shifting from foot to foot. “Alone?”

“Of course. Excuse me for a moment,” bowing to Kiyoomi, you quickly washed your hands and followed Iris. She led you past the living room and out to the pools. The Princes’ shouts and banters became nothing but background noise. There, Iris situated herself in the picnic table under the willow tree, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“What is it you wanted to talk about?”

She nudged the basket your way, lifting the red cloth to reveal… pastries? “I baked these cookies for you this morning before we left the Palace. Please, have some. Consider it my peace offering.”

You fell silent. Mouth opening and closing as you searched for the right words, you settled for a forced smile. “Thank you. That’s very kind of you.”

Iris gnawed on her lip, and dragged her chair closer to you. Much to your surprise, her hands landed on your knee, her big, green eyes pleading. “Listen, Princess, I know we got off on the wrong footing, and I really want to put that behind us and start new.”

“Uh,” you blinked back, “O-Okay?”

“I’m sorry for everything. I really am. I didn’t mean for Rintaro’s lies to drag on and go this far, and if you must know, I never supported him on his plan–”

“Why?” you didn’t mean for your words to come out harsh. But it did, and you tilted your head to the side, oddly calm as you asked, “Why don’t you support him? Don’t you want to be his?”

Iris’ bravado faltered for a minute.

“I-I did at one point. It gets tiring having to hide your relationship, you know? But his plans seemed too absurd to me, and it sounded impossible that he could achieve it.”

“Do you think he’s not fit to be King?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“It’s what you implied,” you reiterated, scanning her face for answers – for the truth – when realization dawned on you. Leaning back, you flicked her hands away from your lap, lips curling in distaste. “You look down on him, Iris. You don’t think he’s a capable Prince at all.”

Iris clenched her jaw in an attempt to bite back a retort. “He has his many great qualities, but sometimes the Crown Prince loses touch of what is real and what is not,” she said, her placid tone betraying the fire burning in her eyes. “This is why I’m hoping we can be friends and start anew, Princess. I’m letting you know I’m breaking up with Rin. In fact, we have not been talking as of lately–”

“You fucked him in my bed lately. Do you really expect I would believe you?”

Her gaze was ice cold as it cut to you. “That was months ago, and he was the one who brought me there.”

“Let’s say he did. But who’s to say you did not seduce him beforehand?”

“He said his room felt lonely without you there, and he brought me for company. Don’t you realize, Princess? Your husband longs for you more than you know.”

Unable to help it, you chortled out a laugh. “What, are you saying he loves me?”

“He might,” she gritted her teeth, “But he needs to get over me first. That’s why I’m letting him go – you’re a kind person and you don’t deserve to be treated as second best. I’m putting my heart aside so you can finally enjoy your marriage.”

Your jaw dropped. “You’re doing this for me? How very benevolent of you, Princess.”

“It’s really not that hard to believe I want you to be happy.”

You shook your head, refusing to believe it was this easy. “Why the sudden change of heart? Is it because you couldn’t handle being called a slut by everyone?”

“I am not a slut, nor am I a homewrecker. He loved me first, don’t you forget that,” she spat out, her words laced with poison. It had you narrowing your eyes at her, and the Princess cowered for a moment, dropping her gaze down her lap as she stumbled over what to say next. “But the truth is… I never loved him. Or if I did, it wasn’t to the point where I would throw away my marriage to him. I want stability, Your Highness, and my union with Kiyoomi provided me that. Stability, security, and power – I have it all. There’s nothing more I could possibly want.”

“Then why were you sleeping with my husband?”

Iris shut her eyes, her hands balled into fists at her lap. “Because my husband wasn’t around. He avoided me like the plague during the early stages of our marriage, and the Palace is too big a place for someone like me. I’m human, too. I got lonely. You cannot blame me for seeking out the warmth of another. He wasn’t yours during those times, so you can’t put this over our heads again and again.”

“You were using him,” you stated, shooting up from your seat. Kiyoomi had told you about it. Hell, even Maiko had an inkling their relationship was nothing but exploitative on Iris’ part, but hearing it coming from her – hearing how she used your husband like he was a mere toy or puppet for her to play with as she pleases… your blood boiled.

“You knew Rintaro was in love with you, and you took advantage of that. How could you?”

“Because he was there when no one else was.”

You stood rigidly, trying to quell the storm brewing within you. Fixing your gaze on the horizon, you avoided Iris’s eyes, afraid that even a fleeting glance would betray the torrent of emotions you fought to contain. Each breath was a deliberate effort to maintain your composure, your mind a battlefield of unspoken accusations and restrained fury.

Despite the turmoil, you held yourself with regal poise.

“I think I’m going to have a drink,” you decided, sending one last forced smile her way. “Care for some?”

Color drained from the Princess’ face. “No, I-I’m laying off the drinks for a while. I’ve never been a drinker anyway.”

You watched Iris from the corner of your eye, noting how she subtly used her arms to hug her stomach, her movements slow and deliberate. Since arriving at the beach house, Iris had looked unusually pale and sickly, her vitality drained. She kept her distance from Rintaro, a fact that hadn’t gone unnoticed by everyone.

A wild thought flickered through your mind – could Iris be pregnant?

You quickly dismissed the idea, shaking your head, but the possibility lingered – filling you with a growing sense of dread. The realization settled in her chest like a heavy stone, the implications threating to unravel the fragile ‘peace’ between you all.

“Hmm.” You dug your nails to your palm, licking your lips as you tried to still your beating heart. “I think I’ll head to bed soon. Good night, Iris.”

“Princess,” Iris called out from where she sat, her beautiful face crestfallen and desperate. “Have you forgiven me? Can we be friends?”

“I’ll think about it.”

You headed back inside the house, your breathing growing shallower with each step you took. Faintly, you heard Rintaro’s concerned voice calling after you. You paid him no mind, taking two steps at a time as you pushed open the door to their shared bedroom.

Kiyoomi was already inside, in the middle of taking off his wristwatch when you came bustling in. Your name fell on his lips. You ignored him, too, heading for the bed with crumpled sheets from where Iris must’ve slept. You threw the pillows on the ground, the blankets balled and discarded to the side, as you looked for something – searched for answers. Her belongings all came crashing to the ground as you picked it apart one by one, hauling her suitcase from the drawer before kicking it to the floor.

“Princess,” Kiyoomi sounded worried, his hands coming up to reach for you when you slapped it away. Concern flashed over his face, more so when he saw the tears welling up in your eyes. “What’s wrong? What are you doing?”

“She’s hiding something. I know it.”

It didn’t take much effort to open her suitcase. Clothes, shoes, her makeup bag – you emptied it of its contents and felt around for any hidden zippers. None. It was empty, save for some unused tampons scattering right beneath your feet.

Your vision began to grow blurry.

Pushing past Kiyoomi, you dashed for the bathroom and knelt on the ground, opening the trash bin and digging through the heap of dry paper towels. You stared at it, confused. Why throw away perfectly good and unused napkins? Determined, you flipped the bin upside down. A white, thin object fell on the ground with a soft clink.

You reached for it with shaky hands.

It was a pregnancy test – one that read positive.

Behind you, you heard Kiyoomi’s sharp inhale. “It’s not mine,” his words faded into the background, “I never touched her.”

When you found the strength to speak, your voice came out weak and cracked.

“…I know you’re not the father.”

from the left: beach house → master bedroom → reading room

[moeitsu]

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Ch 23 - To Call Up Their Shadowy Forms

Summary: In a chaotic, adrenaline-fueled poker game, Arthur and Kate find themselves ensnared in the deadly consequences of their choices during a fine night of debauchery.

Ao3  Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

AN: 15k words (holy hell). Please don't look too deeply into the schematics of how this night plays out. I don't know squat about poker, and I loosely followed the game mission for this chapter. So I hope that makes it all the more interesting! It's going to be a very wild ride ;)

TW: Descriptions of blood, gore, and violence.

Credit to @ arthurlicious on X for the Arthur photo!

Tag List: @photo1030 @ariacherie @thatweirdcatlady @ultraporcelainpig @marygillisapologist @eternalsams @lunawolfclaw  @yallgotkik

**please let me know if you would like to be tagged in future chapters!

Story Tags: Canon Divergence, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Emotional Sex, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Touch-Starved, Sexual Tension, Friends to Lovers, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Violence, Survivor Guilt, Caretaking, Period-Typical Racism, Anxiety, Emotional Constipation, Self-Doubt, Men Crying, Sweet/Hot, Romantic Angst, Romantic Fluff

The Lanahachee Riverboat loomed grandly in the distance, its regal silhouette framed against a setting sun that bathed the world in molten gold. The river’s surface mirrored the heavens, a shimmering expanse of pinks and fiery oranges rippling with each subtle current. Lanterns already glowed along the vessel’s decks, their warm light twinkling like stars as the evening settled in. 

The Grand Korrigan was no mere boat—it was a floating palace, a monument to wealth and decadence, its every detail demanding admiration.

The harbor itself seemed unnervingly still. Despite being so close to the lively heart of Saint Denis, the usual bustle of docks and murmurs of workers were absent. The silence wrapped around Kate like a heavy cloak, amplifying the drumbeat of her thoughts. Too quiet, she mused, though she wasn’t sure if it was the harbor or her own nerves drowning out the noise. She shifted in her seat as the stagecoach jostled over uneven terrain, her gloved hands fidgeting in her lap.

Strauss and Trelawney’s voices droned on, rehearsing the evening’s intricate plan yet again. Kate had long since stopped listening to the specifics, their words blurring into the rhythmic clatter of wheels and hooves. Across the cramped space, she caught sight of Arthur. He sat stiffly, grumbling under his breath as he fumbled with his ascot tie. The sight made her smile—a rare flicker of humor breaking through the mounting tension. His polished black suit and golden cravat gave him a dashing air. But the way he tugged at his collar made it clear he’d rather be wearing his old, familiar coat. He looked utterly out of place, yet undeniably handsome.

Her own gown was an exquisite contradiction—beautiful yet burdensome. The deep black fabric shimmered faintly as if caressed by the fading sunlight, it reminded her of Lorena’s midnight coat in the dying light. Its ruffled skirts cascading around her legs like a waterfall, trimmed in gold lace. Each thread of embroidery on the corset seemed to hold a story of elegance. Cinched tight, it stole the air from her lungs, leaving her breath shallow and measured. The puffed sleeves barely clung to her shoulders, a precarious balance that made her feel both exposed and weighed down all at once. Kate glanced down at the opulent layers pooling around her feet. It was a dress meant to captivate, to draw every eye in the room. But standing there on the edge of the plan, she didn’t feel like the dazzling centerpiece she was meant to be. She felt like an imposter, masquerading in another woman’s splendor. A pigeon parading as a peacock. 

“Remember Arthur, you’re new money from the oil fields. Loud, drunk, and maybe a little too proud. Don’t overdo it, but don’t be subtle either,” Trelawny instructed, his voice clipped and precise. “Watch Strauss. He’ll signal you when it’s time to act.”  

Arthur grunted, adjusting his cravat with an exaggerated scowl. “I’ll try not to embarrass myself too much, but don’t expect any miracles.”

“And absolutely no shuffling and mumbling. Puff your chest out, get outside yourself.” Trelawny continued, berating him like he was a scoundrel. 

With a huff Arthur waved him off, “yeah, alright alright. This ain’t Hamlet.” 

Kate barely registered their words. The stagecoach rolled to a halt, and her eyes were drawn to the Grand Korrigan. Its lanterns glimmered like a constellation against the encroaching night, while finely dressed gentlemen filed aboard, their laughter and chatter carrying faintly over the dock. She forced her gaze away, focusing instead on the tight coil of nerves in her stomach. Tonight, she wouldn’t just be part of the plan—she was the plan. The centerpiece. The singer. The distraction.  

“Kate, my dear, are you listening?”  

Trelawny’s voice snapped her back to the present. She blinked and nodded, offering a tight smile. “Sorry. The suspense is killing me.” She answered half-heartedly. Her voice was calm, but inside she was anything but.  

“Oh, don’t be so jaded. It’s all just a bit of innocent fun,” Trelawny said with a grin, offering his gloved hand as she stepped down.

Innocent fun. Kate nearly laughed at the thought. When had anything Dutch orchestrated ever been innocent? She couldn’t even remember how she’d been roped into this role—Dutch’s charm had a way of clouding specifics. It was easy to see why Arthur and John clung so tightly to their faith in him. That kind of persuasion was hard to shake.

The salt-tinged air hit her as soon as she stepped out. It was sharp and heavy, carrying the mingling scent of the river. She tried to take a deep breath to steady herself, but the corset refused to let her. As she walked toward the glowing riverboat, Arthur passed by her side. He gave her a small, confident nod. No words were exchanged, but the meaning was clear—a silent promise that they’d get through this night together.  

Kate ran over her role in her mind, repeating the name she was meant to embody: Marietta Sacchi, a renowned Italian singer. Her task was simple, yet the weight of it felt anything but. She would sing in her mother’s native language, captivating the room while Arthur and the others worked the tables. Speak as little as possible, Hosea had instructed. Let the allure of mystery do most of the talking. 

And pray that none of these drunken card sharks could tell the difference.  

Tonight, Arthur’s target was Desmond Blythe, a man who exuded wealth and arrogance in equal measure. Known for his indulgence in all things luxurious, Blythe wasn’t shy about gambling big, nor did he seem to care much when he lost—so long as it was on his terms. The hosiery magnate had a reputation for keeping extra collateral close at hand, tucked away in a safe nearby whenever he ventured out to gamble. It was this cache, more than the game itself, that had caught Dutch’s interest. Arthur’s job was simple in theory: cheat Blythe at poker, rake in the winnings, and push the stakes sky-high to draw out the collateral. The haul could mean a fortune, enough to pull the gang out of their latest mire of trouble.

Ahead, Javier waited on the dock, his posture rigid in a police uniform that suited him almost too well. The sight was both reassuring and unnerving. The air buzzed with faint music and the hum of conversation as Arthur and the group approached the dock, the glowing riverboat looming like a floating palace.

Javier, clad in his borrowed uniform, smirked as they neared. “Well, would you look at that?” he called out, his tone teasing. “From toad to prince! You’re looking like a lucky man tonight Arthur.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, his hand tugging at the too-tight cravat around his neck. “Sure, feelin’ luckier than a turkey that survived Thanksgiving,” he drawled sarcastically, his lips curving into a faint grin.

Javier turned his attention to Kate, his expression softening. He reached for her gloved hand with an exaggerated flourish, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “Ay, hermosa,” he said warmly. “Beautiful as always.”

Kate smiled, her nerves momentarily soothed by the familiar company. She dipped into a small curtsy, her layered skirts rustling softly. “Grazie, amico,” she replied, her Italian accent smooth and practiced.

Arthur's eyes lingered on her, drawn against his better judgment. Kate was breathtaking, radiant in her gown of black and gold, her movements elegant enough to belong among the wealthy elite. Yet, he knew better. Knew her heart, her strength, and the lengths she’d go to for the people she cared about. It made him both proud and uneasy, stirring something fierce and protective deep inside. He worried constantly—for her safety, her health, her happiness. The job tonight only added to the weight pressing on his shoulders. But Kate had insisted. She promised him this was the last job. Now all they needed to do was make it through the night.  

He prayed the payoff would be enough to break free from the endless cycle of running and scheming. Enough to finally put this life behind them.  

Leaning close, his voice low and gravelly, he murmured near her ear, “Still not too late to turn back, darlin’.”  

Her laugh was soft, warming him despite the tension in the air. “Oh, don’t you start that now,” she teased, brushing past him with a wink that carried far more confidence than she felt.  Waving for the rest of the men to follow her. 

Kate moved ahead, her steps deliberate as she led the group toward the boat. She was a vision of poise, her head held high, but Arthur could see the faint hesitation in her movements—the cracks beneath the polished surface. She was good at this, though. Hosea had made sure of it.  

He’d taken time with her, teaching her the nuances of her role. Going off of what she remembered from the garden party. He reminded her how to hold herself with a dignity that came naturally to the wealthy. Confidence, Hosea had said. That’s all it takes. Just fake it till you make it. Kate had clung to his lessons, grateful for his patience and guidance. Now it was her time to prove it.  

The dock creaked beneath their feet as they approached the towering riverboat, the Grand Korrigan glowing like a gilded jewel against the darkening sky. The faint scent of brackish water and wood polish hung in the air. Lanterns flickered overhead, casting warm light on polished brass and lacquered railings. Kate’s heart pounded, adrenaline dulling the lingering fatigue that had plagued her for days. She could do this. She had to do this.  

At the ticket booth, she paused, addressing the attendant with a measured tone that mirrored the airs of her fabricated persona. Introducing herself and her companions. The man barely glanced up, his practiced professionalism working in their favor. With a perfunctory nod, he waved them through, welcoming them aboard with a flourish. And just like that, they were in.  

The weight on her chest eased slightly as her heels clicked against the polished deck. She tried to let herself breathe, though her dress left little room for air. The grandeur of the boat swallowed some of her nerves for a moment. The soft hum of music drifted from the main hall, mingling with the distant clink of glasses and polite laughter. The night had begun.  

