#the mad king of france

[317-is-here-won]

The French king who believed he was made of glass! (Featuring @Bad-Janet)

[illustratus]

Madness of Charles VI: crossing the forest of Le Mans on an expedition against Pierre de Craon, the king, brandishing a sword, mistakes the members of his retinue for enemies and attacks them.

— Froissart's Chronicles

[iindigoeyed]

it would be very amusing if season 6 does end up having amelie & felix stay in paris for many reasons, but one of my particular favorites is that since felix and adrien are literally identical, I imagine it might be hard for felix to go outside without getting ambushed by dozens of fangirls mistaking him for adrien only to be met with a feral yorkshire terrier of a british boy

[gay-impressionist]

me whenever i remember that the president of france is officially a co-king and co-prince

[darkbluekies]

GOLDEN TRIAL

Yandere!mafia x yandere!female!mafia x female!yandere x yandere!king x yandere!doctor x male!detective!reader

Summary: Its 1935 and you've been sent on the Liner Normandie to retrieve a stolen painting. You have six suspects and the clock is ticking — you only have four days before the ship reaches New York to find it. But soon, you find yourself caught up in something even more serious than you could have believed.

Warnings: getting hit in the head with a bottle, kidnapping, mentions of drugging, stalker behavior, light misogyny(?), guns, needles, violence

Word count: 11.7k

DAY 1 — Debark

The ship towers over you like a mad giant. Gray smoke rises from the two forward funnels. It’s the biggest in the world, bigger than any man made object that can float. You shake your head. Focus. You’re not here for pleasure. You continue your way over to the terminal. The agency sent you in hopes of finding the lost painting, no one else. You need to stay focused, they’re counting on you.

Without questioning, you give the fake ID to the man behind the desk. When you had started out as an agent, you were always nervous that your covers would be blown and you would be found out. Nowadays, you’ve noticed that if you look nervous, risk are that you’ll be asked questions. 

You walk over the gangway with your bag in hand. You have just above four days to find the painting — a very famous portrait of a woman with her head slightly turned to the viewer, wearing a big, blank pearl earring. It was stolen from the Mauritshuis in the Netherlands two weeks ago, and details have revealed that it has been taken to France, and will be moved to America on the SS Normandie. The painting itself isn’t insanely big, but the fuss about it’s disappearance is. You have to find it at all cost. 

Before you got here, you had time to take a look at the passenger list. There are six people you recognise, where of five could be your potential smugglers. 

Silas Achilleos, a mob boss wanted by the police, and his second in command. A man like him was probably not interested in paintings, but he could have clients who did. And those could pay him heaps of money. 

Edmund of Vesanus, a young king who likes the bachelor life. He surrounds himself with loads of women and alcohol, partying like nothing matters. He would take the painting because he doesn’t want anyone else to have it. He’s traveling with his doctor, a certain Karl Kry who you don’t know much about. 

Hedwig Carter, a young heiress who’s father is noble, and who's mother is famous in the acting business is traveling with a young woman named Jerry Kim, someone you guess is Hedwig’s chaperone. Hedwig is known for getting whatever she wants with a snap of her fingers, and if she wants a painting … she will get it. Jerry, however, does not have much information out in the open. Everything about her before she started to work for Hedwig is wiped away. You want to know who she is and where she comes from, and what she would want a painting for.

You walk down the stairs to your cabin on A-deck and start to pack up, using the second bed in the room to store your bag. After settling in, you decide to take a look around this magnificent vessel to get familiar with it. You make your way up to the promenade deck and give the open cinema by the stairs a quick look. You guess that they’re going to put on movies once the ship reaches open water. If you’re lucky you’ll see something interesting. And hopefully, you have the time to watch it. 

The promenade is enclosed decorated with a gray floor, comfortable deck chairs and clear windows. A line in the tricolor fashion runs along the floor, as if to show where to walk. You walk on the line, flashing a little childish smile. You’ve left Le Havre and are on your way out towards the Atlantic’s open arms. The clock is ticking. 

Your eyes lock onto someone walking towards you and you immediately realize that it is Hedwig and her chaperone, an east asian girl … wearing pants and a long sleeved shirt. You don’t realize how obvious it is that you’re staring until the woman opens her mouth and you realize that they’ve stopped right in front of you. 

“What are you staring at, sir?” she asks, raising her eyebrows and putting her hands in her pockets. “If you want to say something, do it.”

“No—no, sorry”, you say quickly, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I didn’t mean to stare.”

“Tell me, do you approve of women who wear pants?” 

It sure looks weird, but is it? When you think about it, aren't pants just pieces of the same fabric as skirts, just sewn differently?

“Uh, I … suppose so.”

To that, Jerry nods approvingly.

“I don’t see why only men should wear pants”, she says.

“Well, I don't feel comfortable wearing them”, Hedwig chuckles nervously and smiles softly. “But they fit you, Jerry. They really do.”

“You must be miss Carter”, you say, as if you don't know, and shake her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, please call me Hedwig! Who are you?” 

“I’m Axel Ainsworth, I'm in the art industry.”

Hedwig’s smile widens. “That is very interesting, I love art. Especially portraits. Capturing humanity’s differences and details are magical. Don’t you think so, Jerry?”

“I’m more for that new thing — surrealism, I think it’s called — where everything is here and there and weird to believe”, Jerry says, shrugging. “But portraits can be okay too, depending on what type.” 

Hedwig has turned her eyes to you, glued them onto you as if you are the only thing she could ever see. “Are you traveling alone, mister Ainsworth?” she asks. 

You have remembered your entire forged background and learned it skillfully. Even your fake name rolls off the tongue as smoothly as if it was your real name. You're traveling alone because you're on your way home to your fiancé from a business trip. 

“I see”, Hedwig smiles and turns to the woman next to her. “Let me introduce you to my chaperone, miss Jerry Kim. You're always welcome to sit with us during dinner. We'd be more than happy to accompany you.”

“I'm grateful to know that, miss.”

With that said, the two women walk away. You frown and sigh. Hedwig seems like a very sweet young woman, it’d be a shame if it was her who was the culprit. Her chaperone, on the other hand, gives you weird vibes. Something about the look in her eyes … as if she’s looking right through you, scanning you. 

You continue down the promenade until you turn into the Winter Garden, a half moon-shaped room full of plants and lamps and big, wide windows, overlooking the special shaped bow that has given Normandie the speed it has. Passengers have already started gathering in the Winter Garden to talk to friends and family and watch how Normandie makes her way out onto the Atlantic. None of them resembles the men you’re looking for. You continue your way through the ship, eventually finding yourself in the smoking room on the embarkment deck, where you had stepped onto the ship. You had only glanced at the room before, but now when you’re standing in the smoking room — and very well the lounge since they’re connected — you realize how stupid you must have been to miss it. There must be ten meters up to the ceiling, you think, and bigger than a concert hall. A long, grey staircase leads up to the outside deck. The art deco interior is modern and sleek, but the whip overall has a classic, conservative design that reminds you of the great liners of the old age. You sigh while thinking of the Mauretania and the Olympic, Britain's biggest rivals which now are laid up in Jarrowtown, side by side, ready to be scrapped. There’s something melancholy about it all, and at the same time something beautiful, starting as enemies and now ending it all under the same flag, together. 

You shake your head. Focus. Your eyes catch someone standing by the windows, someone very familiar. Silas and his right hand man. You move closer, trying to hear what they’re talking about.

“I’m not complaining, I just think that it is annoying that it has to take four days to get to America”, Silas mutters and takes a whiff off his cigar. 

“Any other ship would take double the time, sir”, his second in command says apologetically. “I doublechecked.”

“I don’t like being in one place for too long.”

“See it as a vacation. You’re deserving of it. Let’s enjoy some good food, alcohol and some company. It’ll do you good.”

“I don’t like to be in one place too long. Especially when we know that they're on board!”

You furrow your brows. Who?

“Nothing will happen.”

Silas hums and smokes again. You’ve stood by the windows a few meters away, pretending to be interested in the horizon. Silas turns his eyes to you. 

“You, sir”, he says, pointing at you with his cigar. 

You look away from the ocean. Both Silas and his second in command have turned to you, their dark eyes looking right at you. 

“Yes?” you ask. 

“Is it true that the Normandie keeps her speed?” Silas asks. “No matter the weather?”

“I believe so, sir.”

Silas nods in satisfaction. “Good.”

You decide to try to get some information out of him. You know who he is, but he doesn’t know who you are, doesn’t know that you’re out to get him. To him, you’re just another first class passenger. 

“Are you in a hurry?” you wonder. 

“You could say that”, Silas sighs and turns his eyes out the window again. 

You hold out your hand. “I’m Axel Ainsworth.”

Silas second in command gives him a short look before his boss shakes your hand. His grip is hard, firm. 

“You can call me Silas”, he says. “No need for a surname.” He takes another blow on the cigar. “What brings you out on the ocean like this?”

“I’ve been on a business trip, but now I’m going home to my fiancé”, you say, pretending to smile at the thought of your made up fiancé.

“What business are you in?”

“Art.”

Silas lifts one of black his eyebrows. “Art?”

His second in command straightens his back. 

“Yes, sir”, you say. 

“Are you a … painter?” Silas wonders. 

“God no, I can’t handle a brush even if my life depended on it. I’m an art trader, I help people sell their paintings for the right price.”

“I see. Well, one can’t do everything.” He blows a cloud of smoke. “Have you traveled on this ship before, Axel?”

“No, it’s my first time. But I’m not unfamiliar with the ocean, I used to travel a lot on the older ships in my younger days.”

“Then I suppose you have a favorite?”

You think for a second. “I did like that Cunarder, the Lusitania … such a shame Germany sunk it.”

“You never know which ships are safe or not, just look at that Titanic fiasco. They thought it was the safest ship afloat. Yeah, sure it was.” Silas shrugs. “Wouldn’t surprise if this peace of junk also sinks. Why wouldn’t it?”

“Well …”

Silas’s second in command taps him on the shoulder and whispers something in his ear. Silas frowns and nods before turning to you. 

“It was nice speaking with you, but I have some business to deal with”, he says shortly. 

“Have a good day”, you say. 

Silas nods politely and leaves. You follow him and his second in command with your eyes until they’ve left the smoking room. He was nicer than you had anticipated. 

Your next suspect, you find in the dining hall that evening. You’ve met up with Hedwig and Jerry in the reception. Hedwig is wearing a pink evening gown with pink gloves. Her honey blonde hair is curled and put up with hairpins. Jerry is wearing a dark purple, sleeveless dress, showing a couple tattoos. In her short, black hair, there’s a little decoration that reminds you of a flower. She's wearing dark lipstick, in contrast to Hedwig who wears a Hollywood red.

“They wouldn’t let me in unless I dressed ladylike”, she mutters. 

“I think that you look gorgeous, Jerry”, Hedwig smiles and takes her hand. 

“I guess that it isn’t that bad.”

“I like your tattoos”, you say. “Where did you get them from?”

“A tattoo artist, of course.” She then twists her arm to show something on the inner side of her bicep. “Okay, I made this one myself.”

You step closer, seeing a small heart tattooed on her arm. 

“That’s cute”, you smile. 

“Thank you”, Jerry smiles smugly. “Hurts like hell though.”

“I can imagine.”

The stewards allow you into the dining room and — for what feels like the thousand time today — you’re amazed by the interior. Silver walls with golden ceiling and art decor wherever you could see. In the middle of the long dining hall, there’s a gigantic, golden statue of a woman. 

Hedwig and Jerry leads you to a table and sit down. That’s when you see your last suspects. They’re walking through the dining hall, dressed in tuxedos. The king can’t be more than twenty years old. His doctor is a minimum of fifteen years older. 

“You son of a bitch”, he says suddenly and looks at the table you’re sitting at. “Hedwig?”

Hedwig’s eyes widen in shock.

“Edmund, what are you doing here?” she asks with a smile. “Sit with us, please.”

The king and his doctor sit down at your table. 

“Good evening”, the blonde doctor says and shakes yours and Jerry's hand before introducing himself. “I’m Doctor Kry.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Axel Ainsworth”, you say. 

“This is king Edmund.”

You’re about to shake his hand, but Doctor Kry removes your hand. 

“I’m sorry, but he doesn’t shake people’s hands”, he whispers. 

“Oh, I see”, you say. 

The king gives you a bored look. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, your majesty”, you tell him politely. 

“How do you know Hedwig?” he asks shortly. “I haven’t seen you before.”

“We met today”, Hedwig smiles. “Axel, Edmund is my relative. It’s been months since we last saw each other.”

“I’ve told you to visit.”

“I know.”

“Are you that much of a hypochondriac that you need a doctor to accompany you while you’re traveling?” Jerry chuckles. 

“What are you doing here, Jerry?” Edmund mutters coldly. 

“She’s my chaperone”, Hedwig explains.

“Oh fuck me.”

“Your majesty, maybe you should think about your language”, Doctor Kry says. “We are around others.”

Edmund rolls his eyes before looking at you in a bored manner. 

“Tell me”, he says, “where do you come from, mister Ainsworth?”

You ramble your rehearsed background. Edmund nods along with you.

“I’ve always wanted to visit that place”, Doctor Kry says. “I’ve heard that it is a beautiful city.”

“It is”, you say. 

“And now you’re going to America”, Edmund says. “What were you doing in France?”

“I was on a business trip.”

“What type?”

It strikes you as odd. He doesn’t sound interested, but still he asks you curious questions. 

“I’m in the art business”, you say.

“What for?” Edmund wonders.

“Art is beautiful and should be getting what it is worth.”

“I like art”, Doctor Kry. “I would do anything to see the Mona Lisa.”

“Why didn’t you visit it when you were in France?” Hedwig wonders. 

