Tag Archives: v: medieval summer

Desperate Survival ( Summer – Hal )

henry-prince-of-wales:

iamthefirechild:

henry-prince-of-wales:

iamthefirechild:

henry-prince-of-wales:

The Prince exhaled and started to unlatch portions of his armor that wouldn’t come off easily. He then removed each piece one by one and set them down next to him. It took him a while but eventually he got everything off down to the clothing he wore under the chainmail. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted off his body and for a minute or two Hal thought he was going to fall asleep right away. It felt good to be free from all of that heavy steel but he felt vulnerable now. 

The pile of armour took up near as much space as a person, which Summer supposed made sense, given that it went /around/ a person. Clearly he didn’t need her help, so she began to rummage in the sealed jars shelved on the back wall. A cheese, wrapped in sackcloth, came readily to hand, as well as a long sausage. Most of the jars proved to contain pickled foods, so she closed them back up, and kept out the barley she’d found.

“I’ve found sausage and cheese, my lord, as well as can make porridge if you like,” she said, turning back to the Prince. Her mouth dropped open slightly at the sight of him in his loose shirt and breeches.

The Prince sat up when she spoke again and smiled. “I do not wish to burden you with the task of cooking this late at night milady. The sausage and cheese will do just fine and I thank you.” He said and nodded in thanks. But something was wrong… or at least he felt as though something was wrong. “Is everything alright? Do I have something other than dirt and blood upon my person?” He asked and checked himself over. He didn’t have any large open wounds that needed to be tended to… But he was filthy. 

“No, you — I — ” Summer had to stop talking before what she was thinking spilled out of her mouth totally uncensored. Taking a deep breath, she tried again. “Please don’t call me ‘milady,’ sire, I’m truly not. I’m just a country girl with a bit of luck.” She held out the round of cheese. 

“Than what shall I call you? Simply by your name?” Hal asked as he took the cheese and pulled a chunk off of it. She looked rather flustered and he wished that he’d kept the armor on more so now. Even if she didn’t feel as though she should be called ‘milady’ Hal still felt it proper. Summer had shown him kindness and merited a title to match her generosity. 

“Well, yes.” A hot blush climbed her cheeks, and she hoped he couldn’t see it in the dim firelight. She was for it now, but the topic must be broached. And as terribly gallant as he was being, there was no doubt she’d a fight on her hands, one she hoped she could win. She could not allow, by any means, the prince of the realm to sleep on the floor, yet he would surely insist on it. And the other alternative was … not to be thought of.

No matter how much, in her secret heart, she wanted it.

“Um, there is but one pallet.”

Lady Archer | @the-warrior-king

the-warrior-king:

iamthefirechild:

Summer hadn’t gone far, absorbed in a tapestry that had caught her eye. One hand on the wall to steady herself, she touched the threads gently with the other, tracing the figures stitched on the fabric. Half-consciously she slowly rotated the strained ankle, foot lifted up behind herself.

Henry saw her against the wall, looking at a tapestry and he stepped up towards her and smiled.

“It is beautiful, is it not?” he asked her and she jumped slightly, turning, Henry out of instinct – once more – raised his arms to catch her.

It was fortunate that he did, for Summer tried to put her weight on her strained ankle, which unsurprisingly refused to hold her. “Highness!” she gasped, clutching his arms while she found her footing. “Once again you come to my rescue. I begin to think you plan these encounters!” She teased, laughing up into his face. “When you did not come to the library I was certain the business of government overwhelmed you.”

Summer & Humphrey

dukehumphrey:

iamthefirechild:

Summer’s mouth twitched. All three of the rough men there knew her, very well. One of them boasted a burn scar on his hand to show for it. But these were not things she told just anybody she might meet. Long and long tests of trust before she revealed some things.

She sternly suppressed her mirth and laid a careful hand to Arteys’ arm. “My father’s house is around the corner from the ruins of the Savoy. I thank you very kindly for your concern, my lord. Will you tell me what brings you to the city?”

Humphrey chuckled upon the mention of the Savoy. He usually doesn’t think about it, it was burned down during the Peasant’s revolt, before he was born. But it was owned by his grandfather, John of Gaunt, whose stories he grew up on. Grandfather loved the Savoy, its expensive extravagance and comfort just as well as its perfect location in the city. Humphrey heard enough stories of the Savoy and whenever he saw the ruins it tore his heart a bit.

“Well….” Humphrey hesitated. He shouldn’t have lied about his name, now there was no way out. “I work for the Duke of Gloucester. I’m his squire and messenger. So I am in and out of London with the Duke or on his business.” He lied. While Humphrey was no stranger to scheming, lying with no purpose than to mislead another was not something he enjoyed, and it made him feel uneasy. “Your father lives in the best location of the city. With all courtesy, how did he acquire such an illustrious place? Is he in trade, or in government?” He asked. He hoped for a favorable answer now that he was set on the path to become his own squire.