Kate led the way to the left, her golden train sweeping behind her as she found the entrance to the stage room. Pausing at the doorway, she glanced back over her shoulder. Her gaze found Arthur, and for a moment, they shared a silent exchange. Her eyes were steady, filled with determination. He gave her the smallest nod, and she knew he would be close by.  

Strauss and Trelawny veered right, disappearing into the main room to mingle with their marks. Arthur moved to follow, but his hand shot out, grabbing Javier by the arm.  

“Need you to do somethin’ for me,” Arthur said quietly, his tone urgent.  

Javier tilted his head, his expression serious. “Whatever you need, hermano.”  

Arthur’s grip tightened. “Don’t let her outta your sight. Not for a second.”  

Crossing a finger over his chest, Javier nodded. His eyes flicked toward Kate as she stepped into the stage room. “You have my word.”  

Arthur released him, watching as Javier followed after her. Only when she was out of sight did Arthur turn away, his jaw tight. Tonight had to go right. There was no room in their tumultuous lives for anything else.  

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate paced the small room, her heels tapping against the gleaming mahogany floor with a rhythm that betrayed her nerves. The faint scent of cigar smoke and brandy drifted through the air, a reminder of the indulgent crowd just beyond the walls. From where she stood, she could hear the low murmur of conversation, punctuated by bursts of laughter—a sharp contrast to the raging of her own thoughts.

The ship’s interior was nothing short of opulent. Brass sconces lined the walls, their light warm and flickering, as though from real flames. Heavy velvet drapes in a deep, blood-red hue framed the windows, muting the faint glow of the setting sun. Everywhere she looked, there was an excess of detail: gilded mirrors that reflected the light in soft, golden ripples, carvings that twisted and curled like ivy along every edge. The atmosphere was almost suffocating in its grandeur.

Her gaze wandered through the open archway ahead. The stage awaited her—a small, raised platform that seemed dwarfed beside the grand staircase curling elegantly to the second floor. The staircase was a masterpiece in itself, with railings that gleamed with gold and ivory steps polished to a shine. Above it, a chandelier cascaded like frozen rain, scattering shards of light across the room. Swaying gently as it rocked with the rhythm of the moving boat. It was stunning. Intimidating.

Only the crimson curtains separated her from the spotlight. Kate's gloved fingers traced the cool brass of the banister, the distorted reflection staring back at her. It almost startled her how well she fit the role tonight. She looked every inch the part—poised, regal, like a queen ready to command her court.

For a fleeting moment, she let the thought play out: a famous singer, adored by audiences, traveling the world in luxury. The image shimmered in her mind, tempting and hollow. It was a life of applause and adoration, but it was also a life without Arthur.

That version of herself—a woman untethered by love or loyalty—felt foreign to her now. It wasn’t a life she wanted. She had new dreams, new hopes. And all of them included her rugged cowboy. Kate exhaled softly, letting the thought fade, as the sound of a voice behind her pulled her back to the moment.

“Marietta Sacchi, wow.” The words carried a youthful awe.

She turned and found herself face-to-face with a young man who couldn’t have been more than seventeen. His face was smooth, untouched by the weight of years, and his bright green eyes practically shone with admiration behind a pair of round glasses. Thick waves of dark brown hair framed his features, neatly combed to one side, though a few rebellious strands fell across his brow. He stood tall in a crisp black-and-white suit, looking like he was trying to embody the very idea of sophistication.

“An honor to meet you,” he said, thrusting out a hand, his excitement barely contained.

Kate blinked, momentarily taken aback by his earnestness. After a moment’s hesitation, she smiled, slipping her gloved hand into his for a polite shake. She reminded herself of Hosea’s advice: keep conversation to a minimum, maintain a sense of mystery.

“Vincent Dupont,” he introduced himself, his grip firm and eager. “But please, call me Vin. I’ll be your pianist tonight.” He gestured toward the stage, a proud grin lighting up his face.

Kate’s smile didn’t falter, but her mind churned. A pianist? This wasn’t part of the plan. She quickly assessed the situation, deciding she’d have to improvise. 

“A pleasure,” she replied, her tone warm but measured.

Vin beamed. “The pleasure is all mine, Miss Sacchi. I’ve been playing since before I could walk. Whatever song you choose, I’ll match you note for note.”

“That’s wonderful,” Kate said, her voice even, maintaining the poised demeanor she’d been coached to adopt.

Vin took a step back, his gaze wandering over to the windows, eyes reflecting the last golden tendrils of burning light. “This night is going to change everything,” he said dreamily, almost to himself. Returning to her, he explained. “When the administrators at Berklee find out I played on the Grand Korrigan, they’ll have to let me attend.” His enthusiasm bubbled over, and he laughed.

Kate felt a pang in her chest. He was just a boy; innocent, wide-eyed and full of dreams, entirely unaware that this moment was part of a carefully staged illusion. She thought of the young Beau Gray and his fierce passion for life, love, and change. The memory was bittersweet. But there was no room for honesty here, she couldn’t risk exposing the truth. Instead, she leaned into her role.

“Berklee, you say? Boston is a beautiful city,” she replied, with an accent that fit her Italian heritage.

Vin’s face lit up at her response. “Oh, it’s the best city in the world! Have you been? The parks, the music halls, the smell of roasted peanuts in Fenway—there’s no place quite like it.” His words tumbled out with the unchecked enthusiasm of someone deeply in love with a dream.

Kate smiled softly, letting his excitement wash over her like a balm. “I lived there once,” she said smoothly, practically the only small truth she would allow herself to tell this evening. “Many years ago. It was… charming.”

“Charming,” Vin said with a grin, his enthusiasm lighting up the dim room. “That’s the perfect word for it. It’s where I’m headed after this, you know. Been saving every penny, practicing every day. My father says I’m not good enough, that it’s too big a leap,” he paused, seemingly lost in thought. “But what does he know,” he muttered.

“Boston is huge, and Berklee? Well, that’s the top of the mountain, isn’t it?” He paused, his confidence wavering for just a moment. “I—uh, I’m sorry. I must sound like I’m rambling.”

A faint smile tugged at Kate’s lips as a wave of nostalgia swept over her. She pictured cobblestone streets, towering buildings, and the distant hum of life that once filled her days. She remembered her mother, and their Sunday trips to church as a family. She wondered if her parents could see her now, would they be proud? 

Boston was no longer her home, it hadn’t been for a very long time, but the memories of a bustling city—so much like Saint Denis—felt strangely close. The details blurred in her mind, but the feelings were vivid, like a familiar melody playing faintly in the distance.

She could tell Vin was a bright and passionate young man. Though they were both chasing dreams tonight, he deserved the spotlight more than she did. His whole life awaited him. 

“Not at all,” Kate said, her smile growing softer. “It’s good to have dreams. And it sounds like you have the grit to match your talent. They’d be fools not to take you.”

Vin’s cheeks flushed a light pink, and he rubbed the back of his neck, his grin turning bashful. “You’re too kind, Miss Sacchi.”

The noise from the main room outside quieted, a telltale sign that her performance was drawing near. The tight fabric of her gown clung too closely, making her breaths feel shallow. She twisted her gloved hands together, her nerves bubbling to the surface despite her best efforts.

Vin noticed, his sharp green eyes softening as he reached out to place a steadying hand on her shoulder. She flinched slightly, caught off guard by the gesture, but his voice was gentle, almost calming. “Forgive me for saying so—but you look nervous.”

Kate straightened, forcing a laugh that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Nervous? No, no. Just… eager to get started,” she replied, though her fingers betrayed her, fidgeting with the edge of her glove.

Vin tilted his head, his expression knowing but kind. “You don’t have to put on a brave face for me,” he said quietly. “I get nervous too, every time I sit at the keys. But here’s the thing—we’re performers. We get to decide what they see, and who we want to be. To them, you’re a star. Just be yourself, Miss Sacchi and shine as bright as you can”

Kate hesitated, the weight of his words pressing gently against the truths she couldn’t share. If only it were that simple. She wasn’t a star—she was a liar, playing a role and deceiving him from the moment they met. Yet, there was something so genuine about Vin’s belief in her, his unshakable confidence in her ability to shine. It stirred something in her, something bittersweet.

She was taken aback by his innocent sincerity, his earnestness. It was rare to see such pure kindness, especially in a setting like this. 

“Thank you, Vin,” she said softly, her voice losing some of its practiced air. “That means a lot.”

He smiled, clearly pleased that he’d reassured her. “We’ll make a great team out there, you and me. I promise.”

Before Kate could respond, a voice called from beyond the curtain. “Miss Sacchi, Mr. Dupont, we’re ready for you.”

Vin offered her an encouraging nod and extended his arm. “Shall we, ma’am?”

For a fleeting moment, Kate forgot the charade, the stakes, and the lies. She saw only the hope and sincerity in Vin’s eyes, and for the first time that night, she felt a small measure of calm. Placing her hand lightly on his arm, she allowed herself a genuine smile. “Let’s.”

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━ 

Arthur trailed Trelawny down the narrow corridors, his footsteps muffled by the plush carpet beneath. The walls were lined with ornate sconces, their golden light casting flickering shadows that seemed to dance mockingly in his peripheral vision. He tugged at his cuff sleeves, an anxious habit he couldn’t quite shake. Something about tonight gnawed at his conscience, a restless unease that made his skin crawl. Was it Kate’s frail health and the risk she was taking? Or the fact that he felt naked and exposed in this den of lions, his gun left behind at the door? Every step felt heavier as his mind raced with the myriad ways this could spiral into chaos—and how he could ensure Kate’s safety when it did.

“You seem unsure, Arthur,” Trelawny’s voice cut through his thoughts, light and tinged with that ever-present air of smug confidence.

Arthur barely registered the servant they passed, who offered them a polite greeting. His focus remained on the knot tightening in his chest. 

“Forgive me,” Arthur said, thick with sarcasm. “Robbing a heavily armed boat while my woman stands like bait in the middle of a pack of hungry wolves…” He shook his head, his lips curling into a bitter smirk. “Tends to bring out the self-doubt in me.”

Trelawny stopped, turning to face him with a placating smile. “These people are practically idiots, my boy,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Simple stuff. Stick to the plan, and all will go swimmingly.” He motioned for Arthur to follow as they approached the grand double doors ahead. With a flourish, Trelawny pushed them open. “Now, let’s have a good time.”

Arthur stepped into the main room, his senses assaulted by the atmosphere. A faint haze of cigar smoke hovered in the air, mingling with the heady aroma of bourbon and expensive cologne. The clink of glasses, the rustle of fine fabric, and the occasional burst of laughter from the card tables filled the space, yet it all felt distant to him. His eyes darted around, scanning every corner, every detail. 

His gaze locked onto the lawmen standing rigid against the posts that supported the second floor, their presence as imposing as the staircase that curled upward. More officers lined the balcony above, their watchful eyes scanning the room with cold precision. The pit in Arthur’s stomach grew heavier. His jaw clenched as he forced himself to memorize the layout—the exits, the entrances, the obstacles. If this went south, he needed a way out.

Arthur exhaled sharply through his nose, steeling his shoulders as he made his way to an open card table. Relief flickered briefly when he noted the proximity to the stage. Just beyond the velvet curtains, he knew Kate waited, a sense of calm in the storm brewing in his mind. He adjusted his coat and took a seat, settling into the role he was here to play.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” he said, leaning back in his chair with a nonchalant wave. “Arthur Callahan. Apologies for my tardiness—had to tend to some unfinished business at the bar.”

The man across from him offered a curt nod. “Desmond Blythe,” he replied smoothly. “Not to worry. Welcome to the game, Mr. Callahan.”

Arthur forced a grin, his hand brushing against the stack of poker chips in front of him. The table was surrounded by well-dressed men, their eyes sharp and calculating. It felt like a world he didn’t belong to—a stage he didn’t want to be on. But at the end of the day, he was a cheat, just like the rest of them. Only dressed in finer clothing. 

But he would play his part. For Kate. For her safety. For the sake of their future. His grip on the chips tightened slightly as he leaned forward, projecting an air of ease to conceal the storm inside.

As the dealer shuffled the deck with methodical precision, the room seemed to hold its breath. Arthur’s focus drifted, the rustle of the cards fading as he caught the sound of the curtains lifting. It was a delicate, almost intimate sound, like a lover’s whispered promise in the quiet of night. The chandelier overhead dimmed, softening the room’s sharp edges. The smaller lights above the card tables glowed like scattered stars against the backdrop of cigar smoke and shadow, as if suspended over a foggy sea.

A servant stepped forward, his voice a polished announcement that faded into the distance of Arthur’s mind as Kate stepped into the spotlight.

And suddenly, the air left his lungs.

The moment her eyes met his, the world seemed to narrow, folding in on itself until nothing existed but her. Those luminous eyes, shimmering with adoration, strength, and devotion, sliced through his soul with the precision of a blade. They didn’t just look at him; they saw him, baring his soul in a way that made him feel both vulnerable and whole. She was everything—divine and untouchable, yet undeniably his. In that instant, Arthur felt unworthy and utterly captivated.

The pianist settled behind her, fingers poised above the keys. A gentle tune began to rise, like the first rays of dawn spilling over a quiet landscape. Kate swayed to its rhythm, her movements subtle but mesmerizing, as if she carried the music in her very bones. The delicate melody wrapped itself around her like a silken veil, enhancing her beauty in ways Arthur couldn’t have imagined possible.

She waited for her cue, and Arthur could feel her energy building. He had heard her rehearse this song with him countless times—each note, each breath etched into his memory—but seeing her here, now, was entirely different.

The song she chose was a ballad from her past, Ancora Qui—I’m Still Here. The notes spilled forth, hopeful yet tinged with mourning, weaving a story of longing, nostalgia, and the quiet ache of time’s passage. Each word seemed to hang in the air, lingering before it drifted into the hearts of everyone in the room. But for Arthur, the song felt like a thread connecting them, a fragile but unbreakable bond.

“I’m still here, you're still you,

but now I know who you are,

who you will always be

and when you see me again,

you will remember.”

It was like she had mastered the language, flowing from her tongue effortlessly. But Arthur knew their meaning. Her voice was a revelation, soft but commanding, carrying the weight of her story, their story, and all the stories left unsaid. It was as if she sang not just for the room but for him alone, a message that spoke of resilience, longing, and the quiet promise of enduring through life’s storms together.

“And I hope you will forgive me.

You, with the same sad eyes.

Look like you are coming back

to ask me about myself.

And how it feels, 

here from the other side,

how does it go.”

Arthur’s chest tightened as the melody poured over him, his hand unconsciously curling into a fist on the table. Every note resonated deeply, as if her voice were the anchor keeping him steady in a chaotic sea. In that moment, he wasn’t Arthur Callahan, the gambler at the table, or even Arthur Morgan, the outlaw who carried too many regrets. 

He was simply hers, and she was his.

The dealer began passing out the cards with precision, the smooth shuffle and snap of the deck cutting through the soft hum of conversation and song. Each card landed effortlessly in front of the players, who instinctively reached for them. Arthur forced himself to tear his gaze away from Kate, her voice still lingering in his mind like the tender caress of her lips against his flesh. It wrapped around his shoulders, steadying him like the wings of a guardian angel, urging him to focus.

With a deep breath, he donned his best poker face, masking the unease roiling in his gut. He needed the night to go by quickly and without incident, a tall order in a room full of armed egos and thinly veiled threats.

Desmond Blythe, seated across the table, leaned back in his chair, his gaze lingering on Kate as she performed. A sly grin tugged at the corners of his lips. “I’d like to place my winnings on her tonight,” he mused, his tone oozing confidence and arrogance.

The other men chuckled, nodding in agreement, their laughter grating against Arthur’s ears like nails on a chalkboard.

Arthur’s jaw tightened as he picked up his cards. He forced himself to glance at his hand, taking note of his spread. The ache in his chest grew sharper with each passing moment, but he couldn’t let it show. 

He scoffed, shaking his head. “You couldn’t afford her,” he muttered under his breath, low enough to feign indifference but loud enough to make his point.

Desmond’s eyes flicked toward Arthur, his grin sharpening. “Ah, a man with a tongue,” he said, his voice cool but amused. “You seem like a player, Mr. Callahan. Been too many cowards at these tables recently.”

Arthur met Desmond’s gaze with a shrug, his expression unreadable. “Nothing less dignified than a man afraid to lose a little money,” he replied casually, though there was an edge to his voice, like the crack of a whip.

The table went quiet for a moment, tension curling in the air like the smoke from Desmond’s cigar. Then he chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that carried a challenge. “I think this is going to be an interesting night, my friend.”

Arthur didn’t respond immediately. His fingers drummed lightly against the table as he studied Desmond. The man was sharp—too sharp for Arthur’s liking. But also arrogant, the type of gambler who liked to bait his opponents into reckless moves. Arthur knew the type well; he’d been up against men like this before. And he knew how to use it to his advantage.

“I guess we’ll see,” Arthur said finally, calm and almost bored. But beneath the surface, his mind was working fast.

“The green grass, the warm air

on my feet and on the flowers.

Some wind rises up between the colors,

it looks nearly like you.

Even the sky changes its name,

so white that the cotton

which is fast, which moves

lost inside the blue.”

