Chapter Text
Rayla Burrows-Spire, Princess of Xadia and Duchess of Silvergrove, was thoroughly unimpressed with the proceedings. The King, in his infinite wisdom, had decided that all the Duchies needed to have commemorative portraits made for the three hundredth anniversary of the union of their great and fair nation. Which involved both dressing up in ridiculous traditional clothes, and sitting still for hours on end. Two things the young duchess despised.
What’s more, it had been decided that the artist was to be one of the recent graduates from the Lux Aurea Institute of The Arts – a young man with lots of accolades already, and who wasn’t a Xadian national. Callum Cooper, from Katolis.
She was stewing throughout the entire consultation process, up until the moment she walked through the door to the studio. There had been colour matching and fittings for clothing, lots of boring historical talk about the crown, and the king giving her pointed looks every time she sighed, fidgeted, or otherwise conveyed her boredom and disinterest in the whole affair.
Rayla felt the money going into the project – that would see all the portraits of the working royals alongside the King and Queen Consort displayed in the National Portrait Gallery – would be better spent on community projects for the people.
So when the day came, and she had to put on the stupid dress and take a garment bag with the rest of the sashes and robes with her – instead of going to her office in Silvergrove to work on the latest education budget with her team – Rayla was pretty pissed off. She stomped out of the car, and into the building where the studio was located, not particularly caring that she looked very unbecoming for a princess.
Resisting the urge to snap something to the effect of ‘I don’t want to be here’, she opened the door, before the security detail could, and stormed inside. The man in the studio started, and looked up at her as she entered, carrying the garment bags and a bad attitude. He was slender, dark haired and fair skinned, and wide eyed before her ire.
Rayla took a deep breath and reined her anger in, as she was well practised at, and bowed her head politely at him, before tossing the garment bag unceremoniously onto the nearest table. Security hurried in after her, and cleared his throat before announcing her full list of titles.
“Presenting Her Royal Highness, Princess Rayla of Xadia, Duchess of Silvergrove, Commander in Chief of the Moonshadow Battalion…”
She held perfectly still, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. All these dumb titles made her sound like someone special. She wasn’t special. It was purely luck of the draw to be born into a royal family. And she worked bloody hard for her people, to be the best that she could be, for them.
The artist bowed, one arm held in front across his stomach, the other behind his back. A very Katolian gesture of respect.
“Your Highness, all the refreshments have been delivered and checked. We will wait outside, as per your request.” He gave the man a piercing look, and to the guy’s credit, he held his ground under such passive aggressive scrutiny. Then security gave her a polite nod, and left the room, closing the door behind him.
The silence was ringing.
Rayla closed her eyes, and didn’t open them until she heard footsteps. Then she appraised the artist again. He smiled at her, nervous but genuine, and she looked more closely. Jeans, a button down open at the collar with no tie; a smock draped over a low table by the canvas, that could have been any colour under all the paint stains. And very pretty green eyes, at close quarters.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he told her, holding out a hand to shake.
Rayla sighed, taking it. “Could we please dispense with formalities?”
He blinked, mouth working silently. “I-…well, I mean…”
“Look, Mr Cooper. I mean no offence, but this project was not my idea. I would rather just get this over with.”
Without the security team hanging around to listen to her every word, and report back to the king, she felt a bit less inclined to hide all of her irritation.
“Uhh, yeah! I mean, yes we can absolutely get started as soon as you’re ready.”
“Then let’s start.” She opened the garment bag and pulled the robes out with as much force as she dared, with the delicate fabrics.
Cooper was already walking across the room to the stage, as it were. A white background, a white stool she could perch on, with an array of backgrounds on large rollers, and a trunk full of what looked like props. She suppressed a groan. It was like being at school all over again, and being handed pretend things for the end of year play. Feigning to be something you weren’t. It was going to be a long three weeks – time that could have been better spent serving her people.
“The instructions on this portrait were a bit open ended, so I asked if we could have some props specific to your home county.” He explained, dusting down the stool, and reaching for the trunk. “Is there anything in particular you’d like to be included?”
“Not really.” She said shortly, hefting the large, purple sash up and over her shoulder. It was meant to be draped across her body, all artfully and regal.
“Oh wow! May I have a closer look?”
She blinked. He was all googly-eyed wonder, laser focused on the ceremonial cloth. “Knock yourself out,” she handed it over.
“Oh my gods, this is nineteenth century, isn’t it? Look at the stitch work!” he ran his hands delicately over the needlework of moon phases and harvest crops, picked out in gold and silver threads.
“You’ve done your homework.” She was surprised.
