Warning: Shounen-ai contents. This is your last chance to hit the back button.
Hair is gray
And the fires are burning
So many dreams
on the shelf
You say I
wanted you to be proud of me
I always wanted that myself...
'Winter' -- Tori Amos
The portrait had a new home, now.
In the study of the castle it was placed as a centerpeice around a small pile of dusty books and candles half burnt, bowing over with wax tendrils. The one place in all of Indels that Albert knew it would be undisturbed. Here, in private, he could come confide in the one person who had always been there for him, in both life and death.
For years it rested above the mantle of Ma Slambert's, a gift from Dart at the conclusion of their grand adventure to save the world. She treasured it up until her quiet passing in the night and then Albert laid claim to it as her possessions were handed off. With Lavitz' tragic death, there remained no heir to the Slambert legacy. He never married, for reasons only the king of a united Serdio understood. It remained a secret he kept within the confines of his heart. A place no one else was allowed to go, much like the rooftop Lavitz showed him in their youth. A private corner where the two could watch the sun set over the castle and set the skies on fire.
Now all he had was a picture and sweet memories of laughter and pain. Their first kiss during a spring rainstorm, where Lavitz had held him and the scent of rain weighed grass cloyed with the familiar aroma of leather and steel. Stolen moments in dark corners of Indels grand halls, away from the prying eyes of nobility and knights. But most of all, it was those eyes Albert could not forget. And the artist of Lavitz' portrait had captured them beautifully. Wintergreen and vibrant, depicting a man of great convictions and loyalties so strong, he would cross the boundries of death to see them fulfilled.
A gloved hand reached out to touch the frame, brushing off a speck of dust as if it offended. The hands beneath no longer held the haft of spears and hadn't for years. Peace no longer demanded a king of warfare and strategy, but a man of kindness and diplomacy. But the kind of man Albert wanted to be lay confined to the portrait within. Would Lavitz be proud of what he was today? What would he say now to see his beloved wed, with several heirs now scampering about the castle, nearly adults themselves. What might his first knight have been like today?
He would never know the answers, his ponderings left to conjecture. Fingertips lifted to his lips, he pressed them there a moment before returning them to the glass that kept the precious portrait safe from the elements of time. His visage would be kept preserved, forever young in the mind of an old King. He bid farewell to the smiling, chiseled features of an old, loyal warrior. He bid farewell and crossed the threshold of the study, closing the door behind him.