“We didn’t have time … Edmund didn’t want to go there.”

“Why should I squash together with other people to see paintings?” Edmund scoffs. “If I want to see a painting, I get it for myself. That’s that.”

“But do you like art, your majesty?” you ask. 

“Everyone likes art”, Edmund replies nonchalantly. “That’s what gives life meaning.”

“Have you read a certain story, Edmund, called ‘The Picture of Dorian Gray’?” Jerry asks with a teasing smile. “Thought that it’d fit you.”

The story is about a man who wants nothing more than to remain youthful … to the point where he has a painting of himself where all of his sins can be seen. In the end, the picture is as gruesome as can be, but Dorian himself is as youthful as he started.

“Oh, shut up, Jerry”, Edmund mutters angrily. “One day, I’ll teach you manners, believe me.”

Jerry smirks. 

You eat dinner together with the young king and the doctor. Afterward, to soothe your aching stomach, the five of you walk up to the outside promenade deck to get some fresh air. You strut under the lifeboats, under the stars. Above you, a big luminous sign spells out the name 'NORMANDIE’, casting a soft light on you. Doctor Kry has lent his blazer to Hedwig, and you’ve tried to offer yours to Jerry who refused before you had the time to open your mouth.

“Ladies, I think it’s time for you to retreat”, Edmund says, sounding sweeter than before. “It’s starting to get late.”

“The evening is young”, Jerry insists. 

“I’m tired”, Hedwig yawns.  

“Jerry, be a good girl and bring Hedwig to your cabin”, Edmund grits. “Please. I’m not fighting with you again.”

Jerry rolls her eyes, removes the doctor’s blazer and tells you goodnight. Hedwig gives you and Edmund a hug. Her flowery perfume clogs up your nose, dulls your head for a moment. The three of you wish the girls a pleasant evening and continue walking. 

“Hedwig is a stupid girl”, Edmund says, strolling slowly. “One can’t help but want to take care of her.”

“She seems very sweet”, you admit. 

“She is. Just very naive. I���ve promised her father that I’m going to take care of her whenever I meet her.”

“Her chaperone is … interesting”, Doctor Kry remarks. 

“God, yes, I hate her!”

“What is it about her that you don’t like?” you ask curiously. 

“I do not like girls like her. Did you see her tattoos? She often walks around in man’s clothing and I don’t think it’s fitting for a woman — especially someone that is close to my relative. I don’t want her influencing Hedwig.”

“I don’t think you have to worry, your majesty”, Doctor Kry says calmly. “I think Hedwig is going to be okay.”

“If there’s one thing I’m glad for, it is that Hedwig is predictable.” He groans. “I need a cigar. Let’s go to the smoking room.” Edmund turns around to give you a look. “Axel, are you joining?” 

“I don’t know”, you reply. “It’s the first day, I’m still tired from embarking.”

“Don’t tell me that you’re going to bed now.” He looks at his expensive watch. “The clock is ten. Stay one hour.”

You give up and follow them to the smoking room. Maybe it is for the best. If you want to get close to them, you’ll need to spend as much time observing them as you can. 

Sitting with them in the smoking room, you find that Silas and his second in command aren't here among the other men. You frown, thinking that they would be here since they were earlier. 

When you’re allowed to leave, two hours later, your mind is fogged up by smoke and whiskey. You make your way through the empty corridors to your cabin, closing and locking it behind you. Tiredly, you sink down on your bed and sigh out. You have observed them, and talked with them the entire day, and yet you haven’t figured out who could be hiding the painting. They all seem interested in art. They all could have taken it. 

There's so many questions. What kind of doctor is Kry? Where did Jerry come from and why is there no information about her? Why would someone like Hedwig hire her as her chaperone? And who is that person that Silas doesn't want on board? Is there someone you haven't accounted for, someone else that can have stolen the painting?

You hide your face in your hands and groan. Three days left.

DAY 2 — Sea

You wake up early, get ready and head out into the corridor. You lock the cabin door behind you, feeling the handle to make sure that it is locked and make your way to the Winter Garden to have a cup of coffee. The large windows give you a wide view of the calm ocean. The sun rises up from the blue water in a magical sense that has you hypnotized. It's all so very quiet and relaxing.

After your cup of coffee, you stretch your muscles, and contemplate going down to the swimming pool to take a few laps, to warm up your muscles and clear your head for the day's work. You pay the purser and make your way down to the swimming pool on D deck. The tile walls are covered with art that reminds you of ancient Greece and the new, abstract type of paint. The pool itself was formed as a long rectangle with curved corners, green steel ladders, and a steep and a shallow part. Throughout the shallow part, there were thick, dull spikes, likely to stop children from going out into the deep end. 

Despite being the early hours of the first morning on board, someone is already in the water. Doctor Kry.

“Good morning”, he says. “You’re up early.”

“So are you”, you reply.

“I always need to clear my head before starting the day.”

“What about the king? Is he swimming too?”

“Don't kid around. He doesn’t wake up until nine. I wouldn’t be able to get him out of bed before that anyways. He’s a very deep sleeper and hates getting woken up.”

You feel your heart skip a beat. 

“Where do you have your cabin?” you ask. 

“On the promenade deck, one of the suites. A-54.”

Bingo. 

“Why do you ask?” Doctor Kry wonders.

“I was just thinking that since the king doesn't want to be disturbed, choosing the right cabin place is important.”

“Did we choose a good cabin then?”

You nod, despite not knowing a single thing about cabin placements. The only thing you're aware of is to be as far away from the noisy engine room as possible.

Perhaps if you asked the purser, you could get the number of the other cabins. He, if anyone, should have the passenger list. 

You glance back at Doctor Kry who's still hanging by the side of the pool. This is your time to investigate him. You slowly get into the water.

“Such a shame that you didn't get to visit the Mona Lisa”, you say as you start to swim. “It's a very pretty painting.”

“So I've heard”, Doctor Kry says slowly.

“My favorite painting is ‘the girl with the pearl earrings’, have you had the opportunity to see it?”

He's quiet for a second.

“I haven't”, he says, sounding low. “I guess that, an art trader like you, must be troubled by its disappearance.”

“Of course”, you answer.  

At this point, a detective and an art trader don't seem like different things, especially since both would be looking for the same thing.

“Can I ask you something?” you wonder.

“It depends”, Doctor Kry says. “Go ahead.”

“Forgive me for being nosy, but why doesn't his majesty like Jerry?”

“He is very old fashioned. He doesn't think that women should be dressed in pants or have tattoos. Edmund is very self centered, yes, but he's also very possessive of the ones he holds dear — example being miss Hedwig. As you may know, his parents were murdered by enemies to the monarchy and ever since, the only relatives that have been in his life have been Hedwig and her family. They're very close in age too — Hedwig being eighteen and Edmund nineteen — which has been a very important thing for him. He sees her as a friend, maybe his only friend. So having someone that could potentially blemish his friend and only family is a threat to Edmund.”

“Then why does Hedwig have Jerry?”

“I don't know. It could be because of a teenage revolt. Jerry is different to everything that Hedwig has ever known … and now that she's eighteen she might want to try something new.”

“Do you think that Edmund is worried about her? Because of Jerry?”

“I wouldn't say worried, because the only thing the king worries about is himself, but I think that there's something along those lines. I think that he sees Hedwig as an extended part of himself rather than her own person.”

You nod carefully.

“I wonder where Hedwig found Jerry”  you say. “How someone like her could get the job as Hedwig’s chaperone. Do you know where she comes from?”

Doctors Kry suddenly laughs.

“You ask an awful amount of questions this early in the morning”, he says and gets out of the water. “I'm sorry, I don't have more answers for you, Axel.”

You look up at him, where he stands on the tile floor. He looks down at you with a small smirk.

“You remind me of a little boy”, he says and lowers his eyes onto your physic. “You're awfully trained to be an art trader. One could think that you were an Olympian.”

“Shouldn't a doctor be pleased that I am taking care of myself?”

“I am. You look good, healthy.  Just found it humorous.” He wipes away a few drops of water trying to go into his blue eyes. “I suppose that I will see you later. Goodbye, Axel.”

“Goodbye.”

You decide to do a few more laps around the swimming pool before getting up and drying yourself. Tomorrow morning, you will sneak into Edmund’s and Doctor Kry’s cabin to see if the painting is in there. But for now, you need to go to the purser. 

You change into your suit. In the front pocket, you keep a little commonplace book to take notes. You  make your way back to the pursers office. The man behind the desk gives you a service smile and asks how he can help you. 

“Do you happen to have the passenger list?” you ask. “I would like to know where some people’s cabins are located.”

“What is your name?” the purser wonders. 

“Axel Ainsworth.”

“Who are you wanting to find?”

“Hedwig Carter and Silas Achilleos.”

The purser disappears into his office. You wait impatiently, suddenly feeling watched. Carefully, you glance over your shoulder, but the only ones in eyesight are two men who are conversing. The purser returns. You fish out your notebook, ready to note it down. 

“Miss Carter has cabin B-23 and Mister Achilleos has cabin A-11.”

You write it down. “Thank you.”

With that said, you leave to go to the staircase. You’re not sure where to go, so you decide to take a stroll down the enclosed promenade while thinking. Doctor Kry knows more, you think, but he doesn’t want to tell. 

You sit down on one of the deck chairs to write down what you have gotten to know, so that you won’t forget any important information. You write down the suspects' motives to steal the painting, Silas’s weird enemy, their relation to each other — which only connects Edmund, Kry, Jerry and Hedwig — as well as the answers that you have gotten from Doctor Kry earlier today. Who has the painting? Your first instinct says that Doctor Kry doesn’t have it, because he’s not interested in that painting. Had it been the Mona Lisa, things would have been different, but this painting doesn’t interest him. That doesn’t mean that the painting couldn’t be in his room, though, because Edmund could still want to have it. 

You stand up after a while and continue walking. Your eyes fixate on something in the distance. A woman dressed in pants talking to a man in a suit that seems to be hiding in the corner of the promenade. You frown. 

What does Jerry have to do with Silas's second in command? 

You want to move closer, but you don’t want to expose yourself. You’ll have to change the relations in your notes, because there’s clearly something more than you’ve been led to know. 

What if Jerry’s lack of background has something to do with the mafia? It would explain her tattoos … that or being a sailor. But because of what you've just witnessed you can most likely scratch the latter. A shiver runs down your spine. If Jerry is dangerous, then Hedwig could be too. You stop in your tracks. Hedwig? Really? Edmund said it himself, she's a stupid, naive girl. Could she be dangerous?

You walk up to the open deck in the stern of the first class accommodations where you find a few kids playing something reminding you of curling. You sit down on the zig-zag benches placed out on the deck and watch them. They notice you looking and ask you to join them, so you do. You decide that maybe you can pleasure yourself in a harmless children's game for a few minutes, and continue the mission after.

When lunchtime rolls around, you make your way down to the dining hall. It's emptier than yesterday evening. You find Silas and his second in command sit by a table. Silas notices you and waves you over. Your feet bring you to him.

“Sorry to cut our talk short yesterday, Axel”, he says politely and gesticulates at the chair in front of him. “Sit down. Let me buy you lunch.”

And so, he does. You sit down and try your best not to glance at the second in command who’s black eyes burn through you. Your stomach twists. 

You both get lamb, something you have eaten many times before. Still, it tastes better at sea.

“What did you say that you were here for again?” Silas asks suddenly as he’s cutting his meat.

His voice sounds different from yesterday. You clear your throat to make sure that your voice won’t shiver.

“I’ve been on a business trip”, you say. “And now I’m going home.”

“Yes, yes, I know that. What I mean is that you didn’t tell me why you were in France. What kind of business trip was it? What did you do? I know that you were there for art, but what do one do on an art business trip? You have to forgive me for being curious.”

“I was meeting some people from the Louvre.”

“I see. About what?”

“Art’s future, how to make sure they don’t break or smudge or get tainted by the sun. And how to protect them. You must have heard about ‘the girl with the pearl earrings’ missing?”

“Yes, of course. Isn’t it weird that someone would steal that painting? Why not a Monet painting? Or the Mona lisa?”

“I don’t know. Maybe taking one of them would be too big of a deal. Maybe the one taking the painting thought that since it isn’t one of the most cherished, they’d have an easier time taking it … that the commotion about it would die out sooner or later.”

“Perhaps.” 

You’ve noticed that you haven’t heard the second in command’s voice at all, beside the talk he had with Silas yesterday. He doesn’t speak to anyone else than Silas … and Jerry. You still don’t dare look at him, scared that he will see right through you and know that you’ve seen him talk to her. You wonder what they were talking about.

“Did you have a good time yesterday?” Silas asks.

“Yes, I did”, you reply.

“Did you meet someone?”

“No, I didn’t. I chit-chatted with some people here and there, but kept mostly to myself.”

“You do good in that. You never know who you can trust on a big ship as this. You never know who wants you good or not.”

“Why are you traveling, Silas?” you ask innocently. “You said that you were impatient to get to America. Is there a reason?”

“Of course. Everything has a reason. But I don’t think I can share that with you. At least I shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

Silas turns his black eyes to you and smiles slightly. His hungry gaze makes you freeze. He had seemed so sweet yesterday, but you finally see a slice of what makes him so terrifying. 

“Because someone like you shouldn’t know that”, he smiles. 

“I understand”, you say and take a piece of food into your mouth, to avoid speaking further.

“You have to excuse my man here”, Silas says and nods at his second in command. “He’s the shy type. He goes wherever I go, so you have to get used to him.”

“Is he your bodyguard?” you wonder. 

“You could say that. But I’m always prepared in case someone wants to attack me.”

