In a castle veiled by the mists of Scotland, a Queens reign shimmers like a tempest's eye-a beacon of strength amidst the encroaching darkness.
Beside her, Caius, the enigmatic king consort, wields his loyalty like a blade, his heart a fortress aga...
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Caius
I walked briskly to my studio, steps heavy with the stain of unresolved arguments and mounting pressure. Pushing open the wooden door, I entered the room that was my sanctuary.
The studio was spacious, with a large wall-length arched window dominating one side, allowing the dim, diffused light to stream in. The glass panels divided the light into fragments, casting intricate patterns on the dark wood floors. Stacks of canvases leaned against the walls, some finished, others still in progress. There were jars filled with paintbrushes of varying sizes, palettes smeared with every hue imaginable, tubes of oil and acrylic paint, pieces of charcoal, chalks, and multiple easels scattered around, each holding a different painting at various stages of completion.
Dressed in a simple black shirt with the sleeves rolled up to my elbows and dark trousers, I appeared more worn than usual. My pristine blonde hair was slightly tousled and the lines on my face seemed deeper. Running a hand through my hair I let out a grunt of frustration, as I moved to one of the easels. My red eyes, normally cold and calculating were now shadowed with doubt and sorrow.
Picking up a paintbrush, I dipped it in a shade of navy blue and began to paint, however my movements were stiff, lacking in their distinctive fluidity.
The unfinished painting before me was of her... her dark, enigmatic beauty captured on the canvas... yet today, even her image could not bring me solace.
just then, the door creaked open, and Jacob entered, his presence a stark contrast to the brooding atmosphere of the studio. Jacob's muscular frame filled the doorway, his expression one of concern mixed with determination.
"your grace, dinner is ready and Renesmee is waiting."
He said, voice steady as I remained facing the canvas, grip tightening on the paintbrush.
"I will be there soon."
Was my reply, though my voice showed the strain that underwent in my mind. Jacob didn't move, instead, his deep ebony brown eyes wandered around the room, taking in the vast array of canvases that all depicted the same person – rowen...
"You've got quite the collection here... she looks different in each one... when did you first know Bella's sister was your mate?"
He inquired and I sighed heavily, placing the paintbrush in the water dish and turning to face Jacob, I rested my elbows on my knees, hands clasped together.
"I knew the moment I was turned that she was out there and that the other half of my soul was waiting for me. It took three thousand years for us to finally meet. When we did, she was not at all what I had expected."
Jacob chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.
"at least she was twenty-three when you met. It could be worse; she could've been a baby."
