Work Text:
“Mister Al-hu-be-do!”
Albedo looked up from his canvas. The way the Princess pronounced his name always seemed to fluster him. “Yes, Princess?” Mona laughed, amused. “I’ve told you, Albedo! There’s no need to call me Princess. Mona is fine.”
“You know I couldn’t do that, your Highness.”
“And why not?”
“People will think we’re closer than we ought to be,”
“So? Let them think as they please.”
Albedo shook his head, biting back a smile. “Please sit still. This portrait requires the both of us to cooperate.” Mona snapped her fingers. “You’ve reminded me. Can’t we take a break? You’ve worked so hard. Your talent is incredible.”
Albedo rubbed the back of his neck. “A portraitist is nothing without his muse,” he replied. He allowed himself to take her in once, twice. But not a third time because if he did, he didn’t know if he could resist the temptation. Mona put her hand out, and he dropped to one knee, kissing in between her fingers.
“Shall we dance, my portraitist?” Albedo began to refuse, the word ‘my’ playing over and over in his head despite it, but Mona spoke up. “Please. I- I have something to tell you.” Albedo’s brows furrowed, but he obliged, putting on a slow track that was one of Mona’s favorite’s.
They swayed in silence, Albedo’s hands were on Mona’s slim waist, and Mona’s arms were around Albedo’s neck. “This.. is nice,” Albedo admitted. Mona smiled up at Albedo and he smiled softly, the space between them getting smaller and smaller as they danced.
“Oh, Albedo,” Mona said, burying her head in Albedo’s neck. “You know me too well. But.. my father wants to put your work in an exhibition. In London.”
Albedo stopped mid-dance, his face stricken. “London?” He exclaimed. Mona averted her gaze. “He wants you to work there.” He croaked. “Why? All of a sudden. I’m needed here, aren’t I? Who will paint your portraits and laugh at your jests and dance with you then?”
The music stopped abruptly, as if it knew of the seriousness of the scene. “Albedo-” Mona said in that lilting tone that Albedo knew like the back of the hand. It was one of his favorite things about her. Among many others, of course. “The portrait,” he said, the shaking in his hands evident of his nerves. Mona nodded stiffly. “Of course. The portrait.”
Albedo grabbed her hand and led her to the bay window on the other side of the room. Albedo squinted against the bright light of the sun and sat down with Mona for a moment. They held hands and their eyes wandered, trying to find something else, or rather someone else to look at. After a few minutes of them sitting like this Albedo stood, meaning to grab his easel. Mona tugged on his sleeve desperately. "Don't forget me," she whispered, not daring to look up at him. Albedo knelt before her once more, "I won't. I promise you that, Mona."
Albedo stood and went to grab his easel and began painting, not letting Mona see it. "Patience," he'd chide softly. And before long it was done. Albedo had painted the last portrait, and then Mona stood suddenly. She put his hands, paint-stained still, on her face, smiling despite the pain that threatened to beat out of her chest.
“We’ll see each other again.” Mona sighed, not quite believing it. “I swear it.” Mona extended her pinky, and Albedo took it with his hand, exhaling shakily. A knock sounded upon the door, and Albedo went to open it.
A butler emerged with a suitcase. “The king requests your presence, Mr. Albedo.” Albedo looked to Mona, taking a sharp breath as she stood simply, a small smile for a goodbye on her face. “I promise,” he mouthed. As the door slammed shut, Mona collapsed, the pain overwhelming her. Harsh, hot tears spilled down her face. He was gone, and who knew when they’d meet again? When they’d be married off? Her father was already meeting suitors. And it would only be a matter of time before he’d find someone for her.
Her days with her artist were done.
A year or two later..
Mona walked through the exhibition, looking for one artist’s work in particular. Somehow, she’d managed to make it here. She’d come under the guise of meeting a suitor, but of course she’d put that aside, for now at least. All she needed was a glimpse of him. She hoped he was happy. Even if his happiness was not because of her.
She walked until she saw a golden plaque entitled “Done of Love”. She looked up, and she gasped, tears springing to her eyes. It was Albedo’s final painting of her. The sun shone behind her, as if she was part of the sun itself. The gold strokes against her dark hair made her almost glow in the painting.
And then Albedo was behind her, his presence familiar and comforting as always. “Albedo,” she murmured, turning to face him. His hair was longer, past his shoulders, and he wore a brown waistcoat over a white button down that was rolled up to his elbows.
“Do you know why I painted you like that?”
“No..”
“You’re my sun. I only shine because of your imprint onto me.”
Mona exclaimed, throwing her hands around his neck. Albedo moved closer to her hair, his hands encircling her hips. They kissed slowly and as Mona’s hands moved through his hair, Albedo laughed against her mouth. They embraced for an indecent amount of time before finally simply strolling about the exhibition, Albedo telling stories about his adventures and Mona pointing out her favorite works of art. It was the sun and her moon. The artist and his muse. And for the first time in a year, their nerves went loose.