As the next hand began, Arthur risked a quick glance toward the stage. Kate was still singing, her voice calming his fraying nerves. She moved with an effortless grace, commanding the room without breaking a sweat. He tightened his grip on his cards, grounding himself in the knowledge that she was here, within sight.

Arthur spotted Strauss lounging in a chair to the right of Desmond, looking every bit the casual observer. He sipped his drink with an air of detachment, his eyes flicking lazily over the table as if he were merely a disinterested spectator. But Arthur knew better. Strauss was no idle onlooker. His role tonight was critical—he had already met with the dealer, familiarized himself with the cards, and devised a system of subtle cues to guide Arthur’s hand.

Each member of the gang had their part to play tonight, and Strauss’s calm demeanor belied the precision of his task. A tilt of his glass, a scratch of his nose, the way he adjusted his cuff—these seemingly innocuous gestures were the keys to Arthur’s success.

“It’s something in you.

it’s what will come back

as it already was.

How it feels

in this strange world,

how does it go.”

Arthur carefully picked up his hand and fanned the cards in front of him. A pair of tens and a jack. Not great, but not a disaster. He glanced at Strauss, who raised his glass slightly. Call. Arthur matched the current bet with a practiced nonchalance, his fingers drumming lightly on the edge of the table as the dealer burned a card and laid out the flop.

The first three community cards were a ten, a six, and a king. Arthur’s heart gave a small leap—three of a kind. He fought to keep his expression neutral, instead letting his gaze drift to Desmond, whose grin had only widened. Stretching across his face like a predator catching the scent of prey. The man leaned forward, placing a hefty stack of chips in the center of the table.

“Well now,” Desmond drawled, thick with smug assurance. “Let’s see what you’ve got, Mr. Callahan.”

Arthur smirked faintly, just enough to convey the faintest hint of amusement. His eyes flicked toward Strauss, seated unobtrusively nearby. The older man’s subtle adjustment of his cufflink was all the signal Arthur needed. Raise.

With a casual air, Arthur pushed a modest stack of chips forward. His movements were deliberate, his confidence measured—not too eager, not too indifferent. “I think I’ve got enough to keep you interested,” he replied, calm and edged with just enough arrogance to match Desmond’s.

The dealer’s hand moved like clockwork, revealing the turn card: a queen. Arthur’s stomach twisted slightly, the potential for a straight on the board setting his nerves alight. He glanced toward Strauss again, noting the man’s nonchalant sip of his drink. It was a subtle gesture, but one that reassured him. Stay steady.

Desmond leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking beneath his weight as he studied the table. Fingers working along the lines of his greasy mustache. His eyes flicked to Arthur, sharp and devious, before he reached for his chips. The move was slow, calculated, meant to unnerve. He tossed another large stack into the pot, the satisfying clink of chips echoing in the air. 

“Interesting spread,” he remarked, with a casual curiosity that belied the sharp edge of his intent.

Arthur let a small grin tug at the corner of his mouth as he leaned slightly forward, resting his forearms on the table. “That it is,” he replied easily, though his mind was a flurry of calculations. Was Desmond bluffing, or was there something more behind that grin?

The other players shifted in their seats, their eyes darting between Arthur and Desmond. The tension at the table had thickened, the unspoken stakes rising with each passing moment. Arthur glanced down at the pile of chips in the center of the table—a small fortune, and growing.

Arthur picked up his cards, running his thumb along the edge as he feigned a moment of indecision. He reached for his chips. Adding to the pot, his stack noticeably smaller than Desmond’s but enough to keep the game moving. He was playing a risky game, betting it all on Strauss’ cues. 

Desmond chuckled low, the sound rumbling in his chest like thunder. “Oh, I like you,” he said, settling back into his chair. “Let’s see if you’re really worth something.”

“You will come back and I will come back.

You will remember, and I will remember.

I will remember you.”

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Several hands and countless whiskey glasses later, Arthur’s confidence had ballooned alongside the growing pile of poker chips in front of him. The other men at the table had already folded, their pockets emptied and their spirits dampened, leaving only Arthur and Desmond in the game. Arthur leaned back in his chair, a cocky grin stretching across his face as he watched Desmond spiral, his cool demeanor slipping with every hand lost.  

The dealer laid out the community cards: a seven, a ten, and a jack. Arthur glanced at his hand, the alcohol lending a loose swagger to his movements. His confidence only grew when Desmond called his bet and revealed his cards—a pair of jacks.  

“Ain’t that interestin’,” Arthur drawled, his southern accent exaggerated by the whiskey warming his veins. He set his cards down with a flourish, two queens staring up from the table. “Pair of cowgirls,” he smirked.  

The dealer methodically revealed the turn and river cards—a king and a three. Arthur’s grin widened as the realization sank in: the pot was his. A cool $500 lay before him, and Desmond had nothing left to play with.  

Arthur slapped the table and laughed heartily, scooping the chips toward him in a show of triumph. “I guess my luck held.”  

Desmond stared at the table, his face reddening as he tossed his cards aside in frustration. “Shit… SHIT!”  

Arthur’s grin didn’t waver as he continued to stack his winnings. “Is that you done?” he asked, his tone light and dripping with feigned indifference.  

Desmond looked up sharply, narrowing his eyes. “Done?”  

Arthur counted out a few chips, letting them clink dramatically as he spoke. “You know, bust. Or, uh… you got something else to play with?”  

This was it—the moment Arthur had been angling for all night. The final part of the plan was to push Desmond into a corner, leaving him with no choice but to wager his collateral. He needed to make Desmond believe there was one last shot to redeem himself.  

“Meaning?” Desmond’s tone was cautious, his pride warring with suspicion.  

Arthur leaned back, shrugging with calculated indifference. “Well, I heard there were some big boys on this boat,” he mused, picking at an imaginary speck of dust on his sleeve. “Maybe that’s not you…”  

The bait was set, and Desmond took it. His fist came down hard on the table, sending the poker chips scattering and earning a sharp look from the dealer. “Sit your hillbilly ass back down,” he growled.  

Arthur arched a brow, his grin fading just enough to feign curiosity. “Why?”  

Desmond straightened his posture, puffing up like a rooster in a cockfight. He cleared his throat and leaned forward, voice low and gravelly. “I got a watch. An expensive one, real fine. A Reutlinger, no less. It’s in the safe upstairs.” He paused, lighting a cigar with the ease of a man trying to reclaim his composure. “It’s worth more than your life.”  

Bullseye. Arthur’s grin returned, wider and more predatory this time. The fool had taken the bait, hook, line, and sinker.  

“Well, now,” Arthur said, settling back into his chair with an exaggerated air of ease. He tossed a hefty pile of chips into the pot, letting them fall with a satisfying clatter. “As you wish. Let’s play.”  

Desmond grinned back, but it was strained, his confidence already faltering. The tension at the table was unmistakable, the stakes higher than ever as the game continued. Arthur, for all his swagger and charm, remained focused on the end goal. The plan was working, and Desmond didn’t even know it. 

It was almost too easy, like taking candy from a child. Desmond, desperate to claw his way back to the top, leaned forward with a cocky grin, his voice slick with overconfidence. “All in,” he declared, shoving his remaining chips into the pot.  

Arthur masked his pride with a show of reluctant hesitation. He sighed heavily, furrowing his brow as if genuinely troubled. “Guess I can’t back out now,” he muttered, his tone laced with just enough doubt to sell the act. Slowly, he pushed his pile of chips toward the center of the table.  

The dealer glanced between them, his disinterest barely masked by the motionless raise of an eyebrow. “Gentlemen,” he muttered, dealing out the cards with practiced precision.  

Desmond, unable to contain himself, slapped his cards face up on the table before the community cards were even revealed. “Ha! Pair of Aces,” he announced triumphantly, leaning back with a smug grin.  

Arthur blew out a measured breath, placing his cards to the table with exaggerated care. “Pair of kings,” he said casually, though his tone betrayed a flicker of amusement.  

Desmond’s grin widened. “Very good, Mr. Callahan,” he said, dripping with patronizing satisfaction. “But not good enough.”  

The dealer began flipping over the house cards. A nine, an ace, and a four came first. Desmond smirked as a fire ignited in his eyes, like a dog begging for a bone. He was already tasting victory. But then came the jack, followed by a two—both diamonds.  

The dealer gestured to Arthur’s hand with a flourish, his monotone voice cutting through the room. “Mr. Callahan wins with an ace-high diamond flush.”  

For a moment, the room was utterly silent. Then Arthur leaned back in his chair, letting out a low whistle before he reached forward to collect the mountain of chips. “Yes, you little beauty,” he said with a broad grin, examining his cards as though they had been blessed by the gambling gods.  

Desmond’s face twisted in rage before he quickly masked it, sucking in a sharp breath and forcing himself to sit back down. “God damn you,” he hissed, his voice trembling with barely restrained anger. Catching himself, he added, “N-no offense.”  

“None taken,” Arthur replied easily, his grin widening with a chuckle. He continued stacking his chips, whistling a jaunty tune under his breath as though this were just another day on the job. “Now, forgive my lack of discretion, but, uh... where might I find this watch of yours?”  

Desmond exhaled sharply through his nose, his jaw tightening as his mind worked furiously to save face. “It’s upstairs,” he said finally, standing with stiff movements. He smoothed his jacket with an agitated flick of his hand. “Shall we go have a look?”  

Arthur rose from his seat as he straightened his coat. “Why not,” he said nonchalantly.

The two men made their way toward the staircase, Desmond leading the way with a thin veneer of composure while Arthur followed, his eyes scanning the room with the relaxed confidence of a man who knew he had already won far more than a card game. 

The path to the grand staircase was alive with the hum of conversation, the clink of glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter from one of the tables. The air buzzed with energy, the evening in full swing. As Arthur and Desmond made their way toward the opulent structure leading to the second floor, Arthur’s gaze instinctively drifted to the stage.  

Kate was there, leaning casually against the piano as she exchanged a few words with her accompanist. Taking a break between her performances. Her soft laughter cut through the ambient noise, warm and genuine, like a ray of sunlight breaking through storm clouds. She was smiling, her face radiant under the glow of the stage lights. Arthur’s chest swelled with pride, the weight he was carrying momentarily lifted from his shoulders.  

She had nailed her performance. Every note, every calculated smile, every subtle gesture had landed perfectly. The room had been wrapped around her finger, just as they’d planned. Arthur’s concerns from earlier seemed distant now, dissipating like the smoke from a cigar.  

As they passed, Kate glanced up and caught his eye. For a brief moment, their gazes locked. Arthur gave her a subtle nod—confident, assured. We did it. Her lips curved into the faintest smile, her eyes sparkling with satisfaction. The exchange was silent but powerful, a shared acknowledgment of a job well done. Arthur felt a surge of pleasure, a rare moment of triumph coursing through him. The thrill of a successful heist always had him feeling sublime. 

For the first time in weeks, the prospect of a better future didn’t feel like a dream. The gang could finally move on, leave the chaos behind, and start anew. This could be the turning point. This was the start of their future. 

He forced himself to look away, though the image of her smile lingered in his mind. The night wasn’t over yet, and he couldn’t afford to lose focus. But the thought of the evening’s success—and what it meant—had his blood humming with anticipation. He could hardly wait to tell her how proud he was in the private space of their room, though words wouldn’t be his chosen medium of expression.  

Desmond’s voice cut through his thoughts. “You there,” he called, addressing the guard stationed opposite the stage.  

Arthur’s heart skipped a beat when he realized the guard was Javier. His trusted friend had been keeping watch, his rifle at the ready. Arthur felt a flicker of unease at the interruption. Javier’s job was to keep an eye on Kate, ensuring her safety. He didn’t like the idea of him leaving his post.  

Desmond gestured toward the stairs. “Perhaps you could escort us up to the office?”  

Javier straightened, nodding crisply. “Yes, of course, sir.” He picked up his rifle with a practiced ease and stepped forward. “Follow me, gentlemen.”  

Arthur hesitated, his instincts bristling. But the tension slipped away as he reminded himself that they were nearly at the finish line. The hardest part was over. Now it was just a matter of tying up loose ends and walking out with the prize.  

He shot one last glance toward Kate, her laughter ringing in his ears. Then, with a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips, he followed Desmond and Javier up the stairs, the promise of victory spurring him onward.

“Do you know that woman?” Desmond asked casually, his voice just light enough to sound conversational, yet laced with curiosity.  

His sudden question came like a bolt from the blue as they ascended the grand staircase.

Arthur faltered, missing a step. “What? N-no, we just met—well, no, I, uh…” His tongue tripped over itself as he tried to find his footing. “I’ve never met her. This is my first time hearin’ her sing.” His words spilled out clumsily before he managed to rein them in. “Why you askin’?”  

Desmond chuckled, a sly grin tugging at his lips as they reached the top of the stairs and veered left down the carpeted hallway. “She’s been undressing you with her eyes the whole night. You must have some serious luck on you, sir.”  

Arthur felt his face grow uncomfortably warm, a sharp contrast to the cool air drifting through the hallway. “Yeah,” he said with a short, uneasy laugh, scratching at the back of his neck. “I guess so.”  

They trailed behind Javier, who moved with purpose through the corridor, his rifle slung casually over his shoulder. The hallway opened into a lavish lounge where the decadence of the riverboat came into full display. A second bar was alive with activity, bartenders expertly pouring drinks for a crowd of finely dressed men and women of questionable repute. Hookers lounged in booths, draped over their clients like silk scarves, while other patrons whispered in tight circles, their gazes following Arthur as he passed.  

The men’s eyes were cold, predatory, like snakes sizing up their prey. Arthur’s skin prickled with unease. A flicker of doubt wormed its way into his chest, tightening his breath. He hated the idea of leaving Kate downstairs, away from him. Strauss and Trelawny had their own schemes to juggle, and if anything went sideways, she’d be on her own.  

Javier led them through a set of polished double doors, stepping out onto the bow of the ship. The sudden rush of night air was startlingly refreshing. Arthur inhaled deeply, letting the chill cut through the thick haze of cigar smoke and liquor clinging to his senses. The icy breeze kissed his flushed cheeks, his breath puffing visibly in front of him like a phantom as they climbed another flight of stairs toward the captain’s office.  

“I think you’re going to like this watch, Mr. Callahan,” Desmond said, his tone dripping with the kind of casual arrogance that only money could buy. “It really is a handsome piece.” He smirked, as though this were just a minor inconvenience—a trivial dent in his wealth. “Right this way.”  

Javier pushed open the door to the captain’s office, revealing a well-appointed room with polished oak furniture and brass fixtures gleaming under the gaslight. Arthur’s sharp eyes caught the two men already present: the ship’s captain, a stout man with a neatly trimmed mustache, and a uniformed guard standing rigid near the desk.  

Desmond raised a hand, signaling for Arthur and Javier to wait. Arthur nodded, stepping back slightly as he clasped his hands behind him, his gaze drifting over the room. The faint creak of the ship beneath his boots and the distant hum of activity from below filled the silence as Desmond moved to the safe against the wall.  

The faint click of the safe’s lock disengaging was a sound Arthur had heard countless times before, but just as Desmond began to turn the handle, another door opened at the far end of the room. Arthur’s eyes snapped to the figure stepping inside. Their gazes locked, and for an instant, everything stopped.  

His pulse thundered in his ears, his breath catching in his throat. The man’s expression shifted, recognition sparking in his eyes like a struck match.  

Arthur’s heart dropped. 

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate gave a short bow from center stage, the spotlight warming her skin, her gown flowing like liquid gold around her as she finished her song. For the first time in what felt like forever, she felt alive—a rare sensation these days, at the mayor’s garden party she felt beautiful and elegant only for a fleeting evening. But tonight? Tonight, she was the star. The crowd’s admiration filled her chest with a different kind of confidence she hadn’t known in years, and for a moment, the weight of her illness and the strain in her body had melted away. A smile graced her cheeks as she realized she was having genuine fun.

Her voice, steady and rich, wove through the night air, each note hit with precision, capturing the room’s attention and holding it there. They were all watching her, their eyes fixed, entranced by the music and the way she commanded the space. Some even paused their card games and drinking to listen. The energy in the room, buzzing and alive, lifted her high.

But through it all, there was one constant—Arthur. His broad, familiar frame and that confident grin lighting up his face. The storm of nerves and excitement she felt every time she sang seemed to quiet in his presence, as though his very gaze could calm the jittery flutter of butterflies of her stomach. Yet even as his presence steadied her, she couldn’t quite ignore the sharp ache in her chest, the weariness in her bones. The ship swayed beneath her feet, and despite the thrill of the night, her illness clung to her like a shadow.

She knew she was pushing herself too far, but she couldn’t stop—not now. The applause, the attention, the sense of purpose—it was intoxicating. But after a few more songs, she made the decision to let herself rest.

The poker players had already finished a few rounds by then, their voices drifting up from below, blending with the soft laughter and clinking glasses. Some had moved to the second floor to socialize, others to the bar for another drink. Arthur passed by her, making his way up the grand staircase, shooting her a smile that told her everything she needed to know. The night was a success. 

