Wonder. Those eyes were rounded with wonder the first time his glance caught them. The big rounded eyes, topped with the beautiful golden colour eyebrows arched in the same surprise made him fully turn his head towards those eyes and stare. They had the colour of a pale, grey sky. However, instead of bringing a grim feeling to the onlooker, those eyes made one feel somewhat intrigued to see what was making them that much big with wonder. It was actually a flower. Not even one of the most cautiously cared for flowers one brings to this land from faraway places, but a simple wildflower with three white petals. However, anyone who saw the look of those eyes would think that was one of the most beautiful flowers this world has to offer. The moment he found out her wonder came from a wildflower, his interest ceased to exist. He looked away.

Those eyes stayed in a corner of his mind haunting his thoughts now and then when he would get the brush in his hand and was about to paint one of the people, who wanted to see his talented hands immortalising their beauty on his precious canvas. Nevertheless, he realised he could only really remember her eyes and her eyebrows. He was not interested in finding out the rest of the features of a girl who was fascinated by a worthless, wildflower. 

Happiness. The second time he saw those eyes they were glinting in the light of the chandelier crowned with dozens of candles. They were round but at the same time a little closed as her mouth was curved into a smile. Thin, pink-coloured lips. Not very sensuous and yet quite attractive. The moment he was able to force his gaze away from her eyes, he saw that her face was blushed with happiness. Pale skin of the face reddened by one of the feelings coveted by every human being. That redness appeared to be a wonderfully suitable addition to the beauty bestowed upon her by the expensive, red satin dress she was wearing and the precious rubies that covered her ears, neck and hands. The small tiara that adorned her golden hair piled up neatly on top of her head was confirming she was not a peasant girl as he thought at first. 

Before long, his gaze went back to her eyes now which were full of the red glow of her dress and jewellery. She was among the many guests in the ballroom of the king’s palace. He watched her for a long time as she went round and round the dance floor, twirling and swaying to the sound of the music. Whether she danced with one partner the whole time or with numerous partners he did not know as his eyes and mind could only focus on her eyes. 

That night, once the party was over way past midnight and the palace became silent, he took up his brush and painted her for the first time. He liked what difference the rubies and the red satin dress did to her image. Most importantly, he found he had painted her eyes most satisfactorily.

He did not let the goddess of sleep embrace him until the sun came up, as he was painting those alluring eyes nonstop. As soon as those eyes were brought to life on his canvas in the way he wanted to, he fell asleep immediately. When he woke up he was late for his appointment to paint the prince in his coronation outfit. He got ready very fast that he forgot to cover her painting. Therefore, when the prince walked into his room, the first thing the prince saw was her painting.

The girl by no means was an exquisite beauty who could turn heads wherever she went. She was not someone whose appearance was plain enough to make people not notice her either. Nevertheless, the way she was painted made her look extremely attractive, inviting. The prince was enamoured of her image the moment he saw the painting. He could not wait to know who she was. The prince was disappointed that he did not know her name or who she was. However, the prince was also not disheartened because he knew as the crown prince of the land and the soon to be king he will be able to find out who she was quite easily.

A few weeks passed by without those eyes capturing his attention. Then, one day, he saw them again. This third time it was neither wonder nor happiness he saw from them. It was passion, lust and a great sense of intoxication for the person who was holding her and kissing her almost violently. Those eyes were half closed but again and again, when that man’s lips kissed her lips with force or went down her neck towards her breasts and she was filled with ecstasy, those eyes would get bigger and open fully, showing the world what pleasure she was feeling. Mesmerised by the ever changing colours of lust and love and extreme pleasure he could see in those eyes he watched her for a while. It was when he realized that the man who was making her go through all those emotions was the prince that he decided it was time to leave.

Straight to the canvas he went. There was much to fill the empty canvas. By the time it was done, he was looking at another precious moment of those eyes suspended in time. They will hold those powerful emotions as long as the painting lasted.

After seeing those eyes that much intoxicated with love and lust and the prince being giddy talking about her, he who found those eyes attractive was not surprised to learn the prince would be marrying her as she was declared to be the prince’s “true love.” There was no objection for the match from either side as the girl fitted what the royal family expected the future queen to be.

Throughout that whole period, he could only see happiness, shyness and love filling those eyes.

In the passing weeks, he got the opportunity to see those eyes more often than not. They were always mesmerising. They always managed to grasp his attention. Consequently, they became the subject of a number of creations of his brush. He drew them as much as those eyes would entice him. It was a pleasure to him every time he managed to paint those eyes with the right emotions. 

Some of those paintings got the chance to be admired by viewers. Then prince and now king, even made sure to make him create a wonderful painting of the now queen, which could be then adorning the wall of their morning room. However, most of the intimate paintings of the owner of those eyes or ones of her in the most secretive moments of her life never got the chance to show their beauty to anyone except the creator himself. He did not want to create any unease which could result in him not getting the chance to live in the palace and enjoy seeing those eyes again and again.

