Arthur had built his legend on robbing banks and trains, making the rich furious by keeping things fair, and having a dozen bounty hunters hot on his trail. But that didn’t mean his soul didn’t long for a different kind of thrill.

Saint Dennis buzzed with the gossip of an upcoming show on a riverboat, a call from distant lands, a whisper of faraway cultures. The posters, the murmurs, they piqued his curiosity.

And before long, he found himself there—walking into a world like something from an old storybook. The music; an exotic blend of faraway lands and forgotten dreams, played softly, pulling at his heart. The clothes were dazzling, glinting with a fire he’d never seen before. It was all so captivating… but then there was you.

Your dance wasn’t just movement; it was a story, ancient and profound. Each step spoke of melodies too quiet for words. When your eyes met his, Arthur swore he’d never felt his cheeks burn so fast.

Stupid, stupid man, he thought. But still, it made his blood boil when others whispered about your body, about the lace and chains that clung to you like they couldn’t decide whether to keep you locked away or set you free.

By midnight, when you were expecting a gentleman dressed in fine silk for a private performance, you instead found yourself face to face with the outlaw. His hat shadowed his eyes, a smirk on his lips, and blood stains on the once-white ticket from the aftershow.

Arthur chuckled softly, tipping his hat as he leaned in. “Guess I’m not what you were expectin’, huh princess? But I’d say it’s a bit more fun this way.”

And he wasn't even sure if you could understand his language.