He opens his blazer, showing you a revolver tucked into the fabric. You have your own in your suitcase. Walking around with it feels too risky, but maybe you’ll have to go get it. In case anything happens.

After lunch, you’re left with a weird feeling in your stomach. You have talked with him for an hour, about everything between heaven and earth … and yet it feels like you have been having two conversations in one — one on the surface and one real. 

You walk to your cabin and press down the door handle and walk into the room. The first thing that strikes you as odd is that there’s a new smell in the air. A flowery scent. You can swear that you have felt it before. Without a second to waste, you open your bag and pick up your gun, putting it in your suit. Quickly, you turn around, realizing something. Didn’t you lock the door when you went out this morning?

That evening, you spend dinner with the two girls and stay in the smoking room with Edmund for what feels like an eternity. Edmund wants to play a deck of cards with you. He seems a bit more relaxed than yesterday and even smiles a bit. 

After your games against Edmund, you decide to retreat. You walk down the long, dimly lit corridor. The narrow spaces feel almost ominous at night time, although barely any daylight reaches here at daytime either. You glance over your shoulder every tenth step, hesitating, can't help but feel watched. Your hand reaches for your gun, but before you have time to get it, someone reaches up behind you and smashes something heavy in your head. Everything turns black.

DAY 3 — SEA

“He's waking up.”

Your eyes feel like lead, and your head is even heavier. It takes a few tries to open your eyes and when you finally manage to, you want nothing more than to close them again. For a few seconds, you wonder if you're dreaming. They're all here, looking down at you. You look around and notice that they've tied your hands and feet, and left you on the floor at the end of the bed, with your back against the footrest.

You catch a glimpse of the clock on the wall. Just a bit past one in the morning. The third day has begun. You have been blacked out for three hours.

Your head is pounding, making it hard to think clearly.

Jerry bends down, grabs your chin and turns your head back and forth to inspect the damage caused on your head.

“He'll live”, she says and gives your cheek a quick, but harsh, tap.

“Well, well, Y/N”, Silas says, smirking. “You're a bit nosy aren't you?”

The mention of your name causes you to twitch and widen your eyes. In your dulled stage, you wonder if you've heard wrong, but the smirk in their faces confirm that you have, indeed, not lost your hearing.

“So, you were the agent”, Silas continues and shrugs. “I gotta admit, I was hoping that it wasn't you.”

“You were smart-”, Doctor Kry starts. 

“But not smart enough”, Edmund cuts him off sharply with his arms crossed over his chest. “‘Art dealer’, yeah, sure. A detective dealing with art. That's not the same, Y/N, if you didn't know that.”

Silas picks up something from his pocket, a small commonplace book. 

“‘Suspects are all interested in art, could be any of them’”, he reads out loud. “‘J involved with S? Talked with SIC.’ Jerry? Involved with me? Talked with my second in command? You seem to have it all written down.”

“I was involved with Silas”, Jerry says. “I know his second in command very well.”

“How—How did you … know?” you ask, baffled. “Were you all in on it?”

“Not from the start, no”, Doctor Kry says. “I only knew Edmund and had met Hedwig before. I didn’t even know Jerry, Silas or his second in command.”

You quickly realize that Jerry is the linking chain between them. She linked Hedwig, Edmund and Kry to Silas and his second in command. 

“I had already been informed and knew that there would be someone on this ship out to get me”, Silas says. “I heard that Jerry was on board and caught up with her. She told me that she and Hedwig had met you. It was her that thought it was weird that you asked all of us about art. My men dug, and found out your real identity. My men saw you speaking with the purser, hearing you ask for our cabins and decided to tell it all to me and my second in command, who told Jerry … who told the others.”

“You have more men?” you ask and can’t hide how shocked you get.

“Of course. You don’t think I would go on board with only one man? Do you think I'm stupid, darling? You, on the other hand, probably should have had someone, at least.” 

“Awfully inconsiderate of your bosses, don't you think, to send you all alone?” Jerry says.

“You were looking for this, weren’t you?” Edmund asks and pulls out something from a wooden box behind him. 

You stare at it with wide eyes. The painting.

“Who—Who had it?” you can’t help but question, gulping between the first word. 

“Me, of course”, Edmund says with an offended, yet proud scoff. “It will do nicely in my castle.”

“Now, little Y/N, you know”, Silas says. “Are you happy now? Your mystery is solved.”

Your head hurts too much to answer. You’re not sure if you’re happy. You have learned where the painting disappeared, but you’re tied and hurt, and in the enemies’ grasp. A mixed bag, so to say. 

“I can’t watch the blood”, Hedwig suddenly says and stands up from the armchair she's sitting on. 

She has been the only one that hasn’t smirked at you and seems genuinely apologetic that you're here, but you don't trust that damsel in distress look anymore. She pushes through the others to reach you with a wet handkerchief in her hands. Carefully, she kneels down in front of you and wipes the wet cloth against your forehead. She wipes away the dried blood gently.

“What are you going to do now?” you spit, coming your head to the side. “Throw me overboard?”

“Not exactly”, Silas says, smiling menacingly. 

“Not yet, at least”, Jerry says, grinning.

“If I don't meet my contact in New York, people will know that something has happened to me”, you say coldly. “They'll hunt you down.”

“Oh, will they now? I didn't realize that we had stolen their golden boy.” Silas's cruel smile widens. “Well, Golden Boy, plans seem to have changed.”

You glare at him in confusion. Silas pets your head twice and you hiss at the painful touch. Whatever they hit you with, it must have caused a gigantic bruise.

“Seems like we have to keep you for a while”, he says. “But you will have to stay in here, I’m afraid. You probably understand that we cannot let someone like you wander around the ship.”

You glare at him.

“Do you really think ropes will stop me?” you ask. “I'll be out of here in no time.”

“I would very much like for you to see what we do to you if you decide to break free.” He gives you a testing look before turning to his new companions. “Oh, and one more thing …” He picks up a familiar revolver, spinning it around his hand. “... thank you for the free gun.”

You want to curse at him, but keep quiet for your own sake.

“It's late, the ladies should head to bed”, he says, gesturing for Hedwig and Jerry to leave. “We need to keep someone here to make sure that our little Golden Boy won't free himself and run around, causing trouble.”

“I can take the first shift”, Doctor Kry says and golds up a syringe filled with a translucent liquid.

“Do not harm him, you hear me?” Silas tells him warningly. “I want him alive, coherent and unharmed.”

“Where am I supposed to sleep?” Edmund questions angrily. “In this cabin? Now that I'll have people staring at me?”

“You and Doctor Kry will take Y/N’s cabin”, Silas says.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Stop being so spoiled, your majesty.”

“Won't that be suspicious?” Silas’s second in command questions. “If they see the young king exit and enter someone else's cabin instead of his own?”

“No one knows his cabin”, Silas says as if things were obvious. “Besides, we're in New York tomorrow anyways. It won't be a problem.” He turns to the others. “Scatter.”

The five of them walk out, leaving you and Doctor Kry alone. The doctor sits down in one of the two armchairs in front of you with a long, tired sigh. In his hand, he twirls the syringe.

“What is that?” you mutter.

“Something that will make you go to sleep if you're trying to escape”, Doctor Kry says simply, as if he was talking about watering flowers.

“Why did you hit me in the head if you had that instead?” you ask bitterly.

“Because it wasn't me, it was the second in command and Jerry.”

“Did you lie down in the swimming pool? About not knowing where Jerry came from?”

“No, Y/N, why would I? I told you that I didn't know anything. I didn't get to know until this afternoon.”

“And yet you're quick to jump the wagon to get me killed. I thought doctors were supposed to be nice.”

“I’ve never said that I was nice.”

“What do you gain from this? Why do you want to engage in collusion with people like this? What kind of doctor even are you?”

“Still, with all these questions … look, Y/N, it’s late. You’d do good in trying to get some sleep.”

“On the floor? With my head pounding in pain? With my hands and feet tied?”

“Suit yourself.”

There’s a deadly silence after that. You listen to the sounds the Normandie creates, and somehow wishes that she could save you, but you’re trapped within her, there’s nothing to be done. You rest your head back onto the edge of the footrest and sigh heavily. Doctor Kry looks at his syringe as if it is the most interesting thing he has ever witnessed.

“I'm thirsty”, you say after a while. 

Doctor Kry stands up, walks over to the dressing table where a crystal carafe is waiting and pours you a glass. He returns to you and holds the glass to your lips, making you drink. You gulp it down and breathe heavily. Doctor Kry returns to his armchair. 

You don't know how long you've been sitting on the floor before you start to fall asleep. You thought that you wouldn't, not in this position (figuratively and literally) but you somehow fall asleep. 

“Wakey wakey, Golden Boy.”

You feel someone poke your head to the side multiple times and open your eyes to see Jerry hold a stick in her hand which she's using to poke your head.

“It's morning”, she says.

You groan groggily. She imitates you and chuckles.

“Did you have a pleasant night?” she teases.

You decide not to answer, not to humor her further. Your eyes draft onto a silver tray on the table.

“Yes, that's your breakfast”, Jerry says and lifts the tray, putting it on the floor in front of you before sitting down. 

She picks up a piece of toast and holds it to your mouth. You take a bite, feeling more humiliated than ever. If only you knew that this was where you'd end up when you stepped on board in France.

“We will be in New York tomorrow”, Jerry says, holding the toast to your lips. “And we'll sneak both you and the painting past your contact.”

“It's just a painting”, you say cluelessly. “Why do you all want it so much?”

“I’m not particularly interested in the painting, but I know that Edmund and Hedwig are.”

“Why?”

“Art nerds.”

“Is it even selling for much?”

“It is — if you give it to the right consumer.”

“And you? What do you gain from this?”

“The thing isn’t about what I gain, it is what I lose … in case I let you roam freely. I don’t trust what you will do with the painting or it’s contents. Plus, you know who I am. If you wouldn’t have stuck your nosy head in everything, you wouldn’t have any problem with me.”

You suddenly realize something. 

“Jerry, I need to go to the bathroom”, you say. “I haven’t been to the bathroom since before you knocked me in the head.”

She sighs heavily. “Alright, come here.”

Before pulling you up on your feet, she unties them. You stumble, almost falling on Jerry. 

“Watch it, big boy”, she warns you. “If you knock me down I’m kicking you between your legs until you can’t have children.”

“If you hadn’t tied my feet, I would actually have blood in them. I can’t feel them.”

She unties your hands bitterly. You make your way into the bathroom and catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Hedwig had wiped away some of the blood, but there were still traces of it in your scalp. You sigh heavily. What should you do? Finally, your hands and feet are free, but you aren’t yet. And — after a quick look around — there’s no way out. The only way out is through the door which Jerry is guarding. 

You could perhaps get out by defeating Jerry, but you have something against fighting women. But, then again, she had knocked you with — what you guess was — a glass bottle. You look around for something that can help you and lay your eyes on a metal bar over the bathtub, used to pull one up. Without a second thought and will all your might, you rip it off. You give it a few squeezes, feeling if it could be strong enough to be used as a weapon and trying to find a comfortable, yet strong, grip. 

You open the door quickly and swing the metal bar towards Jerry. She tries to grab it out of your hands but you push her off and knock her to the ground with the bar. You're not sure how hard you are hitting her, but it's enough force to keep her down. Quickly, you make your way past her and storm out of the cabin, almost crashing into the opposite wall in the corridor. You look around quickly, trying to think of where to go. After what Silas said, that he has more men than just his second in command lurking around, you're not sure who you can be seen by. You need to find an officer. You need to get higher.

Shit, the painting!

Your heart is beating loudly in your chest as you scurry back into the cabin. Jerry is lying on the floor, unconscious, and you almost feel bad for knocking her, but you know that it had to be done. It was her or you. Quickly, you open the wooden box and fish out the painting, tucking it under your arm. You can't hide it in your cabin, not when they know about it. You have to dispose of it somewhere safe.

Every step you take is careful, planned and mortified. You clutch the painting tightly, as if it is life itself.

Moving through the long corridor, you're certain that someone will jump out behind a corner and knock you out, like yesterday. Adrenaline is pumping through your veins, almost making you nauseous. You continue through the corridor, over to the hall with the staircases. Your suit has dried blood on it, you look (and feel) manic, will anyone take you seriously?

You freeze as you see a pair of eyes on you. Kry. His blue eyes seem to darken as he notices you, and the painting.

Quickly, you throw yourself into the elevator, and press a random button, wanting the doors to close before Doctor Kry reaches you. And they do, but when you look at the display beside you, you're going the opposite to where you need to go. New plan, you think, I have to sneak into tourist class — or third class, whatever gets you furthest away.

While standing in the elevator, you take a look at the painting to make sure that it hasn’t been damaged in this mess. You turn it around to inspect the canvas and notice something stuck in the corner of the wooden brackets. Carefully, you reach your fingers in and pull out a folded paper. Tucking the painting between your arm and your waist, you unfold the paper to find a list of names and locations … some of which you recognize. They’re all wanted criminals and you guess that the ones you don’t recognize are criminals as well. And the locations …

Your body goes cold and stiff. For a few moments, it feels like the entire world has stopped spinning. This is suddenly more serious than you could ever expect. Quickly, you put the paper in the pocket of your black pants.

You make your way through corridors you haven’t been in before, through doors you’re sure you’re not allowed through. You can’t help but look around at the new environment. Despite being one of Normandie’s lower classes, the attention to detail had been given to every centimeter of the ship. 

Focus!

You’re not sure where you’re going, but you need to find someone that can help you. You consider giving it to a random passenger and ask them to give them to an officer, but in your entire training, you have been told not to pull innocent civilians into your job. They could get seriously hurt and it would be completely your own fault. 

