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1888, Stockholm, the Royal Palace

Ana Lingstrom was the resident court artist, painter of those who wanted a portrait, a flattering depiction of their pets or children, or an impressive piece for the wall. She was very good at it.

She was also the wife of a minor diplomat, Dag Lingstrom, who she felt was a bit more than minor given some of his bigger achievements.

She was a feline with short fur, a deep brown in colour, not quite black but getting there in places. Her hair was dark, covering the nape of her neck, and often tied neatly. If attending the palace it was curled in the fashion of the day but otherwise, it was bunched up into a tie, one snug enough to store errant paintbrushes. She was often covered in paint despite best efforts so unless there was painting to be done, her fashion erred toward simple.

Her work counted for at least ten of the portraits or full pictures in the palace, including one of the current king, Karl Gustavus III Josephus. It paid well but alas, was never done. The moment one was done, another had to follow. They may only have had a small house but bills still beckoned and a diplomat’s pay was handsome but still only went so far.

She was also currently engaged in an audience with the current king right now.

Karl Gustavus III Josephus, or Joseph as he preferred (sometimes Joe if you really got into his inner circle), was at least 6’3’’ and built as though someone had wanted strength but without too many muscles in the way. In his presence, you had the feeling that he loomed, even if sat down or looked sheepish (which was more often than he’d admit). The black and white of his distinct badger fur was made all the starker with the reddish brown hair that never seemed to be truly tidy, and the accompanying moustache and beard combination that bore this same trait. It was greying in places already. This he smoothed down for the fifth time that meeting.

He smiled warmly as she entered and gestured to the seat opposite. ‘Ah, Mrs Lingstrom! Please, take a seat. I have a very important job for you.’

She smiled and accepted the seat.

He was being formal. She recalled with exceptional vividness during his own portrait painted a few years ago that they had moved beyond formality and, yes, even beyond what construed as decent behaviour between artist and subject. And still no one else but them knew about that, despite best efforts of others to find out if anything had indeed happened.

‘Hopefully important within my capabilities, your highness.’

‘Well within them. And you wouldn’t believe how long I’ve finally waited to get this set up.’ Joseph rolled his eyes dramatically. ‘You know of Timeo Ericsson?’

Ah. Yes. Of course. Who hadn’t heard of him? She could have written a whole book on the wild rumours that circulated from his name alone. For now she remained calm and nodded, although a small part of her suspected that Joe had seen her micro-reaction.

‘Ah.. He’s been the talk again, hasn’t he?’ Joseph couldn’t resist a very unkingly smirk. ‘Have you actually met him? Or seen him about on his rare times he does visit?’

‘I can't say I have. I imagine it was a flying visit though. He doesn’t stick about too long. Reminds me of a migratory bird.’

‘He doesn’t, no. But you’ll be quite lucky.’ He steepled fingers before him, smiling, getting back to business as smoothly as silk. ‘To get to the point, he’s often away because while he may not be a diplomat, he can go into areas they can't or do things out of their bounds. As a result, I’m informed we’re quite the little diplomatic powerhouse despite it all.’ He picked up an envelope and slid it across. ‘So there’s been some pressure to honour that. And I want you to do a full portrait of him.’

Ana took the envelope slid across and opened it. Inside was another envelope and a list.

For some reason, she hesitated. She’d not been oblivious to the politics of recent events.

Sweden was neutral and Norway had followed suit not long after. Neutrality carried its own dangers, such as enterprising Russian diplomats keen to bend it to their advantage, or the powers of Europe trying to get them back into a fight. This being an age of expansion, there were even those from the East who were keen for markets beyond their own.

She knew the work Dag did. He had a healthy dislike of most politicians from it. He had to problem solve a million things and it was exhausting. She knew little of Timeo’s political career other than he was a soldier who had never progressed beyond a very junior lieutenant and yet he had altered the course of history with just a gun.

The envelope had an advance of half the fee already. Her breathing hitched. This was huge.

She glanced at the list in the envelope. ‘Your requirements are… considerable. ‘Presentation towards the heroic and bold’?’

‘Yes.’ Joseph nodded firmly. ‘The pressure to give him some sort of honour is partially from me but also mostly from parliament. While we may be having a pleasant time of it, the resentment against standing by idly is getting to a few. So they asked if it could be a reminder of why we are independent from the pressures outside and so wanted something heroic.’ He shrugged. ‘All I’ll say there is good luck getting him to look that way.’ His manner indicated that she was dealing with someone who looked neither bold or heroic and probably would slouch.

Ana said nothing but pursed her lips in thought. So there was an agenda then. Make him look good, use a popular hero from the working class and get paid for it. It seemed to be a classic trick.

The advance was not insignificant. She read the list again.

Well. It had been a few months since anyone had been able to afford her services. She’d have taken a pet portrait again. Or a landscape one. She lived comfortably but every artist knew the gravy train was not a permanent ride.

‘I can work with this. As long as he is willing and won’t disappear for months on end.’

‘He has nothing happening for 3 weeks, that much I do know. That should give you time for preliminary sketches and a general idea.’

‘And you’ll hold him to that?’ She raised a brow cynically.

‘I’ll certainly do what I can.’

—----------------------------------

Ana would not say she was obsessed. But she’d admit to it under pressure and go red under her fur in some shame.

Just some months earlier she had taken an interest in him, at once fascinated by him and trying to work out why someone like him sent anyone from court into a frenzy. Women (most anyway) loved him. Men (most of them) hated him. Some on either side couldn’t care less.

What she knew of Timeo had largely come from rumour and speculation, but above all her portrait sitters.

Ana was a very accomplished artist and had been in very high demand. It was mainly portraits but sometimes, her clients had wanted landscapes or city scenes. The latter were certainly relaxing and she felt less pressure on those because buildings did something people didn’t; they stayed put where they were supposed to be. Tree didn’t uproot and move when they felt like it. With people, as much as she enjoyed painting the details of many different faces, they couldn’t sit still for long. That was largely why portraits took longer and had gaps where she didn’t paint them at all but the background instead.

Of all the ones she’d painted, excluding the king who’d known Timeo already, one had been the most vocal about him and it was her ladyship Mariella Svensson. She was a close confidant of the current Queen and as Ana had learned within months of knowing her, the biggest source of any and all court gossip.

She’d learned Mariella wasn’t Swedish but had adopted the country after finding it ‘really quite delightful, so different to Paris!’

Her Swedish wasn’t strong but her French was, as to be expected, perfect. It hadn’t mattered. French had been a de facto language of most royal courts and she made herself understood with no issues.

Mariella though was not one you confided in. Ana had almost learned this the hard way with an incident she would prefer forgotten (ironically this hadn’t been the time when she’d painted Joe’s portrait, although both only narrowly escaped vicious rumours at a point when his popularity had been at an all-time low) and had partially forgotten all but minor details with success. The woman talked incessantly. If she heard one thing she didn’t know, she’d adopt it as hers right away. No secret was safe.

Ana had been careful. But such a talker was useful. For example if you wanted to spread a false rumour about someone else who was a rival, then you told her first. You’d act all coy as if you had doubts, a bit of hand-wringing helped. Then within a day, it’d be the latest news. Sometimes, in a rare mood of indulgence as some had, they’d do practical jokes and tell her something blatantly false. It had the same result.

It was not that the woman was stupid. Anyone who was genuinely clueless was, for lack of a better choice of words, verbally eviscerated and didn’t survive. It was just that she was very excitable and wanted everyone to know what she did. Excitable and… could also be very loud.

As a sitter for her portrait some months ago, she also could not sit still for even fifteen minutes. It had been exasperating. The resulting portrait, that of a beagle anthro with blonde hair in tight curls, a wry semi-smile (she had aimed for coy but had settled on this) and a small whippet on her lap had taken five months to complete. The dog had been a better sitter than her owner.

She remembered that being months ago but now that her latest commission was assigned, she thought back to parts of the conversation she’d heard. Yes, she realised now. She had maybe gotten a little obsessed.

Anyway.

You see, portrait sitting was boring. The artist did all the work, as she’d state every time someone got difficult (rarely these days) and all the subject had to do was sit there. But if you worked in silence, it dragged on.

So Ana had learned to make it enjoyable by talking to them. It had worked. Somehow just talking to them was so much easier when she was working and the end result often showed the subject as more alive than if it was just conducted in bored silence. She wasn’t sure how but it did something and it was good.

Marielle had been a talker. Sometimes you had to push them. She had only to sit down, sit vaguely like she was supposed to then she’d talk of how the day had been. Ana had learned to sketch quickly with Marielle so while nodding and asking things at the right time, her digits had worked a sketch out and then started refining.

Then the topic of Timeo Ericsson had come up.

Yes, Ana had heard of him, she’d said. He was elusive though. He arrived, he was ushered elsewhere, then he vanished. It was if he was either sent for, given a job and he left, or he came for his job, then left because he didn’t like anyone there. Both were plausible, she’d contemplated in her head. The palace could be very busy.

Saying that, she had never seen him. Half her time was at her home, completing art commissions.

Mariella had done more than see him. Delightedly, she had told Ana that Timeo was back. ‘And he’s actually staying this time, can you believe it?’ Her voice had picked up significantly in barely contained excitement.

