lycanthropelahey:

iamthefirechild:

“I hate it when you make sense,” she grumbled, half-heartedly. She couldn’t stop touching him, fingertips stroking his face, sliding her hands down his shoulders, running fingers through his hair. She was afraid if she stopped he would turn out to have been a dream after all. Staring at him, eyes roaming his beloved face, she said, choked, “I will never leave you again.”

“It doesn’t happen a lot, so I’m going to take advantage of it while I can,” he laughed softly, unable to tear his eyes away from her face, drinking in the beauty that was his beloved Summer, when in her absence, he’d had only his memories of her to reflect upon. “I won’t let you. You have no idea…I felt like part of me had come with you, I felt so empty and lost…”

“I was so alone,” she whispered back, stroking his face. She ran her thumb over his mouth. “I thought there would be people here who wanted me, but my sister left, I never see my mother or my father — I have no friends here. I never stopped thinking about you. About everyone.

“But especially you. Say you still love me.”

lycanthropelahey:

iamthefirechild:

She buried her face in his shoulder, clinging with all her might. Her legs stopped holding her up, and she sank to the floor, pulling him down with her. “What took you so long?” she whispered, voice choked. “Why did you not come to me right away? This whole time, you’ve been here, and I did not know.” She kissed him, before he could answer, passionate and desperate.

“I couldn’t be certain that it was you — I had to make sure, and I had to do this right, Summer … as tempting as it was to take you away, I had to ensure that I didn’t unintentionally start a war or something in the process,” he whispered as his legs buckled and he allowed her to pull him down onto the floor, feeling a little weak from the deeply passionate kiss she’d given him only a few moments before.

“I hate it when you make sense,” she grumbled, half-heartedly. She couldn’t stop touching him, fingertips stroking his face, sliding her hands down his shoulders, running fingers through his hair. She was afraid if she stopped he would turn out to have been a dream after all. Staring at him, eyes roaming his beloved face, she said, choked, “I will never leave you again.”

lycanthropelahey:

iamthefirechild:

Wobbling, she took another step forward, hand reaching out to his. She was visibly shaking, now, and pulled her fingers back briefly before letting them settle in his palm.

And then she was laughing and crying, smiling so hard she thought her face might crack and hurling herself into his arms. “Oh, Isaac, Isaac!”

He let her take the movements at her own pace, knowing that she had to be overwhelmed, at least a little. If she was feeling anything like he was, she’d be terrified and awed to see him there, for he couldn’t stop staring at her.

“Oh, Summer…” He breathed out and wrapped his arms tightly around her waist as her body slammed into his, staggering a little before burying his face in her fiery hair, tears leaking down his face.

She buried her face in his shoulder, clinging with all her might. Her legs stopped holding her up, and she sank to the floor, pulling him down with her. “What took you so long?” she whispered, voice choked. “Why did you not come to me right away? This whole time, you’ve been here, and I did not know.” She kissed him, before he could answer, passionate and desperate.

lycanthropelahey:

iamthefirechild:

She whirled around, stumbling into the mantel over the fireplace and going pale. “I-Isaac?” Her voice was barely audible, and one hand pressed to her breast. “You can’t be … real … I am dreaming again.” She took a step toward him, and another, until a tremble began in her body and she couldn’t move any further.

“Please be real.”

“I’m real — as real as the flames in the fireplace and the beating of your heart. Please don’t turn me away, Summer…I’m a mess without you and I need you…” He choked up and cleared his throat, eyes locking with hers. Seeing her approach, he reached out his hand, allowing her control of the moment when he wanted nothing more than to gather her up in his arms and never let her go.

Wobbling, she took another step forward, hand reaching out to his. She was visibly shaking, now, and pulled her fingers back briefly before letting them settle in his palm.

And then she was laughing and crying, smiling so hard she thought her face might crack and hurling herself into his arms. “Oh, Isaac, Isaac!”

lycanthropelahey:

iamthefirechild:

Summer knew Isaac had been there, at the tournament. She didn’t know he had stayed to attempt the Task. The previous knight had been one of the boorish sort, who obviously felt that her inability to smile was merely the result of some superior game she was playing with them all. The last few minutes of his time had been spent in a hail of insults, bringing her near tears and dragging up wholly unwelcome memories.

She was not even looking at the door when Isaac entered, but standing before the fireplace and staring into the flames. She wished desperately that she had never left the Hale lands, and knowing that Isaac had been so near but made no attempt to see her tore her heart.

“I miss you so much, Isaac,” she whispered.

“And I you, my beautiful Summer. It aches me not to have you in my arms, to not have you by my side. To wake in an empty bed and to have no-one laugh at my stupid jokes and imitations, to have blank faces watching me when I only want you. Since you left, my life has been filled with darkness, and I was wondering…would you want to fill it with colour again?”

He breathed out„ inwardly cringing at the slightly soppy and cliched words spilling from his lips but he was trying his best. He had never been particularly talented with words, but he wasn’t planning on serenading her or professing his love through a sonnet or limerick, so he did what he did best — rambled and hoped that something good might come of it.

She whirled around, stumbling into the mantel over the fireplace and going pale. “I-Isaac?” Her voice was barely audible, and one hand pressed to her breast. “You can’t be … real … I am dreaming again.” She took a step toward him, and another, until a tremble began in her body and she couldn’t move any further.

“Please be real.”

lycanthropelahey:

iamthefirechild:

Each man was allowed one hour with the Princess, distantly attended by guards in case he should offer harm to her — and to provide witnesses to his potential success. For her part, ultimately her father commanded her to receive the men, and so she did, stiffly proper in the manner that had been drilled into her.

