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tamingthemuse2012-03-10 09:28 am
amaranthine-7.livejournal.com) wrote in tamingthemuse2012-03-10 09:28 am
Entry tags:
Prompt#294 - Ares - Good and evil - amaranthine_7 - Original
Title: Good and evil
Fandom: Original (based on the Arthurian Legends)
Prompt: #294 - Ares
Warnings: Reincarnation theme.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: The Arthurian Legends are in the public domain. I make no reference to any copyrighted work. So all is mine.
Beta: None, so any mistakes you see are mine.
Summary: He had been told about Ares once. He had hated him immediately. He reminded him of himself.
He had been told about Ares once. He had hated him immediately. He reminded him of himself. He was supposed to be powerful, to be the god of war, and yet he was disliked by everyone, ridiculed even. No one cared for him and all praised always went to Athena. He hated him and he hated them for disregarded the god as not important. He felt like it was something directed against him. After all, he had been very much like Ares. He too had been good at the game of war but only in the brute force sense of war. He had known how to fight, how to win - fairly or not, it hadn't matter then - but no one had taught him how to plan properly, how to outsmart your adversaries. He had been good at tricking them by bending the rules but that was not how things were supposed to be done. Within the rules, he had been lost and weak.
Mordred stopped staring at the sculpture. It wouldn't do him any good to keep looking at it. It wasn't even the god, only a simple representation in stone. He turned away and headed for the cafe of the museum. He didn't want to see anymore gods figures displayed in the alleys. It somehow always reminded him of his past, of everything that went wrong. He had first noticed this when he had discovered the sphinx. He had wanted to come back in the daylight to see more of the museum. He had thought it would be a good idea to be confronted to things of the past, things that could trigger his memory. He knew he needed to remember and forgive himself before he could ask anyone to forgive him. He needed to accept who he had been, what he had done. He had been manipulated from birth at the time but it didn't matter. He still had been the one to accept every words out of Morgause mouth without questioning her. He had let her use him and never had never tried to understand him. Him that could have loved and showed him his way, share his vision and give him a legacy of love and wonder. He, Mordred, alone had made the decision not to fight his mother, to trust her simply because she was his mother.
He sat at a table and ordered a latte. He watched the people walk by, most of them tourist, most of them not even really looking at the work of arts. None of them knowing who he was, oblivious to his presence. He had killed one of their biggest dream, he had annihilated their vision of peace and prosperity, but they didn't notice him. He closed his eyes and forced himself to empty his mind. He couldn't go one like this. He needed to stop, needed to learn how to live with what he had done. He was a different man now, he wouldn't kill him anymore. He opened his eyes as a waitress brought him his coffee.
"Thank you."
She smiled at him. "You're welcome sir."
Mordred smiled back as she was walking away. She had smiled at him. He knew it was part of her job to be friendly to the customers but he couldn't shake the feeling that she had smiled at him. She hadn't frown, hadn't remained neutral either. She had smiled, as if it was okay to smile and be friendly to him. He suddenly wanted to laugh. It was easy to forget that in this lifetime he was different. He knew it but it didn't stop him from feeling like he was still living in the past. He had all those memories of misery and hate anchored to him. He could feel them, sense them, but they were always wrong, as if they weren't really his own feelings but feelings implanted in him by someone else. It almost felt like he was two different persons.
Mordred brought his cup to his lips, sipping the hot drink carefully. Maybe he was two different person. Maybe he was good and evil at the same time. Maybe everybody was. Maybe it was only a matter of knowing how to separate those two and let the good prevail.
Fandom: Original (based on the Arthurian Legends)
Prompt: #294 - Ares
Warnings: Reincarnation theme.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: The Arthurian Legends are in the public domain. I make no reference to any copyrighted work. So all is mine.
Beta: None, so any mistakes you see are mine.
Summary: He had been told about Ares once. He had hated him immediately. He reminded him of himself.
He had been told about Ares once. He had hated him immediately. He reminded him of himself. He was supposed to be powerful, to be the god of war, and yet he was disliked by everyone, ridiculed even. No one cared for him and all praised always went to Athena. He hated him and he hated them for disregarded the god as not important. He felt like it was something directed against him. After all, he had been very much like Ares. He too had been good at the game of war but only in the brute force sense of war. He had known how to fight, how to win - fairly or not, it hadn't matter then - but no one had taught him how to plan properly, how to outsmart your adversaries. He had been good at tricking them by bending the rules but that was not how things were supposed to be done. Within the rules, he had been lost and weak.
Mordred stopped staring at the sculpture. It wouldn't do him any good to keep looking at it. It wasn't even the god, only a simple representation in stone. He turned away and headed for the cafe of the museum. He didn't want to see anymore gods figures displayed in the alleys. It somehow always reminded him of his past, of everything that went wrong. He had first noticed this when he had discovered the sphinx. He had wanted to come back in the daylight to see more of the museum. He had thought it would be a good idea to be confronted to things of the past, things that could trigger his memory. He knew he needed to remember and forgive himself before he could ask anyone to forgive him. He needed to accept who he had been, what he had done. He had been manipulated from birth at the time but it didn't matter. He still had been the one to accept every words out of Morgause mouth without questioning her. He had let her use him and never had never tried to understand him. Him that could have loved and showed him his way, share his vision and give him a legacy of love and wonder. He, Mordred, alone had made the decision not to fight his mother, to trust her simply because she was his mother.
He sat at a table and ordered a latte. He watched the people walk by, most of them tourist, most of them not even really looking at the work of arts. None of them knowing who he was, oblivious to his presence. He had killed one of their biggest dream, he had annihilated their vision of peace and prosperity, but they didn't notice him. He closed his eyes and forced himself to empty his mind. He couldn't go one like this. He needed to stop, needed to learn how to live with what he had done. He was a different man now, he wouldn't kill him anymore. He opened his eyes as a waitress brought him his coffee.
"Thank you."
She smiled at him. "You're welcome sir."
Mordred smiled back as she was walking away. She had smiled at him. He knew it was part of her job to be friendly to the customers but he couldn't shake the feeling that she had smiled at him. She hadn't frown, hadn't remained neutral either. She had smiled, as if it was okay to smile and be friendly to him. He suddenly wanted to laugh. It was easy to forget that in this lifetime he was different. He knew it but it didn't stop him from feeling like he was still living in the past. He had all those memories of misery and hate anchored to him. He could feel them, sense them, but they were always wrong, as if they weren't really his own feelings but feelings implanted in him by someone else. It almost felt like he was two different persons.
Mordred brought his cup to his lips, sipping the hot drink carefully. Maybe he was two different person. Maybe he was good and evil at the same time. Maybe everybody was. Maybe it was only a matter of knowing how to separate those two and let the good prevail.