Pale Painter Ch 01

Author's Note: This story takes place in the same universe as Wish Granted, and could be called a sequel to that story. This is more of an experimental story, and I don't think this will end up being very satisfying. I think this whole "series" will probably be experimental. And on an unrelated personal note, I started to wonder if I needed to stop making female characters with variations of blue eyes, for the sake of diversity. Then I thought, meh, I like blue eyes. Screw it. Eventually, there will be sexy stuff, including foot fetishism, and homosexuality/bisexuality.

******

The maid called Angora was very loyal. She kept her Mistress' secrets well. She assisted the pale step-daughter of the Mistress in putting away the brushes, palettes, and unfinished canvases on a bitterly cold afternoon in a small studio. And as she did so, she heard the step-daughter sigh.

Angora made a great show of sniffing, since she always had a clogged nose. Then she looked back to the step-daughter.

Her name was Rosanda, and she seemed quite worried. She was repeatedly pushing her large, bifocal spectacles up her straight bridged, somewhat triangular nose. She was near-sighted, and she had invested in several glasses. The particular pair she had on had circle shaped lenses. Her periwinkle blue eyes were focusing on nothing but her own thoughts, though, and the lenses clearly gave little help for that.

"Miss Rosanda? Are you feeling well?"

Rosanda started chewing on her barely pink lips.

"Miss Rosanda!"

"Hm?" Rosanda turned her head towards Angora, and her white eyebrows lowered, furrowing her delicately pale brow. "What's wrong?"

Angora coughed into a handkerchief, then she gave the small, dainty woman a concerned look. "You look like you're making a wish."

"A wish?" Rosanda's white eyelashes fluttered as she tried to blink out her uncertainty. "Do you think I should pray to the God of Hope?"

Angora sneezed. "Sorry about that, so sorry." She groaned, but then her plump lips stretched out into a kind smile. "Is it a secret wish, Miss Rosanda?"

There was a sad wince under Rosanda's eyes. A flinch showed in her sharp jawline. "I ... I suppose it is a secret wish."

"That's all fine, then, but you need to tell somebody your wish, otherwise your emotions will kill you."

Rosanda was able to smile, and that was so sweet in Angora's eyes. She was an unusual beauty, but gentle and skilled, and Angora honestly wished she could get an erection.

"Hmmm, you need to promise not to tell anyone." Rosanda's white eyelashes seemed to flutter a little.

"I swear by the God of Hope."

Rosanda leaned in close to the taller woman, and she tilted her head. Her straight, white hair slid over her shoulders. "I wish I would be revealed as the true artist behind the paintings my step-mother sells." A great sigh rushed out of her. "I know it would be ... unpleasant to have the truth revealed, and so, I don't think I should say anything about it."

Angora nodded. "Don't want anyone to get hurt, eh? I understand."

And when night darkened the world, Angora crept out of the townhouse, and she slipped into an empty alley way. Then she transformed into a tall man with long dark hair. A glowing red jewel of a diamond shape floated above his finger, and he told the jewel about Rosanda's wish.

***

Kosette hurried to store all the commissioned paintings. She asked Angora to help her. The prince himself had asked for those landscapes. It wouldn't do to disappoint the prince. And so, on to Penthorn Palace she went! It was a long way to get from Lealna, a city in the Duvanu province, all the way to the royal palace, but it was worth it.

The first reigning monarch to reside in Penthorn Palace moved there around eighty years ago. The current reigning monarch was a man of forty-nine years. His eldest son was thirty, and he was the one who wanted all those paintings.

Kosette took a moment to admire the beautiful, grand white palace through a window in her carriage before she exited. Several men carried the paintings for her as guards led her to the prince, reminding her of proper etiquette.

She went through a manicured garden, then through a side door, and then through several elegant halls and rooms. She was asked to wait by a pair of tall double doors. Then a servant went inside the room. She heard the servant announce her presence.

"Mrs. Kosette Lunai has arrived, Sir."

A man's voice calmly, but happily said, "Excellent. Let her in."

The doors were opened, and Kosette smiled and curtsied deeply the moment she saw the prince. "It's an honor to see you again, Your Highness."

"You may rise."

Kosette straightened as the men put the covered paintings in the room, leaning them against the richly paneled walls. "I'm so pleased to show you my latest creations. I know you won't be disappointed."

