Moonbound: The Rogue's Second Chance-Chapter 83 - EIGHTY - TWO - PAINTING

Darius held up the brush next to Serena’s silhouette to measure how much she would take up on the canvas. He squinted one eye shut, sliding his thumb slightly up the handle to measure the space she’d take on the canvas. Satisfied, he began sketching, light, decisive strokes to map her place in the painting’s world.

He reached for a triangle flat brush and dipped it into the palette smeared across his arm. A few long sweeps defined the background- soft shadow, faint silver, quiet blue.

Every now and then, he would look at Serena to confirm his next stroke. She was so engrossed in whatever book she was holding that he found it cute.

Serena, on the other hand, was surprised at the pictures and the words in the book. It was not store-bought, but handmade specifically for Darius. Some of the painted pictures had begun to flake off due to age, but Serena could still make out the images.

The lettering of the words was the same as the letter she had seen on the first page of the book. The first story was about a painter boy and a warrior girl.

Once upon a time, in a valley where the sky always blushed with colour, lived a boy who painted the world and a girl who guarded it with a sword.

The boy had soft hands and kind eyes. The girl had a scar on her cheek and calluses on her fingers. She was brave and loud.

People said they were too different. But the boy painted the girl as she trained, and the girl stood guard as he worked. He gave her colours she’d never seen before. She gave him stories he’d never dared to imagine.

One day, a mighty beast came and the girl fought until her hands trembled. The villagers had all but disappeared. Except the painter boy, he stood beside her and threw paint at the darkness.

The colour confused the shadow, but it was what the girl needed. She made a loud cry, and she struck down the monster and everyone cheered.

From that day on, they stayed together, one painting the world, the other guarding it. And no one ever said they didn’t belong again.

Serena looked over at the next page and there the characters stood: a girl with golden hair flowing down her back and a paint-covered boy with red hair, his hands dirtied with colour.

She ran her hand over the image and looked closer. It had been some time since this book had been written, Serena could tell from the yellowed pages.

Behind the canvas, Darius adjusted his angle again, turning his brush sideways to define the slope of her shoulders. The softest curve of her jaw. He dipped into a darker shade and flicked it along the bottom edge.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly, peeking from behind the canvas.

Serena blinked up, the words of the story still echoing in her head. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, smiling faintly. "Yes, I am. Do you need something?"

Darius hesitated. His eyes lingered on her a little longer than necessary, then dropped. A smile ghosted across his face. "It’s nothing."

She arched a brow at his evasiveness. "If you need to move, just say so. I would hate to get in the way of your painting."

"It’s not that. Just..." he trailed off, then shook his head lightly. "Don’t worry about it."

A smile touched her lips. His mother must have loved him deeply. To create something so full of tenderness, to write down these worlds with such care, it was the kind of love that lasted long after someone was gone.

A smile played on her lips, his mother really loved him. It was such a blessing to be lucky like him.

The stories went on as normal, just like the ones her mother used to tell her, a few legends from Ironshade.

Serena got to the middle of the book, and it seemed darker than normal. The edges were tinted in black paint.

Unlike the others, this story had a title.

The Song and the Crown

Long, long ago, before the warrior girl and the painter boy, there was a king with a heavy crown and a heart too big for him to bear.

He ruled a kingdom of silver rivers and golden skies, but he was lonely in all his shining halls. Until one day, he heard a song float across the wind.

The voice belonged to a woman who sang to birds and flowers, not for coin. She did not bow to him, not even once. And he loved her for that.

She said yes when he asked for her heart not because he was king, but because he listened.

They were fated mates, the old kind. When they danced, the moon watched. When they laughed, the wolves howled with joy.

One winter, the singer grew pale and quiet. Her songs grew shorter. One day, they stopped altogether.

The king called every healer, every sage, every star-reader. But the sickness would not let her go.

And when she died, the king broke.

"Serena?" Darius called again.

She perked up, dragging her eyes away from the story. "Yes?"

"I’ve been calling you for a while now," he said with a huff of amusement. "Seems that book stole all your attention."

A small laugh escaped her as she closed the book, running a thumb along its spine. "Ah... sorry. Are you finished?"

Darius stood tall on the other side of the canvas, stretching until his joints gave satisfying little pops.

"I am," he said, flicking a little paint off his fingers.

"You work fast," Serena said.

"I still have a few finishing touches left," he admitted, a playful tilt to his lips, "but yes. I do."

Serena stepped closer, brushing invisible dust from her skirts. "Can I see it?"

Instead of answering, Darius crossed the space between them and gently took her hand. His fingers were dry with paint and warm. She felt the callouses of his palm as he gave her hand a small squeeze.

"Close your eyes first."

He waited until she closed her eyes and led her to the canvas. In his free hand, he rolled the brush with bated breath.

"Okay, now open them," Darius said.

Serena obeyed, and her eyes widened when she laid eyes on the painting.

It was a beautiful sight, a mosaic of blues, and there she was, the focus of the painting. The moon was in the topmost corner. Its light washed over the figure of Serena, casting a soft, otherworldly glow that made her look just shy of mythical. The brushstrokes were confident, and yet there was softness to the way her likeness had been painted.

"This," Darius said from behind her, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders, "was easier to paint than the moon."

Serena drank in the image. It still smelt and looked wet, but it was gorgeous. She didn’t just like it, she loved it. Serena did not feel deserving of being his first muse after dropping the art.

"I like it very much... Why me?"

Darius looked down at her, even though she could not see him. Confusion was evident on his face. Who else but she?

"I fail to see the problem."

"Hm... I see. It’s just really beautiful. You have such a wonderful talent, Darius."

He didn’t say anything right away. Instead, he lowered his chin to rest on the crown of her head. His voice came out low and quiet: "Thank you."

Serena stilled for a bit before she relaxed and then she laughed. "Have I become your headrest?"

"Maybe..." he murmured.

Serena hummed in acknowledgement. "Would you try again some other time to paint?"

Darius straightened himself and gave it a thought. It almost felt the same painting her as it did when he painted his favourite oak tree he used to climb as a child.

Everything had come to him, though he was disappointed at the loss of his fine motor skill for controlling his little brushes. It had been one of the calming things he liked doing, one that actually cleared his head fully.

"I think I will, if you will watch me," Darius said, finally.

"I will."

Darius sighed and slumped on her, enveloping her in a bear hug. He buried his nose in the crook of her neck and breathed her in. He liked this a lot.

"It’s getting late," he whispered into her skin.

"Yes, you’re right," Serena murmured. "I should go to my room."

But neither of them moved right away. Serena leaned into him just a little, her fingers curling around his arms. They stood there in silence, a soft kind of closeness settling between them.

Eventually, Darius pulled away and took her hand again.

"Well then," he said, his voice barely above a murmur, "let’s get going."

He let go only after locking up the studio. Serena moved ahead down the stairs while he lingered behind, watching her.

Come spend the night with me, he wanted to say, but the words never made it past his lips.

—

They reached the bottom of the stairs, Serena exhaling as her feet met flat ground again. Her legs were tired, but her heart felt strangely light.

She turned to Darius, wrapped her arms around him, and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"Goodnight," she said softly.

Then she slipped through the door and closed it behind her with a click. For a moment, she leaned back against it and smiled.