Work Text:
Getting a portrait done was not an easy affair.
Nobody wanted to stand still. There were places they all had to stand to be seen properly by the artist. There were stools shuffled around, positions shifted until the painting’s composition was deemed suitable for everyone.
After a little while, everyone begins to get antsy. Even the royal family isn’t exempt from boredom at the hands of hours of silence.
“I still think Bait should have been in this.” Ezran pouted.
“He’d get way too bright. And they’d probably paint him pink ‘cause he’d get embarrassed.” Callum said, before raising his chin stiffly into the proper position again. His expression turned serious once more. As serious as he could be, of course, as a fourteen year old prince.
“Bait can get his own portrait,” Sarai said, causing Harrow to let out a soft chuckle.
“Oh, but only if Pip is there with him.” He said, and Ezran gasped.
“Yeah! That’d be so cool, dad!” He excitedly looked up at Harrow, raising his arms slightly.
“You’re getting him excited, your majesty.” Came Viren’s voice, a hint of amusement behind it. He looked over at Ezran, wide-eyed and bright, unable to help the way he grinned in return.
“Oh, he can be excited, that’s how he’ll be portrayed, right?” Harrow tilted his chin up, addressing the artist behind the easel. A confirming sound came from him, along with a raised thumb. Harrow smiled, putting his hands on Ezran’s shoulders once more to settle him into place.
“I would definitely prefer to be outside than in here. Y'know, running laps, getting some stretching in.” Soren rolled his shoulder, turning to look at his father. “Not like dad knows much about how important stretching and stuff is.”
“You'd be surprised how much your father knows about stretching.” Harrow barely moved a muscle as he spoke, chin raised.
“Harrow!” Viren scolded, turning his head slightly, his gaze burning into the king, who only smiled.
“What?” Ezran and Callum both spoke up, confused. Sarai shushed them.
“It’s nothing, boys. Soren, don’t explain it to them.”
Soren opened his mouth, then thought better of it. Claudia pursed her lips, turning to look at Viren.
“Wha--”
“It’s nothing, Claudia, it’s fine.”
“Dad, when are we going to be done?” Ezran fidgeted, leaning back onto Harrow. The king put his hands on his son’s shoulders, holding him in place.
“Portraits take a long time, Ezran, now please hold still.”
“But I’m hungry. ”
“We’ll have dinner after we’re done here. And hey, if you manage to hold still for the next fifteen minutes, I’ll get you some extra jelly tarts.”
“Harrow, if you tell Ezran that, then I’m going to have to promise some to Soren, too.” Viren spoke up, glancing behind him at Harrow. Soren snorted, rolling his eyes.
“Dad, I can get jelly tarts on my own.”
“Unless I get to them first.” The queen smiled, raising a hand to tap Soren's cheek from behind him. Soren huffed.
“Exactly why I need to make sure I promise some to you, Soren.” Viren smiled, turning forward fully once again, his voice quiet. “I am not ready to face the queen’s wrath over jelly tarts once again.”
Claudia looked over at Sarai, watching her expression. She adjusted, shifted until she had her chin the same position as the queen, much to the amusement of her father. Viren chuckled, raising a brow.
“Trying to be more like the queen, Claudia?”
Caught, Claudia’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she returned to her initial position.
"No, I, uh. I was just… Trying… To look nice.”
Sarai laughed, taking the moment to adjust her hair.
“Claudia, if you want to learn to be more like a queen, you just have to ask. Though, I’ll admit, ten years into it, and I still don’t understand it all.”
“We’re done!” Ezran hopped down from his stool, dashing in front of Callum, looking up at his father.
“We’re coming back to do this again tomorrow, Ezran.” Harrow laughed, reaching to prevent his youngest from crashing into Soren, who was moving away from his place.
“What? I thought he’d just paint us and we’d be done…”
As Ezran complained to his father, Callum found himself drawn toward the canvas, wide-eyed and intrigued. The artist sitting behind it looked over at the prince, waving him over as he noticed his interest.
“Curious, young man?” He said, still making adjustments to the sketch on the canvas. Callum nodded, stepping closer to look the entire piece over.
“I can draw, but I’ve never tried… Painting. Or using whatever it is you have there.”
“Oil pastels. I use them to lay down color for reference.” The artist swapped his red for a grey, and Callum watched as the colors blended together.
“That’s really… Really cool. Can I--”
“Callum!” Harrow’s voice startled the prince, who turned to look at his step-father. “I’ll let you talk to him after dinner, but I need a word with our friendly artist here, alright?”
“A much more rambunctious painting this time around, your majesty.” The artist said, his grin wide across his face, almost hidden by the beard he had.
It was only part way into the basic colors, the lines laid onto canvas to capture the family's expressions. Harrow looked the piece up and down, his smile curling across his face.
“You've gotten them perfect,” the king said, “I couldn't ask for anything better.”
“My king, if I may make a comment?” The artist put down the rag he was using to wipe the colors from hands.
“Go ahead.”
“You look much happier standing for this portrait.”
Harrow studied the image before him for several moments, looking at the way the artist had drawn his expression, full of pride and love and a contented quirk to his lips.
It wasn't that he wasn't happy in his coronation portrait, no. He'd been thrilled. The pressure, however, to look stoic and regal had made him seem stiff. This time, after years of being king, years of raising a family and loving two wonderful people who brought him immense joy…
“...I am quite a lot happier this time around.”