Masquerades were always a chance to show off the wealth and opulence of a kingdom, and the Kingdom of Hearts was no exception. While they tended to be a more private kingdom, when they did host an event, they spared no more expense than the rest of the Four Kingdoms. King Ludwig, who disliked such social events, was seated at the end of the main room, watching but not engaging. The room was a perfect square, with a fine reed mat framing the floor. Three doors opened to the gardens on either side, allowing for excellent flow of the guests, and servants passed between the dancers and revelers with trays of food and drink. Long garlands of flowers hung from the rafters, draping down to bring the wonderful smell of the garden inside and blur the line between indoors and out.

Bristling at the age remark, but mollified by his success, Francis led the prickly fellow out onto the dance floor and then took up the position of the current dance. It was a relatively quick-stepping dance that kept their hands pressed together as they turned circles around each other, occasionally changing partners but always returning back to their original. At one point, the cat-masked man got caught up with an overly-enthusiastic woman from Hearts who was much too rough and kept shouting incoherently at him; he was contemplating revealing his status just to get away when a warm gloved hand slipped into his and pulled him away.

Damn it all! Damn his luck, and damn it again, and damn it a third time! Of course, of course the one time he decided to let loose, it backfired on him. He never could have predicted it, and yet it was utterly unsurprising, insofar as Arthur seemed to be doomed to self-destruction. The curses flying through his head as he hurried down the hall to his and King Alfred’s room were nothing shy of heart-stopping.