There was a softness in Princess Amalia’s eyes as she looked into Vergil’s. He hadn’t heard her come in. She pushed off the door and snaked through the easel and canvas covered floor. He quickly wiped at his eyes leaving a tingling friction burn. 

"That was my first painting. I keep it up to remind me of my growth." She scratched at a clump of paint on the side of the canvas. "My bedchambers look out in the direction of your home, the trees have since grown too tall to see over. Don't worry, I didn't stare often. The thing was, I wanted to paint something of value, something that I could look back at and be grateful I'd captured it. That’s when I looked out and saw this."

"Are you grateful, then?"

She looked over at Vergil, "More than I expected I’d be. You can take the painting if you want."

Vergil looked away, his heart pounding in his chest. With a shake of his head he said, "No, not yet. Later down the line, when I’m ready, I hope the offer will still stand."

She slipped her hand in his, it was rougher than he expected and bore calluses. "Of course, Vergil. Now," she pulled her hand away and crossed her arms. "I’d like to know how and why you’re in here."

"Would it be too much of a stretch to say I accidentally strolled in while looking for the gentleman’s room?"

Her face became an unreadable mask, "Very much so. I’ve never left this room unlocked, ever. I’m very careful with it. I can take a guess as to why you might've snuck in here though." There was a sly sparkle in her eyes as she leaned against the wall. "Perhaps it has to do with a beautiful blonde woman who doesn't like to take a hint."

Vergil looked down shamefully, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be running and hiding from her like this. This isn't an excuse, but she's honestly a bit. No, never mind."

At this she laughed, "Vivi's a great friend and a hard worker, I rely on her for everything. But, I won't say you’re wrong for running away; her track record with taking no from men is…" She glanced down at her feet, her smile dropping, "Something I should've taken more seriously. I'll talk about it with her. I can guard you on the way you need to go." She stretched out an arm toward the door. "Were you here to see your brother?"

"Well, no," Vergil gave a wobbly smile, his shoulders hunched forward as he pulled at the fabric of his pants. "I came to see you."

Amalia stood up straight, pulling forward from the wall, her body tense. She took a step to the side so that her back was facing the door. "Me?" Her voice was steady and her expression flat.

"Not in that way," Vergil said softly. "I saw the painting you gifted Ethan."

Her mouth dropped slightly, before she clutched at her stomach with laughter. She finished, a broad, toothy smile still stretched her lips. "You rather meet with the artist than the model?"

"Of course," Vergil leaned in closer to her without caution, without thinking about who it was that he was talking to. Words tumbled out of his mouth, quickly in a raised volume, pitch going higher and higher. He praised her for her talent, for her brilliance, and mastery of the media. Asked questions often not waiting for answers and expressed how inspired she had made him. The only thing that stopped him from continuing was the gentle touch of her hand against his arm. "I appreciate the sentiment," she mumbled under her knuckles, unable to meet his eyes. "As I've said, I've been painting since I was a little girl," she twirled a lock of her hair. "My favorite subject to paint is people. Vivi is oft humoring me. There aren't many people I can share my hobby with."

"It's the same for me," he clasped his hands in front of his chest. "Though I've fallen behind, I really love," his voice softened, trailing off as his thoughts drifted. "I really love art and fashion."

"I heard you'd gifted Ethan that suit." Vergil twitched at her words, running appropriate responses through his head before she finished speaking. "It was beautiful, you have a unique taste. Surely, you can speak to your brother."

"My brother and I don't see eye to eye in most things, so there's a lot of friction between us at the best of times," he tried to keep his voice light hearted but his smile wavered. He swallowed, hiding how touchy the subject made him feel. That and the truth about Ethan’s opinion on Vergil’s fashion sense. There was a time he'd told him that he looked like a molting bird when he'd worn a feathered tunic, that was him being polite.

The princess looked over at her childhood painting, "I figured it was something like that. But you must love him a great deal," she looked back at him.

"He's my brother. I love him dearly."

"I trust that and I trust that your compliments to my paintings are genuine, but I can't say that I trust you. I've learned since meeting you that you're well known among the ladies," she glanced away for a moment before meeting him in the eye again. "And you've shown me how well you put up the charm. Your brother is someone I've always imagined marrying and the king and queen think highly of him. As such, eventually, you'll become my family. That we share a hobby will make our acquaintance easier, however I don't wish to be any closer to you than I have to."

"Your highness, I simply was following my passions and could not control the desire to express my fascination with your art. I admire you for your skill, but I hold no intent to develop anything more than polite friendliness between us."

"Excellent. I will have someone call a carriage for a safe no-Vivi journey back home."