‘Is he?’ Ana had said with a strained smile. Once again her sitter had moved her arm. ‘Can you put your arm back please?’

‘Oh sorry! Anyway, he’s doing something in the city, I don’t really know. Something about sorting out some bad money management at the docks. I mean’ he’s a soldier, one of those ruffian sorts. What do they know about money?’

And so it had continued. Ana kept up enough to interrupt to ask please can you put that arm back and thank you for the millionth time. The next day had been more of the same but the tone changed as subtle as an overnight blizzard when she began talking of how they’d met.

‘Well, you know my husband’s away? Of course you do. You know exactly how it feels. By the way, is Dag due back soon? I’m sure he’s not meant to be away that long.’

Ana paused, just about escaping making a major error with the graphite. ‘I, er...’ She paused to consider her words and not to half-choke them out. ‘He’s in Denmark for another five days, last I heard. And I’m perfectly fine with that. Thank you.’

Never give her an inroad. Put up the blocks as soon as you could and don’t add an emotional hook to it! That was her way in.

Marielle shrugged as if she had forgotten she’d asked. ‘I suppose. But I get so awfully lonely and well, I happened to see him on his way out. I had to, you see. You know what the others say about him?’

‘Mostly that he's a coarse ruffian. And questions why he’s there at all.’ Truthful. It wasn’t everyone who welcomed him with open arms. The feline had said it with a smile though. She liked a scoundrel as much as anyone.

‘Oh that! That too. But if you’re very lucky, he’s a demon in the bedroom! I thought I’d never walk again!’

Now that piqued interest.

Ana did not interrupt at all for the next half hour.

She knew of his scoundrel reputation. The majority of men of the court didn’t always appreciate him there for one reason: Timeo was unmarried, in fact twice divorced. His last marriage had lasted two years and was to an actress in the Stockholm theatre houses (and she had heard the reputation they had). It was unknown if it had been amicable. Either way, he’d been 22 and had sworn off being married completely. But he had not sworn off the married partners in other relationships. So they viewed him with very acute suspicion.

‘All you have to do is show the wedding band and he’ll get you,’ they warned. ‘Dag had better keep an eye on him.’

What was said on that day could have filled a cheap romance novel. Marielle had initiated of course. She always did. But after that, it was lurid and sounded ridiculous.

She’d made sure he knew full well she was married. It was hard to miss that sparkler on her finger. She said his eyes had lit up and he’d gone from gruff and impatient (a trait she remarked he must have picked up from abroad as so few Swedes are so gruff!) to suddenly very amenable. She’d mentioned her dearly loved husband was abroad and she’d been feeling quite lonely these past few nights. He’d shown sympathy but had also been at pains to usher her somewhere more private, for she’d become quite loud at this point.

Ana could believe this. This was the only part she fully believed at this point.

The place that was ‘somewhere private’ was in fact a small room with a cupboard. Here he’d offered to, ahem, alleviate some of the loneliness before he had to go on a fact-finding mission. And if her bed was still cold, he’d be of some service there too. ‘He was such a gentleman! Not rough like you’d expect a soldier to be, but kind! I had to push him a little of course. I almost thought he was holding back.’ Marielle had sighed dreamily before launching into the vivid description of a scene that Ana had no trouble visualising.

The cupboard had been drawn to service as something he’d pushed her against, face first. Voluminous skirts lifted then what could only be described as a wild and urgent rutting. Phrases like ‘Do not believe him if he says he’s gentle, he is so far from it! Not even my dear would be so rough with me!’ were uttered in squealing excitement. The way he was described digging his paws firmly in until claws sunk into flesh, their bodies meeting in frantic urgency; even small things such as when she described his long tail wrapping about her leg taut, or the ‘unseemly but oh so rousing’ growls, it all added up to being too good to be true.

‘And after all that, which I had no idea how anyone couldn’t hear us, he was ever the gentle sort to make sure I looked decent going back out. My dear would never even think to do that, not even in his spontaneous moments.’

Ana was glad her fur was a darker hue of brown. Underneath it, she had felt the heat rise to her cheeks. When she felt able to speak, she had asked in the most casual tone she could muster ‘And… did he spend the night?’

‘Oh he did. But that you’ll have to wait for until tomorrow. I have an appointment in an hour, can we pick up tomorrow?’

Ana had said yes and rather surprisingly had made a lot of progress on this. It was amazing how much you got done when ignoring every sign your body was definitely enjoying the visuals her descriptions had offered.

The next few days had been the same. It was clear the beagle was very much enjoying the attention on offer and had few qualms of breaking key marriage vows in the name of a good time. But she wasn’t the only one. There were several names she had recognised.

‘Arabella you’ll know, I think you painted her poodle last year. Hortense who came over from England, her too. In fact she hid it very badly. I remember that gala where she went out for ‘fresh air’ so she said, and came back looking very disorganised.’ The laugh at that moment had indicated she knew who was behind that.

Yes. She’d recalled. She’d spent some of that time away too, for some ‘fresh air’, if fresh air counted as a private room and Dag making up for lost time when he’d been away over Christmas. The ram had really lived up to his species at the time. Nonetheless, she’d become curious.

This narrative could be almost as unbelievable as the first. But she was invested now. There was no going back.

This time, it was about the few nights they had enjoyed together. It was all very hush-hush, which was a surprise that it had come so naturally to someone so extroverted. It was executed perfectly with knowing when servants would be away, bribing one to allow the feline in and out afterwards as if nothing untoward had happened. It had helped, she’d said, that Timeo seemed to get on with the servants anyway.

It had been at the Svensson abode, a rather magnificent if understated home almost on the outer edges of Stockholm. Timeo had bided his time to wait until the signal to enter. And with this out of the way, it was time for the more juicy details that Ana wanted to hear, despite wanting to be professional.

It had started gentle. Timeo seemed a natural at foreplay. With no rush or risk of discovery (not quite true as later facts pointed out) he took his time and for the first time in a while, she’d been rendered speechless and not because of something stuffed in her muzzle. Gentle but nearly possessive touches in all the right places, sometimes claws unsheathed and dragged through the fur. He’d be purring all the way through, sometimes joined with a low growl.

At this point, despite her brain shouting her down inside, Ana had had to ask her subject to stop wriggling in the chair.

So back to it. Oh yes, they’d both disrobed rather quickly. Fur pressed flush to the others until he knew she wanted more than just a tease. Then he’d eased her nearly to completion with intimate touches that indicated he not only knew where to touch, but how to tease until she’d become a writhing mess against him. It had been anything unlike anything she’d ever experienced. Given how shy Marielle suddenly became, this part could definitely be chalked up as true, even if just a little shy of the unbelievable territory.

What then followed was more of the private room antics but slower. She’d taken more a lead here as it was fair to say that she’d tried most things. Face down, facing each other, pinned to the balcony-

‘Really?’ Ana had raised a brow at this. ‘You spent all that time keeping it secret… just to take that risk?’

‘Partly his idea.’ Marielle had smiled in a way that suggested this was the truth. ‘But it was such a good night and well, why not? After the last couple of nights, I’m beginning to think he has a thing for it.’

And not a complaint from her either.

Ana had felt the red hot flush under her fur again. It was clear that her current portrait sitter had been waiting to tell someone for ages now because of how good it was. But it still bordered disbelief. It didn’t stop it being a good story and a wonderful fantasy, but that's all it probably was.

Besides. A man who knew his way around a woman’s body? And could make her feel things no one had before, or had bothered to try? If true then he’d earned his scandalous reputation tenfold. A man like that was a keeper, if you could keep him. Or he was an outrageous liar.

It wasn’t just women he’d seemed to cast a spell on. Ana had had to ask. ‘Does… Sorry if this seems impertinent, but does your husband know?’

At this, the beagle had inclined her head and smiled mysteriously. ‘No. Not yet anyway.’ And that had been an end to it. It seemed that it didn’t matter if he knew or not, she’d had fun. Ana hadn’t wanted to pry and ruin the mood.

Thankfully the portrait was in a state it could be done without Marielle so it was a relief in a way to not have to hastily make herself tidy or force to heel the wild rampant thoughts that circulated through her head.

While finishing the portrait, she’d decided to listen to the women who seemed all agog for Timeo. Even one of the two princesses had heard of the fabled feline and seemed very interested. Only thing was that she was not yet even engaged. It was unlikely, in Ana’s eyes, that she’d succeed in getting much out of him beyond a polite stiff bow, and not just because her daddy was the king.

No, Timeo would be clever. If anything he seemed to avoid overt risk but found it elsewhere. Like on a balcony in a semi-public setting, her mind had supplied and giggled childishly at. That was when she’d found out a little more that not all the men in the king’s circle despised him.

It wasn’t so much that men couldn’t enjoy time with each other of a more intimate nature. Along with their neighbours, they shared a culture of rigorous outdoor pursuits that included the sauna and while the frothing-at-the-mouth religious sorts snarled at them, they’d been rather disappointed that the average Scandinavian saw nothing wrong with them, or the male culture it allowed to flourish quietly.

She’d learned that a couple of husbands with duties mainly based in the mid north of the country had no objection to him at all. In fact they’d encouraged it.