He grinned. “My class at uni got to go behind the scenes at the Museum of Cultural Arts at Umber Tor. They had a bunch of replicas of the royal clothing. I never dreamed I’d see an original,”
Rayla didn’t know how to respond, so she shrugged. “The King wanted ‘authenticity’.”
“It’s beautiful,” he looked up at her, smiling – and then faltered. “I- uhh…” he cleared his throat. “Yes, you wanted to get started, let me just-” he scuttled back across the room. “Okay. Just – let me know what you’d like out of the portrait.
She snorted with soft, derisive laughter. “The King didn’t give you a long list of stipulations?”
“Umm…no?” he shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, before gesturing at the trunk of random objects. “The King just asked for cultural authenticity. And the contract states that it can’t be anything offensive or degrading to the crown or culture of Xadia. And I could do hours of research and not understand as well as you what best represents the people of County Silvergrove. So…” he gestured lamely at the trunk of props. “I wanted you to have some options…?”
Rayla sighed again. She was being cantankerous and unreasonable. And apparently, Cooper had put a fair amount of thought into this. More than she had expected him too.
“What do you have?” she asked, trying not to sound too heavy.
“Well, a few weapons that won’t be fully historically accurate, I think there’s a baton which, again, won’t be exactly right for Moonshadow culture…”
Rayla dug into the trunk, now curious. There were a bunch of things that could fit into folklore and legend, and historical reenactments. She pulled up a blank shield, Draconic in style and painted plain white, alongside a fairly realistic long bow. There were a few other items that caught her eye, including the baton, that she left at the top of the pile for now. She turned to Mr Cooper expectantly, and he jumped again under her gaze. Maybe she was being too aggressive, again…
“So, where do you want me?”
“Uhh, that depends?” he laughed, nervously. “How do you want the portrait to look? What do you want to convey through it?”
Rayla blinked. “I get to pick?”
“Yes, the king wants ‘cultural authenticity’,” she really appreciated the way he emphasised the quotation marks with his fingers. “And I want the Duchies to feel the portraits are a true reflection of them and their station. Sooo…” he gestured lamely at the bow and shield in Rayla’s hands. “Any ideas?”
She blinked at him, owlishly.
After an awkward silence, he said in a rush, “B-because I’m more than happy to go find some other props or stuff if- if, y’know, none of this,” he gestured wildly at the trunk, “is to your liking or taste, or, um…y’know…”
Rayla burst out laughing. He was so dorky and sincere – the opposite of what she had imagined. He stared at her nervously, and just as she was beginning to get her laughter under control – their eyes met, and she started to laugh again. And this time, he joined in.
When she finally did get herself under control, Rayla set the props in her hands down on a table, and turned to face him as she folded her hands professionally. “Forgive me. The prospect of sitting still for hours on end when there’s a lot of work that needs doing doesn’t fill me with any joy. Or patience.”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she worried that she sounded bratty and ungrateful. He surprised her by chuckling, and working very hard and swiftly to squash it down.
“Please, it’s fine. You’re not the only one.”
“Hmm,” she folded her arms and tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Do you mind if I ask, who you painted last?”
Cooper’s mouth twitched at the corners. His lips didn’t smile, but his eyes sparkled with mischief. “The Duke of Drakewood.”
“Ah. My deepest apologies for my cousin’s behaviour.”
He choked down another peal of laughter, before shaking himself down and gently clapping his hands together. “Alright, then! I completely understand this project is taking a lot of time out of your schedule, so we’ll try to make this process as quick as possible. Starting with, what do you want this portrait to say about you and your home county?”
Rayla bit back a grin. “How close to ‘warrior princess’ can you get away with?”
He matched her smile. “As long as it’s not an anime cliché, I think the king will let it slide.”
The rest of that first day was spent discussing scene composition, trying out different poses and arrangements, and faffing about with the ceremonial robes. Cooper took a few photos to show her what she looked like, and they made tweaks here and there. She really wanted to be holding a weapon of some kind – swords were her favourite, but there was just something very badass about leaning into her Moonshadow lineage, and holding a bow.
After a lot of umming and ahhing, and cycling through the different backdrops, they finally settled on the scene she wanted him to paint. A woodland background, that he would later tweak to better represent the orchards that the county was famous for; with her standing in the foreground, dressed as battle ready as her ridiculous attire would allow, bow in hand and baton her of station tucked into the belt around her waist.
She looked down at the image on the little screen of the digital camera, feeling an excitement for this project that she had never thought she would feel.
“That,” she pointed at it, decisively. “That looks epic.”