However, while he was getting enough praise for the queen portraits that got to see the light outside of his studio, he knew there was still something lacking. No matter how much those eyes enticed him, he had yet to paint them in their best moment. At first, he did not understand what he was missing. He seemed to have captured them in the most important moments showcasing the most expressive emotions. Then, it occurred to him he has never seen those eyes in sorrow. It made him think. It made him pay more attention to the eyes as he was fond of loitering anywhere close to those eyes any time he did not have work. There were times when he would even cancel his appointments as the restlessness he sometimes felt could only be chased away by having a glimpse of those grey eyes full of life.

He realised for the first time no matter how often those eyes showcased so many of the wonderful emotions humans went through, sorrow was never there. It was not that the eyes never experienced sorrow. They did. However, every time, sorrow came to the heart of the owner of those eyes, that owner seemed to be determined to chase that emotion away as soon as possible. May be she let all the sorrow out when she is alone in her chambers, but whenever she was around people, sorrow only got a split second of time in her eyes. That was not enough time to grasp the way sorrow affected those eyes and then put them on a canvas.

The more he thought about this, the more he was convinced that sorrow was the emotion which would give him the chance to create his magnum opus. He waited till he got the chance to see that emotion. Nevertheless, no matter how long he waited to see that emotion, it never came. He was getting frustrated. He did not know how long he could wait. He felt he had the once in a lifetime opportunity few of the talented painters got to create a masterpiece that would last generations. However, that woman was not letting him create it. 

As he was trying to come up with a way to witness those eyes filled with sorrow, emptying bottle upon bottle of wine, one day something happened. May be the gods had heard him. 

One of the most precious things the queen brought to the palace after her marriage was a little dog. It was quite playful and adorable. It became the palace pet soon after it started living in the palace. One day, the little dog, which was playing with the queen and her attendants, all of a sudden fell on the floor and started to convulse. Soon, it started to bleed from the mouth and took its last breath. He was there when it happened as he was spending most of his time around the queen anyways. As the animal suffered his heart was filled with excitement and happiness because he was sure he was finally going to see those eyes brimming with sorrow. Those eyes did get filled with sorrow and tears started to fall. However, as soon as she found out the little dog was no more, she covered her face with her hands and ran out of the hall into her bed chamber. He only caught a glimpse of those eyes. It was not enough. He was furious.

If he could he would have followed her into her chamber and watch her every move. While he was angry with her for not allowing him to see her eyes filled in sorrow, she came out of the chamber after a couple of hours. Other than some redness on her face that showed she had cried, there was no more sorrow there. Her eyes were bright. They had a hint of sorrow, but they looked normal. It became clear to him this was not the sorrow he was expecting to see. If it did not last that long, it could not surely be what allowed him to create his masterpiece.

Even though he cursed her and cursed the gods for making it take so long, he waited. He woke up everyday hoping it was the day he finally got to see what he wanted to see to create his masterpiece. He even attempted to draw an imagined sorrow in those eyes but it never succeeded. There was something about those eyes that made it impossible for even his artistic imagination to create an emotion, which was not real, on canvas. It was as if it was decided he could not draw what he wanted unless he sees it for real, with his own eyes. 

He could have gone waiting and waiting but it was getting harder to do that as he was not getting younger. If he were a young man he would have had more time to wait around but he was not. To make things worse, he found his arms were beginning to fail him. He knew it was natural for someone like him who had been painting for years. It was almost like the natural end for the people of his kind. However, he was not ready to leave this world without creating his masterpiece, he was not ready to say goodbye to his brush, colours and canvas without completing that painting. 

There was nothing else to do. If those eyes were not going to be filled with real sorrow due to a natural cause as life went on, he had to cause that sorrow. He wished he knew what he could do to make that happen. That woman was always happy. If she were ever going to lose all happiness and wallow in sorrow, losing her beloved dog would have being enough. It was well known how much she loved that mutt. However, it only got a couple of hours of tears. 

His days were soon filled with hours and hours of contemplating what he could do. It was easier to think these days as due to his weakness his services were offered only to a few people. He had worked hard and long all his life and won enough powerful hearts to still remain at that palace. As it happened, it was she who provided him the answer to his question too.

As he was busy lurking around while she cuddled her five year old son, he heard her saying, “I don’t know what I would do without you, my little angel. I can’t think of a world without you.” He did not think it meant anything special as he had often heard all mothers say the same thing to their children. He had even seen some of those mothers moving on very fast, forgetting their child if that child was not fortunate enough to live long enough to grow up. His eyes quickly darted to her face. After studying that face almost every day, close to a decade now, he saw she meant every word. This got him thinking. Then, his time was spent observing her and the child. The more he focused his attention on the bond between this mother and son, instead of reserving his sole attention to observing the eyes, the more he was convinced if the mother was to lose the child somehow, sorrow will forever be etched in those eyes.

It was not as hard as he hoped it would be. He understood he was ready to do anything to get that opportunity to draw his magnum opus. All he had to do was to make sure the boy was not protected by anyone who could interfere with his own mischievous actions. When the time came, the queen had to be away with the king to welcome some important visitors from another kingdom. The nanny was distracted for a moment by the urge to taste her lover’s lips. She could not wait any longer as she had not seen him for days. It was all that was necessary for the little boy to go to the balcony, climb the parapet and touch the dragon head that was carved into it. It was something he did everyday but every other day his mother or his nanny would be there holding him. For a moment, it looked like he would climb down safely, but then, since the gods wanted their favourite artist to do the work he was supposed to do, the little boy lost his balance and plunged to death from the tower. 