From early in the morning until late into the evening, as candle burned down each hour, knight after knight, lord after lord, entered the Princess’ tower and attempted to bring her to smile. They brought flowers, jewels, dresses. They offered lands, titles, animals. They told stories, composed poetry, sang.

All of them failed.

Some tried touching her, holding her hand or even kissing her. Those she failed to respond to at all, as if marble. One or two tried more forceful tactics, and were ejected with equal force. Some few elicited responses, even actual conversation or interest — but she did not smile for them.

Isaac’s turn fell midway through the third day.

His nerves were growing increasingly more frayed as time went on, and he spent the first couple of days of the new challenge venting his frustrations out in the field, training by himself for he was simply too agitated to converse with any of the others; even those that he had interacted with on occasion, even found himself conversing with them every now and again.

He’d heard tales, rumours of the others’ attempts to win the Princess over and he frowned helplessly, knowing that even though Summer liked those things most of the time, it wasn’t how to win her over. He hoped. He had yet to come up with a plan, and he was quickly running out of time.

And then his turn came.

Summer knew Isaac had been there, at the tournament. She didn’t know he had stayed to attempt the Task. The previous knight had been one of the boorish sort, who obviously felt that her inability to smile was merely the result of some superior game she was playing with them all. The last few minutes of his time had been spent in a hail of insults, bringing her near tears and dragging up wholly unwelcome memories.

She was not even looking at the door when Isaac entered, but standing before the fireplace and staring into the flames. She wished desperately that she had never left the Hale lands, and knowing that Isaac had been so near but made no attempt to see her tore her heart.

“I miss you so much, Isaac,” she whispered.

lycanthropelahey:

iamthefirechild:

But the Princess was gone. She knew nothing of the Task her father had set, nothing of plans to marry her off — all she knew was that Isaac was there, virtually within arms reach, and had competed nearly the entire tournament in disguise.

Why would he do such a thing? Did he not want her to see him? Had he forgotten her entirely?

Fleeing back to her tower, she locked herself in. She did not appear at the grand, celebratory outdoor banquet held to mark the end of the tournament and fete the winners, where her father, overwhelmed by the number of men desiring to complete the Task, announced that any noble, knight, or lord might try. They drew lots to determine what order the applicants should proceed in.

Sir Isaac’s heart plummeted, stomach churning with disappointment as he saw no individual that could be his Summer, and he lowered his head, allowing the feelings to wash over him for a moment. And then he straightened up, and made sure to keep his face visible — he no longer cared about anyone else seeing him, as long as he made more of an impact on her than the others did.

For his Summer, he’d do anything.

Each man was allowed one hour with the Princess, distantly attended by guards in case he should offer harm to her — and to provide witnesses to his potential success. For her part, ultimately her father commanded her to receive the men, and so she did, stiffly proper in the manner that had been drilled into her.

From early in the morning until late into the evening, as candle burned down each hour, knight after knight, lord after lord, entered the Princess’ tower and attempted to bring her to smile. They brought flowers, jewels, dresses. They offered lands, titles, animals. They told stories, composed poetry, sang.

All of them failed.

Some tried touching her, holding her hand or even kissing her. Those she failed to respond to at all, as if marble. One or two tried more forceful tactics, and were ejected with equal force. Some few elicited responses, even actual conversation or interest — but she did not smile for them.

Isaac’s turn fell midway through the third day.

lycanthropelahey:

iamthefirechild:

He wasn’t given any time to contemplate the impostor, though. The crowd exploded into cheers, and Isaac was guided to remount Buttons, then led over to the foot of the royal box. The Princess had vanished from sight, but Prince Edward stood there, hands full of an ornate silver belt.

There was an elaborate presentation ceremony, and then Sir Isaac was asked if he wished to attempt the Princess’ Task.

Isaac blinked at the sudden uproar, allowing it to wash over him as his eyes gazed over to where the impostor had vanished, before he slumped down slightly. Mounting Buttons one more, he paid attention to detail as he was led over to the royal box, his helm still off as he fixed his eyes onto the Prince before him.

Briefly pondering over the request, he finally nodded and cast him a polite smile, figuring that he didn’t have much else to lose at this point. A little extra challenge wouldn’t delay his plans too much.

Up to this point, no one had even known what the Princess’ Task was,  though some had shrewdly guessed.

“You must make the Princess smile.”

A silence fell, as everyone waited to see if there was more; surely the thing could not be that simple.

“The man who can make her laugh again will have her hand in marriage, and inherit the princedom besides.”

Apparently it was to be that simple. Such an easy task, many thought, for such a reward. A clamour broke out as other knights rushed forward to crowd around Sir Isaac, begging for the chance to try as well.

lycanthropelahey:

iamthefirechild:

The knight calling himself Camden froze, staring at Isaac. A silence fell as everyone strained to hear what was being said, but he said only, “I yield,” before walking off the lists, abandoning his sword, shield, and helm.

Isaac frowned then, not feeling even a little victorious as his eyes followed the other male as he left, wondering if there was any truth to his claims. But it was impossible, surely…he remembered the funeral vividly, but this impostor had known things that only Camden could have known…

He wasn’t given any time to contemplate the impostor, though. The crowd exploded into cheers, and Isaac was guided to remount Buttons, then led over to the foot of the royal box. The Princess had vanished from sight, but Prince Edward stood there, hands full of an ornate silver belt.

There was an elaborate presentation ceremony, and then Sir Isaac was asked if he wished to attempt the Princess’ Task.