His Royal Highness, Prince Kutberth Alexandrio Lothair, also known as Kutberth II or Alex, rose from his seat to bow towards the woman. He was a tall man, strong, but elegantly dressed. His long brown hair was tied back with a simple silk ribbon, and his smile was agreeable. "I hope you're fairing well," he said with his confident, warm voice.

A nod, and then Kosette said, "Of course. Anyone with a patron as impressive as you fairs well." She stepped towards a painting, and then she peeled away the protective leather covering.

It wasn't a landscape.

It was a painting of a nude woman with skin that lacked any color other than hints of a blush.

"There must have been a mistake!" Kosette's round face darkened with embarrassment. She didn't know anything about this painting, except for who had painted it. She slapped the covering back against the canvas.

The prince's hazel colored eyes flashed out their interest. The green and golden brown glints in the irises were quite brilliant. The nostrils of his straight, yet thick nose flared a little. His great feet were loud against the floor as he stepped towards the painting. "This certainly was a mistake. I never asked for a portrait." His hand jerked, as if he wanted to brush the leather away. "Don't be cruel, now. Let me see."

Sensing something ... possibly an opportunity, Kosette nodded, and she removed the covering.

"Exquisite!" Kutberth II said, gazing down at the painting with a gentle, if dazzled, expression.

Kosette knew what had happened. Rosanda had gotten bored again. She didn't want to paint landscapes. She had wanted to paint images of people. Without a model, Rosanda had, apparently, taken a mirror and studied herself.

The canvas was tall and thin. The body took up most of the space. The woman, pale and delicate, was seated on a wooden stool. Her back was facing the viewer, her bare back, and the backside was visible too. The smooth, white hair of the woman was pulled into a tight bun above the nape. The woman's head was turned towards the viewer, and behind the circular glasses balanced on her fine nose, the pale eyes were intense, full of the desire to learn. One of her bare feet was dangling off the stool.

There was nothing vulgar about the piece, nothing clearly sexual, except for the fact that one could see her back. A woman's back was often considered to be the most beautiful part of her. If Rosanda herself sat in public in such a state, it would be disgraceful. Since this was only a painting, though, it would have been considered much less harmful, a little bit risqué, but not enough to ruin her reputation.

But Kosette's brain was clicking and grinding. She knew exactly why the prince's high cheekbones were flushing. She knew why his tongue peeked out to touch his lower lip for a second. The main issue was ... what in the world could be gained from this?

"Does this person exist? She couldn't ... no. Nobody could be that impeccable." His eyes were almost accusatory as he turned his slightly dark face to her. "Does she exist?"

Kosette decided to take the opportunity.

"Your Highness, she does exist, but I feel quite sheepish. You see, this woman is my step-daughter. I painted her for the challenge of it. I wasn't expecting to show this to anyone."

The doors opened again with a prompt, swinging sound. A servant announced, "His Majesty is here."

The prince shrugged. "Oh, I suppose he wants to see the paintings. That's fine. Send him in."

Kosette hadn't ever met the king before. She curtsied so deeply that she nearly fell over.

A man with paler skin than his son, and light hints of gray at his hairline, entered the room and gave a courteous bow. He seemed every bit as tall and athletic as his son, and every bit as friendly.

"Is this the brilliant Kosette Lunai?" He smiled at the woman and flicked his closed fingers in the air. "Rise! Rise, Dear Artist!" As she rose, she noticed the king's eyes touch the painting of Rosanda. His eyebrows rose. "Such a lovely painting! Did you commission this, Alex?"

Kutberth II was blushing again. He cleared his throat. "No. I believe it was placed with my orders by mistake."

"Such a delightful mistake!" The king's teeth were so perfect, so straight, as he said to Kosette with an open smile, "I'll give you five thousand for it."

Kosette's hands turned cold, but her throat warmed. The prince had planned on giving her three thousand per landscape, which was quite a bit more than the typical price. But here, this king offered five thousand Dakets for a painting of a naked woman!

The fact that it happened to be a painting of Rosanda only made the situation better. Kosette knew that more could be made. She said very shrewdly, "It's currently the only one of its kind. I'd loathe to be rid of it."

