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You’ve been in the gallery before, both on your own and together. Being the two oldest creatures in the city, surrounded by vampires who are barely beyond being fledglings, sometimes you feel the urge to be around contemporaries. Their creations, anyway.
You’re here together tonight, laughing as Armand makes the guards freeze in place so you can wander about freely. He takes your hand as you walk at a leisurely pace. He doesn’t do that often. You’re not about to complain.
You walk the halls, occasionally stopping to admire a painting you’ve no doubt inspected a dozen times before time. As a painter, it’s especially significant to you that you have this place to escape to, to have some respite. You can see a reality where some of your work adorns these halls, feel the pride in your chest at the thought. Alas, it was not to be. Armand’s offered to make it happen for you. It wouldn’t be that hard, and he would be glad to do it if it made you happy. You refused, and it had taken him quite a while to understand why.
You release each other’s hands as you gently float up to the first floor. The painting is up here. You wonder if he’ll go look at it tonight. Some nights, he feels a desperate need to look Amadeo in the eye, to think about his life and the history he has endured. Other nights, he can’t abide by the thought, avoiding the painting like the plague.
Tonight, you can see his eyes wandering in its direction. After a moment of hesitation he starts to walk toward it. You watch him go, gauging his mood a bit before walking into the room as well.
You leave him be, going around to look at some other paintings. Finally, you join him at his side in front of Palma Vecchio’s The Adoration of the Shepherds with a Donor .
He’s told you the story before: Slavery, the brothel, Marius de Romanus, his illness, Arun, Amadeo, Armand… You’ve had your own hardships, but it still breaks your heart to think about his.
“Penny for your thoughts?”, you try after a while.
“I’m never going to escape him, am I?” It’s a surprising question, coming from Armand. Crisp, composed, I’ve-got-it-all-figured-out Armand.
“I know he’s dead and he can’t… physically do anything to me anymore. I’m not going to run into him on the street. But still”. He tears his eyes away, turning to look at you.
“There is a lot I was made to endure because of him, and yet… I served him with all my heart”.
“You loved him”.
He nods, slowly. “I suppose I did, in a way”.
“It’s all fucked up”.
He can’t help the laugh that escapes him when you say that.
“What?”, you ask. “It is! You were put through so much when Marius was alive- you know what I mean”, you add when he raises an eyebrow.
“The point is, why should you continue to be haunted by him? He’s not some sort of ghost, so if he’s haunting you, it’s only because you’re letting him”.
He casts his eyes to the floor and then back up to the painting, contemplating your words.
“No one has painted me in over 400 years”, he says, finally.
“Would you like to be?”
He’s startled by the question, surprised in a way he rarely is. “What?”, he asks after a beat of silence. He’s looking at you again, confused. The look on his face would be cute if it the circumstances were less loaded.
“Painted. Would you like to be painted again?”
He laughs in disbelief. “Is that a genuine offer?”
“If you want it to be. I’m afraid I’m a little stuck in my Renaissance ways, but I think I could still make you something that’s to your satisfaction. And if it’s not, we can try again or throw it away or burn it or something and forget it ever happened, if that’s what you want”.
“I’m… I don’t know what to say. I’m not certain that is something I would want. I’ve never really thought about it, I suppose”.
Gently, you take his hand, urging him to look you in the eye. “If we do this, we do it on your terms, or we don’t do it all”. You gently lay a hand on his cheek, caressing his face. “I, for one, would be honored to help you reclaim this part of yourself”.
A single tear escapes him, and you wipe it away with your thumb.
Finally, his voice raised barely above a whisper, he gives you his answer.
“With you, dearest, I believe I would like to try”.