Crafting The Lust

✨13✨

The room was bright and warm, bathed in the soft morning sunlight filtering through the high windows. The Queen sat at her vanity, surrounded by her maids as they fluttered around her, attending to her every need. The soft hum of conversation filled the air, light and carefree.

One of the maids, a young girl with a cheeky smile, carefully adjusted the Queen's golden hairpins as she spoke, "My Queen, you look more radiant by the day. No wonder the King is so captivated by you."

Another maid giggled as she arranged the folds of the Queen's gown, "He even brought you the painter you desired—what could be a clearer sign of his love?" Her words catching everyone in a laughter. The queen's cheeks were red, feeling warm.

The third maid, smoothing out the delicate lace at the Queen's sleeves, chimed in, "We all can't wait for the day you become the Crowned Queen. It's only a matter of time now."

The Queen's lips curved into a small smile at their words, but she didn't respond immediately. Instead, she let her eyes wander to her reflection in the mirror. The carefully arranged hair, the flawless skin, the regal posture—everything was perfect, as it should be. On the outside, she was already a Queen, adored by the people and cherished by the King.

But inside, a different story played out.

Her maids' voices faded into the background as her thoughts drifted. The crown. That's what she wanted. Not just the title or the admiration, but the crown that came with power—real power. It was not enough to sit beside the King, to smile and look beautiful. No, she wanted more. She wanted to stand above them all, to rule, to be seen as the rightful authority.

Being the Queen in name was a privilege, yes, but the title meant nothing without the weight of the crown to solidify it. Crowned Queen. The words echoed in her mind. That's when the world would truly bow to her. When she wouldn't have to simply wish for things but command them. When her voice would be the final word in any matter, not a polite suggestion to the King.

She had waited patiently, played the role of the doting wife, the gentle Queen, but the crown was within reach now. She just needed to ensure nothing would stand in her way—not even the King himself.

Her eyes sharpened as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Soon.

"Your Majesty?" one of the maids interrupted her thoughts, stepping closer with a silk shawl to drape over her shoulders. "Are you alright? You’ve gone quiet."

The Queen blinked, her serene mask slipping back into place with practiced ease. "I'm fine," she replied softly, her smile returning, though her thoughts remained far away. "Just thinking about the painting session today."

"Ah, yes!" another maid chirped, adjusting a ribbon. "It will be wonderful to see you immortalized on canvas by such a renowned artist. The King truly spoils you."

The Queen’s smile widened, but her thoughts whispered back to her once more, He spoils me, but I will take much more than he ever intended.

﹏

The room flourished by the gentle glow of sun, filtering through the sheer curtains and casting a golden hue on the polished floor. Yongbok's  brushes and easels were neatly arranged at one end, prepared for the day's work. In the center of the room, a large velvet chair stood against a backdrop of royal insignias, waiting for its subject.

Felix travelled his gaze through the materials of his necessities, more than he has ever seen of. Every pigments, brushes of diffrent sizes, a huge canvas of ornate frame, and the chamber itself was breathtaking.