Her pianist, Vin, was a steady presence beside her, the perfect musical companion. His fingers had danced effortlessly over the piano keys, matching her every note, creating a melody that intertwined with her voice like magic. His talent was undeniable, and Kate found herself grateful for his partnership tonight. He was young—so much younger than she—and his skill was extraordinary. She had no doubt that one day his name would echo across the great concert halls of the world.

Vin leaned toward her, his voice warm with mirth as he carried on their conversation. “My father wants me to join the union, slaving away in the coal mines with him. But I think I’d rather die first.” He laughed.

Kate chuckled softly, shaking her head as she adjusted her posture leaning against the piano. “Well, you’re not your father. You’re your own man,” she said, gentle but firm, as though she were offering him the world’s most precious secret.

She watched him for a moment, his youthful face lit with the fire of his dreams, and it made her heart ache in a way she hadn’t expected. He reminded her so much of her brother—so young, so full of life. It was the cruel hand of fate that had stolen her brother away so long ago, and she couldn’t help but feel the sting again. The same coal dust, the same mines, had taken his life far too early.

Her expression softened, and she placed a hand on his arm. “Man? No," she corrected gently, almost to herself. “You’re just a kid. Your life is just beginning, Vin. You’ve got so much ahead of you. You’re smart, you’re talented... you’ve got all the time in the world to make this life whatever you want it to be.”

She gave him a smile, not just for him but for the hope she wished for herself— a hope she had nearly forgotten. Her hand subconsciously rubbed over her belly. 

Vin returned the smile, and looked down bashfully, a flush creeping up to his ears and he idly poked at the ivory keys. They sat in companionable silence for a moment, when a sudden noise caught her attention. 

From three stories up, the sound of gunfire cut through the air like distant whispers of thunder. The cracks were faint but sharp, the rhythm unsettling—three quick pops in succession. Each shot seemed to linger for a moment, hanging in the air before it scattered, ricocheting off the walls, fading into the chaos below. The noise was swallowed by the hum of the crowd, as though it never happened at all.

Kate's heart skipped a beat, the fear shooting up her spine like a dart lodged in her back. Her blood ran cold, instincts prickling with warning. She glanced frantically around the room, but no one else seemed to notice the gunfire. The patrons of the hall continued to talk and laugh, the click of dice and the shuffle of cards blending together. There was no panic, no rush to take cover. They were completely oblivious.

She shook her head, trying to push the unease away. Maybe it’s just the nerves from the performance, she thought. Maybe it’s nothing. But the faint, hollow pops still echoed in her mind, each one sending a ripple of dread through her chest. Something wasn’t right. Her instincts told her to act—she couldn’t ignore it.

Excusing herself from the stage, she moved quickly towards the bar, weaving through the dense crowd of gamblers. The noise was a blur of voices and clinking glasses. Her dress, heavy with layers of fabric, caught on chair legs, tugged by the movement of people passing by. With each step, she huffed out an annoyed breath, lifting the ruffles of her gown to avoid tripping. She quickened her pace, heels clicking against the wooden floor.

Trelawny was chatting casually with a group of patrons leaning against the bar. She caught sight of him, laughing too loudly, his voice thick with alcohol. His cheeks were flushed, eyes bright with the kind of joviality that only came from too many drinks. Kate’s eyes narrowed. There was no time for small talk.

She reached him, placing a gloved hand firmly on his shoulder. He turned to face her with a broad smile, his mannerisms exaggerated, as he was putting on a performance for the crowd.

"Ah! The beautiful songbird graces us with her presence. To what do I owe the pleasure, my dear?" he said with a flourish, introducing her to the people around him like she was a guest of honor.

Kate’s fingers tightened on his arm. “I need to speak to you,” she said, voice low and hurried. Leaving little room for pleasantries.

Trelawny raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “Oh my, a bit forward, aren’t we?” he teased, winking flirtatiously.

Her grip tightened, pulling him closer. She met his eyes with an intensity that stopped him cold. "Josiah," she said, steady but laced with urgency. "This is serious."

The teasing faded from his face. His eyes shifted slightly, reading the tension in her. His posture changed, becoming more guarded. “What troubles you?” he asked, dropping his voice to a whisper.

Kate glanced around the room, her gaze sweeping over the crowd to make sure no one was eavesdropping. She leaned in closer, lowering her voice to match his. “I think Arthur might be in some kind of trouble. Someone needs to check on him.”

Trelawny’s expression hardened, the playful air evaporating. He paused, processing her words, his mind calculating the possibilities. There was a long beat of silence before he nodded, his demeanor shifting into one of purpose. He started to move away from the bar, but then his gaze caught two familiar figures descending the staircase.

He stopped dead in his tracks, his smile returning but colder this time, voice pitched lower. "No need to worry, darling," he said lightly, though his eyes remained sharp. “Here comes the man of the hour himself.”

Kate turned, her gaze following his, and there they were—Arthur and Javier, descending the staircase with purpose. Their movements were quick yet deliberate, as if every step carried the weight of urgency. Relief washed over her when Arthur’s eyes met hers, but the feeling was short-lived. There was something behind his gaze she couldn’t place, something raw and unnerving, mirroring the anxiety that had been building in her chest.

He gave her a reluctant smile, but it was hollow, not reaching his eyes. When he reached the bar, he moved quickly, his hand coming to rest around her waist as he turned her away from the staircase, shielding her with his body. His grip was firm—too firm—and his touch burned with tension.

It was then she saw it. His knuckles, cracked and bloody, told a story he hadn’t yet spoken aloud. His shoulders were taut, his posture rigid, like a bowstring pulled to its limit. Ready to snap. The air around him seemed to hum with dread, his unease radiating off him like heat waves rising from the desert. Kate’s heart thudded heavily in her chest. 

Something had gone terribly wrong.

Before she could ask, the sharp cry of the steam whistle tore through the room, its wail slicing the noise. Ringing loudly in her ears. The sound reverberated off the walls, amplifying the panic that was spreading like wildfire among the passengers. People glanced around in confusion, voices rising in alarm. Across the hall, guards scrambled to ready their rifles, the metallic clatter of weapons adding to the chaos.

Kate’s breath hitched, and she spun to face Arthur. “Arthur, what did you do?” she shouted, strained as it fought to cut through the cacophony.

His eyes locked onto hers, and what she saw froze her in place. They were hollow, drained of color, as if a shadow had crept into his soul and stolen the light. He looked like a man haunted, his expression a mix of fear and something darker—surrender. As if he had given himself fully to the violence that often tore at his mind. His voice, when it came, was a low strained growl.

“I did what I had to.”

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Hugo Fucking Abernathy. 

The same pompous, self-important collector Arthur had relieved of a prized family brooch for Mary’s sake just the day before. Abernathy moved with a stiff arrogance, his finely tailored coat doing little to hide the puffed-up ego of a man who thought himself untouchable—until Arthur had proven otherwise. The evidence of their encounter was plain as day: a swollen, purpling bruise encircled his left eye, and a single stitch upon a busted lip. The skin was still tender and angry. It was a gift Arthur had delivered with a well-placed fist, and by the stiffness in Abernathy’s posture, it was clear he hadn’t forgotten.

Arthur straightened, his jaw tightening as he adjusted his stance. He kept his head bowed low, hoping the dim light would shield him. He turned slightly, as if studying the ledgers piled on the captain’s desk, but his ears honed in on Abernathy's voice.

He risked a glance, only to be sure, his gaze flicking to Hugo’s face. The collector’s good eye twitched, his expression suddenly sharpening as if a thread in his mind had been plucked. His gaze lingered on Arthur for a fraction too long.

“Wait…” Abernathy’s voice faltered, a seed of recognition blooming into full blown panic. His hand shot out, pointing directly at Arthur. “It’s you! The thief! You’re the bastard who robbed me yesterday!”

The room froze, the accusation hanging heavy in the air. Arthur caught Javier's subtle fixed look from the corner of his eye. Silently asking, what now? The captain stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the wooden floor.

“Now, let’s not be rash,” the captain said, his tone even but edged with caution.

But Abernathy wasn’t listening. His face flushed with anger and humiliation, and his hand darted toward his own weapon, fumbling with the holster. “Guards! Guards, this man is a criminal!”

The tension snapped like a taut wire. He nodded to Javier, who understood the assignment immediately. They needed to get out, and fast. Arthur surged forward, his instincts taking over as Abernathy’s hand closed around his pistol. The captain shouted something—perhaps an order, or maybe a warning—but the chaos drowned him out.

Javier raised his rifle with a sharp, deliberate motion, bringing the butt of it crashing down onto the temple of the nearest guard. The sound was sickening—a dull, wet thud followed by the crack of bone. The guard crumpled to the ground, blood trickling from a split in his scalp. Javier’s rifle swung back up in a fluid arc, now trained on Desmond, who staggered back with his hands raised, his eyes wide with terror.

Arthur’s chest heaved as his pulse thundered in his ears. His gaze locked onto Abernathy, whose pallid face was frozen in a grotesque mixture of fear and indignation. Arthur’s lips curled into a sneer, his voice a low, venomous growl. “I should’ve killed you when I had the chance.”

The words dripped with fury, but they weren’t just words—they were a promise. Arthur surged forward, a storm of rage and violence. His fist collided with Abernathy’s jaw, a brutal, bone-jarring impact that sent the man staggering. Arthur grabbed him before he could hit the ground, dragging him upright like a puppet.

Torment and doubt churned within Arthur, warring with the blinding fury that had taken hold. This was the part of himself he both feared and embraced—the part that felt nothing but the raw, savage satisfaction of dominance. He wasn’t a man in these moments. Not like a creature that was born, but rather a fire that was set. Consuming everything in its path.

“You’re a dead man,” Arthur hissed through gritted teeth, his breath hot against Abernathy’s face. 

One hand clamped down around the man’s throat, fingers digging into the soft flesh, while the other wrenched the pistol from his trembling grip. Abernathy sputtered and clawed at Arthur’s arm, his nails raking against fabric and skin, but Arthur didn’t relent.

Abernathy’s eyes darted wildly, his lips moving soundlessly as if searching for some plea that might save him. Arthur shoved him against the wall, the dull thud of his skull meeting wood reverberating through the room.

The cold barrel of the pistol pressed against Abernathy’s chin, the metal slick with sweat and shaking ever so slightly as Arthur’s hand trembled—not with fear, but with uncontainable rage.

“Please…” Abernathy croaked, hoarse and wet with desperation.

Arthur didn’t hear it. Or maybe he just didn’t care. In that moment, there was nothing but the sound of his own heartbeat, the deafening roar of anger that drowned out reason.

He pulled the trigger.

The gunshot was ringing in the enclosed space, a sharp, echoing crack that seemed to stretch into eternity. Blood sprayed upward in a crimson arc, splattering the walls and ceiling in a macabre display. Abernathy’s body went limp instantly, his lifeless eyes staring blankly as his head lolled to the side.

Arthur let the body drop, his hand still gripping the pistol tightly. Blood dripped from his knuckles, mixing with the crimson pool spreading across the floor. His chest rose and fell, each breath ragged and shallow.

Behind him, Javier shifted uneasily, his rifle still at the ready. “Arthur, we need to go. Now.”

Arthur didn’t respond. The fire in his chest hadn’t dimmed; if anything, it burned hotter. Slowly, he turned toward the captain who was already backing away, his hands raised in trembling surrender.

“Please, sir,” the old man began, his voice breaking as he tried to keep it steady. “Your quarrel with this man is no business of mine. Let’s all sit down and—”

Arthur raised the gun, and he froze mid-sentence, his lips parted. The words died in his throat as Arthur’s finger tightened on the trigger.

The second shot rang out in the confined space. The bullet struck him square between the eyes, snapping his head back violently. A red mist filled the air as it splattered across the wooden console behind him. The impact sent the man’s body careening backward over the ship’s wheel. He hit the floor with a sickening thud, his lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling.

Arthur didn’t even flinch.

The room was silent for a beat, save for the sound of Arthur’s labored breathing. His grip on the pistol tightened, his knuckles white, as he stared down at the carnage.

“Arthur…” Javier’s voice was softer now, cautious.

Desmond let out a strangled gasp from the corner of the room. “Oh, God,” he whispered, his voice shaking as his hands rose defensively. “Please! T-take whatever you want from the safe! I won’t say a thing, I swear!”

Arthur turned to face him, the pistol still gripped tightly in his hand. His eyes burned with a cold, detached fury, but there was something else behind them—something darker, heavier. Regret. It clawed at his insides, twisting like a knife. Leaving scars on his soul. 

Their luck had turned on a dime, but deep down, Arthur knew this was always how it would end. He felt like a fool for ever believing things might go smoothly. And he hated himself even more knowing he’d dragged Kate into this mess. The thought of her in danger because of his choices churned his stomach. He should’ve trusted his instincts. Should’ve made her stay home, even if it meant tying her to a chair. But he didn’t, and now the weight of that failure hung on him like a noose, tightening with every breath.

Desmond fell to his knees, his hands clasped together in a desperate plea. “Please, sir! I’ve got a family—a little girl! I-I’ll give you whatever you want! I’ve got money!”

For a moment, the room seemed to hold its breath. Arthur stared down at the sniveling man before him, his chest rising and falling with the effort of keeping his emotions in check. Desmond's once arrogant smirk was gone, replaced by a pale, quivering mask of fear. Arthur’s jaw tightened as he took in the sight, a sickening satisfaction curling in his gut. It was his doing—his fury, his violence—that had shattered the man’s smug façade, and for a fleeting second, it felt like justice. But the satisfaction was hollow, tainted by the weight of everything it had cost them.

“You think I haven’t heard that before?” Arthur’s voice was low, almost gentle, but the gravity behind it was crushing. His hand trembled slightly as he raised the gun, the barrel leveling with Desmond’s forehead.

Desmond sobbed, his shoulders shaking. “I’m begging you, Arthur. Please I’m sorry—”

Arthur’s jaw clenched, his teeth grinding together as he fought against the tide of anger and sorrow threatening to overwhelm him. For a brief moment, he saw his reflection in Desmond—he pictured himself, on his knees, staring down his own death. The desperation, the fear, the willingness to do anything to survive. 

A father begging for one more chance. 

Kate’s voice echoed in the back of his mind, a desperate, pleading whisper begging him to put the gun down. To stop before it was too late. Do the right thing, Arthur. There’s still time. But her words felt distant, muted, like they were coming from somewhere far away, distorted as if he were submerged underwater. The pull of her voice fought against the roaring tide of his rage, but it wasn’t enough to break through.

“I’m sorry too,” Arthur murmured.

The shot rang out, and Desmond’s plea was silenced. His body jerked violently before crumpling to the floor, blood pooling beneath him. Arthur stared down at the lifeless form, his grip on the pistol slackening as the weight of it clattered to the floor. What he’d done settled over him like wet cement.

He wasn’t a man anymore. He was something else, something primal and unforgiving. And yet, beneath the rage and violence, a deep sadness gnawed at him, threatening to hollow him out entirely.

“Arthur!” Javier’s shout snapped him out of his daze. “We’ve got to move. Now.”

Arthur nodded stiffly, his body trembling as he fought to steady his ragged breathing and calm the furious pounding of his heart. He tore his gaze away from the carnage, the metallic tang of blood heavy in the air and clinging to his throat. His boots squelched slightly against the floor, leaving dark, bloody prints as he turned toward the door. He didn’t dare look back.

Outside the office, the chaos was eerily quiet, the silence almost suffocating. Only the hurried thud of their boots echoed down the stairs and through the narrow corridors, each step dragging them closer to whatever fight awaited. Arthur’s hand came up to his face, wiping away a mix of blood and sweat, leaving smudges across his skin. His jaw clenched as he forced himself to focus, shoving the storm of emotions back into the pit where they belonged.

“The alarm will sound any second,” Javier muttered, glancing back. “We don’t have much time.”

Arthur’s reply was low, flat, and void of anything but grim resolve. “We regroup with Kate and the others,” his words like iron. “Then we get the fuck off this ship.”

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Complete disorder and anarchy poured forth in the blink of an eye. Screams filled the air as passengers scattered like leaves in a storm, overturning chairs and smashing glasses in their frantic bid to escape. The cacophony of shouts and breaking glass was deafening. Kate's chest tightened, the panic clawing up her throat as the guards raised their rifles, their barrels gleaming in the dim light. Arthur moved without hesitation, his body a wall of protection as he pressed her against the bar, shielding her from their line of fire.

“Get down!” one of the lawmen barked, cutting through the din as he took aim.

Arthur’s hand shot out, seizing a barstool by its leg. With a roar of effort, he hurled it at the guard. The stool connected with a sickening crunch, sending the man sprawling to the ground. Kate froze, her wide eyes locked on Arthur as the raw power radiating from him seemed to fill the room. She thought she had known him—seen every facet of his being—but this primal, violent side was something else entirely.

He said something to her urgently, but it was drowned out by the thunder of gunfire and the pounding of her own heartbeat. Her corset squeezed her ribs like sin as she fought to draw breath, every inhale shallow and desperate. The metallic scent of gunpowder stung her nose, adding to the dizzying swirl of sensations.

Nearby, Strauss and Trelawny darted through the chaos, their figures disappearing into the sea of fleeing bodies. Javier was only a few feet away, his rifle barking round after round as he shouted something unintelligible over the melee.