They had not only shared a sauna, they’d shared several intimate encounters of their own.

Ana sometimes found it difficult to be discreet (not nearly as bad as Marielle though!) but she was on this occasion for their sakes. Their narratives had been quite bashful by comparison, devolving to ‘Well, you see, he, er… Sometimes in those places when it’s private, you get to do things… As men, you see.’ before it lapsed into embarrassed silence. No lurid details on the level of Marielle’s entire bookshelf there.

‘So… you’re not worried he’d do more than he does already?’ That had been about their permissiveness.

They’d shook their heads. ‘He does a service, you know. I mean she’s devoted to me but how often can I be there? I trust him in particular. I don’t know why. Anyone else, I’d probably string them up. ’

It had given her thought. She was definitely invested now.

If anything, Dag was like the two gentlemen she’d discreetly made enquiries from, something they both kept very private. They’d both married under the auspices of the church, a summer wedding as was always preferred in the cold north. Under those oaths, they had sworn faithfulness to each other but how this was interpreted was looser than what was usually expected.

It wasn’t that they hadn’t loved each other from the start. It was a little calculated on both their parts, as she saw his links as very useful to help with gaining patronage, and he had a way into the art market. She’d seen something in him though, his forwardness compared to her more mild-mannered nature, his complete unabashed will to make sure she was as comfortable as could be, his genuine caring nature and his steeliness at times. His age even, as he was ten years her senior to her 20 years, and she’d always had an eye for the older male. It was something that had only grown. What had drawn them closer together for certain was a shared certain looseness with rules.

Several of his letters to her from abroad were not bashful about what could be construed as extramarital activities. He’d state plainly, after greeting her, that he had had sex with someone catching his eye and not leave much for the imagination. They could be men, women or even those dressing in the manner of the other. In his own way, with some of the images he evoked, he was as full with his prose as Marielle had been. She often read his letters in private for good reason and in a state of undress to fully enjoy the images presented.

The images evoked were too strong to simply read. No, she’d had to feel it too, imagining every harsh stroke, every grating of teeth on her neck and iron grip on either arms or legs. She already knew what he was like when the urge to rut her into submission took him. And this wasn’t all one way either.

Ana could equally trade back her own version of lurid exploits. While it was more often than not encouragement, it was equally a reply that was essentially her way of making sure he knew his letter had done the trick, either solo with her own descriptors, or with another. Which had led her to meet and ultimately fool around with a mutual friend of theirs (thankfully not even remotely linked to the tight circles of the court), Stig Larsson.

The equine was a regular at the house, usually a handyman of sorts and could easily be considered one of the family retainers. Tall, taller than either of them, possessing soft grey fur and a silvery-dark mane and a tendency to smile broadly. As Ana had found out quickly, he also had quite the girth, although he made a point to never brag too much. ‘Horses are big, yes. But not all horses can fuck well. I can though.’ was his usual trademark, accompanied by a wink.

She was used to him, albeit eventually. The first time she’d managed to take Stig’s equine shaft, even with plenty of preparation, it had felt huge. She recalled being quite embarrassed that not even to the point where the medial ring bump was inside (with great care taken, it was duly noted), she’d arched back, claws unsheathed to grip the sheets tight and her entire frame rocked with the pleasurable waves of her first peak. She’d had a reply to the witty quip of ‘Well, well! Never had that happen before. Guess you’ll want me to stop now?’ He hadn’t, of course, not until both were too tired for even one more attempt.

It was a few days after she made more progress on Marielle’s portrait. She’d lied to Marielle out of habit. In a way she was fine with Dag being away. The latest letter had showed he was tired, frustrated with the Danish government and their sabre-rattling and still as in love as ever, sadly without an accompanying tale to make it somewhat bearable. But in a way, she was sure she should have stopped listening to the stories because they had had a definite effect.

Once or twice, she’d found herself trying to simulate the kind of teasing Timeo had done in those tales. She’d imagined him raking claws along her side or her belly, before gripping her hips to pull them to his, allowing her to feel the barb-headed shaft pressing against her. She’d imagined it drooling the slick lubricating fluid and coating her fur, imagined it twitching as he purred seductive nothings to ease his tail around her leg then…

She’d not been able to be as patient. She had imagined his entry accompanied by a sudden snarl and a bite to the scruff of her neck as he let out the inner animal. It had been so intense she’d ended up biting the pillow as her paw worked her into orgasmic bliss.

Fascination had become fantasy. It was a sweet, delicious and delirious fantasy she lost herself in… yet, it still felt lacking.

Stig had certainly noticed their latest rutting was not ordinary. He’d been accommodating, following the teasing as directed, although his hoofnails didn’t quite have same effect as a cat’s claws. While she had liked a rougher rutting before, she did have limits. But going as far as urging him to become more merciless was at once amusing, at the same time it had him on edge.

He’d glanced down at her then, querying if she’d really wanted that. She’d nodded, eyes glazed over in lust. ‘You tell me if I go too far, yes?’ Then he’d complied, albeit with unvoiced concerns.

Afterwards in the warm afterglow, he shifted a little. ‘Ana? Are you quite alright?’

He’d sounded so concerned. She smiled and nodded, hoping to allay his worry. ‘I’m fine. I just… fancied something a little coarser was all.’

‘You don’t normally. Something bothering you?’

Yes there was. She sighed. ‘I’ve been painting Marielle’s portrait. You know that I talk to them as I work? Well.. she mentioned Timeo Ericsson and some of the rumours around him.’ She had bitten her lip. ‘Just rumours I thought. But now… I, er…’ She tailed off.

Stig relaxed. He had leaned in to nuzzle, accompanied by a smirk. ‘Oh I see. I get it now. She got you all worked up. Told you all those wicked rumours, yes?’ At her nod, he raised himself to be supported on an elbow. ‘And I bet you let your mind just wander and get all excited about what an animal he is. She got you all excited and Dag’s been away for longer than expected, yes?’

‘Erm. Yes.’ Ana had finished lamely. ‘You know me too well.’

‘I do. And you wanted me to be as animal as he is reputed to be.’ Stig shrugged. ‘Not my normal style. But I’ll do it occasionally, yes? Maybe if you’re that keen, you can meet him.’ He winked. ‘Although he’s as good as a horse, that's another matter. You’d have to tell me if you get to pounce him.’

With the awkwardness gone, Ana relaxed, rolled her eyes and shoved a pillow at him. ‘Cheek. You know how hard he is to pin down?’

‘Not that hard if he’s fucked half the men and women in court- Hey!’ Another pillow had made its mark.

So that was that. In the morning, they’d talked it over properly and if there was any awkwardness left over from that, it had evaporated with coffee and pastries. Stig had no objection at all and had seemed curious and hopeful that she’d finally get the man pinned down and ridden like a prize racehorse.

It would've been nice to say that the thoughts vanished, but they were only shoved to the back of her mind in light of later commissions that thankfully came her way.

That is, until the news of her latest one.

—---------------------------------

The palace was undergoing refurbishments. Parliament allowed them a certain budget and that was it. Joe grumbled but ultimately saw it as a way to keep unreasonable costs down. As such, the preliminary room she used for getting a start on her portraits there was closed while it was being redecorated.

This wasn’t a bad thing. She hadn’t wanted to go to the city today. If anything at this very moment in time, she was concerned that she’d make a bad impression.

Her hair was tied up tight in a bun that could hold any number of brushes. She had an apron over her smock. The room she used in her own home was ready but the lighting was wrong. Timeo would be here in one hour.

Stig watched her after laying down her selection of graphite. As she paced the room, tidied curtains, tried to get the best light, he reached out to grip her shoulder gently.

‘Hey. You don’t need to worry.’

‘But I’m hardly decent!’

He rolled his eyes at that. ‘You never are. Look. If you mean your clothes, don’t worry. You’re getting a portrait done. You want to ruin a perfectly good dress to look good for… let’s just say a common soldier?’

This gave her pause and she blinked. ‘You’re… absolutely right. I am panicking over nothing. But he’s not just any soldier. He’s… Well he’s meant to be a hero of sorts. I think.’

Stig released her shoulder and shrugged, setting up her easel. ‘Look. He’s a soldier. They get fed two meals a day if lucky, sleep on a hard cot and walk everywhere to the point they need boots more than anything else in the world. And a lot of them drink, fuck, smoke. They’re simple. From what I know of men like him, they don’t need fancy. You are honestly fine.’

His tone suggested that he wasn’t being judgmental. Stig had once been in the army but he’d been discharged for being cheeky to too many officers, something deemed nearly impossible. He said it had been the best thing they had done for him. Ana hesitated then nodded.

‘You’re right. I’m being silly. I guess it’s just-’

‘You fantasised about him a few months ago. Maybe it's because of that.’ Now he grinned.

‘I love you Stig but can you just go and see if he’s here?’ Ana gave him a pointed but affectionate look. As he left, still grinning, she checked everything.

Easel, check. Graphite, check. Colours… No. Not yet. She only coloured and mixed each paint after she knew what she’d be using. Light was correct? Well maybe. It was coming up to autumn and there never seemed to be enough light then.

The knock on the door nearly made her jump. ‘Come in.’