You make your way through tourist class, making sure not to be seen by anyone. If Silas have more people than you thought, why wouldn’t they be in multiple classes? You’re not even sure why the painting have caused this big of a commotion, but there’s no way you can give up the painting now — not after everything you’ve gone through. Your head is still pounding from the glass bottle and your heart beating out of your chest by the sight of Doctor Kry. He knows that you’re roaming freely, and soon, they all will know … and they will look for you. Silas’s words still ring in your ear; “I would very much like for you to see what we do to you if you decide to break free” — well you surely don’t. But where can one run where the space is limited? It’s not like you can grab a lifeboat and sail your way to safety. The sea can be just as dangerous as the people you’re dealing with. 

You look around for someone in black uniform, desperately wanting to find someone to help you before you get a bullet through your head. Finally, you find a steward carrying a metal tray. Like lightning had struck through you, you barge forward and grab his arm. 

“Sir, you have to help me!” you hiss and pull him into an empty corridor. 

“What are you doing-?” he gasps. 

“Please listen and listen quickly”, you whisper in pure panic. The words fall out of your mouth incoherently, but you somehow manage to create the sentences you need for the steward to listen to you. “I have to get to the Captain! Like … now! It’s really, really urgent! Please, just trust me!”

You look around with wide eyes, heart now pounding in your throat. The steward nods in confusion and signals for you to come with him. You’re not sure why he decides to trust you, but you’re ever so grateful for it. He takes you through hidden passages used for staff so that none of the paying passengers will have to see them, up a couple of steep stairs and through some more doors. You hug the painting tightly against your roaring chest. Every corner makes your heart stop, terrified that someone will stand on the other side and knock you out the second you turn. 

The steward points at a door with a golden sign on it — ‘Officers’ quarters’. You pound on the door until you’re sure your knuckles bleed. A stern looking man in neat uniform opens, giving you a dark look. 

“Who are you?” he questions. “What do you want?”

“I’m Y/N L/N, I’m an agent of the crown and this is the missing painting that has been all over the news … you have to keep it secure until we reach New York.”

The officer looks confused as he takes the painting in his hands and lets you into the quarters. 

“You’re bloody, what happened to you, sir?”

“There’s six passengers — Mr Achilleos and his man, His Majesty Edmund of Vesanus, Doctor Karl Kry, Miss Hedwig Carter and Miss Jerry Kim. They knocked me out and kept me in a cabin the entire night. They’re working together. They want this painting …”

… and probably my life by now.

“ … keep it safe”, you beg the officer and feel your voice quiver. “Please. If i can’t meet you at the harbor when we dock tomorrow, please give it to my contact — I will write down his name —  and tell him that he can find further information on board the ship.”

“I will tell the captain about the passengers, they will be taken care of and kept in arrest until we reach land where the police will deal with them”, the officer says.

“Thank you. A lot. Really.”

“You can stay here if you want.”

You feel for the note in your pocket and shake your head. “I have to do something first.”

The officer nodded. On shaky legs, you open the door and walk out into the corridor again. The steward is long gone and you’re alone in an unfamiliar corridor. You suddenly feel exhausted and decide to stay close to the door for a few moments to catch your breath, as if the officers’ quarter was a safe place. 

The note has to be hidden somewhere across the ship so that your contact can find it in case you don’t make it out alive. The note is more important than the painting and can, under no circumstances, go in the wrong hands. These names have to reach your contact. The group will look for the painting in belief that the note is still there, so the note has to be hidden separately so that they won’t find it. 

You make your way through the corridors slowly, making sure not to be caught with the list of names on you. In a weird, panic filled daze, you make your way through corridors, through lounges and dining halls where you hide the note. Underneath a chair, stuck to the corner. You deice to find your way back to the officers’ quarters and somehow find yourself out on deck. The wind is grabbing at you, pulling you left and right. You have a hard time keeping yourself on your feet. No one else is outside and you suspect it has to do with the fact that it’s early in the morning and the dark gray sky above you threat of rain.

“Y/N, don’t move.”

You turn to see the second in command with a gun in his hand.

“If you shoot me you'll ruin your life”, you say to him as confidentially as you can muster, but you can't help but worry if he's going to pull the trigger. 

“Do you think I care?” the second in command questions with a scoff. “I serve my boss until my last breath, I couldn't care less about other trivial matters. Where's the painting?”

“You don't care for the painting. Ask me instead where the note is.”

His eyebrow twitches.

“You know about the note, huh?” he says, eyes narrowing. “Seems like I'll have to get that out of you.”

“Why don't you have your boss do it? Or is he in arrest?”

“Don't worry about him, he always comes out on top. Come with me now or I will shoot you-”

“Shoot me then. The note is hidden and the painting is with trusted people.”

“Idiot. Do you think I was born yesterday? If I shoot you, I can't get the note. You may be stupid, but i dont think youre careless enough To sacrifice yourself for such a trivial thing. Get over here. Now.”

You're unarmed and alone, but if there's one thing you've been taught, it is to not give up without a fight. Your eyes catch onto an officer patrolling the upper deck and whistle. As the second in command takes his eyes off of you, you dive head first into the swimming pool. From his perspective, you don't think — wish — that he sees the man above him. The water wraps around you like a cold blanket and for a few seconds you can't even feel the wetness, only biting cold that almost makes you gasp under the surface. Somewhere, you think that you can hear a gunshot and see something whooshing past you in the water. And then another, and another. And then nothing.

You don't return to the surface until you're sure that the bullet rain has stopped. Your burning lungs gasp for air and you grip the ladder to your left. The second in command has been wrestled down on the deck by the same officer you saw. A smile tugs at your lips as the second in command glares at you from the floor, smashed against the planks.

“Sir, are you alright?” the officer asks, panting.

“I'm okay”, you reply, panting heavier.

An ice cold wind cuts right through you.

“Go inside”, the officer tells you.

“Y/N!” the second in command shouts as you've started to walk. “Don't forget that there are more. You barely know half of the people we have on board. Don't think for a second that you are safe!”

You pretend not to hear him and make your way inside for warmth. Unsure of where to go because of the second in command’s words, you return to the officers’ quarters.

That evening, you make your way down to the arrest. There are still two questions you haven’t gotten an answer to. You've gotten your gun back from a steward and have tucked it in your blazer. Nausea is eating you up from the inside as you walk into the room, watching the cell and its habitants.

“Look who it is”, you hear Jerry snicker. “Change your mind, Golden Boy? Do you want us out?”

You don't even bother to answer.

“The painting is in a safe place, and so are the note”, you say. “I suppose that Jerry, Silas and your second in command wanted the note and not the painting … and Edmund and Hedwig wanted the painting … but what did the Doctor want?”

“Me?” Kry asks coldly and walks over to the bars with his arms crossed. “What I wanted?”

“Yes”, you reply.

“You, of course. Imagine, my own little lab rat that I could do whatever I wanted with … no one would even bat an eye if both you and the painting disappeared.”

“You won't get any of it.” You let your eyes wander over the six people. “Not the painting, not the note, and absolutely not me. Jail is what you will get.”

You can hear Hedwig start to sob in the corner of the cell. She has sunken down along the wall with her head hanging between her knees, body shaking with sobs. Edmund sighs and walks over to her side, grabbing her shoulders and trying to pull her up on her feet.

“Don't cry”, he says quietly. “We won't go to jail, I will make sure of that. I won't allow it.”

“Did you just come down here to revel in our misery?” Silas asks you. 

You're not sure why you came down here. Did you want to make sure to yourself that they were behind bars? Or make you feel more powerful? Or even just get to see them?

“You do know that we will have our revenge, don’t you?” Edmund says and looks at you. “This is not the end.”

“I hope that you like being a dog, because that's what you're going to be, leash and all”, Silas scoffs.

“Tattooed”, Jerry adds on with a tilted smile. “Marked. Would Golden boy like that?”

You ignore her, and walk over to the cells bars, eyes glued onto Hedwig. 

“What were you doing in my cabin?” you ask. 

She freezes, looking cluelessly at you through her teary eyes.

“What?” she asks in shock. 

“Your perfume was all over my cabin”, you say coldly. “Why were you in my cabin?”

“I-I’m sorry, Y/N!” she cries and runs over to the bars, reaching out for you. 

You back away.

“I’m sorry, I-I … I looked through your things. I couldn’t help it, I just … I really, really wanted to hold you. I didn’t take anything, I promise! Please believe me, Y/N, I just wanted to- … it doesn’t matter. Forgive me.”

You don’t answer. Maybe Hedwig isn’t as sweet and innocent as you thought. 

DAY 4 — End of voyage

After your hell night last night you couldn't be more grateful for the somewhat pleasant night you had. Every single sound and movement woke you up, preparing you to see one of the six criminals or their acquaintances. And since a ship is in constant movement and makes sounds only God knows about, you barely slept for an hour straight. But at least you were in a warm bed.

You can't eat anything during breakfast. You stare at the sandwich and steaming coffee in front of you with a twisted stomach. The room is filled with passengers, like normal, but the bright room can’t be more dark and sinister. It is as if someone has drained it of color. Any of the smiling guests can be one that want to put a bullet through your skull, and is waiting for you to rise from your chair and follow you outside.

When a waiter comes over to your table, the coffee has stopped steaming. 

“Good morning, sir”, he says politely and places a silver tray with a silver cloche on your table. 

“What is this?” you ask in confusion. 

“A gentleman told me to give this to you. He has paid for it and everything.”

With that said, he smiles and walks away to continue his job. You glance down at the dome looking metal and feel your heart sink. Although you don’t want to, your heart reaches out to pull it away and reveal whatever is lying on the silver tray underneath. You’re not sure what you are expecting but a small, folded paper is certainly not it. As if on autopilot, you open the paper to see only a line. 

“We will be waiting for you when we dock, you won’t get past us. We are watching you.”

You were right. A knot appears in your throat. Your legs go numb. You will be killed. 

The air is hard to breathe in and you have to get out before you suffocate. You get out on the deck with the lifeboats hanging above your head and lean against the railing. In a few hours, Normandie would dock and you would be caught. You’re not sure that the steward who had helped you before would be able to save you, and you don’t want to put him in more danger … but you can’t step off the ship in New York’s harbor. The lifeboat above your head gives you an idea. A stupid, right out ridiculous idea … 

You look around you before your shaking hands release the lifeboat from its holds. You have been taught the most outrageous things to rescue yourself — including lowering an ocean liner’s lifeboat. The davits slowly bring the lifeboat downwards and you climb in, lying down to avoid being seen. Your body trembles with fear, unsure of what this will bring you … or where it will bring you. 

There's nothing on the ship that you should bring with you. There's no guarantee that the lifeboat will reach the harbor safely, but its a try. The painting will be more secure with the steward. 

You feel a ‘thump’ from when the lifeboat hits the waves underneath you. You see how Normandie towers above you, the black steel never seeming to end. A pair of heads stick out from the side and something hits the water beside you. Quickly, you cover your body with your arms and legs, curling up until all vital organs are covered. Hitting you with bullets on this distance are harder than one can think, but not impossible. The second you’re sure that they can’t reach you, you get up and start to paddle. If the men tell a steward about the missing lifeboat, they’ll steer their ship over here to get you. 

Your arms quickly grow sore. From now on, you’re entirely alone. There’s no one to save you in case anything happens and you will have to find your way to land by yourself. But it's better than being on board the ship.

The sea around you feels abnormally calm. There’s no distinctive sounds apart from the waves hitting the side of the lifeboat. 

You sit for a moment, taking the time to think. This case has been different from all the others you have done. More personal than you could ever have anticipated. You’re not sure why, but something with this case told you that things wouldn’t be over if they got their way. It was more than just materia, they want you too … to use as they please. Doctor Kry was right. Who would bat an eye if you disappeared along with the painting? They wouldn’t call it a kidnapping, it would be a disappearance that could be explained by the painting. And now they have none of it. Not the painting, not the list of criminals and not you. Pretty successful, you think. Maybe you succeeded this mission after all? 

You hiss as you touch your sensitive head. You’ll have to find a doctor in New York.

Hours go by. You row, you rest, row, rest, row, rest. Throw up. Damn if you have gotten a concussion, you think, but it’s probably just the sea air making you nauseous. 

How things had turned out. You thought that you would have had to deal with one or two criminals … not six. Ad how Silas had seen right through you … 

It’s over now. It will be over soon. Is it over?

You continue to row. 

in the distance, you see a fishing ship pulling up their net and you wave with your arms in hope for them to see you, which they inevitably do. Your exhausted, cold body is picked up and wrapped in an old blanket. 

“What were you doing out in a lifeboat like that?” one of the old sailors asks. “Which ship has sunk?”

“It’s the Normandie!” another one says as he reads the name on the wooden planks. “Has the Normandie sunk?!”

You tell them that it hasn’t suck — in fact, it’s steaming on better ad stronger than ever — but that an accident had happened, which resulted in you all alone in a lifeboat in the middle of the ocean. 

They give you a yellow rain coat that you use to hide in and join the sailors to New York’s harbor that evening. In the distance, you see the different ocean liner piers. Cunard-White Star Line, United States Lines, HAPAG, Italian Lines, Swedish-American Lines … and finally, Compagnie Générale Transatlantique. Normandie was towering above all the other liners and you stood there on the pier, looking at it. Four days ago, you had been standing in the harbor at Le Havre and been excited to step on board. But now, that you are looking at it from afar, in the dim lights, there’s something unsettling about the her. It looks like she’s apologizing to you for everything that she allowed to happen between her walls. You almost start to cry. 

You turn around and walk without giving the ship one more glance, hoping that it will be the last time you get to see the Normandie. 

