A reminder that 1)April patrons in the 15$ tier get the Kings Rising A5 foil print in their April mail, and that 2) Captive Prince and Prince's Gambit A5 foil prints are available in the patrons only shop until May 1st!
(Para BRs 🇧🇷 no apoiase: a print de prince's gambit é que vai fazer parte das recompensas do mês de abril, porque já sairam em meses anteriores as prints de kings rising e capri! 💌)
I love Captive Prince by CS Pacat so much and I've been wanting make art of it since forever. So there is a fancover of the 1st book, inspired by the song A Drag Path by Twenty One Pilots 🌸. Hopefully I'll have enough time to make the 2nd and 3rd too 🌟
I have the full speedpaint on my patreon if you would like to see my process 🦋
On the one hand, I want Laurent to have golden hair, bright and shiny like precious metal in the sun. On the other hand, I want his hair to be platinum, moon-like — while Auguste's hair is bright like the fiery sun, almost red.I can't make up my mind
Damen made no attempt at stealth. The door swung shut behind him with a conclusive thud that made Laurent’s head twitch minutely, though his eyes never lifted from the scroll in his hands.
Damen rounded the desk to stand behind the King of Vere, glancing over his shoulder at the document. Finding nothing that demanded immediate attention, he asked:
“What were you like? As a little boy.”
Laurent went very still. He set the scroll aside with deliberate care before looking up. His impossibly long lashes swept down, then up, slow and considering.
“Why?”
Damen tapped his nails against the wood, once, twice, before clasping his hands behind his back.
“I might have seen a portrait.”
“In the unstable wing I requested you avoid.”
“Ah.”
Laurent exhaled, a soft, controlled sound. “It doesn’t matter. There’s nothing to tell. I was an unremarkable child. Quiet.”
When Damen said nothing, Laurent’s eyebrow lifted in a sharp, irritated arch. “Surely you don’t imagine I remember that far back.”
Damen didn’t press. He turned the question over in his mind, and his feet, as if of their own accord, carried him to Paschal’s chambers. The physician had known Laurent longest.
“Exalted.”
A dismissive wave of his hand as he entered kept Paschal bent over his vials. Damen watched in silence as the man measured dried leaves onto a brass scale. The quiet was finally too much to bear.
“A question.”
Paschal’s eyes met his, wary.
“What was he like? As a child.”
Paschal’s hands stilled. “His Majesty would not be… appreciative, if I were to speak of such things.”
Damen offered what he hoped was a disarming look—not quite a smile, but something open and guileless.
It must have sufficed. Paschal sighed. “I have kept some of Prince Auguste’s letters. His Highness Laurent is mentioned.”
Damen nodded, a quick, grateful gesture. “May I?”
He took the proffered papers with care.
“Does he know?”
“He is aware they exist. He has never asked to see them.”
Then I will keep this, too, Damen thought.
Dearest Mother,
A mere handful of days have passed since your departure, and already the palace feels too quiet, too solemn without you. The very roses in the courtyard seem to lack their usual vigour, and the kitchens have lost their inspired touch.
But we are well, and I write chiefly with news of Laurent, knowing it is what you most desire to hear.
He was admirably stoic at first. Not a single tear, and he refused his pudding—a true testament to his resolve, I thought. My pride was short-lived. By evening, he was sobbing into my jacket.
He is endlessly curious. ‘Why?’ and ‘How?’ have become his constant refrain. He has asked more questions this week than I believe I have been asked in my entire life prior. A trying but promising trait in a future prince, I tell myself.
Swords hold no fascination for him. Our play with wooden blades was abandoned within minutes. He is, however, utterly enamoured with my grey mare. A pony for his next birthday would not be amiss. He shows no fear of height, only a keen delight in the view from the saddle.
He will not settle to sleep unless I am there. It is only in the dark, after the candles are snuffed, that he whispers how much he misses you. A few words of reassurance, and he is calm.
Yesterday, he sent the new laundress into a fit by springing from a linen basket. I was glad to see it. He takes his duties so seriously for one so small; it is a relief when he remembers how to be a child.
We miss you dearly and hope the country air is serving you well.
Your devoted son,
Auguste.
Damen’s thumb traced the faded ink, following the elegant slope of the letters. He read it once. Then again, more slowly.
The funniest thing about captive prince is that Damen hardly has a secret identity at all. He is just out there using basically his regular name.
"Hi, I am Damen, not to be confused with the other Damen, who looks exactly like me, and died the exact day under suspicious circumstances the day I showed up. Just don't worry about it while I act very much like a prince and happen to have the exact skillset of one too"
gorgeous beautiful comm i did for my friends 😌 i love u laurent of vere and damen for your beautiful fantasy of kissing him on horseback in a field of wildflowers from the summer palace
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s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