Right, she was decently dressed, hopefully not too many graphite stains…

Timeo Ericsson entered the room.

It wasn’t a grand entry. He didn’t strut in like a king or a lord. He simply walked in, took off his cap and bowed slightly from the waist in greeting. ‘Greetings, miss…?’

‘Lingstrom.’ She managed. ‘But call me Ana. Please, this way.’

As she closed the door behind him, she realised she was almost staring.

He was not how he had appeared in her imagination.

He had been described as blue but she thought it had meant a blue grey, not this brilliant hue with darker mackerel tabby stripes. She knew he’d had a beard and had instantly thought of Joe but this was not the same sort. It was made up of white fur with grey streaks that almost wrapped about his face in the manner of a tiger or a forest cat, merged with the bushy moustache and separated from that, the little goatee. It moved as he spoke but barely.

Then his hair was white too. It crowned his head in a peak then swept along the back of his head to the nape of his neck.

As he removed his gloves, she saw his paws resembled gloves too, with white fur on the last knuckle of each digit. She definitely hadn’t imagined that, thinking it was all white. The only part she’d had right was the tail tip that was all white.

And those ears. Would the canvas fit them?

‘I’m not sure why his highness put me to this but here I am.’ He turned around and the white fur moved in such a way that it was clear he was smiling. ‘Am I what you expected?’

‘I hadn’t expected the blue.’ She bade him sit down while she made a note. ‘I have to confess I’ve never seen you before. Only descriptions. I thought when they said blue-’

‘Don’t tell me. You expected blue grey.’ He sat down in the plush chair usually used for portraits, balancing the gun to the wall. It had a long barrel, she noticed, but no bayonet mounted on it. ‘This,’ he pointed to his face and tail, ‘is the fabled Ericsson blue of my family. My father has it and looks like a tiger, but he’s not, he’s a forest cat. And my mother has the blue grey but still enough to be our family trait.’ He chuckled at that. It was a warm throaty sound that indicated a past with tobacco indulgences yet still travelled down her spine like honey. ‘I honestly am not sure why many still fail to see me.’

He had a sense of humour, at least. She found herself joining his amused chuckle.

‘You’re very hard to get in one place. Even now, I’m afraid you’ll get up and go and I’m stuck with not even a line sketched.’ Her turn at some humour. Turning to the blue feline, she examined him critically then glanced at the light. ‘So, do you know why you’re getting this done? And I have to ask, did you agree?’

He shrugged. To her mild annoyance, she did indeed see he was semi-slouching. ‘I’m staying here until I’m moved so you have me for a bit. As to the whole reason for… this’ he gestured vaguely at the easel ‘Yes, I know. And I did have to be persuaded. My honest thought on this is that whoever is in power should do their job and show it all works.’ He leaned back, folding his arms. ‘But Joseph has a knack. I’ll say that for him.’

He was in the inner circle but not the inner inner circle. Okay. Good to know.

‘So, you don’t entirely agree to this?’ She frowned.

‘I do now. And I know what you’ll say.’ He shrugged. ‘As long as I’m paid, I’ll stay and play their little game.’

Ah. Money. She wouldn’t be one to judge but it seemed that he was a little annoyed now. His somewhat stern look was intense under the white fluffy brows. He was a talker but he was also tired from the looks of him and not entirely used to the idea of having his picture being done. She had a feeling this was going to take some time.

‘I see. Well, I’m not having you slouch for this. Stand up. Stand… Yes, over there. I want to get some ideas for how we’ll get this to work.’

‘Yes ma’am.’ He stood up, his words laced with tired humour as he stood in the light offered, hands by his sides in a lazy ‘at ease’ stance. ‘So. Like this or are you going to pose me like one of those dummies?’

As funny as it was, she was starting to see why some found him difficult. She sighed. ‘You look uncomfortable. The purpose of this is so you look natural. Can you at least try to relax a little?’

‘I am perfectly relaxed.’ He huffed, a little impatiently now. ‘This is a normal stance for a soldier of many years, I can tell you. If you wanted me relaxed, you should have kept me sitting.’

The graphite squeaked on the paper and she stepped back, feeling mild annoyance grow from within, not entirely directed at him but.. No, mostly directed at him, a little at herself. ‘No. No, this isn’t working. Try leaning your arm there, where I’m pointing.’ She watched as he did so, his golden eyes watching her in a mix of amusement and mild irritation. ‘I think I’ve got something…’

Timeo remained still as he watched her take his rifle and lean it on the wall nearest him. Then she took away the plush chair and replaced it with a solid wooden one that appeared far more rustic.

Yes, this was propaganda. They both knew it. But she’d make this work and make every krona of the advance count. There. She stepped back and examined everything. The chair was right. Timeo still looked stiff but less so now. The rifle was perfect.

‘Now I don’t need to ask if you can stay still for a few seconds?’

‘Madame, I can lie in freezing snow for hours and take out someone walking on a hillside opposite. I think I can stay still for a drawing.’

‘Thank you.’ she replied tersely.

She gritted her teeth. Wasn’t he supposed to be the very epitome of charm? How quickly he’d gone from someone in a good mood to barely patient and tolerable.

The graphite squeaked and squealed along the paper determinedly.

And casual remarks about killing others as though it was normal. Had no one actually engaged with him in any conversation other than wanting him to bone them senseless?

The session felt longer than it really should have. It had started so well, with him being somewhat courteous and even funny at the start. It hadn’t taken long for the true colours to show. She had begun to feel she’d been thinking of a very different person entirely.

The only saving grace was that when it was all done for the day, he did apologise.

As he donned his cap, he looked a little reproachful. ‘I want to say sorry. I’m probably the worst sort of subject for this art thing. But the moment I arrived, I was told to travel to you and I’d been on a long ride as it was. So you haven’t got me at my best, no. I’ll be better tomorrow.’

Ana was about to bite back with some choice words but didn’t. She had three weeks. She had to be civil. ‘It’s fine. I understand completely. I assume you had no chance to sleep?’

‘None at all.’ The blue feline sighed. ‘Getting any sleep on a coach is a task in itself.’ He rubbed his eyes. ‘In any case, I promise I’ll be in a better mood tomorrow.’

—---------------------------

‘Impolite?’ Stig remarked. ‘That sounds normal to me.’

Ana raised a brow at the equine over the dinner table. ‘You could have warned me! You let him in! You could have said ‘by the way, he’s tired and had to travel a long way’ to at least prepare me.’

Stig shrugged.

It was a modest fare for their dinner. Midday was mainly the largest meal the household had and even then, that was far from extravagant. It had been venison hunted by Stig and this meal was what remained of a venison pie from earlier, left cold.

‘Alright, I could have. I’ll admit it. But I warned you enough about how they can be. He’s a soldier and they’re all some shade of tired. I got out but sometimes I have my moments. He’s had longer to cope with their bullshit. Old soldiers are a breed to themselves.’ He rubbed a spot by his ear. ‘I’ve never quite got the hang of talking to the older ones.’

Ana huffed and took out some frustration with a bite of the pie. ‘Apology semi-accepted but needs work. He did at least apologise. I guess I can't completely judge him. Yet.’ She gave the grinning Stig a look. ‘Don’t look at me like that.’

‘What?’ Stig looked nonchalant. ‘You expected him to be all genteel and nice, just like the stories said. And what you get is… a person. He’s seen life and he’s seen all kinds of shit, probably had everything thrown at him. Don’t be so surprised.’

She had to admit privately that maybe he was right. It didn’t mean she could complain privately about how he wasn’t what she’d thought but Stig was right. It had been one day. One day! If he was as bad the next day and the next, she could say it was a well-paid but bad experience and you should never meet those exalted by rumour to such heights. Lesson learned.

But if he was genuinely contrite then she was back at the start and they could both begin anew. It made sense in some way but still she went to bed uneasy and still a little angry.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Well, she’d started, she’d said yes to this. It was with some trepidation that she awaited him the next day but this time he seemed genuinely contrite.

And for the following few days, that's how it was. It was a complete change and one she welcomed.

They started early. The days were already ending sooner than she’d liked so early starts were preferred. Funnily enough, he seemed to prefer them too and was in a far better humour than before. There was still some awkwardness, that was to be expected. He wasn’t making so many off-colour jokes and hadn’t said a word about changing pose when requested either. By the fourth consecutive day since they’d met, though, it had drastically improved.

He had taken up his pose again, this time one leg semi-crossed over the other. She’d had the idea after seeing him do so, taking the weight off one leg at a time. The pose actually seemed to work and he looked far more relaxed.

‘You do so much standing up. Eventually you just relieve the pressure by shifting which leg bears the most. Horses do it too. Seen a fair few of them stand on three legs if they’re still.’

He’d softened a little, although when he did slip up and tell a slightly off-colour joke (usually about things like military punishment or acquiring targets), her frown was enough to let him know he’d stepped over her own boundaries. Maybe it was that day though. She was curious so something must have prompted her to ask what she said next.

‘Sounds like you’ve been at this a long time.’ Over the page, the outline flowed. A fold of clothing added here, a detail there. Curiosity reared its head. ‘How long exactly have you been a soldier? We, ah, don’t exactly fight wars.’