“Perfect,” he handed her the camera, so she could keep looking, while he dug into the box of his paint supplies. “So, there’s not a lot of time to get started on the painting today, but I can get the preliminary sketches started. And if you’d rather have a proper Moonshadow long bow, I can leave that part of the drawing out until we can get the real deal in.”
Rayla beamed. “I have three at home.”
He blinked. Then put his face in his hand, a little wearily. “Of course you do…”
She stifled a giggle. They had discussed weapons and armour at length, and she had admitted to possessing a somewhat impressive collection of authentic items, some historical and some modern. He didn’t need to know how many articles were in her collection, but it sounded as though his guess was not far off the mark.
“Well, I defer to your judgement on the matter. And if you have any other ideas or want to change anything, please let me know.”
“Actually…” she took out her phone, and started scrolling through her photographs. “There’s a Moonshadow tradition, I’d kinda like to do…” she held the phone up so he could see. It was a candid picture of her and her adoptive dads, towards the end of the day during the last harvest festival. All of them were wearing their Family Marks on their faces, henna like paint that conveyed traditional kinship ties. It was her favourite picture of her family; they were all grinning at the camera, even Runaan, who was usually stoic and serious.
Callum looked thoughtfully from the screen to her face, and back again. “We can definitely do that. I’ll need a reference for the portrait,”
“I’ll have that sorted for tomorrow,” she promised.
When she was preparing to leave for the day, Rayla hesitated for a moment before saying, “Thank you. I really wasn’t looking forward to this project. But…” she smiled shyly. “It’s shaping up to be a lot more fun than I thought it would be.”
Cooper smiled, and bowed that formal bow. “It’s a pleasure.”
“When then, until tomorrow, Mr Cooper.” She bowed back, in the Draconic manner.
His smile seemed to light up his whole frame. “Please call me Callum.”
XOXO
The portrait ended up being an inordinate amount of fun.
Callum put on her favourite music in the background, they chatted frequently throughout the sessions, and he learnt a lot about Xadian art and culture from Rayla. She claimed that she wasn’t very knowledgeable, but dropped facts and figures and tons of information about Silvergrove with ease. She had mentioned the work she was shelving in order to do this project for the king, so he asked her about it; wanting to increase the education board’s budget, overseeing flood defences at one end of the county and drought resistance at the other, and a new spending bill for highway maintenance (which involved coordinating with the neighbouring counties, who were not all as keen on the undertaking).
The impression Callum had of Princess Rayla was of someone dedicated to her duty and her people, with a silly side that she found hard to supress when she was relaxed and happy – and away from prying eyes.
She had a razor-sharp wit, as fast as quicksilver. And she was incredibly goofy with him. More than once, he had to put his brushes down and get the laughs out before he could pick them up again, because she’d said something really funny or just plain dumb. And she indulged in his stupid jokes and wry comments – probably because she knew she was just as bad as he was. He was going to miss working with Rayla when the three weeks were over – he doubted the other working royals would be this fun to hang out with.
And Callum would be lying to himself if he said that he didn’t find her attractive. Rayla had long ash-blonde hair that was almost white, sparkly grey eyes that easily turned violet under the right light – and that smile…
Just lit up her whole being.
She was just so much fun to be around.
If Callum hadn’t been contracted to paint the Xadian Royalty ahead of all the third centenary celebrations next year, if Rayla wasn’t of royal blood – he would absolutely have been asking her out on a date. But he was here to be professional (even if he could have fun and relax a little at the same time), so he kept those thoughts strictly to himself.
Halfway through the second week, when they stopped for lunch, Rayla asked tentatively, “Do you mind if I ask about your family?”
“No, go ahead,” he invited, stirring his instant ramen pot.
“You-…mentioned you have a brother?”
“Yeah, my little brother Ezran.” Callum sighed, poking at the ramen.
“How old is he? You mentioned he’s preparing to study,”
“Yeah, he’s eighteen, now. Not sure if he’s taking a gap year or jumping straight into college, yet. His dad’s trying to be chill about it, but I know he’s tearing his hair out. He freaked out when I left home to go to Lux Aurea.”
Rayla’s face was thoughtful. “You’ve called him Ezran’s dad, a few times. Is he not your father, too?”
“Ah, he’s my stepdad,” Callum said, vaguely. He was more focused on his ramen and thinking about the next stage of the portrait.
Rayla was looking at him somewhat intently, so he finally sat up straight and met her eye.
“I…don’t mean to pry. I suppose, I wanted to understand a bit better. You talk about your family a lot, but you don’t really mention your mother or father.”