He was nowhere near the boy when it happened. He was actually around the king and queen who were welcoming the foreign delegation and having tea with them outside, in one of the castle’s patios. The little boy fell right in front of them. Everyone there could hear his little head bursting open like a ripe melon. He did not waste his glances on the child. His eyes did not leave those of the queen. 

Firstly, it was annoyance peeking from those eyes, wondering who was disturbing their time with the foreign guests. Secondly, it was shock seeing the blood and brain matter and realising someone had fallen from the tower. Thirdly, it was horror realising the one who fell was none other than her precious son. A scream escaped her lips. 

With hurrying feet, she dropped next to his body, wrapped him in her arms, not caring about the blood or the flesh sullying her clothes and body, and she began to wail. There was no stopping her from wailing. It took hours and some very strong men to part her from the body. She was inconsolable. 

He was watching all this. It was evident she was in pain like she had never been before. However, he could not see those eyes. They were mostly shut as they streamed tears nonstop. When they were open, they were too red to look beautiful. He was frustrated. After all the planning and waiting, this was it? This was the result? It was no wonder he spent the next two days shut in his room. No one bothered him since everyone knew he was a man with a sensitive heart. It did not surprise them that the death of the loving little prince had made him very upset.

Even after the funeral of the little prince the palace was still silent. It was a place of mourning. The queen spent most of her time in her chambers. That meant he could not even see her eyes like before. He cursed himself. He did not understand until then how much he had gotten used to seeing those eyes daily. Not seeing them to him was like being deprived of his favourite wine, being banned from using his most favourite shade of red on his paintings. Moreover, not seeing those eyes had evaporated his love for painting.  

Just when he was about to finally give up his dream of drawing his masterpiece and leave the palace to retire in the countryside, he found her one night, alone in the balcony. She was standing at the place from where the little prince had fallen from the tower. It was the dead of the night and no one was around except him. She lifted her head and looked at him. At the same moment, the moon which was hiding behind a cloud came out. It made her shimmer in its pale light. The fair skin, the golden hair, the sheer, white nightdress and the eyes. The eyes drowned in sorrow. It was beautiful. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He could not take his eyes away from them. It was the moment he had been waiting for. He forgot to breathe. He did not know how long they stared at each other. The spell broke only when she looked away. He could not believe he had finally seen what he wanted to see for so long. 

He quickly turned and ran away. He ran to his studio. The next two days he spent there, drawing what he had waited so long to draw. His mind could only see those eyes, his hands could only move to paint them right. 

***

300 years later…

“This right here is the last known painting of Queen Anya. It is undoubtedly Daemon’s masterpiece. People are mesmerised by the way Queen Anya’s eyes are painted in this. It is actually the most prominent feature in any of his paintings of Queen Anya,” Prince Kaiden said to his friend. 

“I thought I would never get to see this painting. I have heard stories about how your family actually wanted to destroy this for the longest time,” Prince Preston whispered. 

“That is true. It was because he was suspected of murdering her.”

“Does that mean the painting is now exhibited because you no longer think Daemon was guilty?”

“No one knows the truth. There was suspicion in the first place because this is exactly what she was wearing when she died. People debated whether she jumped from the tower or Daemon pushed her from there. But there was no real evidence to support why he would do such a thing. He was her first admirer. She and the king even got married because of Daemon. But at the time, since the king was also mourning his son and then his wife, he was looking for someone to blame.”

“But Daemon was already dead by then, wasn’t he?”

“He was found dead in his studio. This painting was there. It looked like painting that picture was the last thing he did. Queen in that nightdress, on the balcony from which she jumped being painted like that. And then they found paintings no one had ever seen before of the queen. It was like Daemon was obsessed with her. I think the king was especially angry because of one painting which showed the queen in a very intimate setting with the king.”

“Then, may be, he did kill her? But what would he gain by killing her?”

“Nothing. That is why the accusation was never proven. There were many people who admired Daemon’s work. And queen’s this balcony portrait was the last work he did and also it was his masterpiece. The king ordered Daemon’s paintings to be burned but some people made sure to hide them. Once the royal family was ready to accept them, they were given back to us. Still, we don’t exhibit this painting to the public.”

“I am glad you didn’t destroy it, though. I don’t know what happened for real, but there is no doubt this is one of the most beautiful paintings I have ever seen.”

Talking more about Daemon and how an artist of his calibre has not been seen in this part of the world since him, the two of them went out of the morning room where the portrait was hung. Queen Anya’s sorrow-filled eyes, immortalised by Daemon’s brush, kept looking out of the frame. There really was no other masterpiece in the world which could be compared to it in beauty or in history.

Disclaimer: © Koshalee Sirichandra 2023. This is copyright material. Use of excerpts, and/or republishing on both printed and vertual media without written conscent by the Author and The Asian Review is strictly prohibited, and may have legal implications.