Timeo was good. He shrugged but it was so imperceptible that it didn’t break his overall outline. ‘I couldn't say. I know I was a drummer boy for Gothenburg’s Haberdashers.’ He saw her brow raise. ‘They aren’t called it now but I was 9 or 10, I wanted in and they said, well you can be a drummer mascot for us. My father resented me for years after that.’

‘That’s… young.’ She hadn’t meant to sound so shocked. Military affairs were more Dag’s thing but he never really discussed them outside of his duties for obvious reasons. ‘Was it just drumming or did you see combat?’

Timeo chuckled. The only way to know he was doing so was mainly because the moustache turned up just a little. ‘That surprises you? I was one of the oldest. There were several aged 8 when I was there. It escaped work in the factories. And yes… I saw combat as in, I witnessed it. Took part in, no. Not until a few years later that I got my own rifle.’

She saw the rifle. It looked worn. ‘Is that it?’

Timeo shook his head. ‘That? I bought that one. My first was very shaky, held together by glue and wishes. I wondered if I'd broken it. That one though is an 1853 Enfield and for special jobs, I bought one of the Whitworth ones. And a friend of mine procured a Jarmann a couple of years back. Cost a fair bit I can tell you-’ He stopped, realising what he was saying. ‘Sorry, you probably don’t want to know about that.’

Ana had paused, listening while not really knowing what he was talking about but finding herself utterly fascinated despite the subject matter.

To watch him was to look for the smallest of micro-expressions and tics and that in itself was utterly fascinating. He’d remained perfectly still but for slight excited twitches of his first and second fingers. His moustache moved but only if you caught it. She was sure she could see him vibrating with concealed excitement. Any moment now she expected his foot to bounce.

Of course he’d know his rifles. She could barely tell a sporting rifle from a military one. All she knew was that some were loaded with powder, other newer ones weren’t and therefore cost more. Oh and procuring any sort of weapon was a financial hassle, hence why Dag was so often trying to get people not to fight Sweden.

Yes, they were meant for killing. That could not be denied and it still gnawed away uncomfortably at the back of her thoughts. But Timeo’s voice had turned from matter-of-fact to almost reverent, and a little excited that she’d even asked the question.

Oh and hadn’t joked about it. That was a good sign but it had also showed the respect he had for his craft, grisly as it was. Something all professionals could agree on was respect for their craft.

In a way, it was charming. It was also, and she’d never say this out loud to him, just a little adorable as to how quickly he’d asked if anything he’d said had crossed her own boundaries. It softened all his edges at once.

Yes. She could now see why people liked him, or most in any case. There definitely was an underlying charm to him despite the gruff exterior.

‘I was just… I was listening.’ She felt a little embarrassed. ‘Sorry. I should have been drawing. But you sound so different when you talk like that. I hadn’t expected it.’

‘About my rifles?’ His posture settled back but she could tell he was still a little excited. ‘They’re my livelihood. I need to know them as I do anyone.’ He looked a little bashful now. ‘I hope this isn’t too far in your boundaries. I, ah, named them. Do you want to know what this one is called?’

She nodded, her sketching a little slower. Let him have his moment.

‘He’s called Mikael, after the one who taught me sharpshooting. The Whitworth is named Whittle. Not very creative. And the Jarmann is Thorsten, after my friend.’ He looked somewhat pleased with himself, as if he’d introduced her to new friends.

‘Are all of them he?’ She felt she was paddling in a pool of knowledge that had eluded her for much of her life and felt she had to catch up.

‘No. Whittle is a she. But she is the deadliest of my arsenal. The bullets do the talking. That's why she has a simple name.’

Ana didn’t frown then. At that moment, she wasn’t sure why but it had felt quite nice to be let into the world of one of the most elusive men of the court. She now knew more than any of them did.

After a few days, good progress had been made. The early starts had proved to work out. And if she had him in good humour for them then it was all the better.

She let him see her work so far after three days. He raised a fluffy white brow and nodded as it was his turn to be amazed. He didn’t convey emotion as much as others but a few tells here and there told her that he was definitely happy with the progress.

‘You have a good way of conveying… ah, what’s the word, personality. That’s it. You’ll have to show me the colours.’

‘When we get to it.’ She promised.

As he headed to the door, he suddenly turned around. ‘Again I hope this isn’t out of turn but… Would you like to try Mikael out? Just once. I don’t mind if you say no.’

Ana blinked. ‘What?’

‘I mean, try a shot with him. I have powder and bullets.’

Ana blinked again. She was sure he’d just offered to let her loose with his prize rifle. Part of her wanted to giggle at some crude joke that could be made but she stamped it down. This was his pride and joy.

She answered without thinking. ‘If it’s okay with you. I mean, I’m a complete novice.’

‘And that is why I shall show you proper safety. Call it a fair trade for showing me your trade, as it were.’

It was several moments later that both were outside. On one of the flattest parts of the green, Timeo first checked all directions then gave the all clear. ‘We don’t want to get anyone by accident. Now, let’s see… You need a target. Do you have any in?’

They did. They were mostly for anyone to practise hunting with so they’d do. Stig brought out one and placed it with care before backing up a safe distance. The target itself was pocked and riddled with a few at the red bullseye.

Ana made sure she was consciously not watching Stig, knowing full well he was grinning from ear to ear. Instead she focussed on the way Timeo loaded Mikael. Methodical and efficient, he cleaned the barrel then rammed something inside, before placing a pellet in the top and setting what looked like a hammer. Once it was ready, he offered the weapon towards her, held out as though passing a very expensive baton.

‘Just enough for one shot. Now. Remember, no finger on the trigger unless you are absolutely ready. Just get used to his weight first.’

Her fingers held the butt of the weapon uncertainly, the other hand holding the barrel tight as if it would bite. It felt heavy. How did anyone fire one of these things?

Timeo looked at her hands critically then offered his paws outstretched. ‘May I?’

Ana nodded slowly, suddenly feeling her mouth dry up. She still didn’t turn around.

His fingers found hers on the butt of the rifle. ‘Just a little… Here. Hold that securely.’ They guided her fingers up a little way, not quite at the trigger. ‘There. Now hold. Perfect. Now let me turn this here so you’re facing the target, mmm?’

Now she couldn’t see Stig at all. Good. If he could see her now, she knew he’d know her face was flush beneath the fur.

He’d moved her around just a little. Timeo’s touch was at once featherlight but strong. He had loosened her iron grip on the barrel and faced it towards the target. ‘That is to steady your aim. Now I’m going to move here…’ Behind her and easing her arm up so that the rifle was now fully horizontal. ‘And can you put your foot back where mine is? Excellent.’

It was heavier than she thought it’d be. She was sure her arms were protesting. Yet it felt safe. Timeo was there. He’d know what to do if it misfired or if she dropped it.

From within, the heat she’d felt all those months stirred. This felt right and as it should be. All she’d have to do was make a move and all those lurid fantasies from then would be fulfilled...

She let the thought linger before quelling it. Not out here, she added. Not in front of a certain grinning horse over there.

‘How are you feeling?’ His voice cut into her inner thoughts, soft and level and she found herself struggling to find her words. ‘Is he too heavy?’

‘It’s fine now. I think I’m used to it. Er. How do I aim?’ He was still there, still behind her. He wasn’t touching now but she felt a sudden aching loss with that. Her tail flicked idly backwards as if seeking him out again, the tip finding his boot.

‘Like this.’ His other hand found hers on the barrel and pointed it at the target. ‘You can aim up, down, to the sides. Just keep to the target and you’ll be fine. That thing just here’ he pointed out a raised piece of metal, ‘that is your sight. Squint and sight along that.’

His paw moved away again. Her aim swung a little but she recovered it, once again his paw coming up to help.

Had he withdrawn his paw just slowly enough to tease over her wedding ring? His fingers had lingered there for a little longer than normal.

She swore that something changed, right there and then. The atmosphere tensed and not just because she hadn’t fired yet. This was a different sort of tension. She felt her breathing tighten and her chest felt tight. It was as if she silently willed his hand to remain just there, one finger oh so casually at the plain wedding ring on that finger.

His hand was still there as she heard him again, dimly through blood thudding in her ears.

‘Be careful now. And there’s knockback.’ His voice came through as a murmur. ‘You will be pushed back if you’re not used to it.’

‘Thanks for the warning,’ she managed.

Now or never. Taking aim, she reached for the trigger and pulled.

She inhaled sharply as the knockback caught her. A plume of smoke and the bullet hit the outer edge of the target. She felt herself be pushed backwards and straight onto the immovable wall that was Timeo. The last thing she heard was a harsh breathing. Hers.

‘The knockback got you. But no matter. You still hit the target. Well done.’ White tipped paws smoothly picked up the rifle from her own from behind. ‘So how was your first real shot?’

Ana could only blink. This had to be a dream. She’d never thought of even trying this. It had to have been his infectious enthusiasm. And he’d been right behind her, he’d cushioned what could have been a fall. And he’d helped her set up and aim.

He’d touched the wedding ring. She couldn’t be dreaming that. Had that been deliberate? He’d made two passes and she’d not thought once of shooing him away. Both times had been the ring. She was absolutely certain he was just making sure.