His Royal Majesty, the King, Kutberth Bardrick Lothair, also known as Kutberth I, or Rick, shrugged very casually, his expensive but tasteful coat making a light, crinkly sound. "I know exactly what you want, woman. Ten thousand, then."

Kosette nodded, her dark blond hair dancing across her back. But, before she could give an accepting word, the prince interjected, "That's not just, Father. I should purchase it."

"Let's not start a bidding war," the king said as a dimple formed in his cheek. "We could always share the painting."

And ... strangely, the prince seemed to shudder. Then he regained his composure and took a long sniff, even though he seemed perfectly healthy. His hand swiped down his shiny brown hair, even though it was completely tidy. "I'll leave the painting to you instead."

"That's a good boy." Kutberth I had something wicked in his eyes. Kosette worried over it for a very quick moment, but she decided it wasn't any of her concern.

"I'll gladly sell it to you, Your Majesty," she said, pointing to the painting with her open palm. "I should tell you, though, that it's a likeness of my step-daughter."

"Oh, is it?" The king leaned a bit to one side, as if he wanted to examine the painting at a different angle. "You don't seem to have any qualms with displaying her nudity on a canvas. Would you be willing to produce more pieces as lovely as this one?"

Not considering Rosanda's feelings in any way, Kosette replied immediately. "I do believe I could produce quite a few pieces, as long as I have my supplies, and my model, of course."

The king nodded. "I've always considered myself to be a patron of the arts, just as my dear Alex is. I have a proposition for you, Mrs. Lunai. I'll grant you and your model lodgings in this palace, and a private studio, if you are willing to create more beautiful paintings."

Kosette agreed so happily that she had to stop herself from hopping and cheering.

***

Absolutely not!

Rosanda had been firm.

There was already a handwritten list of commissions, with graphic details, embarrassing details.

There was no way Rosanda was going to make pornography of herself.

But ... Kosette had begged, gone down to her knees and begged, tears shining on her face, mucus leaking from her nose. She reminded Rosanda that it was all her fault that she couldn't paint as well as she used to. If Rosanda hadn't dropped the knife in the kitchen so many years ago, if it hadn't landed on Kosette's hands, they wouldn't be damaged.

Sometimes, Rosanda believed that her step-mother was still perfectly capable of painting, and she was merely a lazy person, but Rosanda honestly didn't want to believe that she would be so deceptive and callous.

Rosanda had cried over it, even threw a small tantrum. She had thrown her brushes against the walls of her little studio. She kicked all her easels with an angry boot. She went to her bedroom and hurled all her bed-sheets, her blanket, and her pillow out of a window.

But ... she had to give in eventually. The money was too good.

At least she would be painting something other than landscapes.

As they left the Duvanu province, Rosanda snuggled into her fur-lined cloak and looked out the window. Snow was starting to fall, dusting the world with it's purity. Even the mountains looked beautiful, despite the temporary loss of its famous flowers. She wondered about their lord, the great Duke Adurant. He had been married for five years, and it seemed that Duvanu had only flourished since he gained a duchess, not that Duvanu had been suffering up until then. Rosanda didn't want to leave her home. It was a nice home, a cute little townhouse in Lealna.

Lealna was where she was born, where her little brother was born. It was probably where he died too. She didn't know. There was a grave, though, an empty grave, in a small graveyard in Lealna. The epitaph on the gravestone read, "In Memory of Little Toby Lunai." He was only five years old when he disappeared into the vicious chaos that was reality. A part of Rosanda still hoped he was somewhere in Lealna, perhaps being looked after by a shopkeeper, or in some other similar situation.

She didn't want to leave her home, go to some snooty palace, and paint images of her naked body for two royal nitwits to masturbate to.

But she pretty much had to do it.

***

The staff at the palace gave Rosanda concerned looks, but they were too polite to ask any questions. They weren't worried over Rosanda's albinism. They were worried because she was dressed strangely.

Each woman was granted her own private bedchamber. Rosanda was particularly impressed with her room. It seemed far too extravagant for a guest. The walls had white panels with gold details. The bed was luxuriously huge with a peculiar canopy. The frame holding up the gauzy fabric was curved inward at the headboard and foot of the bed. It was so curved inward, in fact, that Rosanda was reminded of a woman who tight-laced her body with her stays. Most physicians considered that fashion trend to be a very dangerous thing.

