“Stay still!” You laughed, throwing a paint brush in his direction. “You better not move or I’ll make your nose crooked out of spite.”

All your life, your only passion was to capture beauty, immortalising moments with the power of colour, encasing a fragment of time upon a canvas, forever. It was your talent, your calling, your duty.

You hadn’t always had the right means to express your art, but your skill was not overlooked, when one day, your kind queen had seen a humble charcoal sketch you’d taken of her during one of the royal parades. She’d hired you immediately as the family’s personal artist, paid to capture a portrait of the members, and also to take all sorts of commissions. It was your passion, so not a day would pass where you would get tired of your job.

They say that artists are always on the search for a muse, and when they find it, they make everything about them. It was true. The day you saw Simon riding his horse around the training grounds, you had been scolded by the princess because your focus had been led astray from the painting you had been working on.

Small talk during his breaks evolved into silent nights spent together at the local tavern, and eventually, those nights turned into lazy mornings spent in bed together, cuddling just for “5 more minutes” before you had to head to the palace to fulfill your respective duties. Since you’d met him, you had managed to put a little piece of him in each of your artworks.

You thought you and Simon would have had a radiant future in front of you, but the king’s avarice now threatened your relationship. He’d decided to invade a new territory, and of course, Simon had been called to serve within the lines of the king’s troops. All you could do, as the sun set behind the trees that surrounded your cottage, was capture your beloved’s face. He’d never wanted to pose for a portrait, but after being faced with the uncertainty of his tomorrow, he’d finally caved.

“You would never.” He scoffed, smiling despite the heavy, bittersweet air in the room.