“Oh.” Callum blinked. He was honestly used to blending into the background, no one had taken this much interest in his life after such a short time of knowing each other, before. “Well, my dad dad died when I was three. Then my mom remarried, had my baby brother, and she died when I was five and Ez was nearly a year old.”
“Ohh.” Rayla looked pretty remorseful. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t’ve pried-”
“Really, its okay,” he said, gently. “I don’t mind talking about it. Time helps, and lot of therapy. My stepdad’s a pretty great guy. I mean, we’re sometimes pretty awkward around each other, still, but I know he loves me and wants what’s best for me.”
“And…your aunts? You talk about them a fair bit,” Rayla tried to redirect the conversation, and he humoured her.
“Yeah, Amaya’s my mom’s younger sister. She married Janai and moved to Lux Aurea. She used to be pretty high up in the Katolian military, but – well…Janai’s kind of the Golden Knight of Lux Aurea. Sooo…Aunt Amaya had to give up her Katolian rank and everything.”
Rayla stared at him in amazement. And then she blurted out, “Oh that’s why the king let you be nominated for the project.” Then her mind seemed to catch up with her words, and she clapped a hand over her mouth in horror.
Callum smiled at her with quiet amusement.
“I- I didn’t mean it like that-!” she scrambled, almost knocking her lunchbox over in her haste to apologise.
He couldn’t quite keep the laughter in, and she positively shrivelled under his mirth.
“S-Sorry-! Just…” he sniggered into his ramen. “That’s pretty funny.”
Rayla bit her lip. “So, don’t go repeating this to anyone…”
“What’s said in the studio, stays in the studio.” He mimed zipping his lips shut and throwing away the key.
“King Avizandum is…like…kinda low key xenophobic, at times.”
“Since he’s paying my wage, I couldn’t possibly comment.” He waggled his eyebrows at her, and sat back to enjoy her giggles.
“So,” she ran a finger around the rim of her glass, settling back into a more meditative expression. “You chose to study in Xadia and stay with your aunts?”
“Well, the Lux Aurea Institute of Arts is the best place in the world for the kind of art and media I like working with. They were running a scholarship, and my aunt’s live within walking distance of campus, so I could save a fair amount of money. So I figured I’d go for it.” He tried, and failed, to stifle another laugh. “I imagine the king was super surprised when he realised it was my portfolio that was put forward for this.” He gestured at the canvas and the half-finished portrait.
Rayla pressed her lips together, and daintily sipped her lemonade. “No comment.”
They had a good giggle, and went back to eating their lunches. Callum had gone for instant ramen and a bowl of fruit for convenience’s sake; Rayla had a sandwich, some crisps and a Tupperware box of fruit salad. He thought about the conversation, and what she had said before about her own immediate family. She was like…fifteenth in line to the throne or something like that, so not especially close to the core royal family.
“Rayla?”
“Mmm?” she was gazing out the window.
“Do you…mind if I ask, about your family?”
She paused, and slowly turned to look at him. “Not a whole lot to tell. My birth parents died when I was fifteen. Car accident. I’ve mentioned Runaan and Ethari, they were my guardians beforehand when my parents were working. So, they looked after me and the Duchy until I came of age.” Her expression was very soft. “They’ve always been like my dads, anyway. They’re not strictly speaking part of the royal family, but they were trusted enough to look after me and Silvergrove until I could do it myself.”
Callum nodded slowly, processing her words. “That must have been hard for you.”
She shrugged, defaulting to being flippant – something he’d noticed her do before to downplay something heavy and unpleasant. “Shit happens.”
He wished he had something constructive and helpful to say. But he knew that nothing ever really eased the ache your loved ones left in your heart when they died. And he figured that Rayla wasn’t the type to talk about your deep feelings, especially with someone she barely knew.
“So! Which victim are you going after with your paint brushes, after you’re done with me?”
Callum nearly choked on his food. Her choice of words might have been suggestive, especially if she knew he was fighting back a crush on her. But of course she had no idea about that. Nor would she.
Once he had his composure back, he said, a little hoarsely, “Duchess Akiyu.”
“Ahhh. Good luck. Aunty Tina’s a nightmare to work with.”
That had him spiralling into laughter again. “I’m sure she thinks the same about you.”
“Pfft. I’m nothing special. She thinks that about everyone. I’m pretty sure she wants nothing more than to retire to a little grotto on the coast and pretend to be a sea witch to scare everyone away so she can live in peace with her kelp collection.”
Callum blinked. “And I thought Katolian royalty was weird…”
Rayla grinned at him. All lopsided, incredibly vivid, and the butterflies leapt to life in his stomach.
“Oh, you sweet summer child. You haven’t seen anything, yet!”
He was in very real danger of falling for this woman.