Despite being guests, Rosanda and her step-mother didn't receive any servants. Actually, they were instructed by a butler to go to the studio and work as soon as possible. Kosette warned the butler that she had to lock the door. She preferred not to be disturbed. The butler said he would alert the king and prince as soon as possible.

While Kosette lounged about, eating sweetmeats and chatting about nothing important, Rosanda reluctantly undressed, examined herself in a tall mirror, and made little sketches. Kosette was completely unperturbed about it, snuggling close to a roaring fireplace and keeping herself happy. Rosanda was cold. The fireplace was performing well enough, but most of the heat was close to it. Rosanda didn't want anything to accidentally end up burned as she worked, and so, she was a good distance away from the fire.

Her fingers trembled. Her feet were like ice. Soon, she couldn't take it. She pulled her stockings back on, and then she pulled on her black cloak, stepping towards the fire.

Kosette said with a disappointed voice, "Taking a little rest?"

"I'm freezing, Kosette." She was on a first name basis with her step-mother, and she often refused to be polite to her. She wasn't going to turn sweet at this point in their relationship. She was still quite angry with her.

"Well, I can't have you turning to snow."

When Rosanda felt toastier, she went back to her work and made a very gentle, barely visible sketch on a canvas with a sharp pencil. Her favorite paints were oil based, but sometimes she used watercolors or colored pencils, or a combination of all of the above.

This piece was for the prince. His Highness had asked for a specific pose, an image of Rosanda nude and standing, her front facing the viewer, wearing a long pearl necklace that dangled down to the navel.

He had lent Kosette a beautiful string of false pearls to assist her with the image. Rosanda could have simply imagined a necklace and painted it in, but she supposed that it wouldn't hurt to have a necklace to study.

The hours went on, and the world was even colder. Rosanda's body was bitter and stinging from the painful winter. She told Kosette that she wanted to eat something hot and steamy. Fortunately for her, a servant knocked on the door and told them there was a lunch prepared for them. Rosanda told the servant that she needed to get dressed, since she had been "modeling." When they were ready, they were led into a very small dining room, which surprised Rosanda. She thought they were meant to eat in their rooms.

It wasn't a grand dining hall. It was a casual place. Still, it was very luxurious. The walls were a cool green color. Golden brown curtains covered tall windows, helping to keep out the cold. There was an average sized square dining table; the wood was painted white and pretty.

And there was a king seated there.

A king with narrowing eyes, barely hiding his irritation.

Rosanda thought she knew why he wasn't happy. It was the same reason why the staff gave her funny looks. Thanks to her step-mother's advice, she had changed her outfit to something ridiculously modest, just in case something like this would happen.

She had put on a black dress with long, fitted sleeves and a neckline so high that it hid most of her collarbone. She put on thin, black gloves to hide her hands. She then put a special piece of black cloth on her head and pinned it about her face in a certain way. Only her bespectacled eyes and eyebrows were visible. She was basically wearing a veil. The piece of fabric that covered her mouth hung long enough to cover that high neckline of her dress. She would be able to slip food under the veil, but it would be awkward.

The logic applied was this: Why would the men purchase paintings of her when they could examine the model for free?

Kosette was the first to speak. She curtsied at the same time as her step-daughter, and she said, "Your Majesty, I didn't expect to see you. I'm so pleased." There was a lie there. She had expected to see him, or his son, at some point.

Kutberth I slapped the table with his palm, making a dense noise against the wood that seemed to echo in Rosanda's ears. "What's the meaning of this?!"

Rosanda jumped a bit, and then she took a few steps back. Kosette was the one who provided a verbal response. "Sire, are you disturbed by something?"

The king's hand flew in the air as he made a harsh gesture and leaned over the table, his long hair slinking over his great shoulder. "Why is your step-daughter dressed as a desert dweller?"

Kosette laced her well groomed fingers together and told him, "My poor Rosanda thinks quite strangely. While she doesn't mind modeling for paintings, she's quite shy in her daily life."

A loud exhale came from Kutberth I. He straightened back up in his chair. His index and thumb pinched the bridge of his nose. The wrinkles near the corners of his hazel eyes were suddenly deeper, not so deep as to exaggerate his age, but deep enough. "I suppose it's fine." He moved his hand away from his face, and then he flicked his fingers upwards, gesturing that he wanted the women to approach the table.