Chapter 1

It was a simple chain of events, really. Aiden had gotten a letter delivered to him while working. The man dressed in quite fashionable clothes. Over the top enough to make it understood that the man was neither commoner nor noble. A servant or messenger to a Noble perhaps. That thought was the reason Aiden didn’t open it right away. Nobles could wait a few hours.

It was later when he was dead tired, after a full day of crafting a master painting of the pond nearby, that he opened the letter. His eyes latched onto the words. They were neat, twisting and curving in a perfectionist’s favorite way. It surely must have been a Thane or Earl’s doing. Those always had scribes perfect their craft for their letters. He didn’t quite read it, his eyes and brain being burnt out from the long work. With a few yawns he quickly scanned the page that contained most of the same old things that this person needed a painter and that Aiden was chosen out of many in consideration.

He rolled his eyes, going straight to the bottom to see who this pretentious Thane or Earl was. The wax stamp was an incredibly familiar sight. In fact, he looked out his window at the flags that lined the streets containing the same crest. He looked back and forth at the two and he could swear his heart nearly stopped. His eyes landed back on the page, next to the wax. The signature woke him up.

The prince had called him to the castle for a painting.

He near shook with joy. This was the greatest honor and surely his name would be known all around the kingdom and to other kingdoms. He would be unfathomably rich and finally be able to move out of this dump he called home with all the art supplies he could ever want. So, like anyone else he jumped with joy and started packing his things. A week later he was on his way.

Ready to go, he hopped into wagon. He opened his mouth to tell the driver to start the journey. His mouth shut sat at a shrill whine he heard from outside. A far too familiar whine. He poked his head out the back. He only sighed at the sight of the girl running to the wagon.

The girl slid to a stop, out of breath. She was a bit heavier than most girls from the village. Only the daughter of the baker could really be that way.

“Aiden!” She cheerfully looked up, eyes sparkling. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to the castle!?”

“I didn’t think to.”

“Why? You’re going to meet the angel prince!”

“So? I’m going to paint him, not become best friends with him.”

“But if you did you could introduce him to me!” She clapped her hands together, a dream-y look on her face. That girl had her head in the clouds. “A true love story, I tell you! Everyone would be talking about it!”

“This is reality, Cassandra.” Aiden said flatly bursting her bubble of a dream. She frowned. “That will never happen.”

“So cynical.” She shook her head.

“I’m just being realistic.” Aiden rolled his eyes. “Now, I’m going to be late if you stall me anymore.” He pushed his head back into the wagon. “Let’s go!” He called out to the driver.

It was a long trip to the city. He slept for most of it. He slept so much that the driver he had hired questioned if he was super human or not. Truth was that he rarely got sleep. It was hard being an artist in this day and age. He would have to churn out paintings on a whim, going without sleep for nights on end. These four days of rest were much needed. It also allowed him to look much more presentable and less like a dying man. It worked tremendously as the bags under his eyes were much less pronounced and his face looked paler. He grinned wide when he arrived to the city. A quick change in the wagon and he was fully in a loose white shirt with the fanciest pants he owned. His freshly shined boots hit the ground with a small thud. His sack and chest following him out. He promptly paid the driver. Turning around, he gasped at the scope of the castle before him.

Thus, here he was standing at the gates in complete awe after such a long chain of events. A wide grin on his face. Out of his trance, he flicked his head to get the ginger strands out of his sight. For a brief second it went through his mind how long his hair had grown. Tying it up would make him look fancier.

Unfortunately, it was too late as a guard called out to him with a ‘you there’ and a ‘leave now’. He jumped a little at the guard’s sudden presence. Quickly, he opened his satchel and rummaged through for the letter. He found in folded between two canvases that he had left from the occasional painting on the trip. He pulled it out, unfolded it and walked up to the guard.

“Hello,” He said; unsure. “I was called here by the prince. I am an artist.” He showed off the letter with a bit of a proud smile. The guard looked him up and down, then at the letter. He read through it, eyes squinted, he looked fairly young, not even a beard to match the Auburn hair that stuck out the helmet. After a moment the guard looked back to him.

“You don’t seem like type made to serve someone as his highness.” The man sighed.

“However, knowing his highness’...ideals, it is no surprise that he were to hire you.”

“Ideals?”

“It is best that you do not dwell on his personal business. You’re here to be his personal toy for as long as he wants.”

“I am not an object.” Aiden frowned and lowered the paper from the guards face. “I’ll have you know that I have painted for high nobles all across the state.” He folded the letter back up and put it safely in his satchel.