You meet up with your contact in a small warehouse that following morning and tell him what you have hidden on the ship. He promises to retrieve it. He already has the painting and has secured it, had gotten it from the very steward you had left it with. 

“I have something else too”, he says and gives you an apologetic look. 

“What?” you ask and watch him closely as he takes out a paper from his pocket. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You open the paper and feel your blood go icy cold. The handwriting is unfamiliar, but the nickname you see written in black …

“Thought you could lock us in? Think twice, Golden boy, we’re already out. We’ll find you, be so sure of that. Don’t think that we will let you slip away. You will look good in a leash.

S.A”

You fold the paper just as quick and breathe out a shaky breath. 

“Don’t worry, Y/N, you will be protected”, your contact promises. “It will not be any problem, I assure you.”

With the six people’s contacts and power, you doubt that your protection will do much, but you nod. The painting is safe and the note is safe. They may have escaped jail and are looking for you, but you succeeded with your mission. And that is all that matters.

[midzukishino]

My work for the "Fluffy Zine: cats" where I did my best to draw as many cat characters that i know as I could @_@ I never drew so many characters on one canvas in my life, it was something

Game of guessing in replies is appreciated! But if you just want to check yourself here's the list of characters: The Cat Piano: the poet and the singer OFF the game: The Judge Coraline: black cat Blue Exorcist: Kuro World of Warcraft: Mr. Bigglesworth and Mischief Coco: Pepita Katekyo Hitman Reborn: gatto tempesta Uri Hetalia: Japan cat, England cat, France cat, China cat, Russia cat, America cat, Germany cat and Italy cat Castle cats: Francis, Conan and Catniss My Neighbor Totoro: Catbus Baldur's Gate 3: Tara Kid vs. Kat: Mr. Kat Shaman King: Matamune and Mic Tom and Jerry: Tom The Legend of Pipi: Pipi My Little Pony The Movie: Capper Soul Eater: Blair Pokemon: sprigatito, litten, espeon, purrloin, meowth, skitty The Legend of Luo Xiaohei: Luo Xiaohei Alice in Wonderland: The Cheshire Cat Homestuck: Vodka Mutini Cinderella: Lucifer The Cat Returns: Yuki and Prince Lune, Baron Humbert von Gikkingen and Muta A Whisker Away: Miyo and Kinako 101 Dalmatians: Sergeant Tibbs Lady and the Tramp: Si and Am Кот, который гулял сам по себе: Кот Dog in Boots/Пёс в сапогах: Milady Warrior Cats: Scourge and Firestar Tailchaser's Song: Fritti Tailchaser Mad Rat Dead: Mad Rat and Heart Varjak Paw: Varjak Paw, Holly, Tam Oliver & Company: Oliver Иван Царевич и Серый волк: Кот-учёный Three from Prostokvashino/Трое из Простоквашино: Matroskin Tutenstein: Luxor The Ancient Magus' Bride: Molly Felidae: Francis Chi's Sweet Home: Chi Котёнок по имени Гав: Гав Bolt: Mittens Rudolf the Black Cat: Rudolf and Gottalot Eleceed: Kayden and Kartein Puss in Boots: The Last Wish: Puss in Boots, Kitty Softpaws and Perrito The Aristocats: Berlioz, Toulouse, Marie, Duchess and Thomas O'Malley League of legends: Yuumi Re:zero: Puck Thunder and the House of Magic: Thunder Kiki's Delivery Service: Jiji Story Of Fifty Centimeters: Nanao and Machi and prints on the bottles: Hallmarks of felinity: Solange Кошки-мышки: Кот и Мышь Simon's Cat: Cat Nyan Cat

[whiteskullofroses]

Hi! I saw that you accept request for Baldwin IV. If you do still accept, could you pls write one where y/n and Baldwin would stay up too late talking to each other until one falls asleeps? Thanks 💕

Hi there thank you for the request! And to clarify, you can always request any characters you want❤️ Enjoy!

LATE NIGHT TALK

Baldwin Iv x reader

It was a cold night in Jerusalem. You were walking around the palace gazing up at the stars and thinking about life when all of a sudden, a familiar voice grabbed your attention: "Y/N!" He called out to you from his room. It was all lit up with candles so you could see his shape clearly: "Care to join me?" The young king's voice sounded so energetic, even though it was already midnight. You answered: "With pleasure!" And happily headed out to his quarters.

Once you reached the hallway that led to his room, you noticed that the door was already opened for you but still, you knocked on the wood to make your presence known.

He turned from his desk to look at you. His mask shone from the candles around him and made his blue eyes sparkle.

"Care for a round?" Baldwin gestured towards the chess set and sat down at the table. "Y/n" Sitting down and listening to his words "I've missed you tonight. I rarely see you these days."

You smiled and replied: "Work has been incredibly tiring," taking a sip of some wine a servant poured: "I've hardly found any time for friends."

Baldwin leaned closer to you: "Well now it's the time. Relax."

You started the chess game and asked: "How come weren't you at the banquet last Monday?"

The King moved a pawn and sighed: "I had an unexpected meeting which I couldn't miss."

Nodding, you moved on since you didn't want to trouble him with hard topics so late in the night.

"Have you read any new poetry lately?" Asking him like you always do, you always loved to listen to him talk about the things he was passionate about, one of them being literature.

Whether it be myths from across Europe containing dragons and other mystical beings or poetry that many saw as simple, however from a trained eye's perspective it was true art projected onto paper.

"Yes, I've read this wonder piece from a book from France Preseren called 'Poezije'" Grabbing the book from a nearby chair and flipping through it, Baldwin proclaimed: "Would you like to hear it?"

"I'd love to, Baldwin." You supported your head with your elbow on the table, as the late hours of the night cut into your brains. "Where did you get it from?"

"I believe I got this book as a gift from my sister when she visited Carniola."

Finally, he started reading, his voice soft as ever:

Fresh flowers will spread fragrance far and near,

Like roses when the winter's passed away.

Your eyelids became heavier and heavier with every word he spoke:

And spring displays its marvelous array,

While through the trees white scattered blossoms peer

Your breathing became deeper, with waves of relaxation washing through your body. All of a sudden you felt like you were 10 years old again, when your mother used to read you books to help you fall asleep.

All this time away from your parents and away from your childhood made you forget how soothing it was and how much you enjoyed it.

Baldwin continued reading the poem whilst you were drifting off into peaceful sleep, right there on his 'chess table'.

He hardly noticed you falling asleep right opposite to him as he was focusing on the text he was reading. But when he finished reading the poem and looked up from the book, he realized you slept through half of it.

He chuckled to himself. Baldwin wasn't mad or annoyed with you, rather he felt a sort of fulfillment that he managed to get you to fall asleep.

For a moment he just sat there, staring at you. You didn't know it at the time but he admired you deeply. For your intelligence and your beauty. He found that this was one of the times he could truly silently look at you and not feel bad about it.

Whenever he would catch himself gazing upon you he would get this guilt deep in his chest. He felt as though it was appropriate for him to look at you when the two of you were just colleagues.

So he slowly walked up to you and carefully picked you up. Walking up to his bed and laying you down in the middle, he knew he couldn't sleep there that night, that would be simply too much.

He decided to go and spend the night in the guest room. Just as he was about to leave your side, you woke up and grabbed him by the wrist, gently but enough so he could feel it.

"Baldwin, stay."

THE END.

[forsoobado137]

France's Infancy

I love thinking about France's childhood before he met England. Like when France was a Gaulish/Frankish baby. Obviously he'd be a very adorable and stunningly beautiful baby, with ethereal blue eyes and wispy tufts of hair.

I imagine that the circumstances of his birth are disputed, but there's a popular legend surrounding it. He was born from the waters of the Seine, where a beautiful nymph (angel during christianization) swaddled him with the finest linens, nursed him, and brought him to King Clovis I.

But that story has been passed down through multiple dynasties, and each king has added their own dash of embellishment to the story.

I think the real story is that he was discovered near a riverbank by a Frankish peasant woman and taken in as her own child. But over time, she notices that Baby France doesn't age, and over the decades, she slowly goes mad.

Then, word of an immortal baby reaches the king, and he orders his men to fetch it. The peasant woman, now old and gray, is in hysterics as the men snatch her "son" away. The king's men take pity on the old hag, and they allow her to travel with them.

Baby France is brought before Clovis I. He holds the baby, and instantly notices that his eyes hold something deeper and more grand, a kingdom of prosperity. He declares the baby as "Francia himself", and takes him in. The old woman dies by throwing herself in the river Seine.

But obviously that's not a very glorious story, so Clovis I and his descendants made a few changes.

[eternal-love]

Austin and Me

“Layla”

“Wife to the ‘king’. Icon to the world. Destined for more.”

Summary: At 18 years old, she fell in love with Austin, at 20 years old, she became his wife, by 22, she was his doll. In which Cynthia’s life changed drastically after falling head over heels with a man that promised her the moon and the stars. She takes us down the memory lane of what could’ve been— the perfect marriage.

Inspired by the book: Elvis and Me by Priscilla Presley.

I do not condemn any of the portrayals I decide to do about certain people, it’s just fanfiction. And it would be divided in parts.

English isn’t my first language so I’m trying my best!

MASTERLIST

When I surprised him with my new look, he was taken aback at first then a huge smile appeared on his face, even his eyes glimmered.

“Look at ya! You look like a little doll.” Austin said to me as one of fingers played with a piece of my hair. “It makes your eyes stand out more.” He then grabbed my chin firmly. “I like you brunette and with less makeup. This is what I like.”

Bullshit. All he said was bullshit. If he liked me so much when I looked like this then why did he go after Lily-Rose’s tail. Why did he take her out for dinner? Why did he make out with her afterwards? Was I ever going to be enough for him? Because he hadn’t touch me since we were in Australia. And whenever he did, it was loveless.

I confronted him about what happened with Lily, we were having breakfast and I had seen the photos ENews published of Austin and Lily making out after having dinner together.

“Baby, it ain’t nothing, it’s just publicity.” He tried to defend himself, I only glared at him.

“Don’t call me baby.” I spat out harshly, I don’t know why but knowing that he probably called Lily ‘baby’ made me gag. As it had happened with Olivia.

“It’s PR an-” I interrupted him, standing up from the my chair.

“What’s going on?! Why doesn’t she go back to France where she belongs?” I yelled at him as I hit the table with my hands.

I couldn’t really read his face, he was in between being mad and taken aback. Of course he also stood up and grabbed my shoulder, tugging me a little.

“Listen to me. Cynthia. I need a woman who understands that things like this might happen. Are you gonna be her or not? He asked, looking down on me as if I were an spoiled child getting reprimanded.

“Okay.” Was all I said as I left the dining room.

—————————

After the incident happening, Austin started to be loving all over again, he had invited to have dinner with him and some castmates. I decided to accept after he begged me for days, I was still mad at him but I decided that maybe this could help us get closer.

I dressed up, monochrome clothing, black pants, cute pink top, I styled my hair and we were on our way to the restaurant. It was a sushi place, it had private karaoke and everything. I recognized some of them, Barry Keoghan and his girlfriend, Callum Turner, Anthony Boyle and others.

It was a nice dinner and food was delicious, although my mind was somewhere else, I was worried because I had left Lori back home with the nanny.

“Don’t worry too much, she’s being well taken care of.” Austin squeezed my hand. I simply hummed and nodded.

Feeling someone’s stare, I looked in front of me and there surely was Callum’s gaze lingering my face down my neck. His eyes went back to my face and he quickly snapped out of his trance, smiling at me and then looking at me. Weird, I thought, but it was the first time in months that a man ever looked at me like that. He didn’t talk to me much, but he surely did talk to the wives and girlfriends of his castmates. But he did look at me a lot, his foot touching mine from underneath the table.

Austin had always been charismatic but he was very, very shy so a karaoke was like social suicide to him. But Callum— he was another story. After a few sips of some Asian liquor, he was sure to go next on the karaoke.

“You should sing an Elvis song, Aus.” I whispered to Austin, trying to cheer him because it was truly getting boring.

“No, Cyn— I’ll just embarrass myself.” Austin denied it, he stayed at the booth and I rolled my eyes, I saw Barry’s girlfriend and a producer’s wife laughing with everyone as Barry and the producer sang ‘Heart of Glass’ without hitting a single note.

Laughing but at the same time feeling like I wasn’t enjoying this as I should, Callum made his way to me swiftly. Clearing his throat and sitting on the booth.

“Should I sing?” Callum spoke to me with his amazing voice and British accent, catching my attention.

“If you want to.” I shrugged my shoulders.

“I’ll sing one for ya. You’ll see, cause now— your man is as boring as a math class.” I chuckled and thought he was just joking. But then he got up and grabbed the mic, quickly searching for the song. As the instrumental started to play— I recognized that guitar riff everywhere. ‘Layla’.

As not everyone knows, the song was written by Eric Clapton, confessing his love to George Harrison’s wife, Pattie Boyd. I thought he must be just trying to lead me on, everyone cheered for Callum and his god-awful singing. Maybe it was to play it off but he started to jokingly point at whatever girl was taken. Everyone took it as a joke, even Austin. But towards me, he was a bit more serious.

‘I tried to give you consolation from when your old man let you down.’

‘Like a fool, I fell in love with you. You turned my whole world upside down.’

‘Layla, you’ve got me on my knees. I’m begging darling, please.’

He sang it directly to me, he tried to be playful and everything, but I knew he was serious. I just chuckled and tried to play it off. Was it so wrong that I wanted to tear his clothes off even if my husband was besides me? I could say the same things Austin said: ‘I’m a woman, I have needs, it’s in my dna.’

When the guys went to pay, I saw Callum grabbing his jacket, I got closer to him.

“What was that?” I asked, wanting an explanation.

