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- - - Gardens | Bertram
༻༻༻⋇⋆✦⋆⋇༺༺༺༻༻༻⋇⋆✦⋆⋇༺༺༺༻༻༻⋇⋆✦⋆⋇༺༺༺༻༻༻⋇⋆✦⋆⋇༺༺༺༻༻༻⋇⋆✦⋆⋇༺༺༺
Bertram’s courtliness really was genuine, Marc thought was a certain tenderness. It changed from the travellers he’d met in Rold Skov, who were -without reproach- usually troubled enough with their own feelings; they took too much space in their mind for them to really show interest in Marc that went beyond what he could do. “I’m not sure how to voice that answer,” he admitted. After a moment, however, his went on, his poise unchanging: “I love his majesty according to my bond, no more, no less,” he said with a lilt. “That sums it well.”
It must have been different for Bertram, however. Visibly, he had loved his mother dearly, or at least enough to long for her. Marc wasn’t sure the same could be said about his father: Bertram’s smile was too formal for him to discern any feelings. “She seems important in your story,” Marc noted affectively. “What was her name?” He tilted his head to the side curiously, somewhat hesitant on asking about his father just yet. On one hand, he felt that maybe Bertram didn’t wish to talk much about his past. On the other, maybe he hadn’t given his father’s name simply out of modesty.
Well, Marc could save that question for breakfast -which he was intent on getting before class. “Didn’t you just retroactively invite me to your cottage for tea?” he teased gently. “We could just go to the cafeteria.” Marc made an offering gesture towards the school gates, before adding, with a genuinely happy smile: “I’ve heard a couple of students mention something called bacon, and that it was the ‘best meal ever’. I’d be happy to discover that with you.”
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