“Tell that to the prince.” The guard rolled his eyes. “I was told that an artist would come knocking. Come,” He gestured to follow as he turned around. “I will show you to your quarters and then the prince.”

Aiden followed, “What about my chest?”

“The servants will take it to your room soon.”

“If you say so.” He took a last glance at the chest laying at the gate.

~

“It’s oddly quiet here.” Aiden passively commented while looking at the tall and highly decorated windows.

“It’s a big castle that houses only one family and a fair amount of servants. Did you expect it to be bustling with life?”

“Well, yes.”

“So naive...”

“I’m from a village so I wouldn’t know a thing about royal life.”

“His highness really out did himself this time.” The guard shook his head at himself.

“What do you mean?” Aiden cocked in his like a confused puppy with a steak being waved over him.

“His highness is...you will understand when you mean him.” The guard stopped, and pointed at rather nice wood door. “This is your room. Stay in there until I come back for you.”

“Alright.” It took Aiden an awkward minute to realize that the guard was waiting for him to walk into the room. Quickly, he did, almost tripping on his own foot while he was at it.

The room was small. Small in comparison to the rest of the castle. This was probably the biggest room Aiden had ever been in. The windows opposite to the door were large and decorative. The walls filled with floral patterned wall paper. Intricate wood and stone patterns here and there. A decorated fire place mirrored the large and neat bed. His chest lay next to the bed. With a door way inbetween it and a large wardrobe.

Aiden went to the door way and peaked in. A large wood tub with bathing supplies sat in the decorated stone next to a toilet and shelf under a mirror with a wash bucket. This was an entirely different world to live in. And he couldn’t believe he was standing right in it.

With a big smile, he ran over to the big windows in the bedroom.

A clear view of the garden filled his sight. He near jumped with joy at it. He just had to paint it right then and there. He definitely has the time. The guard most likely wouldn’t be back until the prince was ready.

He ran over to the chest and unlocked it. Upon opening it, he grabbed his easel, pallet, and paint. Quickly setting up the easel and placing the canvas on it he pulled out a mid-sized brush from his sachel. He took a deep breath in, the smile on his lips fading.

The paint brush touched the canvas and his mind went silent with focus on his work. He was two strokes in when there was a knock on the door. He frowned at the interruption but went to answer nonetheless.

“His highness will see you now.” The same guard from earlier announced to him.

“Will I need anything?”

“No, all will be supplied to you, now come.” The guard started in the direction of what Aiden could only assume was where the prince was. It was a long few minutes of silence to get to whatever room he was being led to. The guard turned around before letting him. He stopped, of course, this was a palace guard he had no choice but to observe and follow. “Be careful with him. He could send you home in seconds, send you into exile if he so chooses.”

“I’ve heard only good things about him so I think I’ll be fine.” A bit of a smirk arose on the guard’s face at Aiden’s words.

“Good luck.” He moved to let Aiden in. After a bit of hesitation, Aiden slipped through the obnoxiously large wood door. It creaked as it moved and slammed shut. Aiden couldn’t help the flinch at the loud sound. He froze at the sight before him.

The angel prince as other’s called him. Ironic. The prince was a dark figure, wearing black as if to cover the pale as paper skin. He was angelic in the sense that his skin glowed as did his curled sunset hair. A black fur cloak fell elegantly from his somewhat small looking shoulders down to his lower back. Not that Aiden could really tell much of the prince’s figure through the thick clothing that wrapped the prince’s tall frame. He should probably stop referring to the prince as the prince. He couldn’t really help it, he couldn’t quite remember the prince’s name. Asking didn’t seem quite right. Not when the aura the supposed angel prince was emanating was sending shivers down Aiden’s spine.

His eyes wandered to escape the discomfort. They quickly landed on an easel with a canvas, paint brushes of all sizes, and a palette already set up. The paint was probably the highest quality out there. Something he could only dream to afford. He almost vibrated in excitement. He had to rush through the uncomfortable part right now or he might not get to them.

With a quiet breath, he bowed.

“Your highness.” He greeted, trying hard to keep his words steady. Succeeding in his eyes. Though it was unnerving how his voice echoed in the rather large room. It was now that the prince acknowledged his presence. He looked over his cloaked shoulder with sharp emerald eyes that glowed with the sun from the large window. There was a sour look on the angelic face. A contrast that cancelled out and only made the image all the more attractive. Damn, the man earned the nickname for sure. “My name is-”

“I know who you are.” The prince rasped, turning around fully. A thin looking frame, surprising Aiden somewhat. “I wouldn’t have called you here if I didn’t know who you were.” Irritation was much more prevent in the man’s voice more than the anger shown on his pale face. “Now, hurry up and get in your place, I want to get this over with. Each second here is time wasted for more important things.”

