the Tale of Sir Isaac

lycanthropelahey:

iamthefirechild:

“Laurence, stop that,” Summer scolded, trying to pry the child’s hand away. She made the mistake of looking into Sir Isaac’s face, and color flared in her cheeks.

The boy continued to say, “fix it,” and, abandoning his efforts to pull Sir Isaac over to Summer, started trying to put their hands together.

“I don’t mind — he’s only trying to look out for his older sister, that’s all. You would make a very good Knight someday, Laurence, if you were willing to think that far ahead,” he praised the small boy, before smiling tenderly at Summer’s complexion, thinking how the blush made her look even more radiant.

”Summer…do I have your permission to ‘fix it’? It seems that a certain someone is quite determined to have his way.” Sir Isaac shrugged and allowed the boy to dictate his movements.

“Please don’t give him ideas,” Summer pleaded. “Serfs cannot become knights.” She looked down at their hands, linked together by Laurence’s determination, and the colour in her cheeks spread to her throat. “He hasn’t learned how cruel the world can be,” she murmured. “Or that sometimes, one must do what is best for someone despite their protestations.”

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