“What, sweetheart?” He asked, acting oblivious, seeing my annoyed face, he chuckled. “It’s just a song, baby.”

“Don’t call me baby, I’m not your baby.” I said as I rolled my eyes.

“Come on. I could’ve sang you an Spectrum song. What about ‘How you satisfy me’?” He looked around a little before starting to pretend to have a microphone on his hand. “Honey, your love is what I need…”

“It’s not funny.” I protested in annoyance, Callum looked at the guys paying, he then smirked and looked back at me.

“You know what’s funny? That you didn’t shut me off when I was staring at you, you liked it.” Callum whispered on a teasing manner.

“I’m a married woman, for your information.” I showed my wedding ring.

“That hasn’t stopped me before and it won’t stop me now. Austin doesn’t act like the married man either.”

That was like a stab in my heart, it was humiliating that everyone else knew he was unfaithful, he immediately dropped his smirk.

“I’m sorry— I just like you a lot.” I nodded at Callum, he was beautiful but, he wasn’t what I liked.

Callum just pressed his lips together, he was going to walk off but he stopped to say something.

“If you ever feel, lonely or abandoned. Just call me.” Callum said before he waved at all of us and walked out of the restaurant.

Austin and I went back home, I tried wearing black negligee, hoping he’ll touch me again. It didn’t work, he pushed me off.

“I’m not in the mood, honey. Let’s just sleep.”

Frustrated, I tucked myself under the covers and tried to fall asleep. I knew he was turned on— he was. He just didn’t want to touch me. My days were getting boring, I wished I had something to film, some script sent to me, anything. Everyday I woke up with the hope of getting a text or an email with a new script.

—————————

I thought of Callum’s proposition everyday, I was indeed very lonely. My mind went on and on about his words: ‘If you ever feel, lonely or abandoned. Just call me’

I ended up calling him, just a night out as friends, yeah, friends with capital F. I got ready, I wore a black short skirt and a nice little cardigan. I decided to wear my now light-brown hair on a side ponytail and I styled out my bangs. And surely, Callum and I met at the movies.

We were watching a foolish movie. I was barely even looking at the movie, I was looking at him the whole time and he knew it because I saw that stupid little smirk of his. Swiftly, he placed his hand on my knee, making me smile and look away shyly, like a teenager. After the movie, we got into his car— nervous to do anything wrong, I was very quiet.

“So, you’re lonely all the time?” Callum asked, breaking the silence. I stayed silent, looking out the window. “Tell me, you know it’s just your foolish pride.”

“I stay back home. I’m waiting for a good script to come to me.”

“So what do you even do? You’re lonely and no man is waiting by your side. You seem like the perfect target for a man like me.” Callum joked, I laughed too.

I felt at ease with him, we had a lot of fun even while driving around London. He parked in front of my house, I was in silence. He leaned in and kissed me, not aggressively but romantically, I liked the kiss so I continued it. I never thought I’d make love on the back of a car, afterwards I felt really regretful of it, I was just like Austin now— I had been unfaithful.

“What is it, sweetheart?” He asked after we had gotten dressed again. He caressed my cheek.

“I shouldn’t have done this.” I said in regret, but he just smiled.

“Hell yeah you should have done so. Time for him to get a taste of him own medicine.” Callum said, I had a mental argument with myself.

Should I keep this going or not? I was a woman with needs and wishes of being desired by my husband but he always decided to turn around and go with other women.

“When do we see each other again?” I asked him, if I was going to cheat, might as well enjoy so.

—————————

My relationship with Callum developed into an affair, very passionate affair. While Austin was away having his fun around London and on set hanging out with Callum, we both texted each other behind his back.

Callum reminded me a lot of myself actually, I had told him one time that I liked blonde-haired men and the next day he texted me telling me that he was at a hairdressers appointment, he surprised me with a selfie of him full on blonde, which he already was naturally. He was scolded by producers. I also told him I liked trench coats and men wearing black slacks, next Sunday night, he’s wearing all of that. I was starting to be as demanding as Austin— and I hated it. What if he was feeling pressured or if he started to feel like I felt?

“It’s boring being the same everyday, sweetheart.” Callum chuckled with me, caressing my cheek softly.

“I don’t want you changing yourself.” I said, a bit sternly. “But blonde does bring out your face more, it makes your eyes stand out more.”

I sounded just like Austin. Just like him. Callum and I spent that night together too, but we were surprised when Austin came home earlier. My acting career prepared me all my life for this, Callum was surprisingly smooth, as he pretended to be coming out of the bathroom fixing his shirt while I quickly made the bed and fixed my smeared lipstick.

“What is he doing here?” Austin asked suspiciously.

“He came over, he said he wanted to see Lori and he thought you were here.” I said confidently as Callum nodded from the couch where he was watching Lori play.

“I thought you were here, mate. Sorry bout that.” Callum said, playing innocent for most part. Austin just nodded and took off his coat, placing it on the rack, he bent down to pick up Lori and placed a kiss on her cheek. He walked up to me and he wiped some runny eyeliner. It had smeared on the corner of my eye because of Callum and I having out little get-together in bed.

“Your makeup is all smeared.” He said, his touch being anything but gentle. He then grabbed me by the waist and pulled me closer, he was jealous. Jealous because Callum was there.

“I know— the weather is wet. It makes my eyeliner smear.” I said, I used waterproof eyeliner.

We had dinner together all night, all of us, it was rather uncomfortable. Austin was really jealous.

“You like my wife?” Austin tried to be playful while hiding his jealousy.

“I’d snatch her and Lori at any minute.” Callum answered back jokingly. “I’m kidding but y’all are beautiful family.”

Callum said all while looking at me, I wanted to kill him right there. I just nodded and smiled. And you know what? For the first time in so long— I felt alive.

[nalyra-dreaming]

Is there any sort of supporting vampire index? I read the first five books back in high school and have been slowly making my way through the entire series (currently mid merrick) this year. But recently it feels like every other day someone brings up an important character from the later books that already appeared, or was implied in the show.

Nonny, you're in luck :)

Anne herself provides us with one in "Prince Lestat" and in "Prince Lestat and the Realms of Atlantis" :) Obviously the short descriptions refer to the book versions. I would take note of Sevraine (who is Gabrielle's implied girlfriend later on!), Seth and especially Fareed, and definitely Rhoshamandes and Amel here. Gregory, too. And Viktor (whose summary does not contain the reveal btw) and Rose. These at the very least :) - let me know if you want to know more details!

I'll paste the character list from PLatRoA here! SPOILERS though - so under the cut!

Characters and Places in the Vampire Chronicles

Akasha—Queen of ancient Egypt six thousand years ago, and the first vampire ever created, through a merger with the spirit Amel. The story is told in The Vampire Lestat and in The Queen of the Damned.

Allesandra—A Merovingian princess, daughter of King Dagobert I, brought into the Blood in the seventh century by Rhoshamandes. First introduced in The Vampire Lestat as a mad nameless vampire living with the Children of Satan under Les Innocents Cemetery in Paris. She also appears in The Vampire Armand in the Renaissance where she is named, and later in Prince Lestat and Prince Lestat and the Realms of Atlantis.

Amel—A spirit who created the first vampire six thousand years ago by merging with the body of the Egyptian Queen Akasha. The story is told in The Vampire Lestat and in The Queen of the Damned. Prince Lestat and Prince Lestat and the Realms of Atlantis continue the story of Amel.

Antoine—A French musician exiled from Paris to Louisiana and brought into the Blood by Lestat around the middle of the nineteenth century. Referred to as “the musician” in Interview with the Vampire. Later appears in Prince Lestat and Prince Lestat and the Realms of Atlantis. A talented violinist and pianist and composer.

Arion—A black vampire of ancient times introduced in Blackwood Farm. At least two thousand years old, perhaps older. Possibly from India.

Arjun—A prince of the Chola dynasty in India, brought into the Blood by Pandora around 1300. Appears in Blood and Gold and also in Pandora.

Armand—One of the pillars of the Vampire Chronicles. Armand is a Russian from Kiev, sold into slavery as a boy, and made a vampire in Renaissance Venice by the Vampire Marius. He is introduced in Interview with the Vampire, and appears in numerous novels in the Vampire Chronicles, telling his own story in The Vampire Armand. The founder of the coven at Trinity Gate in New York. Armand maintains a house in Paris in Saint-Germain-des- Prés, which functions as the Paris Court for Prince Lestat.

Avicus—An Egyptian vampire who first appears in Marius’s memoir, Blood and Gold. Appears again in Prince Lestat.

Benedict—A Christian monk of the seventh century in France, brought into the Blood by Rhoshamandes. Benedict is the vampire from whom the alchemist Magnus stole the Blood, a theft described in The Vampire Lestat. Appears in Prince Lestat and Prince Lestat and the Realms of Atlantis as Rhoshamandes’s companion and lover.

Benji Mahmoud—A twelve-year-old Palestinian Bedouin boy, brought into the Blood by Marius in 1997. Benji originates the vampire radio station heard round the world in Prince Lestat. Resides at Trinity Gate in New York and sometimes at the Court of Prince Lestat in France. First appears in The Vampire Armand when he is living in New York with his companion, Sybelle.

Bianca Solderini—Venetian courtesan brought into the Blood by Marius in Blood and Gold around 1498.

Château de Lioncourt—Lestat’s ancestral castle in the Massif Central in France, splendidly restored and the home of the new dazzling and glamorous Court of the Vampires with its orchestra, theater, and frequent formal balls. The adjacent village, including an inn and a church and several shops, has also been restored to house mortal workers and visitors to the Château.

Children of Satan—A network of medieval vampire covens, populated by vampires who sincerely believed they were children of the Devil, doomed to roam the world in rags, accursed, feeding on the blood of innocent humans to do the Devil’s will. Their most famous covens were in Rome and in Paris. The coven kidnapped many of the fledglings of Rhoshamandes until he finally left France to get away from them. And the Children of Satan in Rome spelled catastrophe for Marius and his great Venetian household in the Renaissance. Armand told of his experiences with the Children of Satan in The Vampire Armand.

Chrysanthe—A merchant’s widow from the Christian city of Hira, brought into the Blood by Nebamun, newly risen and named Gregory in the fourth century. Wife of Gregory. Introduced, along with Gregory, in Prince Lestat.

Cimetière des Innocents—An ancient cemetery in the city of Paris until it was destroyed near the end of the eighteenth century. Underneath this cemetery lived the Coven of the Children of Satan, presided over by Armand, which is described by Lestat in The Vampire Lestat. Referred to in the novels as “Les Innocents.”

Claudia—An orphan of five or six years old, brought into the Blood around 1794 by Lestat and Louis in New Orleans. Long dead. Her story is told in Interview with the Vampire. Later appears as a spirit in Merrick, though the appearance is suspect.

Cyril—An ancient Egyptian vampire, maker of Eudoxia in Blood and Gold, and named for the first time in Prince Lestat. Age unknown.

Daniel Molloy—The nameless “boy” interviewer in Interview with the Vampire. Brought into the Blood by Armand in The Queen of the Damned. Also appears in Blood and Gold living with Marius. Also in Prince Lestat.

David Talbot—Introduced as an elderly member of the Talamasca, an order of psychic detectives, in The Queen of the Damned. Becomes an important character in The Tale of the Body Thief, and also solicits Pandora’s story from her in Pandora. A pillar of the Vampire Chronicles.

Davis—A black dancer from Harlem, a member of the Fang Gang, brought into the Blood by Killer sometime in 1985. Introduced in The Queen of the Damned. Further described in Prince Lestat.

Eleni—A survivor of the Children of Satan who helps found the Théâtre des Vampires in Paris in the eighteenth century; corresponds with the Vampire Lestat after he leaves Paris to travel the world. A fledgling of Rhoshamandes made a vampire in the early Middle Ages.

Enkil—Ancient King of Egypt, husband of the great Queen Akasha, the second vampire to be brought into existence. His story is told in The Vampire Lestat and The Queen of the Damned.

Everard de Landen—A fledgling of Rhoshamandes from the early Middle Ages who first appears in Blood and Gold and is named in Prince Lestat.

Fareed—Anglo Indian by birth, a physician and researcher, brought into the Blood by Seth to be a healer and researcher of the vampires. A major character introduced in Prince Lestat.

Flannery Gilman—An American female medical doctor, biological mother of Viktor, and brought into the blood by Fareed and Seth. Part of their medical and research team working with the Undead.

Flavius—A Greek vampire, a slave purchased by Pandora in the city of Antioch and brought into the Blood by Pandora in the early centuries of the Common Era.

Gabrielle—Lestat’s mother, a noblewoman of breeding and education, brought into the Blood by her own son in 1780 in Paris. A wanderer who dresses in male attire. A familiar figure in the background throughout the Vampire Chronicles.

Gregory Duff Collingsworth—Known as Nebamun in ancient times, a lover of Queen Akasha and made a blood drinker by her to lead her Queens Blood troops against the First Brood. Known today as Gregory, owner of a powerful pharmaceutical empire in the modern world. Husband of Chrysanthe.

Gremt Stryker Knollys—A powerful and mysterious spirit who has created for himself over time a physical body that is a replica of a human body. Connected with the founding of the secret Order of the Talamasca. Introduced in Prince Lestat.

Hesketh—A Germanic cunning woman, brought into the Blood by Teskhamen in the first century. Now a ghost who has managed to produce a physical body for herself. Also connected with the origins of the secret Order of the Talamasca. Introduced in Prince Lestat.

Jesse Reeves—An American woman of the twentieth century, a blood descendant of the ancient Maharet and brought into the Blood by Maharet

herself in 1985 in The Queen of the Damned. Jesse was also a mortal member of the Talamasca and worked with David Talbot in the Order.

