"Where were we, your Highness," Florence smiled, turning back towards James.
"From what I heard that title belongs to you," he replied, leaning ever closer.
"There are still some tales to tell," she whispered against his mouth as their lips finally...
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Once upon a time, in a kingdom far far away, nestled deep within the tall evergreen trees sat a small stone cottage.The roof was made of wood and straw with a garden of wild flowers lining the dirt pathway heading towards a large wooden front door. White smoke billowed from the chimney and the smell of fresh apple pie wafted through the forest with the faint sound whistling.
A man spun by the open window, singing softly to himself as he moved the broom over the grey stone floor. James smiled softly as a small chickadee landed on his shoulder and whistled along with him.
"Do you mind? I have to finish sweeping while dinner rests! The boys will be home from work soon," he commented, using one hand to take the small bird onto his finger and set him onto the window sill.
With a small shake of his head, James balanced the broom on his shoulder in order to scoop his long dark hair into a bun that rested on the back of his neck. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the edge of his white tunic and moved over the dark ceramic pot hung over a smoldering fire.
Looking into the pot James checked to make sure the stew was simmering nicely. Taking the long wooden spoon that rested to the side of the pot he stirred the stew around to make sure that none of it got stuck to the bottom and got burned. Taking out a little spoon from the pocket of his tunic James took a taste of the stew.
"Hmmm. Just perfect, I think it will be finished just in time for them when they come home" James smiled, turning to smile at the bird that was still resting on the window sill. It chirped in response.
"No," James shook his head, "there's enough salt this time."
The bird stomped on the sill, trilling into the air.
"That's nonsense," he rolled his eyes and tasted the stew again, keeping his eyes on the bird who watched him. A long mocking birdsong filling the air as James brows pinched together. "Okay, it needs a little more salt."
The bird chirped again. "I know, I know." James sighed, "You were right. I was wrong." James agreed to his little friend in defeat as he turned around to place eight little bowls onto the big wooden table.
As if he could tell, he heard his friends arguing from a distance.
Their familiar voices and playful bickering were unmistakable, and it brought a warm smile to James's face. It was a comforting sound, a testament to the strong bond they all shared–
"I can't believe you ruined my favorite dungaree," the door suddenly swung open, startling both James and the small bird who, huffing and puffing, flew out. "Your damn giant hands, Steven!"
"C'mon, Tony! Don't be dramatic, it's not like I did it on purpose!"
"It might as well have been! Why did you pull me back so hard?" Tony whined.
James saw Sam hold back a laugh at his brothers' argument as they all slowly trickled in, to which James shot him a playful glare.
"The rocks would have fallen over your giant head, otherwise!" Steve huffed in annoyance. He always meant well but his brother was not able to always see reason. Tony was as stubborn as the rocks of the mines they dug.
