" You're quite beautiful my lady. " Mr. Smith would tell a very uncomfortable Abigail.
Abigail was too busy dwelling, within her own mind, that she had hardly paid close attention to Mr. Smith and his remark.
She was wrapping her mind around the fact that she had been dancing with His Majesty the entire time. How could she have not realized that sooner, she continued to wonder.
Why hadn't he simply revealed himself to her when they were alone? Trying to hide behind the commoners as if the entire land of Targarya didn't know he was the king.
It was extremely bazaar and strange, as Mr. Smith looked down at Abigail and arched a brow.
" So far in your mind are you? "
" Hmm? " Abigail would remark finally not realizing she wasn't even listening to him.
Mr. Smith would simply form a small charming grin at her.
" Okay, okay, what is it? Do I smell bad? Well— you could've at least .. you know— told me. " He would try and tease.
Abigail couldn't help but feel somewhat confused, was he trying to make a joke with her. A joke she didn't deem funny in the moment.
Smith wasn't ugly, at least not to many women, but Abigail had no interest in him, based on what the woman said. To be honest, even if the lady never spoke, Abigail just wasn't interested.
" ... No.. you do not smell bad. " Abigail would finally reply, as Smith would twirl her around briefly and back in his hand.
" Very good, then what is it? Are you just as shocked as I am to realize that is what His majesty looks like? " Mr. Smith would ask her.
Abigail now took heed to what he had to say, since now they were speaking about the king.
" ... You mean— you didn't know what he looked like either? "
" No. No one did. I gotta say, I'm just as shocked as you are to see he somewhat resembles but a mere teenager in my opinion. " He remarked.
Mr. Smith twirls her around once more before making them meet once again. Slowly he would stop in place.
" And at first— I thought His majesty had blessed himself with such an admirable and beautiful woman, such as yourself. " He told her.
Abigail looked away briefly, as she didn't know what to say towards him. Though, she simply wanted to find Mr. Lingo and leave.
" ..... You... flatter me .. sir. " She would hesitantly and distantly say back.
" ... I wish to do more than be flattering. " He remarked bluntly.
Abby immediately shifted her orbs back towards Smith, who had this somewhat devilishly awkward smirk appear against him. In a moment, Abby removed herself.
" .... I'll pass, but thanks. " She said in a more firm tone, as she started to walk away.
Though she felt the grip of Mr. Smith against her arm making her stop. Her orbs darted back to him, as he awkwardly smiled at others, and looked down at her.
" ... Know this, no one can treat you as good as I will be able to, sweetheart... "
Abigail looked down at his grip, as she inhaled sharply, before looking at him again.
" ... Sorry, but I think I'll pass on the multiple wives ship. " She mocked, before snatching away from him and walking away.
Smith watched her huff away, as he chuckled somewhat and disappeared as well.
.
.
.
The festival had eventually come to an end, His majesty hadn't taken a wife into marriage yet again, and had locked himself within his room again.
Therefore, the festival had come to a close, and everyone had eventually gone home. Mr. Lingo and Abigail had gone back home as well.
Abby lay in the bed spread, staring up at the ceiling. She had finally managed to get out of that tight dress. She could finally breathe, and not feel her lungs collapse.
Her long blonde hair spread across the bed above her head, as she pondered deeper in thought. Replaying the same repeated words from the king again and again.
" Then tell me — how is it that I can see your soul, without you even speaking~ ? "
Causing her to shift in the bed on the side, and then ponder some more.
" Breathe ... "
Tossing again.
" Then tell me— how is it that I can see your soul, without you even speaking~ ? "
Then another time, as Mr. Lingo slowly approached her doorway.
" Forgive me.... "
She would sigh, slapping her hands into her face to cover it, before contemplating her life. Eventually, hearing the faint noises of Lingo at her doorway.
Abigail slowly rose up as she would shift her gaze to him. He seemed the same, but also he seemed as though he needed to speak with her.
" ..... Yes? " She would ask first.
" Come. " Mr. Lingo would demand, turning around to walk away.
The two had arrived in his living room space by the fireplace again. Mr. Lingo sitting in his typical chair, that looked in the fireplace.
She sighed once more, as she tucked some hair behind her ears. Folding her arms, as she slowly leaned against a wall, standing up.
She was wearing a somewhat nightgown, long and white, as her feet were bare with nothing on them. Mr. Lingo had on something simple, casual as if he wasn't going to bed, but could be.
" .... Tell me, child... " He would start off by saying.
" What do you think of the castle? "
Abigail smacked her lips a bit in the form of a laughing remark, practically being sarcastic. She can't believe he got her out of bed to ask about how the castle was.
" ..... Are you serious? " She would even ask.
Mr. Lingo said nothing, and continued to stare at the fire pit, awaiting her answer. Abby, knowing that he had to be serious, would sigh and roll her eyes a bit.
Shaking her head as she answered him, with a shoulder shrug.
" .... It was fine, I guess. "
" That is a lie. Try again. " He would immediately reply back to her.
" Wha— ? " Abby was about to say, throwing her arms up a bit before folding them again. Tossing her head back a bit in irritation.
" ..... Alright, fine— it— I don't really know what to think— I was— overwhelmed.... and — they have so many — priceless items in there— I — I didn't take anything if that's what you're getting at. "
Mr. Lingo, hearing Abby's broken and somewhat hesitant response, would come up with one himself.
" .... You mean you were too busy, with your mind on the king. To truly focus on anything else. "
Abby, hearing him, would feel her face bright up, and her posture repositioned itself almost immediately. Her arms dropped to the side, in a mere shock.
" .... W— what? No... I — my mind is not— "
" Do not lie to me.. child.. " Mr. Lingo would remark to her.
Abigail would go silent.
" I know what I saw... when you two danced together... my vision may not be all that perfectly clear, but considering I know the dress you were wearing, and I recognize that necklace on His majesty's neck, it was a strong indication it was you two. "
Abigail once again couldn't respond. She felt herself swallow hard, unable to really speak back to him.
" That is.... The first time in over .... several long years... that His majesty would dance with any woman.... " Mr. Lingo explained further.
That remark peaked Abigail's interest.
" Let alone show his face at his own festival..."
" .... Why didn't he tell me he was the king... " Abigail would finally ask in a soft and gentle voice, hoping that Lingo would have an answer to it.
" .... Mm.. I see he has not changed that then.. " Mr. Lingo would speak aloud, but more so towards himself in thought.
Though, Abigail being directly near him would hear him, which peaked her mind even further. Slowly she would stand up more and look at him.
" .... Not changed? You mean? "
" Yes. " Mr. Lingo would speak.
" .... His majesty has always been that way.... For as long as I can remember. He does not like his birthright..... and those within the royal court limit His majesty's access to the towns and city... "
" ... But why? " She asked him.
" .... It is — complicated, girly... You must stay away from the king. " Mr. Lingo would finally tell her as his head shifted over to her presence.
Abigail looked down at his somewhat blind eyes, as she would narrow her own down at him.
" ... Why? "
" .... That is not up for debate. " He would tell her.
" You're right— it's not. " She would remark back to him with a bit more sternness.
" ... You cannot tell me what to do.... You're not my father! " She shouted at him in an aggressive manner.
Though she had realized she caught her own words, and had to now swallow the pain with them. Thinking about her own father, made her stare at the fireplace, as it crackled.
Eventually she went mute once more, looking down attempting not to cry.
Mr. Lingo would say nothing, seeing — somewhat — she was silent, and could listen for her somewhat quiet sniffing. Abigail would soon walk off without another word, and slid on some shoes and headed out.