Day 22: Blacksmith
Five years ago, Enid never thought he would be a blacksmith. His hands had been pristine, save for the ink smudges from several secret drawings he had made, but even those had been hidden beneath long, silk gloves.
His hands were rougher now, covered in scars and burns and much, much more ink. He loved it.
Five years ago, he wouldn't have thought he could be a blacksmith. He wouldn't have thought he could be in another country, or allowed to be a boy, or married to a terrifying and confusing man whom he loved beyond measure. He wouldn't have thought he would be on speaking terms with a king and queen. He wouldn't have thought he could be happy.
Life certainly had a way of working things out, didn't it?