Ana found her voice again. ‘It was… Well, it was interesting. I’d never thought of doing that before. I had no idea they were so heavy. And you were 14 when you learned to fire one?’

Timeo was industriously shoving the stick down the barrel to clean it. ‘Absolutely. My very first one, still struggling to hold it at times, but age 14, I could fire one competently. Nowhere near the marksman I am now of course.’ He noticed her still flush expression. ‘It takes you like that the first few times. The knockback’s the worst.’

The stick, long and slender, had a blackened brush on the end. It was put away in a thin tube attached to the bottom of the rifle. She watched him viciously stab it in a few times before it was put away. It was fascinating.

‘I can see why.’ She nodded and glanced at her hands. They were back but not with the powder. ‘Sorry. I hadn’t realised I still had graphite on my paws. I’ve probably ruined its finish.’

Timeo gave Mikael the once over. ‘He’s had worse. He’ll live.’

—-------------------------------

A week later, she was at the palace and with her at the moment was the First Minister Oleg Lingard.

He was a weasel. Not figuratively, literally. He’d fluffed out his sideburns and tried to make himself look older but there was no hiding that he was about her age (early thirties to be generous) and still looked like he’d been newly elected and dressed by his mother.

He was definitely a weasel in the matter of politics however. Ana suspected he was the one who’d made this push for a working class hero. As it was, she barely tolerated him.

Ana had laid out all the pictures and ideas. It was clear there was a definite trend. Early ones had looked stiff. After she’d got him talking, the later ones looked far more relaxed and natural.

Oleg rubbed his chin and paced back up the table. He would push ones that interested him an inch up then go back to ones he seemed more thoughtful on.

‘You see,’ he said, trying to sound like he knew what he was talking about, ‘It’s a matter of what the people will like. This will be prominently displayed after all. The palace is not just an abode, it’s got parts the public can visit. They need to see something that says ‘Ah yes! This one, he’s one of us!’, that sort of thing.’

Ana nodded, her smile strained. ‘I understand. But I need to know what in particular strikes you about what I’ve done so far that fits that particular requirement.’

Oleg held up a thin paw. ‘Please. I must give this some thought. This is a decision not to be taken lightly.’ He paused at the one she’d been most happy with, the one leg semi-crossed over the other with arm leaning on the window and the rifle Mikael leaning against the wall. ‘This one seems… I think it’s almost too casual. I mean, do we want someone looking like they’ve just come off duty?’

Give me strength, Ana muttered.

Just as it seemed to be turning decidedly frosty in the room, and not because of the weather this time, the king arrived. Joseph looked like he’d been rushed in but as he strode in, he made it look as if he’d arrived at a brisk pace and not hurried at all, no. Oleg and Ana bowed. He waved a hand irritably.

‘Alright, alright. Now have you made a decision, minister? Since this was your idea.’ He gave the weasel a pointed look.

Oleg smiled smoothly and picked up two of the offered pieces. ‘Almost. Since you agreed to this too, I’d like your ideas. As talented as Ana is, I do not feel that she’s quite got the most heroic angle on our soldier, hmm? I mean at least he’s got a straight back in these and not a slouch.’

Ana’s look could have murdered an army.

Joseph coughed politely and gave Oleg another very pointed look. ‘I think she’s done a wonderful job. And I warned her that he's not exactly a commander or anything. If you wanted heroic, I think we do the best with who the subject is and not the talents of who’s painting him, right?’

Good old Joe. Even if a few years ago she’d almost blown it with him and he’d almost blown it with the whole country, he still came through.

The minister noticed Ana’s cooling stare and coughed politely. ‘Of course! I did not mean to imply that her skill was anything if not the best!’ He nodded to her. ‘My apologies. But was there not a way you could have worked with him for something a little more heroic?’

Ana was the very mistress of cool even when her work had been slighted. ‘No, minister. And I might draw your attention to the fact that my portraits tend towards the homely rather than heroic and stately. I feel I have to remind you that Timeo Ericsson is not a statesman, or a diplomat. He’s a soldier you pay to do tasks you can’t. He’s from a working class district in Gothenburg, as common as anyone on the street, and he’s hardly had military promotion. He’s not exactly going to be posed like Napoleon.’

She watched Oleg’s expression change to mild confusion. She sighed.

‘What I’m trying to say is that he’s not going to look like how you expect a military hero to look. He’s one of the people. So I don’t think it right to depict him as a statesman, but as someone you’d see walking around. Like this.’ She pointed to the one that had the more relaxed pose.

The weasel looked up at Joseph then nodded. He finally seemed to understand.

‘A fair point,’ the badger rumbled. ‘I told you she’d work something out.’ He beamed at Ana. ‘I think that's settled. Go for that one, do whatever you need to next. I have an engagement my wife says I can’t avoid so I have to dash.’

Before they could even bow, he was gone.

Oleg handed the picture over. ‘I hope I’ve cleared up any misunderstandings. I hadn’t meant to smirch your work.’

The feline picked up the papers and put the agreed pose on top. ‘It’s fine. I knew what you meant.’ She looked at his almost unreadable face. ‘I have to sort this out now. As per your instructions, you’re welcome to see progress at any point.’

She didn’t give him much room to offer any other apologies. She swept out and headed for home.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------

It was late when she got back. She’d been persuaded to stay a little longer with some of the closer inner circle and it had done much to take her mind off the day. Oleg’s remarks had still stung though and they still played on her mind as she came in.

The papers were dropped into the portrait room. The head housekeeper took the thick coat that had kept the first autumnal snows at bay and offered a light dinner.

‘No thank you. I dined earlier.’ Ana sighed. ‘Is the library warm?’

‘Yes’m. You’re not going to draw in the conservatory tonight?’ The housekeeper set the coat on its hook.

‘No, er… Not really in the mood. Tomorrow though. Maybe.’

The library was warm. The warm spiced wine was even better though. She had decided to lose herself in a good book instead, let inspiration from another source flow instead. It was only when she looked up after placing the glass of wine and the book on a desk next to a lamp that she felt there was someone in with her.

‘Good evening.’ A familiar soft voice and she looked up.

‘Timeo? What are you doing here?’ Hastily she checked to see if he’d snuck in through a window.

He’d been sat in an opposite chair. How had she not seen him? One leg crossed over the other, Mikael balanced next to him and with a book in hand. It was only when he had moved his head, ears perking up, that she’d seen him at all.

That had to be an achievement. His ears were long with tufted tips and she’d looked at those often enough to know if they moved even slightly!

‘How….’ She began, gesturing to the windows.

The blue feline chuckled. ‘It’s the blue again. You think you’d see it but in fact it hides me and no one can see me. Not unless I want them to.’ He closed the book. ‘I was let in. I told the housekeeper not to let you know. Thought it’d be a surprise.’

Ana’s hackles settled but she still wore a look of worry. ‘Not that I’m not happy to see you but… I won’t need you until tomorrow. There’s not much I can do with no light.’

He shook his head and leaned back. His white-tipped paws crossed onto his chest. ‘I had to call in to tell you news of my own. Maybe after you’ve sat down though.’

Ah. He had news too. Good or bad, who knew.

She took a sip from the glass and set the glass down, settling in her seat with a rustle of fabric. ‘Thank you. I don’t know how much you do know but I had to get the picture pose approved today. You’ll be glad to know you won’t have to puff out your chest or pose dramatically.’

Timeo raised a brow faintly as his only reaction. ‘Joseph was difficult?’

‘No, never. He’s more relaxed on these things. It was Oleg.’

‘Oh. Him.’ The dismissive tone said it all. Timeo crossed his paws on his chest again so his fingers interlaced. ‘Well, well. What did he say? Did he say I didn’t look heroic enough?’

Ana nodded. ‘He thought you looked too common. I told him that if he wanted the best, he had to trust me. The king persuaded him.’ She sighed, glass in paw. ‘I wanted to slap him. But I didn’t.’

Timeo seemed to be grinning now. He stood up to put the book away. ‘No Legs Oleg… that sounds like him. He sometimes hires me. He’s very hard to please.I’ve wanted to do more than slap him but that’s murder and is illegal.’

It was Ana’s turn to raise a brow in confusion. ‘No Legs?’ She watched him put the book away curiously. He could read?

‘When he was elected, me and a few said he had no leg to stand on. His promises are vague at best. And I just don’t like him. I’d have paid to see you slap his face.’

Ana smiled at that, taking another sip. ‘Ah. Well. Dag would have told me off. Not harshly but… he has a way of pleading with me not to act too rash. He has to work with the man at times so I can see why. But the temptation was still there.’

She’d also namedropped Dag. There was a query coming that way soon she was sure. She found herself expecting it.

‘Such is life sometimes. Ah well. Another universe maybe.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Unfortunately my news isn't so good. I knew he was around because I also had a meeting with him.’

Ana felt something drop inside, something heavy. His face normally had a stoic look like his emotions reset after each expression but she’d grown a little used to him. His serious look looked more dour and heavy, especially around the eyes. ‘And what’s happening?’

‘Put simply I’m going away in a week, possibly two weeks time. I had to let Oleg know as it's rather delicate in nature.’ He leaned on the bookcase. ‘I’ll know once the summons arrives. In the meantime you’ve got me.’

