Work Text:
You were called to the Speaker's Chamber, unsure why. You'd met the archon before, but you had never been alone with her. Had you made some sort of mistake that only she could address?
You stood outside the door, worrying about what could have possibly gotten you in so much trouble with the archon herself. Maybe it was something good, though? Your trail of nervous thoughts was interrupted by a loud voice behind the door.
“Come in.”
You slowly pushed open the large door and stepped inside, closing it behind you. You stood in the entrance, looking around the chamber. It was emptier than it had once been, but new mementos were starting to line the walls.
“You're not in trouble, please relax.”
Somehow those words didn't quite calm you down, but you did make your way closer to where she stood.
“What did you need me for, then?”
She was gathering small jars and varying brushes on top of a short desk. She went behind a cabinet to pull out a tall easel.
“I've been working on this new piece, but I haven't had the motivation lately. But then,” she waved you over to a stool, “I remembered you. Would you mind modeling for me?”
Your eyes went wide, “Me? But I'm so-”
You couldn't think of the word… plain? No… boring? No, those were too mean. But you weren't one of the vibrant heroes of Natlan. Why would you stand out so much to her? She'd just have to pick a couple of muted tones and be done in five minutes if she used you as a reference.
“I know what you're thinking. And that's just why I want you. You don't blend in quite as much as you think, I've noticed your interesting mannerisms. I think you're perfect for this.”
Your cheeks went a little warm at the compliment. …Was it even meant as a compliment?
“What kind of model? What type of pose?”
She smiled, “You can stay sitting right there, and I'll tell you about the piece.”
You nodded, ready to listen.
She began mixing some colors. It was surprising how fast she picked up this hobby and how talented she was at it. She took a slightly impressionist approach towards art, straying away from strict realism.
“The idea is that the bustling market is finally quiet for once. A lone patron picks out what they need peacefully. What fruit is your favorite?”
You thought for a moment. You loved local fresh fruits, but you had always been a fan of the ones imported from other nations the most.
“Bulle Fruit. Is that too weird?”
She laughed, “That's almost too normal. It saves me some trouble since it has less details.”
She went quiet for a minute as she mixed some new colors on her pallet and put a few strokes to the canvas. You could tell she was focused hard, but you were curious.
“What made you want to paint this scene?”
You hesitated, not wanting to seem judgey.
She continued painting with more confidence, seemingly content with the current section she was covering.
“I like wandering the streets after dark. It's very calm. I usually love the energetic crowds the most, but when I get to stop and talk with the shopkeepers and think longer about what I want, I'm able to focus better.”
You smiled, you had imagined her as a constantly high energy woman, so to hear that she also enjoys the peace was new.
“I know, I know. It seems like I never relax, right? Ever since we defeated the abyss, I realized I had to take life slower. I was so focused on…” she paused to look at you again, studying your clothes, “Never mind, I didn't mean to worry you.”
“No, if anything I'm happy to hear that. Everyone talks about how perfect of a leader you are, and you work your butt off every day to keep us all safe. You deserve breaks too…”
“That's what I keep hearing!”
She opened her mouth to continue but shook her head, turning back to her art. She was detailing your face, capturing the particular features that intrigued her so much. She was fond of the stunning color of your eyes and the way your hair framed your cheeks.
She noted the slight undertones of your skin and spread the lighting across the gentle creases in your lips. The unique mark under your nose may have been exaggerated slightly, but that just means she thought it was special.
“Could you show me your hands?”
You held them out, nodding.
She took them in her left hand gently, running her fingertips across your knuckles. She would have to capture your nails just right. She set them back down in your lap just as softly.
“What am I doing in the painting?”
You were so curious, she hadn't said very much about your role in the final piece.
“Buying a bulle fruit, of course. I didn't want to get your hands wrong. I learned the hard way that they can make or break a painting.”
You tried not to laugh, remembering drawing sticks for hands as a child.
“I'm sure it's fine either way.”
“I appreciate it.”
She told you a few more short stories about how she got into art and how it really stuck more than the other hobbies had. She learned that having a stable interest was healthier than jumping to something new every time she was stressed. What felt like hours passed as she kept you entertained while finishing her artwork.
You accidentally yawned, trying to cover your mouth after.
She laughed with a frown, “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to take this long. Do you need a break? I can treat you to lunch.”
You shook your head quickly, “No! I'm alright! I'm sorry!”
“Are you sure? It'll probably be another hour.”
You stood your ground, not wanting to make a scene, “Yes! I'm ready.”
“Now that's a good attitude!”
She picked up her brush again, dipping it in the yellow paint to mix with the red. She had to paint the selection of fruits and vegetables in the stands. She much preferred painting people, but backgrounds were what really ties a piece together.
She then painted loose strands of moonlight shining through cracks in the wall and small plants growing out of the corners. Even the little bumps on every fruit were visible.
“Alright. I think I'm done. Would you like to see?”
You snapped out of the slight daze you had been in, waiting for so long. You met her eyes.
“Sorry to make you sit for so long. I'm sure you were getting bored,” she sighed.
“I promise I wasn't thinking that! I want to see it!”
She laughed with a wink, turning her easel to face you.
The final product was beautiful, something you had never considered yourself before, at least not to this extent. You looked like some sort of spirit of the night who worshipped the fruit in your hands.
Mavuika frowned slightly, “Is it too weird? I only meant to take inspiration from how I see you.”
“How you see me? I look like an angel here!”
She smiled, “Well, you do have an unnatural beauty to you.”
You blushed, unable to meet her gaze, “I- well- The whole thing looks amazing…”
You barely deflected the topic to the rest of the piece, pointing out other details that took it from art to a masterpiece.
“Well, how do you like it?”
“I knew our archon was talented, but this is beyond anything I've ever seen. I can't believe you did this so fast…”
Pride shined from her eyes as she compared you to the piece back and forth.
“I wish I could have taken longer. Maybe I'll have to paint you again.”
“Come on… I think it looks amazing as it is. Why me, anyways? There's a whole nation of wonderful people.”
She stepped closer to smooth your hair and pull a stray strand off your forehead.
“I guess you're just my muse.”
“I don't know what to say…” your cheeks were permanently dusted pink, honored to help your archon this much, “Thank you.”
“I should be thanking you! My creativity was blocked for weeks until I thought about you. I'm glad I was able to finish this. Would you like to keep it?”
“I couldn't do that! A portrait done by the archon herself… I think it would go to my head!”
She laughed, “Then I guess I'll have to keep it here to show everyone this beautiful face that wanders alongside them.”
You didn't even know how to respond to that. You were hardly yourself in that painting. You looked ethereal like some sort of ghost almost. Did you really deserve to have a spot in the Speaker's Chamber?
“Don't worry, you're meant to be here. I chose you on purpose. It would be an honor to keep this here.”
You nearly jumped, “How do you keep reading my mind?”
She shook her head, “You're just easy to read, that's all. You're too cute.”
“Miss archon … I think I've been inhaling the pigment fumes for too long. It almost sounded like you said-”
“You heard me right, my cute muse.”
She smiled, tapping you on the nose. You stayed sitting as she hung up the canvas on the other side of the room. The afternoon sun hit it perfectly through the window. The room was filling with life once again.
“It looks nice there, doesn't it?” She had her hands on her hips, admiring her work, “Also, please call me Mavuika. It is my name, after all.”
You nodded, barely registering what she said. The painting was beautiful, but you were too busy admiring something else.