“Yes, your highness.” Aiden stood up straight and almost tripped over himself trying to get to the stool in front of the easel. He looked at the brushes sitting on another stood next to him. He carefully selected three he would use for now and a pencil. He looked up and found the prince sitting in a rather comfortable looking chair in front of him. One leg over the other, his head leaning into his hand in a both condescending and bored pose. “Is that the pose you want?” The prince raised a thin brow. A smirk forming just seconds after.

“What do you think?” He said, his tone almost mocking. If this was what he was going to be like then so be it. There’s been worse. Aiden’s encountered people that have thrown knives at him for asking such a dumb question. Not that he had any fault. It was rather polite to ask such a question as people tended to be indecisive about positions and poses. He really was starting to get what the guard meant earlier when mentioning the prince’s ideals. A childish angel would have been a better description. No surprise when he grew up in the top family of the kingdom. He would have to mature quite a bit to becoming king at this rate. Anything would be better than the current king, though.

He merely shrugged, adjusting his grip on the pencil in hand. He took a glance of the prince to get a basic shape. His pencil hit the paper and he was quick to start. The prince was an easy figure, the pose was quite common in the arrogant children Aiden had the misfortune to work with in the past. It was the lighting of the clothing that would be a nuisance. This man went out of his way to make a challenge. He must underestimate most artists’ skills. Of course, he would be looking through the obscure. He was running out of options. Aiden wasn’t special, he was here out of desperation on the prince’s part. In that case, he would have to prove the man wrong.

He finished the basic shapes, switching his pencil for a paintbrush. Time seemed to suddenly pass by in that instant. His mind went blank, going only to copy the prince’s image with careful strokes. In what felt like minutes, in reality being an hour or two, Aiden was pretty much done. Adding finishing touches and fixes to the painting. The prince had long before started pacing back and forth patiently. It was distracting enough to pull Aiden out of the trance and have him following the man’s every move. He looked to be in deep thought about something, his expression switching from anger to satisfaction to all sorts of differing things over and over. It was a peculiar sight.

“Is it bad that I forgot your name?” Aiden absentmindedly asked, going back to the painting, adding a last specific stroke.

“What?” He noticed the moving figure stop. “How?”

Aiden shrugged, “It’s easy to forget.”

“I’m your prince!” There was a defensive edge to the prince’s voice.

“Yes, but I come from a small village where all call you by your nickname.”

“Nickname?”

“The angel prince is what they call you.” Aiden leaned away from the painting, putting down the brushes and cracking each of his fingers one by one to relax them. “Almost never by your name.”

“I take offense to that nickname.”

“Really? I thought it was quite flattering.”

“It’s based on my looks, nothing more.”

“Well, it’s not like you let the world know much about yourself.” He sighed. “Anyway,” He carefully lifted the painting off the easel and turned it towards the prince. “Here is your portrait, prince...” He trailed off still struggling to remember the name.

“Oliver. Prince Oliver.” The prince interrupted his thoughts with furrowed brows. He looked concentrated on the painting.

“Prince Oliver.” Aiden echoed like a child, correcting himself. Those grassy eyes scanned the painting. No expression of joy or irritation of any kind. That must have been a good thing. An odd look came about on Oliver’s pale face. Something between a scowl and a smirk.

“You’ve proven yourself worthy in skill.” The man started. “But you lack aesthetic. It’s a terrible piece.” Oliver’s eyes now bore into Aiden’s own. “You will make another tomorrow.” With that announced, he walked past Aiden and out the door leaving the blond to sit frozen in confusion. He couldn’t tell whether having to paint again the next day was a good or bad thing. A mix between both, really. 

It was a harsh criticism from the prince. He’d gotten worse but the fact that it was the prince Oliver gave it a different meaning. He was right though, it did lack aesthetic. Probably because Aiden didn’t really care much for portraits. They showed off skill more than creativity. Oliver clearly thought the same. So maybe it was a good thing that he would have to paint the prince again. Who knew how many more times he would need to but he can proudly say that he impressed the angel prince. The same angel prince who wasn’t much of angel. That man was purely human, nothing angelic but his looks. He clearly had a brain. A personality of a devil almost. He could be easily seen as flawed. Aiden had only this instance with him and the flaws were evident. Perhaps that was far more beautiful than any angel.