Two small red tattoos on the ankles of a person in black leather trousers, a Q with a heart on the left ankle and a K with a heart on the right, in a lettering style on an ankle.

Matching queen and king heart ankle tattoos

Lettering · Ankle · Colour · Photo

The photograph shows two feet side by side, each with a small red tattoo on the ankle bone. The left ankle has a Q joined to a solid heart, and the right has a K joined to a solid heart, forming a pair of playing card style letters. The ink is a single bright red with clean, even linework and no shading, set against pale skin, black leather trousers and a dark leather surface.

Lettering Ankle Queen King Heart Playing card Pair

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The cards come out on the third day the northerly keeps the fleet tied up in Peterhead. You deal them on the chart table, because the mess table is buried under wet oilskins and somebody's spare boots. Ilse wins the first three hands without looking at her cards, which she says is the only honest way to beat a man who counts out loud. Beyond the harbour wall the spray goes up white and comes down grey, and the gulls stand on the bollards with their feathers flattened, waiting for the wind to change its mind.

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The queen of hearts and the king of hearts are the only two you ever kept from that deck. The rest went through a scupper the winter the Ardent lost her gantry, and you have never decided whether that was bad luck or the sea taking its share. Ilse says the pair are a marriage, and you let her say it, because the skipper has started glancing over from the wheel. Rory, the youngest, asks why the kings always end up lost first. Nobody has an answer that would satisfy a boy of fifteen.

On the fourth morning the wind drops to a breath and the boats go out in a ragged line. By noon the water is flat and bright and thick with herring, and the net comes over the gunwale heavy as a wet coat. You shake it out on the deck and the two cards tumble from the mesh, swollen and bled pink at the edges, the red of the hearts gone soft as a cut.

Ilse picks them up and laughs, the first real laugh since Tuesday. "So the sea has finally dealt," she says, and you pin them to the wheelhouse ceiling, hearts down, where the salt can keep working on them.