~40~ Helpful hands

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*Edited: Proofreading.*
Word count: 2208

~~~ October 11, 1777 ~~~

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'Remember the rules. Remember the rules...but why would Marion need to go with him? Where was it he was going- why had they yet to return when it had been almost an hour?'

The thought that had lingered in the back of my mind was nagging, something best to be ignored - yet I couldn't help but fidget in my place due to the many eyes watching a conversation I took part in by mostly listening.
It was a small group of older women - dear friends from my assumption.

"...it's the same thing but the recipe is different on both sides." The oldest woman says and I snap out of my thoughts as they all chuckle, my hands placed in front of me.
"On my mother's, grandmother's side of the family they do the cherry pie a certain way. But on my father's, grandmother's side they do it differently- and they both swear their's is the best."

I chuckle softly, tilting my head. "What's different about them?"

"Well, I'm not sure of the exact recipe, but on my father's side they use thicker crust, more sugar." She says, dusting off her dress and I smile.

"Well it all sounds very interesting. If you don't mind me asking, would your family be alright with sharing? I would love to try making them myself." I say kindly and they all chuckle.

"Of course, your highness." The woman says, tilting her head in a sign of curiosity. "You bake?"

I nod eagerly, smile peaking and my tone was more upbeat. "I love baking."
I take a step forward, playing with my fingers. "I could bake all day if I could, and it doesn't even matter what as long as the end result brings a smile to someone's face. My friends used to tell me-"
I pause. My voice falling to silence and the once happy smile turns dower - gaze meeting the ground before I clear my throat.
"...um, well my point is I...haven't really had much time to bake recently, and I'd love to try a different recipe."
I say, trying to smile and one of the women steps closer.

"Rough subject?" She asks softly and I hesitantly nod - her saddened expression a reflection of my own.
"I'm sorry to hear, your majesty."

I sigh in what resembled defeat, my composure polished back to a gentle smile. "That's alright. I just...miss them is all." The words spoken last were softer — a gentle tug on my hand leading my gaze to turn towards a small boy with raven curls atop his head.

He looked up at me with the same curiosity you'd find in most ten year old children - his arms falling to his sides as though helping to sport faltering courage.

"Hello miss!" He says with eager nerves nipping at each tone. "Now- uh...I know I am not supposed to talk to strangers, but, I've seem you with the king. So I'm putting my trust in you." His smile was inviting - matching his statement and I couldn't help but chuckle.

"And may I ask your name?" I inquire, bending down to kneel on the smaller child's level.

"My name is Elliot. Elliot Swanson."

"It's nice to meet you Elliot. I'm (y/n)." 

He extends a hand, fingers spread wide and I shake it - the boy continuing with his thought.

"I am hoping as to not be too much of a bother, your majesty, but I was wondering if you could assist me?"

"You're not a bother at all." I retort and the boy fixes his vest, shying away from my kind eyes before fixing his posture.

"You see..." he takes a small breath, "my father is a soldier posted overseas- he's watching over a trading ship with valuable goods. When I'm older and stronger I want to be a soldier just like him, I've already promised my mother I'll work extra hard!" he says proudly, tapping at the ground with his foot.

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