iron-maniac started following you
Hey there Mr Stark. What brings you around?
“Not too much, really. Is it bad for me to just drop by?”
Oh no, not at all. I’m just not used to having visitors; the place is rather a mess. Particularly not visitors of your calibre.
There’s a certain amount of freedom in the knowledge that no one will ever notice if you disappear.
I think, if you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to you for a bit, Magnus. Or maybe you talk to me. I keep picking up a lot off you.
‘Well, sure. Twenty questions: Where are you from?’
“The American South. Near Atlanta. I live in New York City now, when I’m at home. And you?” Summer shoved her hands in her pockets.
‘Was born and raised in Trollhättan, then moved down to Ystad Saltsjöbad during my early twenties. I’ve lived here for nearly ten years, I don’t think I’ll be moving anytime soon either. The weather is cold, usual for Sweden, but it’s a nice area.’
“I wish I’d been able to do more to trace my roots; you might actually know some of my distant, distant relatives. Oh well.” She blew out a sigh. “Walk with me? Aught else you want to know? What do you do?”
‘I know of your distant relatives…?’ Magnus’ brow knotted together in his perplexed expression, distracted from her next query as the blonde stepped in tow beside her as they ventured outside and took to the gravel path. ‘Do you have family in Sweden?’
“I expect so. My father’s mother came from there when she was very young. I’ve never had the time to really look, though.” Summer chuckled a little. “I don’t know that they’d want to own me, as it is. Probably for the best.” Looking way up at him, she smiled. “So, what do you do with your time when you’re not being brooding and handsome, Mr Martinsson?”
With immensely false dignity, she protested, “Sire, you are flattering me unduly; I must beg that you stop.” The fact that her mouth was practically against his neck didn’t occur to her until she’d finished the sentence.
O God, am I truly flirting with this man who is my king? But he is so kind and genuine. O God, help me!
Henry couldn’t help but chuckle at her jest as he made his way to the castle, his eyes locked on the distance as he made his way towards it.
“I will take you to the physician to see upon your foot.”
As he made his way through the castle, and into the hallways he readjusted her in his arms as he made his way to the physician’s quarters, and he placed her gently on the bed.
He knelt down in front of her and picked up her ankle carefully, gently as they waited for the physician.
“Perhaps it is only sprained and not broken, lest you would have to have someone to carry you for the rest of your visit.”
“Hopefully it is only strained! I think to be trapped indoors, helpless to someone else’s will, would be more than beyond my patience, and as father will tell you quite clearly, I have but little of that to begin with!” Summer said lightly. Pushing herself up against the pillows, she reached a hand toward Henry.
“Thank you very much. No one could have been more careful.”
He smiled as he looked at her ankle and his hand brushed along her ankle he sighed, “My sister sprained her ankle like this before…”
Henry stood up when the physician came and he smiled as he took Summer’s hand and kissed her palm.
“I shall have someone come to take you to your room.”
Her mouth fell open when Henry — the King! — kissed her palm, and stayed that way until the physician called her name sharply to get her attention. She answered his questions absently, mind far too focussed on the moments just past. Not even the shock of pain when the physician flexed her foot to the fullest extent drew her from her reverie.
He had carried her himself, stayed with her while she waited for the physician … kissed her palm. Not even the back of her hand, in courtly gesture, but the palm. Did he want something of her? If he did, she wasn’t sure she should resist.
Summer wasn’t sure she /could/ resist.
I think, if you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to you for a bit, Magnus. Or maybe you talk to me. I keep picking up a lot off you.
‘Well, sure. Twenty questions: Where are you from?’
“The American South. Near Atlanta. I live in New York City now, when I’m at home. And you?” Summer shoved her hands in her pockets.
‘Was born and raised in Trollhättan, then moved down to Ystad Saltsjöbad during my early twenties. I’ve lived here for nearly ten years, I don’t think I’ll be moving anytime soon either. The weather is cold, usual for Sweden, but it’s a nice area.’
“I wish I’d been able to do more to trace my roots; you might actually know some of my distant, distant relatives. Oh well.” She blew out a sigh. “Walk with me? Aught else you want to know? What do you do?”
With immensely false dignity, she protested, “Sire, you are flattering me unduly; I must beg that you stop.” The fact that her mouth was practically against his neck didn’t occur to her until she’d finished the sentence.
O God, am I truly flirting with this man who is my king? But he is so kind and genuine. O God, help me!
Henry couldn’t help but chuckle at her jest as he made his way to the castle, his eyes locked on the distance as he made his way towards it.
“I will take you to the physician to see upon your foot.”
As he made his way through the castle, and into the hallways he readjusted her in his arms as he made his way to the physician’s quarters, and he placed her gently on the bed.
He knelt down in front of her and picked up her ankle carefully, gently as they waited for the physician.
“Perhaps it is only sprained and not broken, lest you would have to have someone to carry you for the rest of your visit.”
“Hopefully it is only strained! I think to be trapped indoors, helpless to someone else’s will, would be more than beyond my patience, and as father will tell you quite clearly, I have but little of that to begin with!” Summer said lightly. Pushing herself up against the pillows, she reached a hand toward Henry.
“Thank you very much. No one could have been more careful.”
I think, if you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to you for a bit, Magnus. Or maybe you talk to me. I keep picking up a lot off you.
‘Well, sure. Twenty questions: Where are you from?’
“The American South. Near Atlanta. I live in New York City now, when I’m at home. And you?” Summer shoved her hands in her pockets.
Bored. Someone should come talk to me for once.
