Adam
My body is a temple
But I don't believe in God
So knock it down and build me something new
But I don't believe in God
So knock it down and build me something new
"The marriage? Well, nah. Heidi was my best friend." It was easier to talk about this than the injury, as much as it hadn't been a good time, so he focused on it. "When we met, as teens, she'd just run away from home - where her dad was this big noble guy, nearly related to the King. And around when we were 20, she made back up with them, which meant I was suddenly a suitor and not just a boyfriend."
Adam's face, the picture of disgust, clearly said exactly what he felt about being a suitor. "So we have to get married. Because people will talk, or some shit. But they talked anyway, 'cos I wasn't the kinda guy they all thought she should be marrying. I didn't grow up learning what kinda spoon you use first at dinner when there's ten out on the table, yknow."
This was a soft way of putting it. He had been treated as lesser than in every way, in those halls. Doors were shut in his face, whispers died down as he entered a room, nobles tittered into their palms when he took a wrong step in a dance they all seemed to know perfectly. When they'd found out he couldn't read the prayer book thrust into his hands at a dinner, he'd had enough, running out of the room to the delighted gasps of onlookers.
Heidi had tried to convince him different, but it had been over.
He waved off Amalia's apologies but did smile as she called him 'pretty great'. "Oh, I know. We're ten years on and I got a hell of a lot smarter and sexier." With a little smile he squeezed Amalia and kissed her forehead. "You're pretty ok too. Now let's stop talking about sad shit and lay back and look at the colours on the ceiling. You'll see them if you want to."