Kate's instincts screamed at her to run. She had no weapon, and no means of defense in her heavy gown. Her pulse thundered as her feet moved on their own, ready to bolt for any semblance of safety. But before she could take more than a step, Arthur’s arm locked around her waist. With ease, he hoisted her onto the bar, his strength momentarily taking her breath away. Confusion flickered across her face, but it vanished as he shoved her backward, guiding her behind the bar's shelter.

“Stay down, and stay with me,” he commanded, edging with a desperation she could feel in her bones.

Arthur moved with purpose, reaching beneath the bar and finding the rifle stashed there—a precaution every barkeep worth his salt knew to take. Relief flickered in his eyes for a fleeting moment as his hands gripped the familiar weight of the weapon.

The sharp crack of gunfire punctuated the chaos, each shot tightening the knot of dread coiled in Arthur’s stomach. He moved on instinct, his mind a whirlwind of emotions buried deep beneath a layer of practiced focus. He couldn’t afford to be vulnerable, not with Kate's life hanging in the balance.

The anger he felt toward himself burned like a furnace, fueling his every motion. She shouldn’t have been here. He shouldn’t have let her come. He’d made a mistake—a deadly one—and now the weight of it pressed down on him as heavily as the rifle in his hands.

The words he couldn’t say clawed at the back of his throat as he scanned the room for their next move. Regret. Fear. Guilt. They all churned within him, but there was no time to dwell on them now. He tightened his grip on the rifle and prepared for whatever hell was coming next.

Kate’s breath was ragged, clawing at her chest as panic swirled within her like a storm. Her hands trembled as they fumbled at the tight corset, desperate to loosen the constricting fabric that seemed to tighten with every breath. The world spun around her, the ship rocking against the river, its erratic movement only adding to the dizziness in her head and roiling in her stomach. Her heart thundered in her chest, breaths coming in quick, shallow pants.

The stench of gunpowder mixed with the iron tang of blood made her stomach churn. She felt something wet beneath her gloves, sticky and foreign, and for a terrifying moment, she feared it was her blood. But when she looked down, all she saw were shards of glass and spilled whiskey pooling around her, dark and viscous, like fallen stars scattered across the floor.

“Arthur...” Her voice broke as it slipped from her lips—soft, desperate, and raw, like a wounded animal pleading for its life. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force her mind into focus, willing herself to breathe deeply, to regain control.

Suddenly, a sharp grip on her arm yanked her roughly to her feet. A strangled yelp tore from her throat as she jerked back, but the moment she looked up, she saw him. 

Arthur Morgan.

Without a word, she leaned into him, her body trembling against his as she whispered, “A-Arthur, I can’t breathe.” The panic in her voice made his chest ache, his protective instinct kicking in as he tightened his grip around her.

“C’mon sweetheart, we gotta move,” he urged, softer than she expected, but it trembled with the weight of what they’d just been through. His heart wrenched when he saw the fear in her eyes, the way her body shook under his touch. He could feel her fear like a snake coiled around his own chest, crushing him.

She was trembling in his arms, but it wasn’t just from the chaos—it was him. He was the cause of this fear, of this vulnerability. And in that moment, it felt like the world had come crashing down around him. He wasn’t sure how to fix this—how to make it better. All he could do was hold her, guide her through the madness, and hope that somehow, they’d make it out alive.

Pulling her from behind the bar, Arthur tried his best to shield Kate from the horrors strewn across the room. The lifeless bodies, twisted and broken, lay in pools of blood that reflected the shattered lights above. Chairs and tables were overturned, glass shards glittering like jagged stars on the ground. The acrid stench of gunpowder mixed with a sickly metallic scent filled the air, suffocating and heavy.

Arthur led her after Javier, weaving through the carnage and into the narrow corridors in search of an escape. He knew the odds were stacked against them. They couldn’t just take a rowboat—the open water would leave them vulnerable, exposed. Yet, for Kate’s safety, he’d fight through every guard, every impossible hurdle, even the devil himself.

The sound of boots thundering down the hallway made Arthur spin, his hand on Kate’s arm as three guards rushed into view. Gunshots exploded, ringing sharply in the confined space as Javier fired off rounds. Arthur shoved Kate into the nearest room, slamming the door shut behind them.

The room was dark, the air stale and quiet save for the muffled chaos outside. A thin beam of light streamed through a gap in the heavy red velvet curtains that led to the main room. Kate’s breath hitched, her mind racing as realization dawned. This was the stage room. 

“Vin?” she called, her voice trembling as she pushed herself off the wall. Ignoring the ache in her chest, she began frantically searching the room. Her hands tore open closets, peered into corners, and clawed through shadows, her voice growing louder, more desperate with every unanswered call.

Arthur stayed near the door, his back pressed to it as he fired at any movement in the corridor. Between rounds, he glanced back at Kate, her panic slicing through him like a blade.

Kate’s search slowed as her gaze fell on the curtains. They fluttered softly in the cold draft from the open door, beckoning her. A sick dread twisted her stomach as she pulled them aside.

There, on the stage, was Vin.

Her breath caught in her throat, and the world seemed to tilt on its axis. His young body slumped against the piano, head lolled at an unnatural angle. Blood streaked the white keys, dripping onto the stage below. His face—or what was left of it—was an ugly ruin. The gaping hole where his eye had been was surrounded by torn flesh and splintered bone. Pieces of him, pieces she remembered so vividly—his wide grin, the dimple in his cheek, the light in his eyes—were now scattered across the black piano like a butcher’s table.

One of life's biggest cruelties; being caught in the wrong moment at the wrong time.

Kate staggered back, her vision swimming as bile rose in her throat. She turned away, clutching at the wall for support, and retched violently. Her stomach emptied onto the floor until there was nothing left, her body convulsing as sobs tore from her chest. The room spun, her knees buckling under the weight of her grief.

“Oh god,” she choked, gasping for air as tears blinded her. “Oh my god, Vin!”

Arthur was at her side in an instant, his hand steady and firm on her back as she heaved. He didn’t speak, didn’t try to offer empty words of comfort. Instead, he reached out and pulled the curtain closed, his jaw tightening as he caught a glimpse of the stage.

“Christ,” he muttered under his breath, the image searing itself into his memory. He turned back to Kate, voice low and urgent. “We have to go, Kate. We can’t stay here.”

Arthur pulled Kate’s trembling body up, his arm steady as he guided her toward the door. She moved like a ghost, her legs stumbling beneath her, her mind shattered.

“H-he was just a kid, Arthur,” she whispered, thick with unspeakable sorrow. The sound of it cut his soul deeper than anything ever could.

“I know, baby,” Arthur said, his tone soft, though the urgency in his eyes betrayed his own turmoil. “But we gotta keep moving. Just a little longer.”

Javier peeked into the corridor and nodded; the coast was clear for the moment. Arthur tightened his grip on Kate’s hand and whispered, “We gotta run now, alright? Just hold on to me.”

Kate swallowed the lump in her throat, her hot tears still streaming down her cold cheeks. With shaking hands, she wiped at her face and nodded. Arthur managed a small, pained smile and squeezed her hand. “That’s my girl.”

They bolted into the night, the bitter cold gnawing at Kate’s exposed skin like a predator. Her dress clung to her legs, heavy and dragging her down with every desperate step, as if the fabric itself sought to betray her. The wind howled around them, its icy fingers slicing through the thin material and biting at her cheeks until they burned. Her sobs, raw and unending, were snatched away by the roaring gusts, leaving her chest heaving in silence as her tears froze to her skin.

Arthur’s hand in hers was a lifeline, his grip strong and unyielding. The rough calluses of his palm pressed firmly into her own, grounding her in a way nothing else could. It was more than just a physical hold—it was a steady reassurance that no matter how dark and unforgiving the night became, he wouldn’t let her go. Through the biting cold and the pounding of her own heart, that grip was the only thing that kept her from sinking into darkness.

Javier led the way across the hull, and when they reached the bow, he glanced over his shoulder. “We gotta jump!” he shouted over the roar of the wind and water. “The others are already in the river. No time left—vamanos!”

Without hesitation, Javier vaulted over the guard rail and vanished into the churning abyss below. Kate froze, her breath catching as she stared at the Lanahachee River. Its dark waters twisted and writhed like a living thing, crashing against the ship with a relentless, hungry fury. Each wave clawed at the hull, rising and falling with a deafening roar. The white foam frothing like the teeth of a beast. The faint lights of Saint Denis flickered on the horizon, their serene glow a cruel contrast to the chaos around her, as if the city itself was mocking her terror.

It whispered to her—abandon all hope, ye who enter here.

Arthur stepped over the railing, his boots squeaked as they gripped the slick metal. He turned to her, his hand outstretched. “C’mon, darlin’. I promise—it’ll be alright.”

But his words rang hollow, an empty comfort against the reality before them. The river was a churning tempest, its currents violent and unforgiving, ready to drag anything beneath its black surface. Even if they survived the fall, the odds of making it to shore were slim at best. Kate’s legs felt like stone, refusing to move as her heart thundered painfully in her chest, each beat a reminder of the uncertainty that loomed.

“I can’t,” she whimpered, tears returning to streak her already tear-soaked face.

Arthur glanced behind her, spotting the flash of metal and the heavy stomps of boots. The guards were closing in. He reached back and grabbed her waist, trying to keep his voice steady. “I’m sorry love, but we don’t have a choice.”

“No!” she screamed, “No, no, please!” Pushing against him with what little strength she had left.

Arthur clenched his jaw, his heart aching at her resistance. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again, more to himself than to her. 

A massive wave slammed into the side of the ship, sending icy spray cascading over them like shards of glass. The deck bucked violently beneath their feet, tilting sharply as the world seemed to lurch sideways. Kate’s scream ripped through the chaos, raw and desperate, as she instinctively reached for Arthur’s steadying hand. But when the ship groaned and righted itself, the space beside her was empty.

He was gone, swallowed by the abyss below.

“Arthur!” she screamed, raw and ragged as she lunged for the edge. The spray soaked her dress, and her eyes frantically searched the dark, rolling waves. There was no sign of him, no reassuring voice calling her back.

Her knees hit the railing, trembling as she braced to throw herself after him, her sobs choked and frantic. But before she could leap, something hard and unyielding struck the back of her skull with a sickening crack. The world erupted in a searing burst of white-hot pain, her vision splintering into blinding stars. The cold bite of the metal railing dug into her ribs as she swayed, bile surging up her throat. The roar of the river below seemed to call her, and she teetered on the edge, her body dangerously close to collapse.

“Kate!” a familiar voice roared from the darkness, full of desperation.

Everything faded to black. Her thoughts dissolved into a void, and all the pain, fear, and desperation slipped away, leaving only an empty, cold darkness.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Arthur’s mind and heart waged a brutal war, each strike tearing into the fragile remnants of his humanity. Clawing at his consciousness, rending the flesh of his soul, the agony was relentless. The icy water gnawed at his skin, but he barely felt it. The surge of adrenaline that kept his body moving was nothing more than a hollow echo in the void that had consumed him.

He stared, a deadened numbness suffusing his being, as the guards dragged her away. His woman. His Kate. His entire world. Ripped from him in a heartbeat, and it was all his doing. His fault.

A cruel, familiar voice slithered into his mind—a ghost from the days when he drowned himself in whiskey, trying to forget how he had failed the mother of his child and only son. Doomed to repeat the same mistakes.

Did you forget Arthur? No sleep for the wicked. Not for you.

The words coiled around his heart like a noose, pulling tighter with every beat. His gut twisted as the truth seeped into his marrow. 

You have blood on your hands. On your lips. On your teeth.

The weight of it crushed him, suffocating him beneath the silence of his own guilt. The river surged around him, uncaring, as the voice whispered its condemnation.

You can’t outrun it. You never will. You’re a curse and death follows you like a shadow.

It’s mocking echo rang in his ears.

Smile, Arthur. You’re the Devil’s favorite joke.

AN: I fear this chapter was kinda all over the place. The switching POVs probably got a little confusing. But WHEW! Talk about that ending huh? I had a few ideas for how this would go, but I think this makes the most sense. I hate torturing them, the last scene with Arthur was gut wrenching to write. But the show must go on.

Thank you for reading, I really enjoy writing this fic and seeing all your feedback. It means so much to me <3

Below are some inspo pics for Kate's dress!!

[saintmeghanmarkle]

🍵 One person's experience meeting Meghan -- story found in comments here by u/ContentPineapple3330 🍵

One person's experience meeting Meghan -- story found in comments here Hi! Last week, I shared my own "2 degrees of separation" tea I heard on an airplane -- and we received some amazing comments from people sharing their own unique stories! However, below was a story we've never heard before, by reddit user Extreme-Sight who actually met her.

However, the comment appeared after the post was no longer "hot," and thus, it did not get the attention (I think) it deserved.

(Note: Ugh! I just tried to link to the subreddit so you can pass on the karma to the actual commenter, but alas -- it won't allow me to link it. So, just search for the username, and like the comment, if you have the time.)

The story, copy/pasted:

The Charity/third sector is packed to the brim in the UK, especially the cancer sector, and a Royal Patron can make all the difference. I'm lucky enough to have worked for one who had the late Queen as Patron. I was head of research, and we did (do) some great work in exploring holistic care for childhood cancers. One of the reasons I work in research and now in policy making for the Government, is that I'm wheelchair bound, and people can be uncomfortable with a disabled doctor.

My eldest son is a nurse who works in the same field.

So what's this got to do with Madam?

In 2019, planning had already started for the succession of Patronages once the Queen passed on, and it was suggested that Madam may want to take us on, a charity with children and families at its centre is a good look!So she came for a visit. These Royal visits are really important as big donors want meet and greets, we get a years worth of press and publicity and the staff and the families we support have a great day, we get donations for catering and funfair equipment and it's a party.

She was a fucking brat

She sulked when we told her team she couldn't have a photo op hugging the children and didn't want a sit down to talk to the mums about their experiences

My son wheeled me in the line for the meet and greet and when when I was introduced (I have a gender neutral first name) and our CEO explained my big patent, she reached over me to shake my sons hand, obviously flirting with someone almost half her age, completely ignoring me.

When he explained I was the genius (his words), she just said "oh" and walked off. Our CEO was gobsmacked at her rudeness and the Palace was so apologetic.

Anyway we got Queen Camilla. She's brilliant and has an amazingly dirty sense of humour.

Thank you for reading my TED talk on how not to make a first impression

📌 Link to original tea by u/Extreme-Sight post link author: ContentPineapple3330 submitted: July 18, 2024 at 04:03PM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit disclaimer: all views + opinions expressed by the author of this post, as well as any comments and reblogs, are solely the author's own; they do not necessarily reflect the views of the administrator of this Tumblr blog. For entertainment only.

[canirove]

In The Name of Love | Chapter 19

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Masterlist

"How long until you arrive?" Pedri asks.

"5 minutes according to the gps."

"Are you ready?"

"To spend the weekend celebrating that my ex boyfriend is marrying a woman I hate? I'm ecstatic" I reply.

"Lucky you, you have me" Ferran smiles.

"Will you take care of her?" Pedri asks him.

"I will" Ferran says, quickly looking at my phone's screen and then back at the road.

"What was that?" I laugh.

"Uh?"

"That look you two just shared. Is that some bro code or something?"

"What?" Pedri says.

"Yeah… Something only you two understand."

"It was just a look of I will take care of your girlfriend so she doesn't do anything stupid like running away or killing the bride" Ferran says.

"Why would I run away?"

"Love that you are asking that instead of why would you kill the bride" Pedri laughs.

"I have reasons to do that. But running away?"

"That's what you did during their engagement party."

"Because we had had something like an argument and you were all I could think about."

"Awww, Val" Pedri smiles.

"Guys, please don't get cheesy while I'm present" Ferran says. He tries to make it sound as a joke, but I've noticed the way his grip on the steering wheel has tightened.

"Anyway, we are almost there. I will call you later or tomorrow morning, ok?" 

"Yeah, sure. Enjoy tonight's party or whatever they are doing" Pedri says.

"White party they've called it. So original" I scoff.

"Try to enjoy it, Val. You too, Ferran."

"Thanks, bro" he says.

"And again, don't do anything stupid. That goes for both of you."

"Yes, mum" Ferran and I say at the same time before starting to laugh.

"And then I am the kid" Pedri sighs, rolling his eyes.

"Yes. My favourite one" I smile.

"I love you, Val" Pedri smiles back.

"I love you too" I say before hanging up.

"So…" Ferran says.

"So."

"Ready to fake again that I'm your boyfriend?"

"Are you?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" he chuckles. "I said yes to this, didn't I?"

"I know, but…"

"Holy shit."

"What? What happened?"

"Val, are you sure this is the right address?"

"Yes. Why… Oh, wow" I say when I look at the road. At the end of it, there is a… palace? A castle? Both? I had seen photos of the venue online, but it was nothing compared to seeing it in real life.

"I feel like I'm going to have to call you my lady during our stay" Ferran laughs. "My Lady Valeria."

"Lord Ferran actually sounds like the name of someone who would have lived in a place like this" I chuckle.

"See? I can be posh too!"

"More like royal."