She went to the door first to peek out and make sure no one was around to see them come out the room together. Then she beckoned him to follow her.

When he was about to step onto the carriage that was pulled up for him, Princess Amalia called out his name. He stopped his other foot in midair and dropped it back on the ground to turn toward her. She gestured to her servants to leave them for a moment, including the coachman. They stayed within eyesight, their eyes bored into the back of his head.

"I just want you to know that I am glad you came out to see me. Everything you said to me meant a lot. And I'm glad that you had a chance to see my first painting; I know I will always cherish that moment. No one has ever looked at my art like that. Even if we're not friends, I hope as fellow artists…" she swallowed.

"Of course. Like I said, you've inspired me. I believe I'll find myself with a paintbrush in my hands again and I'd like to show the results to someone it'll mean something to."

Her face lit up, her white teeth enveloping her face. She was like a work of art herself. She would be a perfect wife for his brother. A wonderful, strongheaded woman who kept at her passions, waiting patiently for someone to appreciate them. Vergil wished he'd done the same, then maybe he could have shown her something he was proud of sooner. He reached out his hand, she placed hers in it, and he kissed the back of her fingers. "May your day be as beautiful as you are, Your Highness."

A few days later, Vergil was on a date in the marketplace with a couple of his lady ‘friends’. They liked having him around to coddle, to have a piece of control they didn’t have elsewhere. It was wanted enough that they paid him for it. He was holding up two pieces of fabric to his face.

"Which one suits me best?" One was a silky purple the other a matte red. The women giggled, turning to whisper in each other's ears.

"That one," they said in unison pointing to the red fabric.

"Vergil's skin is pretty like porcelain," one of them said.

"Right. And red is so regal. He'd look like a beautiful doll."

Vergil pressed the red fabric against his lips, pretending to be bashful, "Aw, I'm fragile like a doll too, I'm glad you're playing so nicely with me. Do you think I'll stand out too much? I'm scared I'll have too many ladies as beautiful as you two fighting over me."

They clung to each other with glee, fidgeting giddily. They shook their heads and one of them said, "We know Vergil is too perfect to be owned by just one of us."

"I'll pay for whatever you have made for yourself if it's the purple."

The three of them turned to see Princess Amalia. Quickly the women curtsied, holding up their gowns as they did so.

"Pleasure to see you again, Your Highness," Vergil said as he bowed. "Did you say purple?"

"It suits you. It's deep, like a sweet yet tangy wine. It carries a gentle masculine energy and a touch of feminine allure."

The ladies dropped a couple of coins then saw themselves out with another curtsy and sly glances between them.

"Are you saying I’m not regal?" he gave the fabric back to the tailor, saying he'd like to use the purple.

"I am. Sure you fit the bill with your fake charm. But you have an untamable quality about you. You're much too free and unchained. Or it's how you ought to be."

"Am I being complimented or-" he didn't have a chance to finish the sentence before he was being pulled away into the alley beside the shop. "Am I being mugged," he laughed awkwardly.

"I thought about this a great deal and truthfully, I need you after all."

"Huh?"

She pressed a finger to his lips. For a second she seemed distracted by the touch, despite her being the aggressor. Eyes trailed down to his lips before bouncing back up to his eyes. "No one else would do this for me and my parents refuse to allow it. Did you notice in my studio, the other nude models were only women? I trust that you wouldn't care about proprietary or doing some sneaking around."

He grabbed her wrist gently and moved it away from his lips with a smile, "My, my, we're rather bold."

"Oh, please shut it. My male portraits never seem to come out right. I'm sure if I weren't the princess I wouldn't have such a hard time. I need to learn male anatomy from someone."

"Normally you would ask a little more politely."

"I don't wish to be polite with you."

He blinked in surprise before he laughed against the back of his hand. He slid his hand down his chest, "Good that I don't actually mind. It would be nice for this beautiful body to be made eternal."

"I plan to burn it all eventually."

He puffed up his cheeks and coughed. When he was finished, he shrugged his shoulders, "That works too. It's poetic."

She smiled softly, "I thought you'd be able to appreciate it either way. I'll send you an unmarked letter with your name on it detailing how to get inside."

"I have to say, even without the danger of beheading, I'm pricey," he slid his hand gently from one side of his collar bone to the other.

Her eyes went wide, "Wait, you." She furrowed her eyebrows and bit her lip, when she let go a split was left. "That won't be an issue. My allowance is unmonitored."

"Great, let's shake on it." Their hands gripped tightly and shook. Just as he had thought, her hand wasn't like that of the wealthy ladies he knew. Her hands were the hands of a hard worker.