“Sit still!” I scold Caoimhe as she shakes her head disapprovingly, princess curls bouncing up and down.

“You’re no fun when you’re painting Harry, you know?”

“It’s your portrait you’re ruining, Qui.”

She rolls her eyes.

“Have you heard of Dorian Gray?” I raise my brow, dipping my paintbrush into the yellow blob on my palette.

“The Oscar Wilde book?”

She hums. I assume that means yes.

“Well, I was thinking…”

“That’s a first.”

“Oh, shut your trap. You need the money, painter boy. Don’t disrespect your Lady.”

“You aren’t my Lady.” She gasps, feigning upset. “I married an English Lord for this title!”

“And a boring one at that.” I chuckle, switching from acrylics to oil-based paint. She scrunches up her face, thin eyebrows knitting together in disgust. “He really is. Such a waste.” I chuckle again. “Anyways,” she waves a hand around in front of her face. “Dorian Gray. Do you think it would work? Trading your soul so a painting of you grows old instead of you?”

I think for a second. “Maybe. You never know…”

“Didn’t you paint him recently?”

“Who? Dorian?”

“No, silly! Oscar.”

“Oh… I suppose I did.”

“Did he say anything about it?” I shake my head, cleaning my brush and picking up my acrylics again. “Not really. It’s all nonsense anyways, Qui.”

“But you just said—”

I tut loudly. “I don’t care. I’m painting your face now, and if you want to stay my muse, you have to stop talking.”

“But Harry—”

“No buts!”

“I hate you.”

“No, you love me!” “More than my husband, I’ll give you that.”

“Am I sensing an affair with your painter,Lady Brysing?”

“Never.”

Note: yes, I hate painting on canvas, why do you ask?

So, naturally, I know nothing about it.

For anyone wondering, Caoimhe is pronounced Quee-va, that’s where the nickname Qui comes from.

Don’t ask what time this is set in please, I don’t even know 🥲🥲

Also, I really liked that Kitkat dedicated things to people, so if you don’t mind, I’d do that too, and this one goes out to Tangerine! because it was written with you in mind.

Love ya :)