Archive of Our Own

i. sketch

It hadn't been difficult to convince them to pose. "A wedding present," Forde had said to them. "It's my gift for the two of you. I'm not rich, but it's the least I can do."

General Seth hadn't said anything, only blushed a bit at the mention of the word wedding. The princess had laughed, the sound pure and clear. "Thank you, Forde. I'll cherish it forever."

"It's my pleasure."

Forde did not want them to stand side by side, like in the stuffy portraits that hung along the walls of the castle's many corridors. Instead he asked them to stand in whatever pose felt the most natural to them. The result was the general standing behind the princess, his arms wrapped gently around her waist as she leaned into the solid, comforting weight of his body. The pair radiated contentment; Forde smiled at them.

"The nobles won't stop talking if they see you two like this," he said. "And before the wedding, no less!" Out came a pad of paper and a small box of charcoal as he settled himself before the pair.

The princess giggled. "Let them."

Seth only smiled and held her closer.

ii. outline

Forde drew the outline with a stick of graphite later on a canvas later that evening, in the solitary quiet of his room. Franz had already gone to bed; he would be able work in peace.

He began with the princess. Her figure came easily to him. He had long ago committed her form to memory—his hand was merely a conduit, a way to give the image in his mind form on the canvas before him.

Here was her face, soft and lovely, but with a hint of an elegant sharpness to it. Now her lips, curved up in a smile of contentment, eyes shining with peace and love and perhaps (or was he just imagining it?) a hint of sorrow. The elegant neck followed, and next were the subtle curves of her body, teetering at the edge of adolescence and womanhood. Then her legs, long and graceful. He did her hair last, allowing it to cascade down her back in elegant waves, like the untamed waters of the sea.

He rubbed the tiredness from his eyes and tried to ignore the fluttering in his heart as he looked at his paper princess. She looked back at him silently, and suddenly he was aware of the tears prickling behind his eyes.

They did not fall.

iii. paint

Her eyes proved to be the most challenging thing to paint; they matched her hair, and yet were darker somehow, in a way he could not properly describe. No matter how he mixed his paints, the color would not come. He ventured to the marketplace at the first opportunity, followed the familiar path to where the craftsmen sold their wares.

It was there he found it, the color of the sea, with a hint of storm cloud and a touch of moonshine, nestled among every other shade of the rainbow in a wicker basket, in a small shadowed stall at the end of the painter's lane.

"That is a holy color," the woman who owned the stall told him as she accepted his coin. "They say it is the color of the gods."

Kyle stopped by that afternoon to check on his progress. He nodded in admiration. "This is probably the best thing I've ever seen you paint. General Seth looks like he never met Valter and that damned lance of his."

Forde shrugged, leaned forward and moved on to paint the general's hair—the same dark red as congealing blood. "Love does strange things to a man."

iv. the last touches

A darker shade of red here, a touch of blue there. Pale pink upon her lips and cheeks to bring out the color of her eyes. Dark plum to enhance the light that shone upon her. Soften the green in the background with a hint of yellow, lest the princess appear pale and worn.

When the paint was dry, he signed the corner of the canvas simply enough—Forde. From his pad of sketch paper he ripped out a sheet, the tip of his tongue between his teeth as he contemplated what to write.

Inspiration struck; his hand began to move.

v. gifting

He presented the portrait to the newlyweds just before they left for their honeymoon.

General Seth was amazed. "She is... Beautiful, Forde." He smiled. "Absolutely breathtaking. Thank you."

The princess said nothing, only held her hands to her mouth as her eyes brimmed with tears unshed. She looked from the portrait, to her husband, to Forde, and then the portrait again before she finally spoke. "I don't know what to say." She looked at Forde, a shy smile playing about her lips. "May I?"

He did not know what she meant but nodded anyway, and soon was all too aware of her arms wrapped about him, her head resting on the hard casing of his armor. "Thank you," she whispered fiercely, "thank you so much."

And then she pulled away, the smile still on her lips though her cheeks were wet. She was lovely.

Forde bowed to the princess. "Milady. General." He straightened and grinned at them. "After all that work, staying up all night to draw and paint and clean, I'm exhausted. If you'll excuse me..."

With that he turned smartly on his heel. A few moments later, he was gone.