“My father is a baron. My family has served the king for centuries,” Summer told him proudly. “You are lucky to have such a good post. With no queen, there’s no need for me at court, and I’m left almost entirely to my own devices.”

At some point, she knew, he would have to stop lying to her. Whoever he really was, he had the air of nobility. It would be interesting to see how long this played out.

dukehumphrey:

iamthefirechild:

dukehumphrey:

iamthefirechild:

I am called Summer Rainault. You need not fear for my safety, my lord, I’m quite safe, but I’ll gladly accept your escort all the same. I walk to my father’s house. May I know your name also?

“Summer, what a beautiful name for a lady. Yet stating you are safe in London at this hour… quite brave, are you not?” Humphrey said smiling, while dismounting his horse. His two guards behind him automatically followed.

“My name…” Humphrey hesitated. (Is it possible that she would not recognise a prince? Hmmmmm….) “….you may just call me Arteys, my lady. Is it far we have the pleasure to escort you to? And what are you doing on the street at this late hour?”

“I would not call myself brave, no, Lord Arteys. I’m only walking home from visiting my cousins; it is not so far.” Summer offered a quick curtsey.

“Well, walking home at this hour, alone in London you must be brave. See those three there?” Humphrey asked, pointing to three men standing behind a tree on the corner of the street where it led in a narrow walkway towards the peasants’ lodgings, the poorest part of the town.

“I know one of them. We had a quarrel a few days back for he tried to cut my purse while dining in The Red Bull. You shall have escort at this hour, my lady Summer.” He offered his arm to her, Hera’s reins in his other hand, his two squires behind. “Where are we going exactly, my lady?”

Summer’s mouth twitched. All three of the rough men there knew her, very well. One of them boasted a burn scar on his hand to show for it. But these were not things she told just anybody she might meet. Long and long tests of trust before she revealed some things.

She sternly suppressed her mirth and laid a careful hand to Arteys’ arm. “My father’s house is around the corner from the ruins of the Savoy. I thank you very kindly for your concern, my lord. Will you tell me what brings you to the city?”

Lady Archer | @the-warrior-king

the-warrior-king:

iamthefirechild:

the-warrior-king:

iamthefirechild:

the-warrior-king:

iamthefirechild:

A painstakingly written note lay sealed on the table by his bedside. The note within read, ‘Your Grace, I wished to let you know, the physician tells me it is merely a strain to my ankle, and though I must not stand upon it for some time I am permitted to hobble about if I take care and use a stick. I expect I shall be spending some time in the library. Might I hope to be favoured with a moment of your time tomorrow?

devotedly yours, Summer Rainault’

Henry lay on the bed as he read the note and he sighed as he fell against the bed, he had council in the evening but he knew it would be rude to not accept this invitation.

He undressed quickly and lay back on the bed as he fell asleep wondering what the girl would ask of him if she had wished to see him, for she had said that the palace was a bore and he could not help but agree with her on those words.

He sighed, he supposed he would see such things tomorrow.

The peace of the library was soothing after the way her maid and the castle servants had fluttered about getting her there. Bertha had pleaded with her not to leave her bed, in fact, but Summer was adamant: she’d not be holed up inside her rooms all day. She’d go mad if she couldn’t get out at least a little.

Fortunately, Henry’s library held copies of several manuscripts she had been wishing to read, including the Roman de la Rose and Lancelot, Knight of the Cart. Happily she submerged herself in the lyric writing.

Henry was making his way to the library when he was called away to the council again, he stood in the room as he was told of an assassination attempt against him and he sighed.

“Find them,” he said, “Have them hung for treason, and for attempted assassination. Has it been discovered when they intended to do such a thing?”

“At the hunt my lord,” they told him, “They wished to catch you during the hunt.”

Darkness superseded the sunlight spilling through the windows, and Summer laid the manuscript aside, carefully pushing herself out of the chair. She was oddly disappointed, though reason said there was no reason she should be. He was the King. He’d work to do.

She’d just wander the castle for a while, where there were walls to catch her if she stumbled again.

Henry was now making his way back to his original destination, the library, without even realising that he had picked up his pace he made his way there and found himself slightly out of breath. He thought for a brief moment why he had been rushing.

He would not know if the Lady Summer had waited for him, for he knew the hour was late that he should arrive here for her. But she was a lady and with that he was honour bound to come and see upon her.

For she was injured and he would like to know how she was managing, he thought of her ankle and of her shooting. It was a shame she would miss out on the hunt, he was sure she would have been a great contribution to the hunting party.

Summer hadn’t gone far, absorbed in a tapestry that had caught her eye. One hand on the wall to steady herself, she touched the threads gently with the other, tracing the figures stitched on the fabric. Half-consciously she slowly rotated the strained ankle, foot lifted up behind herself.

dukehumphrey:

Lokisdottir: dukehumphrey: iamthefirechild: dukehumphrey started following youCan…

I am called Summer Rainault. You need not fear for my safety, my lord, I’m quite safe, but I’ll gladly accept your escort all the same. I walk to my father’s house. May I know your name also?