Khayman—An ancient Egyptian vampire, made by Queen Akasha, and rebelling against her with the First Brood. His story is told in The Queen of the Damned.

Killer—An American male vampire, founder of the Fang Gang in The Queen of the Damned. Of unknown history or origin.

Lestat de Lioncourt—The hero of the Vampire Chronicles, made a vampire by Magnus near the end of the eighteenth century, the maker of a number of vampires, including Gabrielle, his mother; Nicolas de Lenfent, his friend and lover; Louis, the narrator of Interview with the Vampire; and Claudia, the child vampire. Presently known as Prince Lestat by one and all.

Louis de Pointe du Lac—The vampire who started the Vampire Chronicles by telling his story to Daniel Molloy in Interview with the Vampire, an account of his own origins, which differs in some ways from Lestat’s own account in The Vampire Lestat. A French colonial plantation owner made a vampire by Lestat in 1791. Appears most prominently in the first Chronicle, and in Merrick, and in Prince Lestat and Prince Lestat and the Realms of Atlantis.

Magnus—An elderly medieval alchemist who stole the Blood from a young vampire, Benedict, in France. The vampire who kidnapped and brought Lestat into the Blood in 1780. Now a ghost, sometimes appearing solid, and at other times as an illusion.

Maharet—One of the oldest vampires in the world, twin to Mekare. The twins are known for their red hair and their power as mortal witches. Made at the dawn of Vampire History, they are rebels leading the First Brood against Queen Akasha and her Queens Blood vampires. Maharet is beloved for her wisdom and for following all of her mortal descendants through the ages all over the world, whom she called the Great Family. Maharet tells her story—the story of the twins—in Queen of the Damned. She also figures in Blood and Gold and in Prince Lestat.

Marius—A pillar of the Vampire Chronicles. A Roman patrician who is kidnapped by the Druids and brought into the Blood by Teskhamen in the first century. Marius appears in The Vampire Lestat and numerous other books, including his own memoir, Blood and Gold. A vampire known for reason and gravitas. Much loved and admired by Lestat and others.

Mekare—Maharet’s twin sister, the powerful red-haired witch who communed with the invisible and potentially destructive spirit Amel, who later went into the body of Queen Akasha, creating the first vampire. The story of Mekare and Maharet is first told by Maharet in The Queen of the Damned. Mekare figures in Blood and Gold and in Prince Lestat.

Memnoch—A powerful spirit claiming to be the Judeo-Christian Satan. He tells his story to Lestat in Memnoch the Devil.

New Orleans—Figures prominently in the Vampire Chronicles as the home of Louis, Lestat, and Claudia for many years during the nineteenth century, at

which time they resided in a townhouse in the Rue Royale in the French Quarter. This house still exists and is in the possession of Lestat today, as it has always been. It was in New Orleans that Lestat encountered Louis and Claudia and made them vampires.

Notker the Wise—A monk and a musician and a composer brought into the Blood by Benedict around A.D. 880, maker of many boy-soprano vampires and other vampire musicians yet unnamed. Living in the Alps. Introduced in Prince Lestat.

Raymond Gallant—A faithful mortal scholar of the Talamasca, a friend to the Vampire Marius, presumed dead in the sixteenth century. Appears again in Prince Lestat.

Rhoshamandes—A male from ancient Crete, brought into the Blood at the same time as the female Sevraine, about five thousand years ago. A powerful and reclusive vampire obsessed with operatic music and performances, and the lover of Benedict. Lives in his castle on the island of Saint Rayne in the Outer Hebrides, traveling the world from time to time to see different operas in the great opera houses.

Rose—An American girl, rescued as a small child by Lestat from an earthquake in the Mediterranean around 1995. His ward. Lover and later spouse of Viktor. Introduced in Prince Lestat.

Saint Alcarius, Monastery of—The secret residence of Gremt, Teskhamen, and other supernatural elders of the Talamasca in France, near the Belgian border.

Saint Rayne— The island on which Rhoshamandes lives. Santino—An Italian vampire made during the time of the Black Death.

Longtime Roman coven master of the Children of Satan. Presumed dead.

Seth—The biological son of Queen Akasha, brought into the Blood by her after a youth of roaming the ancient world in search of knowledge in the healing arts. He is introduced in Prince Lestat and is the maker of Fareed and Flannery Gilman.

Sevraine—A remarkably beautiful Nordic female vampire, made by Nebamun (Gregory) against Akasha’s rules. Sevraine maintains her own underground court in the Cappadocian Mountains. A friend to female vampires. Introduced in Prince Lestat.

Sybelle—A young American pianist, beloved friend of Benji Mahmoud, and Armand, brought into the Blood by Marius in 1997. Introduced in The Vampire Armand.

The Talamasca—An ancient order of psychic detectives or researchers, dating back to the Dark Ages—an organization of mortal scholars who observe and record paranormal phenomena. Their origins are shrouded in mystery until they are revealed in Prince Lestat. They have Motherhouses in Amsterdam and outside of London, and retreat houses in many places, including Oak Haven in Louisiana. First introduced in The Queen of the Damned and

figuring in many Chronicles since. Vampires Jesse Reeves and David Talbot were mortal members of the Talamasca.

Teskhamen—Ancient Egyptian vampire, the maker of Marius as told by Marius in The Vampire Lestat. Presumed dead until modern times. Connected with the origins of the Talamasca. First named in Prince Lestat.

Théâtre des Vampires—A boulevard theater of the macabre, created by the refugees from the Children of Satan, funded by Lestat, and managed for decades by Armand, who had once been the coven master of the Children of Satan.

Thorne—A red-haired Viking vampire, made centuries ago in Europe by Maharet. Introduced in Blood and Gold.

Trinity Gate—A coven dwelling made up of three identical townhouses just off Fifth Avenue on the Upper East Side of New York. Armand is the founder of Trinity Gate. And it functions now as the American Court of Prince Lestat.

Viktor—An American boy, biological son of Dr. Flannery Gilman. His story is revealed in Prince Lestat. Lover and later spouse of Rose, Lestat’s ward.

[tschulijulesjulie]

I need book recommendations please. I read captive prince and I’m losing my mind.

ooooh gladly!

so first of all, nothing really compares to CaPri, however i do have some - imo - very good recommendations that might have similar vibes.

The Kingdoms by Natasha Pulley - historical (18th and 19th century) Fantasy. Amnesia and time-travelling, with a veeeery Laurent-coded love interest.

The Scottish Boy by Alex De Campi - historical (14th century) Captive/Prisoner and (reluctant) man who has to hold him captive, secret identity, political schemes, revenge, war

Solomons Crown by Natasha Siegel - historical (12th century), Crown Prince of England (Richard Lionheart) and King of France (Philipp II) falling in love despite their countries being enemies, political schemes, strained family relationship to the point of going to war against family members, allies to enemies to allies again

A Taste of Gold and Iron by Alexandra Rowland - not my personal favourite but still good, Fabtasy, outstanding non-european-centric world-building, anxiety rep, queer-normative, Disgraced Prince and his guard(s) having to uncover a political intrigue that could dethrown his sister, the monarch, nightly shenenigans in taverns while hiding their identity, forced proximity, kinda co-dependent relationship

Winters Orbit by Everina Maxwell - SciFy, Prince has to marry the widow of his cousin for diplomatic reasons who then gets accused of having killed his first husband, political intrigue, past abuse

Fence by CS Pacat and Johanna the Mad - graphic novels, sports (fencing), YA?, might be an entirely different setting but the character dynamics are reminiscent of CaPri/ you can tell Pacats writing

The Aeneid by Virgil - the great Roman epic. to this day im convinced Pacat might have drawn some inspiration from this (or possibly the Odyssee and the Iliad)

I hope that helps. Thank you for your ask!

[mugiwara-lucy]

As a follow up to this morning's post;

PLEASE STOP listening to assholes like Cenk Uygur, George Clooney, Stephen King, Brian Krassenstein, James Carville, Jon Stewart, Rob Reiner, Matthew Dowd, Michael Douglas, David Axelrod, Senator Bennett and Reps Doggett, Craig, Grijalva, Moulton, Sherilll, Smith and Quigley.

They're all TURN COAT PUSSIES who we should all OCTRACIZE and NOT LITSTEN TO for trying to get US the general public to turn against President Biden!

FUCK THEM! Who are they!? WE are our own selves! If Biden isn't stepping down and is in full confidence, why should we just pussy out!?!?

I'm not gonna apologize for getting mad but Biden is LITERALLY THE ONLY THING STANDING BETWEEN US fixing our societies like France and the UK OR us ending up like North Korea, Russia, Iran and Pakistan!

FUCK THOSE Assholes and they're NO BETTER than MAGA imho

[sundrop-writes]

Sundrop's Harry Potter Masterlist

Kisses Like Fire Whiskey - Fred Weasley x Fem!Gryffindor!Reader. Best Friends to Lovers. Fluff (with very slight Angst). When you come back from a long apprenticeship in France, you and Fred catch up over drinks, reminiscing about your days as mischievous rebels. In the drunken haze, some important things are realized. (7,500 words.)

My Bleeding Heart - Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader. Arranged Marriage. Angst (with a Fluffy Ending). When Draco finds out that you are pregnant, he is worried because he doesn't want his child to be just another pawn to the Dark Lord. So, then and there, he makes a very important decision to risk everything in order to protect you and his future child. (3,400 words.)

King For A Day - Poly!Golden Trio x Fem!Reader. FWB to Poly Lovers. Smut (with very slight Angst). While Horcrux Hunting with your closest friends, the dangerous influence of Slytherin's Locket causes Ron to snap. And it turns out - he brings on something that everyone in the tent really needed. (Sex.) (22,400 words.)

What if they walked in on you changing? - George Weasley | Draco Malfoy |

Note: The rest of these link off to AO3, but I am hoping to have them edited and posted on Tumblr sometime soon.

Whiskey Dick - Auror!Ron Weasley x Fem!Reader. Co-Workers to ‘Lovers’. Smut/PWP. One night, Ron comes back to his office - and he’s mad. You knock on his door, hoping to lend him an open ear, but he wants something else instead. (An open, wanting mouth to take out his frustrations on.) (3,500 words.) 

Caffeine Cold - Auror!Ron Weasley x Fem!Reader. Secret Relationship. Smut, Emotional Angst, Unhappy Ending. (Sequel to the above fic.) Three months after your unexpected tryst with Ron in his office, the two of you are still sneaking around, going at it. Even if you saw it coming a mile away - when things crumble, the consequences are near deadly. (12,500 words.) 

[esotericas-sims]

Manon Yvaine de Falstaff, 1789.

"It is the unique gift of the orphan: freedom from the burden of a family legacy. It is also their unique misery. The maintenance of a legacy is a laborious task. The creation of one has been known to drive men mad."

– M.F.

Chapter One

My name is Manon Yvaine de Falstaff. You have not heard of me.

By the time this book is published, I am either dead or as-good-as. This is by design. It is only with the knowledge that I will not live to suffer the consequences of my actions, that I can report them truly and honestly here.

There is a general narrative convention that a story starts at the beginning. I see no reason to break this pattern.

My story begins in France, 1785. I was born in blood and tears and disappointment. My parents were Conrad and Mathilde de Falstaff, Baron and Baronne of ----- (a vanity title, gifted to them by the King as reward for my father's friendship. We had no money, and no land.) My parents despised one another; Conrad, for his wife's inability to bear sons, and Mathilde, for her husband's inability to remain faithful. It was a marriage of equals, in terms of hatred.

They were divorced not long after I was born - Failure to produce a male heir - Four girls was four too many, and Ophelie and I were twins. It was more than my father could tolerate.

I was born last. I took pride, for some years, in being the straw that broke the camel's back. I learned in later years that the divorce was my mother's idea, not my father's. I can not blame her for wanting an escape, though my sisters resented her for abandoning us to him.

Neither of them, as far as I know, ever took credit for giving me my name. There is a significance to that, I think. A name is an important thing, and mine purports to be handed down from God himself.

Manon... a nickname, I was born Marie, though I have never once been called by that. It is a name I have always felt to be fateful, an act of God, determining my path. My mother could not have known about Mary, who I would meet many years after I left France, but perhaps the all-seeing eyes of the heavens observed our crossing-of-paths. Who's to say?

Yvaine... "North Star." The kinder of my elder sisters, Mathilde Junior - though we all called her Tilly - claimed it was my mother's choice, a reference to my odd appearance - shockingly white hair, and icy skin. The other, Emelie, insisted my father had meant to call me Yvonne, for my resemblance to our hideous aunt.

All these matters of fate and God and names were far from my mind as I grew, however. I was concerned almost entirely with my father, and my relentless pursuit of his love.

It was a game we played, the battle for affection. He praised me when I was clever, but scorned me when I won an argument. He played dolls with me only when my toys were soldiers, politicians, or clergymen. I begged to attend his meetings, balls, and dinner parties. Of all his children, there was no denying I took after him the most. It is one of the greatest shames of my life. For those golden years, however, I chased after him with the undying devotion known only to children. It did not last long, though. Change was coming.

previous | next latest | chronological

[blueberry-bubbles130]

Decided to make a poll for this because I keep debating on whether to add him in or not:

The Darkblade Arc is where Bunnyx accidentally leaves Chloe and Felix in the medieval era, when Darkblade was still the king of France. They get to meet their ancestors from that time and see how exactly Darkblade usurped the throne and then was deposed from the throne. Also temporarily getting named as Darkblade’s heirs because he didn’t have any children before he was deposed.

If I add Adrien we’ll get to see his ancestor as well, and I can show more of Chloe’s sibling relationship with Adrien after finding out what happened to her. So we can have protective Adrien and protective Felix.

