The Crown's Obsession

Wearing just petticoat and stockings that went up to her thigh, Madeline felt as if she was barely wearing any clothes on her body because of the fabric thinness of the petticoat. She had never been placed under this kind of situation. For someone who had not been touched, or kissed, or hugged by a man who was a stranger, her face had turned red, and she stared at the ground of the gallery room.

The couch she was sitting on was cushioned, soft, that sank down when she sat down but no matter how comfortable the couch was, she was far from being comfortable where she was half-clothed. The maid didn't ask or speak to her, she did what she was asked by the King and left Madeline alone in the room. Madeline had turned her body while covering her front with her hands by bringing them forward.

If one day the wicked King were going to die, it would be because she would have stabbed him, but then that was only in her imagination.

She then heard the footsteps back in the gallery, and she didn't turn her gaze to look at Calhoun. Calhoun had merely glanced at her before he went towards the wall to pick up another stand and fresh piece of canvas. Positioning the canvas, he started to bring out the paint and the palette, getting them ready.

"How are you feeling?" she heard Calhoun ask.

"Mortified and angry," she gritted her teeth, not hiding the discomfort he had placed her in.

"That's good. Next time you try to lie to me, remember this," Calhoun said without looking at her while he stood in one side of the corner of the room mixing the colours.

Madeline wanted to know if Calhoun ever got punished for his actions and at the same time she had to remind herself that he was the King. The King made and broke the rules. He was the exception to the rules.

While Calhoun was doing something with the palates, Madeline continued to sit on the couch unmovingly like a statue. She tried to calm herself. Turning angry would only feed to the twisted mind of the vampire King. To most, her actions would appear to be irrational after all. Girls were often married to the Lords, Dukes, Kings and other men who held a closer seat to the King, therefore, it was nothing new. Women had been getting betrothed for centuries.

Marriages were often formed to create alliances or for peace which was merely out of love. Girls even younger to her were forced into marrying the men, forced in bed, and thinking this Madeline closed her eyes. She came to realise the difference between those other girls and her was that, they were married to the men immediately while here she was only being held captive, waiting to be married. And as the thought sank in, she tried to think over things, but it didn't stop her from seeking her freedom that she cherished.

Her eyes moved slowly towards Calhoun, who walked back to the Canvas that was placed in front of her. His demeanour relaxed like he was not angry with her.

Calhoun left the palate near the stand and walked towards Madeline, his eyes darker than before, and she didn't know if it was because of the light coloured shirt he wore that accentuated his eyes.

"Have you painted people before?" asked Madeline, who had been holding her breath before she had to remind herself to breath.

"I have," he answered her, his hand reaching her ankle and he pulled it so that it stretched across the length of the couch, "Both men and women."

"Men too?" came out Madeline's honest question. She couldn't picture a naked man being painted by Calhoun.

Calhoun's eyes met her eyes that was not looking at him, "When it comes to art there's no man or women. But if it helps, men were often drawn with the women," Madeline had only been curious about it, "Are you not uncomfortable sitting like that?" he questioned her, noticing how she had twisted the top of her body.

"I am uncomfortable wearing just a petticoat," she muttered under her breath.

"If it's uncomfortable we can take it off to make you feel more comfortable," his words had Madeline's eyes go wide, and she snapped her head to look at him. When his hand reached close to her shoulder, Madeline was quick to say,

"I am fine," she didn't know why she even tried to wiggle her way out.

She saw how Calhoun smiled. The smile was slow and gradual that made to his lips. His eyes holding mirth in them knowing he had her just where he wanted her- here with him.

"Let me know if you find something to be uncomfortable. I will be sure to help it," meaning to make it worse, thought Madeline in her mind, her eyes staring at him and she felt him pull pieces of her hair and push them behind, "Okay?" he asked her, waiting for her reply.

"Okay," she answered. This was like if she were drowning, she would have to flail her arms by herself because asking for help from this person would be like being pushed deep underwater. Calhoun left her side and walked back to the canvas.

"Relax, Madeline," she heard him say, "I will capture what you will show me, and I will take what you give me," there was promise in his words and Madeline broke her gaze away from him to look away to one of the paintings hanging on the wall. She wanted to glare, but at the same time, she didn't want to look at him.

Calhoun who stood behind the canvas was tall enough where he didn't have to step away from it to take a look at Madeline as his eyes could perfectly and clearly see her from where he stood. She looked delectable sitting like that. Painting came like second in nature to him and he was used to people's naked bodies but with Madeline, it was different. It wasn't the nakedness that alluring to his eyes but the way she looked right now, trying to cover her modesty which he had seen when he had dressed her before.

He was used to women showing off their womanly parts, trying to lure him but they were nothing but objects to be drawn. He wondered why even though Madeline was dressed in her petticoat, she appeared to be the most beautiful girl. An art he just didn't want to capture on his canvas but to capture her in his arms. She looked better than his imagination. Pale skin, red cheeks and pale pink lips that were parted while her eyes had been lowered, she was too perfect in his eyes.

Madeline didn't know how long she would have to sit here like this. As Calhoun had pointed earlier, the position she had opted to sit in started to turn one of her legs numb, and her back started to ache, but she didn't complain. Madeline had her own pride! And she wouldn't admit defeat when it came to Calhoun.

With the space she and Calhoun shared, she could hear the strokes of the pencil against the canvas.

Minutes turned and added up to an hour when Madeline had lost count of the time. All the while, she could feel Calhoun's eyes on her, and neither of them spoke. She sat there on the couch while he continued to draw her. She didn't know when it happened as her eyes had started to turn drowsy as it felt like hours had passed when in truth only an hour had passed, her body slightly swayed and her eyes finally closed to fall asleep on the couch.

Calhoun, who had been outlining her with the charcoal, shifted his gaze to look up from the canvas to find the girl asleep on the couch. One hand was placed below the side of her head, and the other hand had moved to place on the surface of the couch.

His red eyes stared at her, leaving the canvas he was working behind as he walked to where she was and he sat down to level himself to her. Madeline looked defenceless sleeping on the couch.

"Are you trying to make me fall for you more?" he asked in a whisper that didn't reach Madeline as she was asleep.

Calhoun then stood up, walking back to replace the canvas with a new one. Restarting the art that was in front of his eyes that was precious, which was the girl who was sleeping on the couch.