"That's cooler if you ask me. So, for the rest of the weekend, you may address me as Lord Ferran Torres" he says, straightening his back.

"Yes, my lord" I laugh, his weird faces and poses making me relax and forget about what is ahead of us. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"It feels wrong, you know? Throwing a white party in a freaking castle…" Ferran says from the bathroom. "We should be dressing as kings and queens, not like this. I've always wanted to try on those puffy shorts men used to wear."

"Puffy shorts?" I chuckle while putting on my shoes.

"Yes. The ones they wore with white tights."

"Maybe for your next birthday you should throw a party where people have to dress like that and make your dream come true."

"Maybe I should, yes" he says from the bathroom's door. When I look up, I see him leaning against the door frame like Pedri always does, his arms crossed over his chest. But it doesn't have the same effect on me. Not even when I catch him checking me out as I stand up.

"White suits you, tho."

"That isn't going to work, Val" Ferran laughs.

"What won't?"

"Flattering me. I'm not signing for Real Madrid even if white looks good on me" he smirks.

"Who says I want you on my team?" I tease him.

"Yeah, you prefer having me close to you" he says, slowly walking towards me and closing the space between us.

"Pedri" I blurt out. "I haven't called him and I told him… I should…"

"You should, yes. I'll wait outside" Ferran says, his voice sounding different. Cold. 

The moment he leaves the room, I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. 

We are off to a great start.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"I envy you so much Val… He is yummy."

"He is what?" I laugh.

"Yummy" my friend Alicia says. "Where did you find him?"

"I believe you can usually spot him at the Camp Nou" Sara chuckles. The two of them, Silvia and I, met when we were just 6, and we have been part of the same group of friends with Marc and some other boys since then. Though since he and I broke up, we haven't seen each other as often as we would like to. 

"I meant how did they meet" Alicia says, rolling her eyes. "You've kept him hidden from us, Val. Though I get it. I totally get it" she says, looking at Ferran from head to toe for the millionth time while he chats with some of the boys.

"I was on a night out with Silvia and we just met" I shrug.

"Just like that?"

"He offered to buy her a drink and 5 minutes later they were making out. What?" Silvia laughs when I give her a murderous look.

"It's ok, Val. I would have done the same" Alicia sighs. 

"Did you know who he was?" Sara asks me.

"Nope. He had just moved from Manchester, I wasn't familiar with him yet" I tell her. That was the story we had decided to tell everyone, a mix of how I met Pedri and a few lies here and there. 

"The sex is the best you've ever had, isn't it?" Alicia suddenly says.

"Careful there" Sara chuckles when I almost choke with my drink.

"I'll take that as a yes. He is young and a professional athlete, I'm sure he lasts longer than the average guy. And he definitely knows what he is doing, doesn't he?" Alicia smirks. "Just look at you, Val. You look hotter than ever!"

"Yeah, just look at the colour of her cheeks" Sara laughs.

"Urgh, ignore her" Alicia says, giving her a little push. "You've always looked great, don't get me wrong. But you've never looked this good, Val. You are glowing!" 

"And when you walked in, I saw a few guys looking at you" Sara adds.

"They probably were looking at Ferran because they recognised him" I say.

"No, they weren't. They were checking you out. So if I was him, I would not leave your side just in case." 

"And if I were you, I wouldn't leave his either" Alicia says, her eyes fixed on Ferran once again while taking a sip from her drink.

"Girls!"

"Oh, dear" I whisper when I hear Isabel's voice.

"Aww, girls. It is so nice seeing you here!" she says, hugging Alicia, Sara and Silvia. "Hello, Valeria."

"Hi" I reply.

"Congratulations, Isa!" Sara says, trying to lighten up the mood. "Are you nervous about tomorrow?"

"Where is he?" Isabel asks me, completely ignoring her.

"Who?"

"That boyfriend of yours."

"Right here" Ferran says as he shows up next to me, putting his arm around my waist and kissing my cheek. Before the party we had agreed about the arm, but not the kiss. "Isabel, right? It's a pleasure to finally meet you. Congratulations" he says with his best smile, taking her hand and kissing it, his eyes fixed on hers. He is giving her his fucker look as Pedri, Eric and Gavi call it, the one that gets him the girl 9 times out of 10.

"Hi" Isabel giggles, clearing her throat to try and hide it. But we have heard it. All of us have. Ferran's charm has worked on her too. "I thought you wouldn't be able to come and poor Valeria would be all alone" she says, back to her usual self.

"Almost, but you chose the perfect weekend to get married. Just after the preseason ended and before the season starts" he smiles.

"Ready to kick Real Madrid's ass?" Sara asks him before looking at me.

"She will kick my ass if we dare to win them" Ferran laughs. "Won't you, Val?"

"You will be sleeping on the sofa for a month, yes" I reply.

"If that's the case, my bed is very comfortable" Alicia smirks.

"Ali!" Sara laughs.

"What? I had to shoot my shot" she shrugs.

"I'm very flattered, but I only have eyes for one girl" Ferran smiles. 

"Yeah, well… Let's not get cheesy in public, shall we?" I say, feeling my cheeks on fire. I'm pretty sure he wasn't lying or pretending when he said that.

"Yes, please. It is my day, not Valeria's" Isabel says, reminding us that she still is there. 

"Of course. My apologies" Ferran says, using his famous look once again. Now Isabel is the one blushing.

"Yes… Umm… I better go find my future husband. Goodbye" she says, turning around and walking away as fast as she can.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"Did you do that on purpose?" I ask Ferran once we are back in our room, the party finally over.

"Do what?"

"Flirt with Isabel and use your fucker look on her."

"I did, yes" he grins.

"Why?"

"Because I wanted to see her reaction, if I could get to her. And I did. I'm sure she's spent the whole night hating herself because she has been turned on by her nemesis' boyfriend."

"Her nemesis" I laugh. "But she probably has. You made her giggle."

"I know" Ferran smirks. "Right or left?"

"Uh?"

"Which side of the bed do you prefer?"

"Oh, left. I like sleeping looking at the window."

"Ok" he says, taking off his shirt.

"You don't wear pyjamas either? Is that a Barça thing?"

"What?" he says, getting in bed.

"Pedri also sleeps in his underwear."

"I actually sleep naked, but, you know… I didn't want to make it more awkward."

"That's… that's very thoughtful. Thank you" I reply, quickly getting in bed too and trying to hide that I'm blushing.

"Yeah, thoughtful" he chuckles. "Bloody hell, Val."

"What happened now?"

"Your feet! They are frozen!"

"Oh, yes. Sorry. They are always like that" I shrug.

"Always?"

"Always. 24/7."

"How can Pedri sleep next to you when you have two blocks of ice for feet?"

"He doesn't mind. And he says that if he gets hot through the night, he can always count on them to help him cool down."

"That's… weird. But ok" Ferran chuckles.

"It's Pedri" I shrug again. "Anyway, good night. From the three of us."

"The three of… Val!" he complains when I touch his leg with my feet.

"Night night" I smile.

"Night night, yes" he replies, sticking out his tongue and moving his legs as away from mine as he can. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"At first I wasn't going to wear flat shoes because, who wears flat shoes for a wedding? But I don't know how to walk on heels, so in the end I said, fuck it. You can barely see them with the dress, and by the end of the night everyone will be barefoot and…"

"Val… Val!" Pedri laughs over facetime.

"What?"

"You are rambling."

"Am I?"

"You are" Ferran says while retouching his hair in front of the mirror.

"Sorry, I just… I am a bit nervous" I sigh.

"Just a bit?" Pedri laughs again.

"Yes" I reply, sticking out my tongue.

"You'll be fine, Val. You don't have any reason to be nervous."

"Don't I?" I say, trying to nod towards Ferran without him noticing.

"You don't" Pedri insists. 

"If Isabel tries something you know we can use my charm on her" Ferran says, still busy with his hair. It is taking him a lot more time than it took me, and he has a lot less.

"The fucker look almost never fails" Pedri says. "So relax and enjoy the day, ok?"

"Ok" I sigh again.

"You look beautiful, Val" he smiles.

"Do I?"

"You do. Doesn't she, Gavi? Gavi. Pablo!"

"What!" Gavi says. He is sitting next to Pedri, waiting for our call to end so they can go back to playing FIFA.

"Doesn't Val look beautiful?"

"Oh, yes" he replies, not lifting his eyes from his phone.

"Thank you, Pablo" I chuckle. "He is talking to her, isn't he?"

"When isn't he?" Pedri says, rolling his eyes.

"Don't let the teenagers know that the it boys are currently taken, their hearts may not take it" I smirk.

"Meh meh meh" Pedri replies.

"Ok, I'm ready" Ferran says. "You?"

"Yep."

"Then let's go."

"Have fun, guys" Pedri says. "And Val…"

"I'll try to relax and enjoy the day."

"I was going to say that I love you" he says. "But that too." 

"I love you too" I smile before hanging up.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"I'm glad Isabel left you out of the bridesmaids" Ferran says as we watch all the girls walk down the aisle.

"Why?" 

"You look stunning on the dress you picked, but if it had been down to her, I'm sure she would have chosen the ugliest one she could find."

"Definitely" I chuckle. "Do you think anyone has noticed?"

"That you look more beautiful than them?" 

"That I am the only one from our group of friends she left out" I say, trying to ignore Ferran's compliment. Again.

"Nah, I don't think they care. And here she comes" he says when the music changes, everyone looking at the end of the white carpet that leads to the aisle. "100€ she looks our way when she walks past us."

"Ferran, I'm not gonna bet any money" I laugh.

"Ok, fine. No betting. But she will definitely look. Should we do something?"

"Something like what?" I ask.

"Can I improvise?"

"I don't like it when you improvise."

"I won't kiss you, I promise."

"You better" I say before turning to look at Isabel. She is very close to where we are, smiling and saying hello to everyone. And she looks beautiful, I can't deny her that. "Shit!" I jump when I feel Ferran's arms around my waist, hugging me from behind.

"It's part of the plan. Relax" he says next to my ear. "But you should put your hands around mine."

"What?"

"Just do it, Val."

"Ok" I sigh, doing as he says and interlacing my fingers with his. 

"She's gonna look" he whispers, resting his chin on my shoulder.

"She…" She is looking at us. At first she looks all smug, but after noticing Ferran behind me, her face changes. And when he kisses my shoulder, she quickly looks away, her smile gone.

"Told you" he chuckles. 

"I thought we had said no kisses."

"On the lips."

"Yeah, well. We should… You know" I say, letting go of his hands. "The ceremony is about to start."

"Yes, of course" he replies, moving his too. But he does it slowly, definitely taking his time. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"They look cute" Silvia says while we watch Isabel and Marc do their first dance as a married couple.

"Yeah, I guess" I say, trying to focus on them dancing and not on Ferran standing behind me, his hands resting on my shoulders while his thumbs make small circles on my skin.

"Aww, and now their parents. Marc's mum looks so nervous…"

"Uhm…" I reply, Ferran's thumbs now moving to the back of my neck and slowly massaging it. Why am I allowing him to do this? It isn't part of our arrangement.

"Oh, our turn!" Silvia says, taking Pau's hand and dragging him to the dancefloor as everyone else joins the bride and groom and their families.

"Are we dancing too?" Ferran asks me.

"Do you want to?"

"I am not the best dancer but sure, why not?" he says, his hands finally moving from my body. "My Lady Valeria" he smiles, now offering me his hand.

"Lord Ferran" I chuckle, taking it and following him to join the others.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

I don't know for how long we've been dancing and singing, but I do know that I am having the time of my life. Maybe because I've had a few more beers than what I am used to and I am a bit tipsy, maybe because the dj is playing hit after hit.

I've sung my heart out with Silvia, Alicia and Sara, we've had a battle of boys dancing vs. girls, Alicia made her dream of being all over Ferran come true while they danced together and we all cheered for them, and now… now it is him and I the ones who are dancing together, barely any space between us.

My back is against his chest, his arms around my waist, mine around his neck. And his lips are leaving small kisses on my jawline, making me giggle while we just move to the rhythm of the music. 

When it changes, he pulls me closer towards him, moving his head to kiss my neck. At first I barely notice it, but as he gets closer to the spot that makes my knees feel like jelly, I can feel my body tensing, one of my hands moving up and down the back of his neck. And then, he finds it.

A gasp escapes my lips, goosebumps going down my spine as the hand that is on his hair looks for something to hold to like it is used to. But it finds nothing. Because this is Ferran. He isn't…

"Val" he whispers into my ear, the feeling sending another wave of goosebumps over my body and making me forget about what I was thinking before he quickly turns me around, the movement making me feel a bit dizzy. His hands still are on my waist, pulling me even closer to him and then… then his lips meet mine.

He is kissing me. Ferran is kissing me again.

But unlike that day at the school, I don't freak out. This time I find myself wrapping my arms around his neck, letting him take control over the kiss and be the one in charge while I just let go.

[theroyalsims]

BREAKING: HE'S MET THE PARENTS! GUS AND ANYA SEEN LEAVING PALACE TOGETHER!

This is not a drill. We repeat, this is not a drill!

Gus and Anya were seen leaving the Palace together after having dinner with The Queen and Prince Jacques!

Our well-placed source confirms that Gus was invited by both The Queen and Prince Jacques to a quiet dinner at the Palace:

"Anya often hosts her parents and her siblings at her home in Agneaux House, but with Prince Jacques still recuperating, they had to reschedule. It was then that The Queen and the Prince instead offered to host the dinner at home - the Palace - with strict instructions to bring Gus along."

This perhaps explains the new hairdo and look for Gus - after all, when one is personally invited by The Queen, one doesn't show up in muddy boots and a man bun! Maybe the flowers weren't for Anya! Maybe they were for Her Majesty - after all, lilies are her favourite! "Lily" even happens to be her nickname! If so, that's just very cute and sweet of Gus! Looks like someone was trying to win some points!

Our source further shares:

"It was a no frills dinner, a family thing. The Queen even cooked her signature dish: roast rack of lamb with garlic and herbs. It was very casual, very intimate. Of course, poor Gus was probably sweating bullets.

But I have it on good authority that things went along swimmingly. It wasn't an interrogation or anything sinister - they just wanted to meet Gus and get to know the man who has won Anya's heart. He's not a total stranger to the Family - there's history there - but years have passed, and I'm sure everyone wanted to catch up."

If Anya and Gus' smiles are any indication, things really seem to have gone well over dinner!

Gus is the first boyfriend Anya has "brought home" in a very public manner. Although it was reported back then that she has introduced some of her exes to her parents, we never really had any photographic evidence of such introductions - until now.

Now that Gus has officially met Anya's parents, what exactly does this mean for the couple? A royal expert reveals:

"It's a very serious thing, this outing. It's saying that Gus and Anya's relationship is solid enough that introductions have been made, and that Gus has been welcomed in to the inner circle of the royals. I think the fact that we have photos of it is very special. We've read reports about how Ingrid's boyfriend has gone through the same 'welcoming committee,' but they were often second hand accounts. But this - we have proof that he has, indeed, met the parents."

The lovebirds drove back to Anya's house, with Gus behind the wheel of his luxury sports car. Anya's security detail was right behind them in a heavily-tinted SUV. A few hours later, Gus was seen leaving Agneaux House - solo, this time - before heading off towards the Business District, where he is reportedly staying. Rumours circulated earlier this week that he closed a deal on a penthouse unit in the city, to help make his visits in Brindleton much easier.

He's cut his hair, met her parents, and even purchased real property for Anya. At this point, we guess it's safe to say that there's nothing he won't do make his Princess happy!

[canmom]

Annecy photodump 2 - museums

On Sunday, before the festival began, I went to a few of the museums around Annecy! Starting with the Palace de l'Îsle, then on to the Chateau d'Annecy and the Museum of Animated Film!

Probably the most iconic Annecy Building, it is presently a museum to both the building's own history and the industrial history of the town, which flipflopped countries a few times before becoming an industrial centre after the French rev. The Palace itself has been at various points a mint, a courthouse and a prison.

The museum is mostly captioned in both French and English. The industrial history gets a bit dry, but the downstairs section on the history of the building itself is cool.

My ticket got me into the castle too so I went up this absurdly picturesque little path...

...to be rewarded with the town skyline. Probably not quite as the dukes of Savoy saw it.

The castle doesn't tell you a lot about its own history for the most part, but it does have a couple of art galleries.

I saw a version of Peter Brueghel the Elder's Massacre of the Innocents - though apparently there's a whole bunch of different versions and this one might not be the real one? Art history is funky.

Much of the lower floor of the gallery had these big romantic nature paintings. And when I say big these are really fucking big, like very much 'this would be the whole wall if we weren't in a literal castle' big.

One thing that is really interesting to me here is that the panorama with its cylindrical projection seems to actually predate panoramic photography. Although I can't say whether this is strictly a cylindrical projection, the insanely wide aspect ratio seems to suggest it would be.

Here's a closeup, showing how a tree breaks down into individual dabbed brushstrokes which suggest the texture of leaves without getting lost in noisy detail - the 'painterliness' so beloved of shader designers. It's fascinating seeing these paintings up close like this!

I'm fairly sure this kid is a chimneysweep? Unfortunately I managed to frame this photo so the painting gets perfectly bisected by the corner of the glass box. I'm not quite sure the relationship of the sculpture and the painting.