The Darkblade Arc is really important because Darkblade’s sword is actually magical and Kagami uses it against Gabriel later in the fic when he’s akumatised. And it shows just how far Gabriel is descending into madness, as he no longer really wants to revive Emelie. He’s extremely addicted to the power the butterfly miraculous has given him, whether it’s by him using it or being akumatised. As well his dangerous sadistic obsession with Audrey and wanting to kill Andre because of it.

[lady0ctavia]

Hetalia (knight!France x Reader)

It's been years since I've written Hetalia x reader fics... What is my life? Enjoy this madness I originally whipped up on my Quotev account. Not sure if I want to reside here or on Quotev for my fanfics, so we'll see. Let me know what you think! <3

"Ah, so close!"

Francis teased with a small laugh and a mischievous smirk as he dodged his opponent's attack. The opponent, a man with short blonde hair and thick eyebrows narrowed his eyes after missing his mark. Angrily, he swung his sword back, keeping his feet planted firmly on the ground below him. As he whirled around for a strike, he was surprised to see Francis was already there, allowing their swords to clash. The two men glared at one another through the two blades, one clearly more amused than the other.

"Oh dear," Francis mocked in a tone of faux sympathy, "Is the little black sheep ready to give up?"

"Oh, shut it, you damned bloody frog!" The 'little black sheep' snapped back before trying to push Francis back, causing the blades to slip and prompting the men to take a few steps back from one another.

With swords raised, they began to slowly walk in a circle, staring the other down as if daring them to strike. All the while the two swordsmen seemed unaware of the two spectators several yards away, sitting comfortably on the branches of an oak tree within the castle courtyard. One of them, a lovely young maiden with (h/l) (h/c) hair, leaned over to her friend. 

"Who do you think is gonna win?" She asked, eating a small handful of dried fruit she'd snagged from the kitchen earlier. 

"Hell if I know. Hey (y/n), what exactly are you eating?" Her friend inquired. 

"I think these are dried grapes. So... Raisins." She shrugged, popping another one in her mouth. 

"That's gross." He commented, making an over-the-top gagging noise.

"Alfred, anything that isn't meat or smothered in seasoning is gross to you." (y/n) rolled her eyes before turning her focus back to the duel ahead of them, with her eyes specifically trained on Francis.

Francis Bonnefoy. While it wasn't evident through his long, silky locks of blonde hair, expensive taste in clothing, or even his fanciful way of speaking---Francis was one of the best swordsmen in the region. But this wasn't news to (y/n), as she'd known Francis for some time. She'd watched him grow from a silly little boy to be one of the most formidable fighters she'd ever seen. No longer was he a child, running with her through the fields and picking flowers. And no longer was he a teenager, laughing heartily with (y/n) and their friends as they shared jokes and stories on a lazy, summer afternoon. 

Francis was now a man, and a knight serving under the King. He was handsome and incredibly skilled with a sword, If not a bit egotistical, occasionally finding himself boasting his skills to any ears that would listen. But under that ego, there were the unmistakable signs of a true and honest gentleman. A man who'd offer a maiden his arm when walking down the street, hold open doors, offer someone his seat at the table, and liberally bestow kindness and honesty to all he met. As well as a flirtatious wink to those he deemed beautiful, namely young maidens who'd stare at him as he walked by. Maidens who'd giggle as they rushed to cover their blushing faces, leaving Francis amused and confident every time. 

(Y/n) sighed, watching Francis and his long-time rival and fellow knight, Arthur Kirkland, engage further in their seemingly endless duel. How she wished to be down there with Francis instead. Indeed, she couldn't fight, as she was nothing more than a laundress at the castle. But that didn't matter to her. If it meant she could spend more time with Francis, she'd learn sword-fighting in a heartbeat.

Setting the little, palm-sized bag of raisins she was eating to the side, she rested her hands in her lap, watching the two men continue their duel. Before she knew it, Francis had knocked Arthur flat on his back, his sword clattered to the ground beside him. Francis, having now beaten and disarmed his opponent, triumphantly stood over him, the tip of the sword pointed at his chin. He smirked, before lowering his blade.

"It seems that once again, I have won. And have, once again, proved you to be the sad little black sheep of the King's guard." Francis taunted, leaning forward, earning a dirty look from Arthur, and an exasperated eye-roll from (y/n). 

I love him, but goodness, he can be a pain. She thought to herself, trying to fight a fond smile. She never approved of Francis speaking that way, not really, but this was different. His rivalry with Arthur goes back to when they first started training together as squires when the two of them found themselves evenly matched. Though Francis himself would never admit it, Arthur had beaten him just as many times as Francis had beaten him. Though, in (y/n)'s heart, Francis would always be the best. But of course, she was biased. 

As Francis stood over Arthur, lauding his victory over him, Alfred, tired of watching the duel in secret, made his presence known. 

"JUST KISS ALREADY!!!!" Alfred shouted out, his hands cupped around his mouth. (Y/n) just about fell off her branch, startled. Both Francis and Arthur whipped their heads around to see them, with the former's eyes locking with (y/n)'s. 

"Oh, shove off!" Arthur snarled at his younger brother, who only proceeded to throw more hilarious comments his way. This caused Arthur to get up, grab his sword, and march out of the courtyard, his face red with fury and humiliation. 

"Shoot, I guess I gotta go calm him down. See you later, (y/n)." Alfred gave (y/n) a light nudge before hopping off the branch and jogging to catch up with his brother, who was now muttering all matters of obscenities under his breath.

As the two of them wandered out of earshot, the courtyard became silent. Just Francis and (y/n), gazing at one another. It wasn't long before Francis broke into a smile, sheathing his sword at his hip, and had begun to stride toward her. (Y/n) felt her heart skip a beat as he approached. She now noticed how tired he looked from the duel, as well as how he looked in general, now that she was getting a better look at him. His beautiful blonde hair was tied back into a ponytail by a red ribbon, with strands now loose and hanging around his face, perfectly framing his charming smile and gentle, deep blue eyes. He wore a loose, white, button-up shirt that was tucked into his black, high-waisted pants. Black boots went up to just under his knee. His belt was a deep brown color, with a silver buckle, the sword making a small clanking noise as he made his way to the tree. (Y/n) smiled bashfully before offering him a small, albeit awkward, wave. Francis stopped just under the tree, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Just how long have you been watching?" He rested his hands on his hips, raising an eyebrow. 

"Oh, just the whole time." (Y/n) laughed, swinging her legs.

Francis looked up at her warmly, cherishing the view he had of her sitting in the tree, the fading light of sunset illuminating her from behind, painting her in a warm, celestial glow. The light painting shades of sunlight across her smooth, (s/c) skin. Sunrays bounced off her (h/l) (h/c) hair, making it glow and shine. Like a crown upon her beautiful, perfect head. She may have been wearing the laundress uniform, dressed in a white blouse and a long, dark grey skirt with a (f/c) chemise, but to him, she looked like an angel. A blessing from on high. Oh, how privileged he felt to behold such a sight! He wanted nothing more than to tell her how he felt. The things that went through his mind every time he laid eyes upon her. But in every instance where he tried to muster the courage, the fates would bind his tongue, rendering him mute. 

"Well, that's good!" He boasted. "That means you were able to witness my glorious victory!" He spoke with the boundless enthusiasm of a Shakespearean actor, raising a hand in the air. This prompted (y/n) to laugh, giving Francis more of a reason to smile fondly. He held out his arms as an invitation. Ungracefully, (y/n) did her best to descend from the tree, plopping into Francis's arms. 

(Y/n) expected him to set her down on the ground, but instead, he continued to hold her, her face now resting just under his shoulder. Tentatively, she looked up and saw his eyes bearing down into hers. Her heart was racing, and she felt as if she could hardly breathe. 

"F-Francis?" She whispered, feeling his warm breath gently grace her features. 

"Oui?" He whispered in return, tilting his head forward.

"Can you please teach me how to swordfight?"

The man blinked in surprise, taken aback by the sudden question. He paused, before setting (y/n)'s feet gingerly on the ground, allowing her to stand by him. He looked on, wide-eyed and curious. The sun was still resting its weary head just over the horizon, past where his dear friend stood. 

"Pardon?" He inquired. 

"Francis, I would like you to teach me how to swordfight." (Y/n) asked again while straightening her skirt. Francis considered her question for a moment before responding.

"Mon cher, sword-fighting is a gentlemen's game! I would hate for any harm to come to your precious head." He spoke flippantly while waving one hand in the air as if to dismiss her. The other hand rested on the hilt of his sword. 

"'Francis, I'll be fine. I just want to learn, that's all," (Y/n) stifled a groan of annoyance. It was moments like this where she couldn't tell if Francis was genuinely trying to look out for her, mess around, or perhaps even be a little condescending. He raised a brow, with a grin present on his lips.

"What is it that makes you so eager to learn, (y/n)?" He asked. "It's a fair question, seeing as most young ladies like yourself wouldn't dare to pick up a sword."

"Well..." (Y/n) trailed off for a moment, trying to think of something intelligent to say. Without thinking, she averted her eyes, as if looking for the words somewhere else. 

Dammit, I should've thought about this earlier! What do I say to him? I can't tell him the actual reason, can I? How would he react? Would he even want me? Surely there are many women out there who would make a far more suitable partner for him. The very thought of Francis realizing her feelings for him and ultimately rejecting her caused her stomach to twist into sickening knots. She looked into Francis's eyes, which were now glistening with curiosity, but also a hint of concern after she failed to complete her sentence. 

"Well," (Y/n) continued whilst putting on a smile, "You and Arthur just made it look like so much fun! I'd like to join in!" She even swung her skirts a little by her side, attempting to portray a playful demeanor. 

Francis's smile began to fade, studying (y/n)'s own lovely (e/c) eyes. There was something else going on. He could feel it. (Y/n) was usually so good at looking people in the eyes when she talked. That is... When she was telling the truth. He'd spent enough time with her growing up that he knew her all little idiosyncrasies. He leaned forward to get a closer look at her. 

"Is that so?" He asked, clearly not convinced. 

"Y-Yes." She insisted. 

"(Y/n)," Francis said, his voice growing as low as the dimming light. "What's going on?" The sun had begun to set behind the mountains, darkening the area around them, but not without a warm, orange glow shining onto Francis's face. 

(Y/n) sighed. "Alright, you got me. The truth is, I want to learn how to protect myself. In case anything bad happens to me, I want to be prepared."

"Non, that's not it," Francis closed his eyes and gave a light shake of the head. Opening them again, his deep blue eyes bore into (y/n). "(Y/n), I know you better than anyone. I can tell when you're being dishonest. Please, just tell me what's going on. I don't mean to pry, but you're starting to worry me."

(Y/n) saw the pleading look in his eyes, and felt herself so close to buckling. She knew better than to try and lie to Francis. How could she? The man could see through just about anyone, her especially. Biting her lip, she began to fidget where she stood, averting her gaze once again. Only to look back at Francis when she felt his warm, calloused hands gently grab onto her shoulders. His smile was now completely gone. His brow furrowed. (Y/n) once again attempted to turn her face away, but was stopped by Francis tenderly taking her face in his right hand, causing her to remain looking at him. His touch was as light as a butterfly wing. (Y/n) took a deep breath.

"I-I want to spend more time with you," she admitted, a blush gracing her features. 

"Is that all?" Francis responded with a warm chuckle, setting his hands down at his sides, smiling at her with endearment. "I was starting to wonder if you were in some kind of danger."

"No, Francis, it's more than that!" She blurted out by accident. For about the third time in this conversation, Francis was once again taken aback. (Y/n) felt the blush on her face worsening. How could she just say that out loud? What is Francis thinking right now? Sensing her overwhelm, Francis gently took her hands in his. 

"It's alright, (y/n). Just breathe, and tell me what's going on." His voice was soft, almost like a whisper. Sweet and comforting as he rubbed his thumb over the top of (y/n)'s hand. 

Taking a long look at his face, (y/n) took a deep breath. Better now than never, I suppose. But at the very least I'll have voiced my feelings. 

"Francis..." (Y/n) paced herself, making sure to choose her words carefully.

"Oui?"

"I love you. I love you more than I've ever loved anyone, and... Listen, if you don't feel the same way, that's completely-!"

(Y/n) was immediately cut off by Francis pulling her forward into a tight embrace, her head now pressed into his chest as he held her there. All she could feel was the immense warmth radiating off of her oldest and dearest friend. Her heart was beating faster than ever before. As she processed what was happening, she slowly accepted the embrace, wrapping her arms around his back and pressing her head further into his white dress shirt, taking in the moment, hoping this meant what she thought it did. As they stood there, Francis leaned down to her ear, his breath on her (s/c) skin making her shudder. 

"Je t'aime aussi." He breathed before pulling back to look (y/n) in the eye. 

She looked up at him with wonder and amazement... And a sense of unbridled joy. She smiled with her whole heart and raised a hand to his face, brushing a few strands of his golden hair out of the way. The expression on his face was one of pure love and adoration. He leaned forward and pressed a sweet, tender kiss on her forehead.

"I've always loved you." He whispered. (Y/n) hummed in response smiling up at him.

"Francis?" She smiled.

"Oui, ma cheire?"

"I still want to learn sword-fighting."

Francis responded with a deep, hearty laugh, with tears seeming to form in his eyes. 

"There is no stopping you?"

"Not at all." She responded. 

"Well then," He let go of (y/n) and offered her his arm. "I suppose you ought to get your sleep. If you really are so determined, we can begin training tomorrow. Though be warned," he smirked deviously, "I won't go easy on you. And I won't be gentle."

Blushing at those last few words, (y/n) gave him a light punch in the side before taking his arm, allowing him to escort her back to the castle.