Work Text:
“Wait, what…?” Ryoma asked quietly, a slight tremor barely audible in his voice.
“Th-this is…” The older man’s words dropped off, his throat closing up as he felt his eyes heat, doing everything in his power to bite back the emotions that threatened to spill out. Shigure finished his father’s sentence for him.
“Yes, it’s a portrait of you two.”
“So… this is what you’ve been working on so tirelessly…?”
“Indeed, Father. My love for you and Mother cannot be measured. You brought me into this world. Without you, I never would have been able to paint.”
Ryoma felt his throat grow even thicker, his rough, aged fingers tracing the gentle contours of Azura’s face on the canvas. His youngest had captured her perfectly.
Shigure takes in a moment to watch his father, and the well of emotions that radiate from him.
It had been nearly two decades since the defeat of King Garon, and had also been two decades of Shiro and Shigure watching their father silently grieve. While he had been an attentive father, his thoughts were always so… away. Like a piece of him was somewhere else, somewhere nobody in the world could find.
That was why when Shigure had managed to stumble across the very, very few documents of his mother, he just knew he had to bring her to canvas. With the aid of his uncle and aunts, he’d done it. A few weeks of scaring off his brother and father, but seeing the way Ryoma’s brow softened, Shigure knew it was worth it.
Looking at the portrait seemed to take some of the age from Ryoma, the stark grays in his mane and the deep wrinkles under his eyes softening, the ghost of a smile etching onto his mein.
Before he could continue to enjoy the happiness he’d brought to his father, Shigure suddenly felt Ryoma’s strong grip wrap itself around his torso.
“F-Father, it hurts when you hug me so tightly…” Shigure huffed out, an airy laugh following behind. While the force of his father’s embrace caused his ribs to give a dull ache, it was one of a melancholic quality.
“You make me very proud, Son. This piece is simply magnificent.” Ryoma pulled back to give his son a small smile, the latter returning one of his own. There’s a small light dancing in his gaze- so very miniscule, but Shigure can see it. It brings back some of the life to the king’s eyes.
“So obviously, it must go on display, right? Would you help me find a good place to hang this? …Do you mind Shigure?”
His son grins wider.
“No, of course not. Let’s go, Father!”