They also have a bunch of furniture from the castle, if you like wooden boxes. They built things well chunky back then.

The upper floor of the castle was devoted to contemporary pieces. I don't seem to have taken many photos of these, but here's a bike wheel with bits of broken glass which look like mountains when a projector shines through them:

Later in the week I would go to the Museum of Animated Film! It's a bit of a walk from the town centre but well worth the trip. They had various 1800s-era gadgets that form the precursors to animated film...

...though sadly in the low light of the museum, not all my photos came out good. It's remarkable how well these devices work though! The narrow 'shutter' created by the slots works perfectly to make the images appear animated rather than spinning around. Also the illustration quality, and even general sense of motion, is remarkably sound! Like honestly they could give today's animators a run for our money!

The rest of the museum had production materials showing the full range of different animation techniques: storyboards, key drawings, cels, backgrounds, stop motion puppets, pinscreens etc. They covered the history of animation pretty damn well - go figure, it's the animation museum in Annecy of all places.

They also had a special exhibit on showing drawings from Regina Pessoa, whose films I saw as part of the Portugese animation block. These are so cool to see up close. I'm still not entirely sure what techniques she used to make this film, its style is unique.

(My main camera didn't do great in here due to the low light, but I'm learning how to control ISO to get that exposure time under control. My phone actually did a lot better.)

One thing I didn't manage to photograph was the intro panels to the museum where they defined animation. After various definitions based around e.g. constructing frame by frame, they eventually resorted to a negative definition - animation is basically any film that isn't live action. It was pretty funny reading them struggle to pin down such a broad but intuitive concept.

Next up: more movie related stuff!

[for-valour]

Happy centenary wedding anniversary to Bertie and Elizabeth! 100 years ago today (m. 26/04/1923).

'…I do love you Bertie, & I feel certain that I shall more & more.'

'You know how I love her & will always take care of her [...] to me, she is everything.'

Excerpts from The Queen Mother: The Official Biography by William Shawcross.

Photos, top: Prince Albert, Duke of York (later George VI) and Lady Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon on their wedding day, April 26th, 1923. Prince Albert is wearing the full dress uniform of the Royal Air Force with the rank of group captain. Elizabeth's dress, typically 1920s Medieval Revival in style, was crafted with ivory-coloured chiffon moire, pearls, and silver thread. The intention was for the dress to coordinate with a gift of Flanders lace from Queen Mary. Elizabeth also opted to break with the tradition of wearing a tiara, and instead chose a headdress of leaves. Credit: Bassano Ltd.

Centre and bottom: Prince Albert and Lady Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon during their honeymoon, April 26th to May 7th 1923. After the wedding breakfast at Buckingham Palace, the newlyweds rode in an open landau (a four-wheeled carriage) to Waterloo Station. From there they travelled by train to Polesden Lacey in Surrey, which had been lent to them by the Honourable Mrs Greville. Sources: Royal Collections Trust, The National Trust.

[sonyaheaneycategoryromance]

(via Happy New Year! And an Excerpt!)

BRIELLA AILIONO SNAPPED another photo of herself, hoping the angle highlighted the long dark gown her best friend had designed for this final engagement. The image was about the dress, not her, but if she’d learned anything, it was that appearances were always scrutinized. If her mother was still talking to her, Brie might thank her for the multitude of lessons she’d taught on the subject.

She scrunched her nose as she examined the image. She wasn’t as bubbly as the other potential brides here, wasn’t bouncy and excited for the tiny possibility she’d win the “prize” in a few minutes. She only had one princess ticket in the giant glass spinning lotto wheel up on the palace’s balcony. One shot to become a princess. One shot to wear a crown.

One shot too many!

Prince Alessio’s Princess Lottery was all the country of Celiana had talked about for the last year. Throughout each week, potential brides had purchased tickets and then deposited them on Sunday while cameras watched. It was a year of spectacle.

If she could have devised any other way to launch Ophelia’s bridal gown and specialty dress shop so quickly, Brie would have. A standard rollout with a mixture of graphics across social media platforms, booths at bridal fairs, a well-placed billboard or sponsored “news article” were options.

Success lay down that path, in two or three years. This way, this scheme, with her standing next to all the brides in a new wedding dress designed by Ophelia as she rattled off comments about the gown and the spectacle… Well, it meant success was at Ophelia’s door year one. And wild success, too, not just keep-the-doors-open, scrape-by success.

And her own business was rocketing out of the gate, too.

Her marketing firm; her “little” business, the one her parents refused to acknowledge—it had a phone that never stopped ringing. An overflowing email inbox. Even buyout offers. There were possibilities at every corner.

Built from the ground up with no help from her family, it was Brie’s achievement. All hers. She was making the choices—finally in charge of her own life.

The cost was a ticket in the Princess Lottery. The winner got a crown, and Prince Alessio as a husband.

Blowing out a breath, she looked at the image on her phone. It was good, and the dark dress was highlighted nicely against the wall of white and cream behind her. She stood out.

Which was the point of this marketing campaign.

“If my name comes out, I think I might just faint!”

“Me too!” the women squealed, then looked at Brie.

She raised a hand and winked as their eyes widened. Her dress’s dark hue gave off a less hopeful vibe. Though like all Ophelia’s designs, it was gorgeous.

“Good luck, ladies.” Brie smiled as they walked away. She didn’t really mean the words. No one should “win” their groom.

You can read the whole first chapter here.

Learn more about How to Win a Prince and where you can find it here

Order your copy of How to Win a Prince from Harlequin’s website here.

Order your copy of How to Win a Prince from Mills & Boon’s website here.

Join my Substack here – and get a free book every month from a category romance author this year when you are subscribed.

You can find my website here.

[arcplaysgames]

If the Fortune Arcana is literally a fortune teller, I am going to slash some tires. Especially since, like, the point of the fucking Wheel is that you are not in a position to see where it will turn.

Some journalist I've seen for like five minutes makes a deal with Reverie. She'll give a name of the criminal running the scams in Shibuya but she wants access to someone at Shujin who suffered under Kamoshida's abuse.

Which is a shitty deal, so calling it: Devil arcana.

Morgana suggests Mishima for the deal, so, uh

I hate Mishima but this feels terrible. 8C Come on, he's gonna think it's a date and instead someone is gonna ask him about the volleyball coach beating him. This sucks, Persona 5 Royal!!!! I hate this!

And Ryuji gets accosted by... drag performers??? Or are they just queer people? I am literally looking through my screencaps of this scene and I frankly don't get what it's trying to imply here???? I feel like it's a joke at my people's expense but I'm missing context, so. SHRUG.

Kaneshiro's palace seems to be the entirety of Shibuya's central street. Which made me think they just didn't want to make new assets but I'm proven wrong in a bit.

Seeing people as walking ATMs doesn't make sense to me, like, you withdraw from your own account with ATMs, not from the magical ATM fairy. I don't get this metaphor. Whatev!

TURNS OUT THE ACTUAL PALACE IS A FLYING BANK. Alright. That's sure a thing.

I feel like this was an incredibly valid question. Unfortunately, Morgana cannot turn into non-car things. Which really begs a lot of questions about why he can become specifically a van.

Ryuji when was the last time you were useful, homes, you are the one who got us into this fucking mess with Makoto because you kept screaming about being a Phantom Thief, you absolute dunderfuck. Don't insult Morgana.

Dinnertime at the Nijima Household.

This is a totally inappropriate reaction but I started laughing in disbelief because like. This turn is SO hard and SO sudden and came out of nowhere???? Sae, bruh, what the fuck, are you having a bad day?

OH MY GOD SHE IS LMAO THAT'S HER EXCUSE. And then she says she's going to stop coming home for dinner from now on???? Holy shit?

lmao as the main caretaker of a very frustrating person who drives me batshit, I am judging Sae so fucking hard right now. Remember the halcyon days when we first met Sae? God, I barely remember. Now she's interrogating our card collection and making Dojima look like Parent of the Year.

The Thieves meet up to talk about how to reach the Palace and Makoto just invites herself along again, and Ann happens to call her "useless" and oh my god is this like her trauma trigger?

ATLUS

WHO THE FUCK WAS YOUR SCENE COORDINATOR FOR THIS SEQUENCE

AM I SUPPOSED TO TAKE THIS SERIOUSLY?

YOU JUST FLASHED BACK TO A SCENE THAT LITERALLY JUST HAPPENED 40 SECONDS AGO.

Makoto completely loses her shit and is like "okay fine I will go find you Kaneshiro" and storms off

Gets shoved into the back of an unmarked car by two thugs

Everyone very reasonably flips their shit too and chases after her, including Ryuji throwing himself into the path of a speeding car to make it stop

which: is the most Chariot shit any Chariot has ever Charioted, but also if he got hit doing this, I would have deleted the game in a rage-blackout, i'm so furious with Makoto

and oh she leads them to Kaneshiro! and he immediately snaps a photo of them all for blackmail purposes. he wants 3 million yen in 3 weeks.

HEY YUSUKE?

THANK YOU

Everyone gets a shot of sympathy for Makoto because she's like super sorry that she flipped her shit and ran off and confronted some mafia dudes and got in their car and wound up needing a rescue and then got everyone on the hook for 3 million yen, which is about what I make in a fucking year (roughly)

whatever, they bring her into the Metaverse, she pops her Persona, it's a motorcycle, which is way more fucking cool than she deserves

you know what, same here. same here.

I think I feel comfortable saying, yeah, this is worse than Ryoji. If anyone is hoping I turn on Makoto later, do not hold your breath, because this is a staggeringly bad prolonged introduction to this character. I am to a point I want to sit down with the writers and just ask them to explain to me what impression they intended to leave on the player, taking a character who has thus far only been a stalker and harasser of the protagonists turned outright blackmailer turned into oh now someone else is blackmailing us bc of her? and then handing her off like "here's a new teammate"

what

the actual

fuck

thank you and good night. I'm going to bed.

[palaceonwheels]

A Royal Affair: Visual Highlights of the Palace on Wheels

The Palace on Wheels is not just a luxury train; it’s a royal experience that takes travelers on a journey through India’s grand past. Offering unparalleled comfort, elegant design, and cultural exploration, this train is designed to make you feel like royalty. Through these palace on wheels images, travelers from around the world can see just how rich and luxurious the experience truly is.

Exterior Elegance: The Majestic Look of the Palace on Wheels

The exterior of the Palace on Wheels stands as a testament to India’s royal heritage. Each carriage is named after a princely state of Rajasthan, paying tribute to the country’s regal past. The design is marked by bold colors and intricate motifs, with the royal insignia proudly displayed on every carriage.

As you travel, the train’s grand appearance stands out against Rajasthan’s diverse landscapes. The vibrant hues of gold and red gleam in the sunlight, creating a majestic visual effect. These palace on wheels images capture the stunning beauty of the train as it moves through deserts, cities, and rural landscapes. Every photo shows the train’s grandeur, a true royal convoy in motion.

Opulent Cabins: A Private Royal Retreat

Step inside the Palace on Wheels, and you’ll find yourself in a world of luxury. The train’s cabins are designed to reflect the elegance and grandeur of Indian palaces. Each cabin is a private retreat, offering travelers a space where they can relax in complete comfort. Rich fabrics, handcrafted furniture, and regal decor create a sophisticated atmosphere.

The cabins are available in two categories — Deluxe and Super Deluxe suites. Both types offer spacious interiors, plush beds, and modern amenities such as climate control and en-suite bathrooms. The palace on wheels pictures of these cabins reveal their exquisite design, showing every detail that enhances the royal feel. From traditional artwork to ornate woodwork, the cabins are truly a luxurious escape.

of these cabins reveal their exquisite design, showing every detail that enhances the royal feel. From traditional artwork to ornate woodwork, the cabins are truly a luxurious escape.

Personalized butler service adds to the feeling of being treated like royalty. As these palace on wheels photos show, every guest is provided with the utmost care and attention, making the journey an experience to remember.

Lavish Dining Cars: A Culinary Delight in a Regal Setting

Dining on the Palace on Wheels is more than just a meal; it’s a royal affair. The train features two grand dining cars — the Maharaja and Maharani — which are designed to resemble the banquet halls of Indian palaces. Both cars are adorned with crystal chandeliers, elegant table settings, and luxurious drapes.

The palace on wheels pictures of the dining areas capture the elegance of the setup, from the fine china to the gleaming silverware. These photos highlight the regal ambiance that makes every meal feel special. The cuisine itself is an exciting blend of Indian and international dishes, with each course presented in a visually appealing way.

As you dine, you can enjoy the passing landscapes from the large windows, creating a beautiful contrast between the luxurious interiors and the natural beauty of India. These palace on wheels images capture not just the food, but the entire experience of dining in such a royal setting.

Bar Lounge: Relaxation in Royal Style

After a day filled with exploring India’s historic landmarks, the Bar Lounge on the Palace on Wheels is the perfect place to unwind. Designed with rich wooden finishes and plush leather seating, the lounge exudes comfort and sophistication. Guests can enjoy a selection of premium wines, spirits, and expertly crafted cocktails while relaxing in this regal setting.

The lounge is an ideal spot for socializing, reading, or simply taking in the luxury that surrounds you. The palace on wheels images from the Bar Lounge show travelers enjoying their drinks in a serene environment, with soft lighting adding to the relaxing atmosphere. These palace on wheels photos highlight the warm, intimate ambiance that makes the lounge such a special part of the journey.

Heritage Carriages: A Journey Through Royal Rajasthan

The carriages of the Palace on Wheels are not just a mode of transportation; they are a tribute to the royal history of Rajasthan. Each carriage is named after a princely state and is decorated with traditional motifs that reflect the state’s unique culture. The exteriors are just as intricate as the interiors, with beautiful detailing that captures the essence of India’s heritage.

Inside, the carriages are furnished with rich fabrics, elegant wood paneling, and royal-inspired decor. The palace on wheels pictures of these carriages show how every detail has been carefully chosen to create a truly royal experience. Whether you are seated in your private cabin or exploring the common areas, the atmosphere of royalty is ever-present.

Scenic Journey: The Landscapes Along the Route

One of the most memorable parts of traveling on the Palace on Wheels is the opportunity to witness India’s breathtaking landscapes. From the golden sands of the Thar Desert to the shimmering lakes of Udaipur, the train takes you through some of the country’s most beautiful and diverse regions.

These images of palace on wheels train capture the stunning views from the train’s large windows, allowing travelers to see everything from bustling cities to tranquil countryside. The changing landscapes provide a perfect backdrop to the luxurious experience on board. Each photo serves as a reminder of the journey’s unique blend of adventure and comfort.

Excursions: Royal Adventures Off the Train

While the Palace on Wheels itself offers unmatched luxury, the off-train excursions take travelers to some of India’s most iconic landmarks. From Jaipur’s majestic Amber Fort to the blue streets of Jodhpur, each stop along the route offers a chance to explore the rich history and culture of India.

The palace on wheels photos from these excursions highlight the beauty of these sites, from towering forts to intricate palaces. Travelers are guided through these landmarks, learning about their historical significance while enjoying the luxury and comfort of the train. These images offer a glimpse of the unique experiences that await at every stop.

The Royal Atmosphere: Capturing Every Moment

Every moment on the Palace on Wheels is filled with luxury and grandeur. The train’s interiors, the stunning landscapes, and the royal service all come together to create an unforgettable experience. Photography plays an important role in capturing these moments, allowing travelers to take home a piece of the royal journey.

The palace on wheels images featured in this blog show how every detail contributes to the overall atmosphere of royalty. From the grand exteriors to the fine details inside the train, every part of the journey is worth capturing. These photos not only provide a glimpse into the luxury of the Palace on Wheels but also inspire travelers to embark on this once-in-a-lifetime experience.

[houseofbrat]

WHAT is going on?

This is the best PR disaster I’ve seen in years 🍿

Photos are manipulated (aka edited) all the time - for this one to have been manipulated in ways that are concerning enough for 3 of the biggest photo agencies in the world to order a kill notice on it is significant.

The thing that I keep coming back to is that if everything is fine, why are they messing things up so monumentally? It feels like every pr attempt has been made in crisis conditions by a bunch of people with no pr skills running on zero sleep. Why did no one check the photo before posting it through official channels to make sure that it didn’t have any glaring errors given the fact that they know they have eyes on them?

That’s what I mean. I normally don’t follow the royal family at all and I personally don’t feel entitled to know what Kate’s medical issues are but I’m absolutely invested in this BECAUSE of how badly the PR is being handled. They are literally making it seem like something weird is actually going on when it may not be. It’s almost like they are doing it on purpose to see the public’s reaction 😂

What’s wild to me in this thread are the people defending this and pretending it’s no big deal. If you care about the monarchy at all, the handling of this situation by their own people is now a five alarm fire. They’ve lied and been purposefully deceitful since the original announcement of Kate’s illness and it’s only gotten worse since then. Having a photo pulled down for manipulation by multiple huge organizations is a huge deal and they no longer have the queen to smooth everything over, they are up the creek.