“Summer, what a beautiful name for a lady. Yet stating you are safe in London at this hour… quite brave, are you not?” Humphrey said smiling, while dismounting his horse. His two guards behind him automatically followed.

“My name…” Humphrey hesitated. (Is it possible that she would not recognise a prince? Hmmmmm….) “….you may just call me Arteys, my lady. Is it far we have the pleasure to escort you to? And what are you doing on the street at this late hour?”

“I would not call myself brave, no, Lord Arteys. I’m only walking home from visiting my cousins; it is not so far.” Summer offered a quick curtsey.

dukehumphrey:

iamthefirechild:

dukehumphrey started following you

Can I help you, my lord? I fear you may be lost.

My fair Lady, I have thought of you the same. Why is such a fair maiden wandering around the darkening London streets? Don’t you know how dangerous it is?

My lady, please let me offer myself and my guards to escort you to wherever it is you are heading… and whilst getting there, please allow me to get to know you. May I have your name, my Lady?

I am called Summer Rainault. You need not fear for my safety, my lord, I’m quite safe, but I’ll gladly accept your escort all the same. I walk to my father’s house. May I know your name also?

Desperate Survival (Open RP)

henry-prince-of-wales:

iamthefirechild:

henry-prince-of-wales:

The Prince exhaled and started to unlatch portions of his armor that wouldn’t come off easily. He then removed each piece one by one and set them down next to him. It took him a while but eventually he got everything off down to the clothing he wore under the chainmail. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted off his body and for a minute or two Hal thought he was going to fall asleep right away. It felt good to be free from all of that heavy steel but he felt vulnerable now. 

The pile of armour took up near as much space as a person, which Summer supposed made sense, given that it went /around/ a person. Clearly he didn’t need her help, so she began to rummage in the sealed jars shelved on the back wall. A cheese, wrapped in sackcloth, came readily to hand, as well as a long sausage. Most of the jars proved to contain pickled foods, so she closed them back up, and kept out the barley she’d found.

“I’ve found sausage and cheese, my lord, as well as can make porridge if you like,” she said, turning back to the Prince. Her mouth dropped open slightly at the sight of him in his loose shirt and breeches.

The Prince sat up when she spoke again and smiled. “I do not wish to burden you with the task of cooking this late at night milady. The sausage and cheese will do just fine and I thank you.” He said and nodded in thanks. But something was wrong… or at least he felt as though something was wrong. “Is everything alright? Do I have something other than dirt and blood upon my person?” He asked and checked himself over. He didn’t have any large open wounds that needed to be tended to… But he was filthy. 

“No, you — I — ” Summer had to stop talking before what she was thinking spilled out of her mouth totally uncensored. Taking a deep breath, she tried again. “Please don’t call me ‘milady,’ sire, I’m truly not. I’m just a country girl with a bit of luck.” She held out the round of cheese. 

Lady Archer | @the-warrior-king

the-warrior-king:

iamthefirechild:

the-warrior-king:

iamthefirechild:

A painstakingly written note lay sealed on the table by his bedside. The note within read, ‘Your Grace, I wished to let you know, the physician tells me it is merely a strain to my ankle, and though I must not stand upon it for some time I am permitted to hobble about if I take care and use a stick. I expect I shall be spending some time in the library. Might I hope to be favoured with a moment of your time tomorrow?

devotedly yours, Summer Rainault’

Henry lay on the bed as he read the note and he sighed as he fell against the bed, he had council in the evening but he knew it would be rude to not accept this invitation.

He undressed quickly and lay back on the bed as he fell asleep wondering what the girl would ask of him if she had wished to see him, for she had said that the palace was a bore and he could not help but agree with her on those words.

He sighed, he supposed he would see such things tomorrow.

The peace of the library was soothing after the way her maid and the castle servants had fluttered about getting her there. Bertha had pleaded with her not to leave her bed, in fact, but Summer was adamant: she’d not be holed up inside her rooms all day. She’d go mad if she couldn’t get out at least a little.

Fortunately, Henry’s library held copies of several manuscripts she had been wishing to read, including the Roman de la Rose and Lancelot, Knight of the Cart. Happily she submerged herself in the lyric writing.

Henry was making his way to the library when he was called away to the council again, he stood in the room as he was told of an assassination attempt against him and he sighed.

“Find them,” he said, “Have them hung for treason, and for attempted assassination. Has it been discovered when they intended to do such a thing?”

“At the hunt my lord,” they told him, “They wished to catch you during the hunt.”

Darkness superseded the sunlight spilling through the windows, and Summer laid the manuscript aside, carefully pushing herself out of the chair. She was oddly disappointed, though reason said there was no reason she should be. He was the King. He’d work to do.

She’d just wander the castle for a while, where there were walls to catch her if she stumbled again.