Royals and Rule-breakers

Scaffoldings and Satire

"You shouldn't be in here."

Klaus jumped as he looked up at the towering scaffolding, where Y/N was perched, sketching on the ceiling with a graphite pencil. Gently closing the large doors behind him, Klaus wandered into the ballroom, gazing up at the ceiling in awe at the preexisting sketches.

"Where's Mr. D'Angelo?" He asked suddenly, realizing the painter was missing.

Y/N paused, pencil hovering just below the ceiling. "He's on a break."

Klaus could tell she wasn't trying too hard to cover her lie, and made his way to the foot of the scaffolding. "I thought he did all of the painting."

"He does." Y/N casually replied, continuing with the sketches. "I am but a humble paint mixer and brush washer."

"Impeccable sense of satire." Klaus joked, and Y/N rolled her eyes, tucking the pencil behind her ear and beginning to climb down the scaffolding, settling herself down on the level right above Klaus' head.

"What do you want from me your Highness?" She mused with a hint of mockery.

"Just to talk." Klaus rested his chin on the scaffolding and gazed up at her, and she scoffed.

"Whatever about?"

"How about starting with the fact that you're doing Mr. D'Angelo's work for him?"

Y/N shrugged. "What about it?"

"Does he do any work at all?"

"Not my place to say your Highness."

"Why do you call me that?"

"What else am I supposed to call you?"

"Anything that perhaps doesn't sound like an insult."

"It's not an insult."

"It's satirical. Close enough."

"My my, your Highness," Y/N's eyes sparkled with an odd sort of amusement, but her mouth remained unsmiling, "you sure enjoy comparing my words to political ridicule. Second time you've alluded to satire in the few minutes you've drawn me away from my work."

"Ah ha!" Klaus grinned. "So you admit to doing all the paintings!"

"I said nothing." Y/N huffed, the sparkle fading from her eye as she stood up and began to scale the ladder on the side of the scaffolding.

"Wait, but..." Klaus frowned a bit, and she paused, hanging precariously from the ladder.

"Hm?"

"Everyone knows of D'Angelo, but not of you. Does he really take the credit for all of your work?"

Y/N shrugged. "A seventeen year old girl can't possibly be a royal painter. It must always be a man with an ego to match the skill level." She wrinkled her nose with annoyance as she added, "Along with a ridiculous mustache."

"That's horribly unfair!" Klaus argued, appalled, and Y/N glared before continuing up the scaffolding.

"Yeah, well, life isn't fair your Highness."

Klaus kept silent until she reached the top, where he noticed the top bars were a bit too far apart for Y/N to climb comfortably, and changed the subject.

"That seems to be quite dangerous." He called out. "Should you be using a harness or something of the sort?"

"Why, afraid I might fall?" With a humorless laugh, Y/N let her foot slip off the rungs, and Klaus instinctively rushed to the bottom of the ladder. But she simply caught onto another rung and smirked. "Were you really going to catch me your Highness?"

Klaus felt his face burn with embarrassment. "You could've killed yourself."

"Only if I wanted to." Y/N mused, finally pulling herself up onto the top of the scaffolding and gazing down at the flustered prince. "However, I do not seem to fear the fall quite as much as you seem to fear confrontation about life's inequities."

"Don't you mean inequalities?"

"Inequities. I assume you'd know the difference. You read Romanticist poetry, but how about theory, hm? William Godwin? Zeno of Citium?"

Klaus felt his face flush red again, but this time from a different kind of embarrassment. "I seem to have bothered you long enough. I'll leave you to work now ma'am."

"That would be best." Y/N agreed, returning to her large ceiling sketches.

Klaus hesitated at the ballroom doors, turning back the the young painter. "Are you really going to paint Sunny on the ceiling?"

He noticed her face soften a bit, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

"Of course."

Klaus nodded slightly, then slipped through the doors, leaving Y/N in silence once again.

***