Another kick in the teeth for KP. Another round of cope for their defenders. Can anyone honestly say they’re surprised at this point? I kind of doubt cosmetic editing is the only issue, because Lord knows that Kate — and other public figures, ofc — have been shopped & filtered into oblivion over the years. Makes me wonder what AP & Reuters think is happening here. And this just makes me even more curious why Kate didn’t wear her engagement ring in the photo. If they’re editing the pictures anyways, there’s literally no reason not to plonk Big Blue on there. This is top notch royal drama right here, please keep it coming.

What do you mean another round of cope?

It’s referring to the excuses that some royal fans keep clinging to. It’s been so fun watching the stans say that all of this is totally normal, and how dare the conspiracy theorists, and won’t you think of the privacy — and then it all blows up in their faces AGAIN. It’s like Lucy with the football!

I genuinely think we could be seeing the beginning of the end of the Royal Family here. People will say it’s a stretch and that I’m a conspiracy theorist or whatever but I honestly don’t see how, given the way this whole shit show has been handled, the public are meant to trust anything put out by the Palaces in future. We’re yet to see how this one ends but my god, it has been a rollercoaster and with every passing day there are more questions. Even people like me who don’t generally care about anything royal are wondering what on earth is going on. If, and when, it turns out that there has been some kind of cover up, even if it’s relatively minor, the people who never cared for the Royal Family will be able to (rightly) argue that they’re duplicitous and sleazy, and those who believed every word of it and leapt to their defence time after time will (and should) feel utterly betrayed.

As a publicist I’m just going to say I continue to be astonished by how terrible KP is at PR.

What do you think is going on?

I’m obviously not going to speculate on her actual condition but suspect the PR team knows little and the Wales’ - likely William - only listen to yes people. So they are holding close to the vest the truth and this means the PR team is spinning its wheels working from behind in a reactive stance as opposed to proactively being able to get ahead of a story or message accurately against it.

The constant messy drip drip of info and KP being so inconsistent with BP to me suggests they are kept in the dark and have to scramble every time something else comes out.

It’s really hard to advise clients/principals who won’t listen to reason, who won’t take good advice, who say they will comply but then in the moment do the opposite. I get all of those vibes from William in particular.

Being the Heir he got away with murder and now I suspect it’s hard/near impossible to get him to see reason.

They should have just been honest, messaged it as a teachable moment kinda like KC did with his cancer and stayed transparent, but my guess is William thinks whatever the truth is will make them look bad, so gestures at all of this

What in the world is going on? I’ve definitely raised my eyebrows at the goings-on at KP over the last few weeks, but the editing errors he highlighted in his Tweet don’t seem all that uncommon to me, especially the warping around Louis’s legs… though I’m no expert. I think something is up, but also was leaning towards the pic being taken recently. I consider AP and Reuters fairly trustworthy though, so seems odd they would pull it for shoddy photoshop work alone. Idk anymore.

the Associated Press and Reuters (and others who have killed this photo) are journalism organizations with strict guidelines about photography ethics, which forbids anything other than minimal photo editing. a shoddy photoshopping would be exactly the kind of thing they would object to when it comes to photos they distribute/endorse through their service. they explain more here: https://www.ap.org/about/news-values-and-principles/telling-the-story/visuals

I'm old. Like, remember when Charles was considered the Most Eligible Bachelor old, watched the Royal Wedding and was surprised by the separation old, was up watching Saturday Night Live when the news broke about Princess Diana's crash old.

The last time I remember a PR crisis this bad was when Diana died and the public was clamoring for some word from the Queen. KP needs to work to right this, but so far, everything they do adds gasoline to the bonfire.

Declining to comment just seem really daft. You can ignore tabloids, but when its the AP and Reuters you should calm things down.

I'm still of the opinion that they were messy, but ultimately harmless edits made to the photo

Just say that. Fess up, you haven't committed a huge crime. You used the clone stamp tool or whatever to make the image look cleaner but the job was not up to par.

I guess setting the precedent that future images could be accused of being digitally altered is why they don't want to? Either that or the photos really is extremely faked

At this point you need a picture of Kate holding a newspaper with today's date otherwise no one is believing anything. And this isn't normal, this is unforced error, and we are all dealing with KP media strategy catastrophic errors and frankly William messing this up for weeks.

For them to put out a kill notice goes beyond a little Photoshop or filtering. There are so many odd things about the photo. The unseasonable greenery (yes, I'm saying it again though I got deleted for saying it before), the placement of the hands over, esp. Kate's. The obv. photoshop of Charlotte's hand is what they called out as proof but the photo just looks off.

The greenery is the least problematic thing. My garden faces north (and is further north) and the grass looks green but needs a trim. They probably have a lovely well maintained south facing garden.

It’s amur honeysuckle or winter honeysuckle hybrid. They are semi-evergreen like what’s seen here. Some leaves on & older looking, some leaves gone. If you look at the KP bird site, there’s a pic of PW on grass that green the day before or so. I’m confident about the shrub, can’t say about the grass.

Omg. What a DISASTER! I have never seen so many PR missteps in such a short period of time. This whole situation will have lasting damage on the British monarchy. Whatever trust people had is broken.

They said the photo was SEVERELY MANIPULATED to the point where it doesn't meet the AP's publishing guidelines.

That would possibly point to “there’s no image at all.” I’m not a conspiracy theorist, but this is beginning to feel a little alarming.

[blog-moved-lol]

Yesterday I came to the realization that I currently have 47 OCs that I never use for anything, so I decided to try something new. I'm going to attempt to write a short story every few days or so centering around one of my OCs. I set up two wheels, one full of all my OCs names and one full of types of story(Fluff, funny, romance, spicy, hurt comfort, hurt no comfort, improv, lore, and I might add more as we go on), so the plan is A) Spin the first wheel to determine the main character of the story B) Spin the second wheel to determine what kind of story it is, and then C) Go to my Spotify playlist of my favorite songs and spam the shuffle button a few times, then use the song I get as inspiration for what I'm writing :] I don't know if I'll be able to do this consistently because I'm not very confident in my own writing so I don't tend to enjoy it as much, but I'd like to try.

Today's rolls were:

Main Character: Alistair

Story Type: Improv(AKA I make up whether it's fluff, angst, etc, as I go)

Inspiration Song: Why Didn't You Stop Me? - Mitski

Here we go lol-

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Photograph - OC Stories Day 1

As the sun finally slips beyond the horizon, the forest is bathed in a cold darkness that's occasionally broken by an enchanted torch mounted on the fence or a fairy lantern hanging on the wall. Alistair used to find the dark somewhat unnerving when he worked in the castle, since it was always so bright and sterile in the halls, but since his exile he has gotten used to the comfort it provides. Marilyn had come to his cabin today and the two had worked on some new potions and enchantments for their weaponry, so now Alistair is spending his evening tidying his kitchen of all of the herbs and questionable inventory Marilyn had presented for their experimentation session.

As Alistair goes to place a jar of fireflies back where it belongs on his coffee table, his red eyes are drawn to the photograph of the crown prince he has resting there. Ah, Prince Theseus in all his loveliness.. Alistair trades off the fireflies for the picture, taking a break from cleaning to sit on his couch and observe the photo. His gloved fingers trace gently over the curves of Theseus' face, smiling softly to himself. He feels a pang of emotion, perhaps guilt, in his heart as he thinks about the prince he once served, and his smile falters as he realizes just how long its been since the two have gotten to see each other. Madeline says that Theseus has been doing well, so that's good at least, but Alistair still misses the prince dearly. While yes, he had been Prince Theseus' servant he had also been his lover and partner in life, even if their relationship had been secret due to their different statuses and the King and Queen's beliefs. He wonders if Theseus even looks the same as he used to, with his fluffy blonde hair so perfectly framing his face and his green eyes shining with an almost childlike curiosity. Alistair, of course, looks very different from when he lived in the palace. Would Theseus even find him attractive anymore..?

[loganslowdown4]

Incorrect Quotes

March-July 2023

Hope For Everyone

Romantic Advice + Haiku Bot

GPS Directions

Bad Boys (Logicality)

Mutual Smackings (Logince)

Worse Than Heartbreak

Midnight Snack (Logince)

Straighter Than That Pole (Roceit)

Stupid Cute Nerd (analogical)

How Do You Sleep

Height of Stupidity

See Through Dress

Anxiety Kidnapping Gone Wrong (prinxiety)

Traitor Scale

Peer Pressure

Saucy Tie

Fighting or Flirting (Roceit)

Condescending + Writing Logince Headcanon

Then Beg

Games We Play

Battle Bot James

Left Brain Dating Challenge (prinxiety, Intrulogical)

Honeymoon (intruality)

Truth or Dare: Roceit Edition

Cross Crossword

Odd Epiphany

Rip The Bandaid (moceit)

Tony’s 33rd Birthday

Cat Stuck In A Tree (prinxiety)

Janus Drunk Confession (roceit)

Patton’s Plan?

Everything Milkshake

Incorrect Quote Vol 2 Official Post

A Lot Dramatic

Incorrect Quotes Vol 2 Banner?

Cupid At The Beach (analogical)

My Quote Made The Cut (IQ Vol 2)!!!

Abstract Thoughts

Lonely Lips (dukexiety)

Kitchen Drawers

Chillax

Mocktopus

Ultimate Showdown (prinxiety)

Roman’s Toy Store

Stop Scrolling (Self Promo)

What State?

10 Types Of People

Move With Your Mind

Heaven Is A Couch Sleep

Ordering Pizza (Prinxiety)

It’s The Only Way (moceit)

Sweet Trick

Cold Shoulders (logicality prinxiety)

Walking Headache

Order In The Court

Baby Insults (logince)

Kidnapped Your Son

Roses Are Red

Future Husband (Royality)

Free Stuff

Snake Joke (moceit)

Poly Jolly Mind Palace

Buttercup

Random Letters (SaSi + CT crossover)

New Birthday Jacket + Roman Photo 2020 (Logince)

Wits End

Just A TV Show

Nice & Cute (Roceit)

Violently Worries

Drunk Loyalty (moceit)

A Year of Minutes

Serotonin Please

Sick Of Everyone

Bust A Ghost

Logan’s ‘Owl’

Tell Me Why

What Won’t He Eat

Steering Wheel

Atoms Don’t Touch

Other Friends

Big Idiots

Prepare For the Dark Sides

He Called Me Pretty (dukexeity)

Pretty Boy

Intrulomoceit Polyidiotry

Self Care List

Everything’s Broken

Logan Giggled

Garbage Day

Spicy Dream (Intrulogical)

Accidental Gay (intruality)

Worst Boyfriend (logicality)

Three To Journey (poly)

Fight or Flirt (loceit)

Bringer of Gifts

100% Off (logicality)

Call Daddy (logince)

Peaceful Dinner (moceit)

[mariammaher]

The Ministry of Tourism announces the artifacts that were chosen to be the featured pieces in December in antiquities museums across the country

The Ministry of Tourism conducted a public referendum through its pages on the social networking site Facebook, and the public chose this month a group of artifacts that highlight Egyptian civilization's interest in science, knowledge, and culture in celebration of Science Day, which falls on December 21 of each year. This date also coincides with the opening of Cairo University on the same day in 1908.

The most famous places chosen are the Museum of Islamic Art in Bab Al-Khalq and the Coptic Museum in Old Cairo because it displays a wooden board used to teach writing, carved on it numbers and writings in the ancient Coptic language. The choice also fell on the Al-Gaar Anderson Museum, which contains a metal ink container shaped like a fish. The Muhammad Ali Museum is also one of the most famous sites that were dedicated to spreading science in Egypt, and this museum displays three of the oldest inkwells in Egypt. You can also explore the Amhotep Museum in Saqqara, which displays a statue of the scribe Ptah Shepses, who held several titles, the most famous of which were judge and inspector of the god's priests.

If your flight arrives at Cairo International Airport, you should see the bronze statue of the god of wisdom, medicine, and writing, Thoth. If you are going to visit Alexandria, you should not miss visiting the Alexandria National Museum, which displays the First Class Order of Education. You can also visit the Greco-Roman Museum, which contains a marble statue depicting an intellectual wearing the Greek cloak "himation," which is a symbol of culture. You can visit all these places and more only with Egypt Tours, which will allow you to choose from many exciting tours.

If your ship will stop for some time in any of the Egyptian ports, choose one of Egypt Cruise Excursions, which is a priceless gift for any tourist visiting Egypt for the first time. You can find many tours available that are ideal options for exploring Egypt, such as Port Said Shore Excursions, which will enable you to visit all the famous archaeological sites. Sokhna Port receives millions of tourists every year, so we have organized many excursions from Sokhna Port so that you can choose the tour that suits your interests.

If your ship will only stop for a few hours in the port, you can book a half-day tour to Saqqara and the Dahshour Pyramids from Sokhna to enjoy a wonderful trip in a short time. Egypt is one of the most famous countries that has many amazing museums, so you should join the NMEC and Pyramids Tour from Sokhna Port, which will help you visit one of the most important and impressive museums in Egypt, which is the National Museum of Egyptian Civilization. You can visit many amazing archaeological sites in one tour if you book a Day tour to the Pyramids, Memphis, and Saqqara from Sokhna Port, which is one of the best-selling tours.

You can book Pyramids and Saqqara Desert Tours from Sokhna Port to enjoy exploring the Giza Pyramids and Saqqara area while riding four-wheel-drive bikes. If you are a fan of visiting amazing museums, just join our day tour to the museums in Cairo from Sokhna port to be able to visit the National Museum of Egyptian Civilization and Abdeen Palace. You can take your friends and family on an unforgettable trip by booking the Giza Pyramids and the Step Pyramid tour from Sokhna Port and taking many beautiful souvenir photos with the Giza Pyramids.

You can choose between watching the sunrise or sunset in the pyramids area during the quad bike at the Giza pyramids tour from Sokhna port, which will allow you to see a magical view that you will never forget throughout your life. You will be amazed by seeing the magnificent pyramids with the Sokhna Port to Cairo Pyramids day tour, and you will also be able to see the Sphinx.

@cairo-top-tours

[seabreeze2022]

Danube River cruise, Part 6. Nov. 7, 2024

Vienna, Austria.

The Danube is the second longest river in Europe at 1,777 miles. Flowing from Germanys Black Forest to its delta on the Romanian and Ukrainian shores of the Black Sea.

Spring time snowmelt in the Alps causes floods of biblical portions.

We wake up to a very foggy morning docked in Vienna. We are moored as the third ship out. When we leave for our tour today we actually walk through two other ships to get to shore. One was the sister ship to our boat, the other was a more prestigious TAUCK cruise lines ship.

Vienna obviously has a tremendous amount of history and culture, but it is also a very modern and large city. So it was not that easy to just meander around old small streets, directly from the ship. So although impressive it just wasn’t a favorite stop of ours.

Tour buses pick up each of our groups. I am assuming almost all 94 passengers took the morning tour into town. Plus there are half a dozen other ships here needing buses.

This is the Parliament building.

Gate entrance with a Hercules sculpture.

More gates with Hercules saving the city.

This is a baroque monument to the ending of the Great Plague Epidemic of 1679. The “Plague Column” or “Trinity Column” has Emperor Leopold in the center praying to the gods above to end the plague. The sculpture of Leopold shows his genetically deformed lower jaw. Which was due to inbreeding of the Kings and Queens of the time. It was better to intermarry between the leaders of countries than to fight wars.

This is St. Stephan’s Cathedral completed in 1578. It is oriented to the sunrise of December 26 the birthday of St. Stephen. The tallest spire stands 447 ft. high. When the Germans retreated during WW2, orders were given to shell it 100 times and reduce it to rumble. Luckily the local Captain, Klinkicht, disregarded his orders.

The massive front door is called the “Giants door”, possibly due to a Mammoth’s thigh bone that was hung over the door originally. The bone was found when initial excavations started in 1443.

The insides of these Cathedrals are just spell binding, and photos do not do them justice.

The Cathedral has 22 bells and over 12,000 organ pipes.

As we walked around town, we came across Mozart’s house. Sigmund Freud did his studies in Vienna.

I took the afternoon off, while Nancy went to the 1,400 room Schonbrunn palace by bus. The Captain gave me a tour of the wheel house. All of his computer displays for navigation are below the counter height because the top half of the wheel house can be dropped down to just above the counter. There is even a hatch above his head that can be opened up for him to drive the ship, with his head and shoulders above the roof.

Note the carpenters level on the front of the counter. He can balance out the boat moving fuel and water around. Attention to detail! Wouldn't want the doors below swinging open.

Nancy at, Schonbrunn, the summer palace of the Hapsburg Empire. This was built to keep up with the Joneses. It was to rival Paris’s Versailles.

Happy hour was an hour earlier today so we could attend the opera.

We attended a show of classical music and opera at the Vienna Opera House. The “Blue Danube Waltz” was written by Johann Strauss, the younger, at the age of 42. He was Viennas most popular composer playing the Blue Danube Waltz for the first time in February 1867. It is the unofficial anthem of Vienna.

This concert was just a sliver of music, opera and dancing all done with humor and gaiety. Our fellow passenger, Christina, who works for the London Philharmonic and attends many concerts was not impressed. But, when in Vienna you have to go to a concert!

The operetta singer.

When we wake up in the morning we will be docking at Durnstein, Austria.