Work Text:
Thomas Shelby was neck deep in documents, ignoring the looming holidays that reminded him that his family wasn't talking to him. Guy Fawke's Night had been a quiet affair and Christmas was not looking better.
Even if he could save his family – which was his every intention – he could not explain his choice to sell out his family for power. They'd never accept it, much like they never accepted his ambition. Thomas was more than their Tommy. The growing pains to be more furthered him from the people he loved. So be it.
He had to provide for them and for everyone else that believed in him. He needed to make sure his family name was never allowed to wallow in the muck again. He would make them respectable and feared by those rich aristocrats that laughed at them. He had to. His pride would not tolerate anything else.
Thomas looked around his messy desk and collected the papers back together just as his parliament secretary came in.
"I told you I don't want tea," Thomas said as he refused to look up at her. "Thank you, Emma."
"There's a package for you, Mr. Shelby," Emma said, shifting uncomfortably in the doorway in his peripheral. "From a Tatiana Petrovna in Vienna."
Thomas's eyes shot up to his frumpy secretary. Her arms were empty as she shrank under his steel blue eyes.
"Well," he said exasperated. "Where is it then?"
Emma dipped her head as she left the room and came back dragging a wrapped frame of sorts, easily up to her waist and a good eight feet wide.
"It's a bit heavy, Mr. Shelby," she struggled, "Took the carrier and I both to get it up the stairs."
Thomas jumped to his feet and took an end, guiding the package to the corner of the room, in which it took up half of. He leaned it against a chair that was for visitors before he stepped back, sizing up the gift.
It was wrapped in basic brown paper, twine keeping it together. The outline was pressed as if hiding a frame of sorts. A portrait. A rather large one, created to place over a mantle.
Emma stood back as well, staring at the package.
"Is that all then?" Thomas asked sharply.
Emma jumped as of out of a trance, scurrying to find her words.
"Well, yes sir," she stammered. "Unless you need help with the wrapping."
"I do not," he said as he waved her off. "Thank you, Emma."
The woman dipped her head before taking another glance at the wrapped portrait. She sighed as she stepped back out of his office, closing the door behind her.
Thomas eyed it closely, running his hands along the top. Definitely a frame, and a nice one at that. What was Tatiana's game? She had left for Vienna, leaving behind only a dead jeweler. Certainly he was no more use to her.
His finger snagged on a piece of the paper and he gently pulled down, ripping the top right edge until it revealed a beautiful ornate gold frame. Filigree and flowers jutted out at his fingertips. He understood why Emma had labored getting it through the doorway.
His fingers danced along the open corner as he hesitated to reveal the painting. Why would Tatiana send a gift? He had no doubt it wasn't four good. He also didn't think she would kill him without a good reason, so the gift was in jest rather than malice. Right?
Tommy sighed as his curiosity got the better of him and he ripped a large piece of the paper off, and then another, revealing the entire painting. He stepped back to see the entire image and immediately bristled. There – in the middle of a very familiar mansion room surrounded by an all-woman orgy – was Tatiana completely naked, baring her mischievous grin and cocked eyebrow to the world. One hand was wrapped around a man's neck that kneeled beside her. His neck.
Tommy squinted as he realized that he was at her feet, painted with his eyes worshiping her and mouth slack open in ecstasy.
He felt anger bubble in his chest before pushing it down. She wanted a reaction. He could not give it to her. There were multiple women around the pair, touching and convulsing in an orgy like the one he and his brothers witnessed at the Russian mansion.
A small note stuck in a corner of the frame. He opened it as he clenched his jaw.
Lover,
I heard news that you were welcomed into politics with open arms. What luck you have. And you sold your family to do so. You are living exactly how you want to and your brothers are hanging on the noose.
Look closely, Mr. Shelby. Let the darkness in your mind consume you. Let it guide you. Be a king rather than play one.
You break the law but obey the rules. Silly boy, when will you learn that madness sets you free?
T.P.
Tommy dropped the note, letting it float to the floor as he pinched the bridge of his nose. An insane note from a psychotic duchess. Nothing more than a present to further press his sanity. Look closely, she said. At what? Naked women? He'd seen plenty.
He opened his eyes and looked at the painting again. Tommy frowned as realization set in. Every woman looked familiar.
Anger rose with every glance as his eyes traveled over his own face, then Tatiana's, and found May kissing her shoulder. His stomach lurched as he recognized another woman to be one of his regular whores. And another. And another. His anger flared as he found his late wife's image kissing Lizzie beside the fireplace. His hands flexed into fists on his side as he realized the painting was of nearly every woman he ever fucked.
If Tatiana was trying to push him to madness from her comfortable life in Vienna, she was surely close.