There was a silence that felt suddenly long and heavy. Ana knew it wasn’t rational to feel this way about someone she’d barely known but she’d come to know more about Timeo. Had in fact come to like him and care about him, even with the dark humour.

He was indeed a rogue. He’d been an object of fantasy for her for a few months, something she wasn’t too proud of and she’d given him a persona that was merely a vessel for how she’d imagined it’d be once they had met. She’d own up to it, at least inside.

What she’d found was someone complicated. She was sure she felt underlying emotion in his words, even when he was playing off something with a smile. Had he really felt the army was his own option at that age? He always described his job as necessary but did he believe it? She’d thought they had more time but Timeo fascinated her in ways she couldn’t have predicted. She wished there was more time to get to know him.

Idly she rubbed her ring finger in a sort of comfort gesture. ‘Do you know how long you’ll be gone?’

‘Long enough you’ll have put colours to that picture.’

She nodded then. The atmosphere felt tense still. Then Timeo spoke gently as if aware of her discomfort.

‘I’ll be back. I am quite looking forward to what it’ll turn out like if I’m honest. It’s something to come back for, even if we are both playing political games.’ She became aware of his hand on hers. She looked up as he’d sat back down, reaching over to comfort her. ‘Are you worried?’

A nod. ‘A little. I know you can’t say what it is but will you look after yourself? It sounds serious.’.

‘It’s… serious enough that I had to respond to a potential summons so there is a chance of some danger.’ He shrugged as if this was nothing new. ‘It’s a chance I take. But I always aim to come back.’

The way he said it was at once noncommittal and yet belied underneath that he was worried. Maybe that was it. He went through life on these secretive escapades and worried he’d not come back, while somehow doing so, much like their feral cat counterparts. And, now she thought about it, he wouldn’t look out of place as a feral feline either.

‘Can I ask you something?’ He tilted his head, the long ears splayed out briefly. ‘Why do you worry about me, Ana? It’s not unappreciated but I thought your concerns would lie elsewhere.’

‘Um.’ Now it came to talking about it, it all seemed stupid. She put the near-empty glass down then waved her free hand distractedly. ‘I was fascinated by you. Everyone had something to say then I was asked to do your portrait. A few months ago I was doing another commissioned piece and she had a lot to say about you. I admit it was… Well, maybe I got a bit obsessed for a week or so then I had some other pieces and I… kind of forgot.’ She tried to read his face. He was good at hiding his emotions. ‘Then I meet you and yes, I found you a little abrasive, obnoxious maybe. But I feel I got to know you a little better and well…’

Timeo nodded as she tailed off. ‘Ah. I see.’ He moved closer to sit in the chair opposite and leaned forward, paws clasped together. ‘You heard all about me and had an idea in your mind that didn’t quite match with what was presented. But after our little talks, which I might add you are very good at, you filled in a few gaps.’ He chuckled as he watched her head lower in muted embarrassment. ‘Don’t feel sorry about that. I want to say well done! You’re one of the few who actually bothered to talk first and see how it played out.’

‘I-I am?’

‘I know who you refer to. The loud one. French.’ He grimaced.

Ana nodded. ‘Marielle. Yes. She doesn’t really talk with you as much as talk at you.’

Timeo nodded again, a slight wince at the recollection. ‘I unfortunately remember. I was cornered unexpectedly and sorry to sound rude, but any hole would have done at that point. However, as much fun was had, I did have to leave rather suddenly.’

Ana let out an unintentional giggle. ‘I was going to say she has that effect on people. Her husband is hardly ever here and I almost think he prefers it.’ She paused. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t talk behind her back. Rude of me.’

‘Don’t worry. I heard worse from her so-called friends behind her back. Anyway. It wasn’t her, she didn’t upset me. It was just that I had to fix up a monumental cock-up. All I’ll say is that sometimes you have to check who you work with a lot more carefully.’

His paw reached out to touch her paw. The one with the ring. His thumb stroked the ring slowly. ‘But the concern is appreciated. Now. I know you’ve heard much about me. Question is, do you actually believe it? Now that I am here, right in front of you.’

God. He did have charm. It was not the obvious sort that made you notice it right away but it snuck up on you, very much like he had snuck in here. You had to keep digging to find it but as he’d said, few had ever seemed to try. But it was there. She tried to describe it but it was hard. No words could adequately describe what exactly it was he had managed in these short weeks.

‘Um. Yes.’ She licked her lips nervously. ‘You’ve probably guessed I’m married.’

‘The ring says so. And his name, as you mentioned, is Dag. A name I recognise.’ He leaned in closer. ‘I’ll let you into a secret. You’ve probably heard some rumour that this is all spite and I’m just jealous of other’s happiness, or that I’m doing it for fun and to piss them off in court, right? I think that's the last thing they said anyway.’

Ana nodded. ‘I’m told regularly that Dag should keep an eye on me. Just in case a certain rogue decides to charm his way in.’ Her lips curled into an amused smile. ‘They do think you do it because you’re either bored or deeply unhappy.’

‘Well then. Let me answer that once and for all. The reason I like doing it so much and why it's usually married couples, is because the married ones are so much more fun. And I find it highly amusing that aside from a few, they tend not to mind my presence so much. And I don’t want in on anything they have. So it’s not to spite them, that's for sure.’

She watched him curiously. They were closer now, not quite nose to nose but not far from it. She had been listening but she was sure she was still missing something. ‘Just… fun? And you don’t miss having a relationship of your own?’

‘Not at all. When I was younger, maybe I felt it. But simply put, it doesn’t fulfil me in the same way as maybe you and Dag. It doesn’t mean I hate the idea.’ He shrugged. ‘It just means my idea of a relationship is people I please. Nothing too complicated.’

‘For you maybe. But I think a lot of men would disagree.’

‘Then tell me. Is Dag one of those? And more to the point, is going further than this something you’d like to do?’

She bit her lip. He had altered his tone a little and made it much more obvious he wasn't just flirting. She got the impression he’d been wanting to broach the question for some time.

She could see his viewpoint. She could feel a slight envy of it too. He could get away with it. Men could so easily do that in this day and age. She had the feeling that if she tried that, it’d be broadsheet headlines. It was why, despite not being high profile, both she and Dag had kept very close control on who’d be let into their own inner circle.

Truth was that he wouldn’t say no either. In fact if she knew him as well as she did, he'd be asking for a turn.

‘No.’ She said finally. Then her brain caught up. ‘And since you asked, yes. Absolutely yes.’

As if to affirm it wasn’t just words, her fingers laced with his. Blue and white fur mingled with her brown hues. She’d wanted to land a kiss on that muzzle for what had felt like forever. So without saying anything more, she leaned forward to do exactly that.

She felt the smirk as Timeo followed her lead. The soft white strands of the fur that made up his moustache tickled her nose but still felt warm and inviting. Her fingers wound themselves free and were brought up to stroke over the dark blue tabby stripes, following through to the white. Fingertips curled into it, flexing and gripping gently to comb manicured claws through it as her head angled to push the kiss far into more intimate territory with their tongues.

As she pulled away, she grinned. His eyes had seemed somewhat dull with their earlier serious conversation but the shared lust between them seemed to have reignited the spark she’d wanted to see.

‘I’ll just make sure we have some privacy.’ Standing up, she headed to the door. The key turned slowly.

Turning back to him, the key was placed carefully on the table. He watched her every move in rapt expectation as he waited. His white tail tip curled upwards and down in a familiar gesture of feline curiosity and expectation.

‘We are quite alone?’ His voice held a peculiar gentle rumble as he shuffled off his big coat. Underneath was a waistcoat and heavy shirt with a cravat that just about looked tidy. ‘And more importantly, when will your husband be home?’

‘Not for a week or so. Consider it filling in for him for now.’ It wasn’t meant maliciously and her tone didn’t hold any hidden barbs about Dag’s performance. It was just that here and now, she was drunk on this moment and the lust that came with it.

There was something about the older male that had her tight and not just the experience they offered. Dag fell neatly there and at this moment, so did Timeo. But she’d have to wait to try out fully just how much experience he had. They probably only had half an hour at most.

‘We don’t have too long.’ Words done, time for action. Pushing him back in his seat, straddling his broad lap, the kiss was resumed fiercely. She could feel him tense as he caught her to steady her then relax as he joined the renewed intimacy.

One paw curled long fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. The other brushed through the long white fur that made up part of the overall facial fur. The curled fingers gripped tight. It elicited a soft growl from him but he didn’t push her away. She imagined he’d endured more than some minor hair pulling in the heat of the moment.

‘Nnn…’

Their tongues mingled. A brown paw slipped down to the waistcoat and ran over his chest. How broad and strong it felt! How soft it must feel with just the fluff and no clothing to get in the way! Her tail thrashed and whipped behind her eagerly. Clumsily the cravat was loosened, the first few buttons of the waistcoat undone, followed by the shirt.

Then her paw sank into the fluff. It was truly soft. She had expected it to be coarse, not looked after. It was the exact opposite and felt good to touch and comb through.

Was he purring more now? She could feel the rumble increase in his chest, in the vibration as their lips met.

It was toxicating, as much as the soft fur she was kneading urgently.

