Lying on the royal couch in all your glory, his eyes were trained on you, resting his gaze on the smallest details of your body. His pupils dilated at the sight, then returned to the painting he was drawing, and narrowed slightly.

"I shouldn't see you in such a state, your Highness. It's... prohibited." He was about to say another sentence, but stopped when he realized that you would still be lovers anyway.

Not that he minded it at all, but there would be a ruckus at the royal palace if it was known about the relationship between the next generation of royalty and a painter.