The only interruption to the moment was when she’d had to pull away, drawing breath and gasping as his paws had done some exploring of their own. She’d felt him explore her back and sides, loosening her dress somewhat, before they slid under the dress to comb claws through the thicker fur on her thighs.

‘You liked that?’ He grinned, licking his lips. ‘That’s good wine by the way.’

‘Nnn- yes.’

‘You want me to continue?’ The claws trailed gently, especially at the more sensitive parts on the inner thigh.

‘Ye- fuck- yes, please…’ She managed to stammer the words out as the claws teased.

‘Then I will.’ That growl that accompanied his words. It spoke more of conviction than anything else she’d heard all evening. God! If she hadn’t believed it before, she’d believe it now. He really was as good as it’d been said.

The claws on her thighs sheathed themselves, leaving one to hold her hip steady and the other to explore further upwards until-

‘Is this your usual habit?’ The back of a knuckle grazed over the soft fur of her soft folds, feeling the warmth of them. Just touched gently up and down before the finger extended to gently pry them apart, slickened already with her fluids. Slow, steady, his eyes on her as he watched her mouth fall open again in a soundless gasp. ‘Someone’s eager. Nothing underneath but that corset. And the underskirt.’ His voice was low but still conversational.

The pad of the digit that had gone a little further found what he’d been searching for.

‘F-fuck!’

Up until now, she’d have dismissed his rumoured skill with foreplay as an exaggeration. Her body’s reaction told her otherwise.

He’d found the clit and with a suspiciously practised ease, his finger was circling it slowly. Slow and gentle, enough to get her hips rolling and twitching toward him, breathing to quicken as she leaned on him.

And he was purring more now, the rogue! Come to think of it, so was she.

‘Please…’ She managed to finally speak.

‘Please what?’

Please what? She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that what he was doing right now felt good and was already teetering on the edge of that brink. She tried to get her mind back in focus. ‘I-I want…’

The finger still did its wicked work. Timeo seemed to find it hard to focus too as his fierce gaze met hers, his tongue running over his lower lip. ‘You want what? You’ve got words.’ His own words were accompanied by a low lustful growl.

She did, but he kept stealing them at every slow swirl of that finger. The fur felt damp from nothing but the teasing but it wasn’t enough. She needed so much more. ‘Y-your cock, please…!’ Her claws dug into his shoulder. ‘Just fuck me!’

Almost immediately, the finger was withdrawn. At the same time, she slumped against his chest, breathing ragged. She felt his chest vibrate with that steady purr and a chuckle that made his chest rise and fall rapidly.

‘We don’t have long, like you said. But I’ll make it fun.’

She felt his paws move and it was with a groggy mind that she realised he was freeing his cock from the confines of his trousers. She had felt it there, a taut bulge in the fabric that ached for freedom. And then his chest rose with a soft sigh of relief, suggesting its freedom was assured.

If they had more time, she’d have willingly willed it to readiness with her tongue and muzzle. Next time, Ana. Next time.

The paws were back at her hips. Now she’d recovered some of her mental faculties, she moved with his paws guiding her, sinking lower and lower.

Her paws gripped his shoulders. Her forehead rested on his as she gasped.

The tip slid in. It was broad, a little wider than Dag’s. It also had the bristling but soft barbs that any feline shaft had, reminding her that the last time she’d felt these was some time ago. As she part-pushed, part-allowed him to guide her downwards, those barbs dragged as slowly as his claws had inside her. A single mewl was all she could manage as they pressed close, her breathing suddenly as harsh as his.

Her eyes fluttered open briefly. For a moment, his golden eyes met her brown ones. They registered an infectious need and desire. All he could see was her right now and it was all he wanted. And likewise, she only wanted him at that moment.

She felt herself mutter ‘Oh please’ under her breath and then had that drawn sharply.

With a grunt and his paws tensing to grip tight, he had eased her up and then back down sharply onto him. Then again. Hard and measured at first, those barbs flexing and brushing inside her to find any and all weak spots. His purring hadn't stopped, barely interrupted by his punctuated grunts and soft huffs.

Oh God. His tail had just twined with hers. It’s heavy weight compared to her sleeker one made it dip down. Instantly her tail coiled to his as tightly as it could, a mirror to how close they both were.

Ana gripped his shoulder tight. One paw had sank to the chest fluff on display and was kneading desperately, trying to stave off what she knew was coming.

Oh he was good! He was older, definitely in his 50’s, but what a taste of his experience! His teasing earlier of her folds had done much to push her close to that edge of bliss but with this new hard pace that ensured he fit inside snugly only to pull out and let those wicked barbs work, it was almost too much.

Another thrust, another frantic meeting of their hips together-

‘I can’t- I’m- D-don’t stop!’

No longer able to contain her frantic whimpers and mewls, her body moved of its own accord. Fingers twined in fur flexed and gripped tight. Her claws sank into the fabric of the waistcoat. Back arched and tail barely pulling away from his and fluffing out.

She hadn’t been able to stop herself from climax. Her whole body shook with the intensity of the pleasure coursing through her. She barely contained herself from a full yowl of pleasure.

Pressing close so they were practically flush with each other, her peak had hit strong. Those feelings from months ago vindicated but oh, how she’d underestimated how good it would be! Those barbs had been the thing to push her over. She’d peaked first but the feeling was so good, how could it end!

Was he-? Yes, he was still going! And she was still chasing that blissful high to its end!

Yes, still he was moving. His paws now felt huge and the pinpricks of the claws sunk in as he now chased his own release. Her head rested against his shoulder as she caught her breath, bouncing a little at his own hard rhythmic pace, hearing his breathing gather pace in her ear-

A sudden jolt. The claws gripped firmer.

His head leaned back. The golden eyes, swirling hypnotically with lust and desire, closed tight and he gritted his teeth as he grunted, bit his lip. His hips pressed to hers with two urgent and strong thrusts before the tension in his body relaxed.

Not enough to edge her over a second time. Ana had made herself watch as he too sated his own desires, watching his demeanour change from lust-crazed beast to sated to the familiar calm she knew.

God. He had looked so good in all of that.

For some moments, she rested there, letting his paws slip from under her dress to wrap about her gently. Her arms wrapped about his chest too. Her nose buried in his neck fur, revelling in his scent.

Just the two of them. Just relaxing from satisfying each other’s needs. Just the sounds of their calming breathing in the aftermath of their blissful orgasmic highs.

‘How are you feeling, Ana?’ She hadn’t realised it but she’d almost fallen asleep to his steady purr. She sat up, feeling a little disappointed to no longer be filled with feline cock.

‘I’m… fine. No, I’m good. I’m….’ She looked down at him, watching his face turn amused. ‘Oh shut up. You just fucked me senseless and I’m still trying to get my head back together.’

Timeo chuckled softly. ‘I mean are you okay to stand up? And… I wasn’t too rough?’

He helped her up anyway. He even helped to tidy her dress although there wasn’t much he could do about some of her hair being mussed. Then he tidied himself up, stroking his chest fluff into order.

‘N-no. Not at all.’ She felt herself blush under her fur. ;’It was… It was better than I had hoped. Although I’d hoped to hold out longer.’

Timeo had put his coat back on. ‘The way I see it, if your body wants to cum, it’ll do it. Sometimes you have to listen to it.’ He winked. ‘I may have held back a bit though. I wanted to see what you’d do.’

‘Oh.’ Thank God he couldn’t see how red she was. ‘I bet I sounded like one of the lines from those cheap books. I was trying to be quiet.’

His paw came up to stroke her cheek. ‘You were just fine. You have no idea how much I had to hold back after that.’

Ana felt her face seem to practically glow red.

The door was reopened. He was offered a room but he declined politely. It probably was for the best as he was due to be with her the next day and he said he had some business proper to see to.

As Ana let him go, she decided to turn in for the night.

The library was arranged back to how it usually was. Out of interest, she picked up the book he’d been reading. It was a travelogue of sorts, not one she’d read yet.

Hopefully no one would know what had gone on in here, although sometimes if it was her with Dag in here, occasionally they hadn’t been able to help themselves. The staff knew not to knock if sounds came from within. Speaking of, she wondered if she had been loud. She had done her best to keep quiet. Oh, what did it matter? They’d probably been hedging bets on when it’d happen.

In her room, she undressed behind the screen and used the now cool water usually set aside to clean herself up, then slipping the night robe on. She did so carefully, still feeling somewhat sensitive from earlier. Every pass of the cloth seemed to remind her that she’d just had a very good time and it wouldn’t take much effort to stir it up again.

‘Someone’s late to bed.’

Ana looked up as she parted the sheets, seeing the familiar shape of Stig within them. ‘Have a good talk with our guest?’

‘How long have you been waiting?’ Climbing into the warmed sheets, she pulled them over herself and met the gaze of her equine lover.

‘Might surprise you but not long at all. I’d have expected a more… shall we say in depth chat?’ One arm was shifted to rest lazily over her belly. The touch was so familiar that her soft purr started straight away.

‘You want to hear about it?’ She grinning in the darkness, not moving away or even thinking of stopping the errant hand moving lower.

‘You know me well.’

Amidst softly rustling sheets, Ana did just that, and left nothing out.