![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
amaranthine-7.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
tamingthemuseTitle: Corrupt
Fandom: Original (based on the Arthurian Legends)
Prompt: #301 - Corrupt
Warnings: None.
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: Was that what he got: his father appearance and his mother character.
Mordred stared at his reflexion in the mirror. Everyone always said he looked like his father. It was true. He had never inherited the flamboyant red hair of his mother, or her intense green eyes that could pierce the soul of anyone. He had his father dark hair and dark eyes that had always put him apart on the Orkney islands. The bastard boy. He bent a little closer to the mirror as if he could see through his eyes, into his soul, by staring hard enough into them. Did looking so much like his father meant he had inherited his mother's soul? Was that what he got: his father appearance and his mother character.
"You know you're worse than a girl," came the mocking voice of Galahad, bringing Mordred back to this world.
"Shut up," he replied, falsely annoyed.
"Well you have been in the bathroom for more than half an hour now," laughed Galahad.
"I'm getting pretty for you," teased Mordred, falling back into the easy flow of life and forgetting all about his dark thoughts.
"Oh... Can I come and have a look?"
"No, because here I come," replied Mordred as he got out of the bathroom and leaned over the door frame.
"Oh... Pretty," said Galahad pretending to be in complete awe. He walked to Mordred and kissed him lightly on the lips. He slid his hand in his. "Now come on gorgeous or were going to be late."
Mordred didn't have time to reply that he was stirred to the front door.
---*---
Mordred was lying in bed, his eyes wide open. He couldn't see a thing in the pitch black darkness of the room. Galahad was cuddled against him. The gala had gone well and they had been able to raise a lot of money for Galahad's charity. He should have been happy but in the silence of their apartment his dark thoughts came creeping back into him.
"Do you think I'm corrupt?"
"What," Galahad's voice was heavy with sleep.
"Do you think I'm corrupt," repeated Mordred.
"You just helped me raised thousands of pounds for a charity. Why would I think you corrupt?" Galahad's reply came as an evidence, as if it was obvious Mordred wasn't wicked.
"I..." Mordred couldn't answer. In his state of half sleep, Galahad had sounded so honest and true.
"You've never been. She twisted you up that one time, but down inside you've never been." He paused, kissing Morded's bare chest tenderly. "I've always known."
He snuggled a little closer to Mordred. "Now go to sleep." His voice had a tone of command, forbidding Mordred to think further on the topic.
Mordred wanted to reply but he found he couldn't. Galahad had put an end to the conversation, disregarding it as irrelevant and somehow that comforted him. If Galahad has always known then it had to mean it was true. He had always been the pure one, the one to see through people's disguises and lies and see only who they really were.
Mordred closed his eyes, relaxed his body and enlaced his lover's body into his arms, bringing him still closer. He could feel his heart beat against his skin. He smiled, and let himself be lulled into sleep by the soft and slow rhythm of Galahad's breathing.
Fandom: Original (based on the Arthurian Legends)
Prompt: #301 - Corrupt
Warnings: None.
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: Was that what he got: his father appearance and his mother character.
Mordred stared at his reflexion in the mirror. Everyone always said he looked like his father. It was true. He had never inherited the flamboyant red hair of his mother, or her intense green eyes that could pierce the soul of anyone. He had his father dark hair and dark eyes that had always put him apart on the Orkney islands. The bastard boy. He bent a little closer to the mirror as if he could see through his eyes, into his soul, by staring hard enough into them. Did looking so much like his father meant he had inherited his mother's soul? Was that what he got: his father appearance and his mother character.
"You know you're worse than a girl," came the mocking voice of Galahad, bringing Mordred back to this world.
"Shut up," he replied, falsely annoyed.
"Well you have been in the bathroom for more than half an hour now," laughed Galahad.
"I'm getting pretty for you," teased Mordred, falling back into the easy flow of life and forgetting all about his dark thoughts.
"Oh... Can I come and have a look?"
"No, because here I come," replied Mordred as he got out of the bathroom and leaned over the door frame.
"Oh... Pretty," said Galahad pretending to be in complete awe. He walked to Mordred and kissed him lightly on the lips. He slid his hand in his. "Now come on gorgeous or were going to be late."
Mordred didn't have time to reply that he was stirred to the front door.
---*---
Mordred was lying in bed, his eyes wide open. He couldn't see a thing in the pitch black darkness of the room. Galahad was cuddled against him. The gala had gone well and they had been able to raise a lot of money for Galahad's charity. He should have been happy but in the silence of their apartment his dark thoughts came creeping back into him.
"Do you think I'm corrupt?"
"What," Galahad's voice was heavy with sleep.
"Do you think I'm corrupt," repeated Mordred.
"You just helped me raised thousands of pounds for a charity. Why would I think you corrupt?" Galahad's reply came as an evidence, as if it was obvious Mordred wasn't wicked.
"I..." Mordred couldn't answer. In his state of half sleep, Galahad had sounded so honest and true.
"You've never been. She twisted you up that one time, but down inside you've never been." He paused, kissing Morded's bare chest tenderly. "I've always known."
He snuggled a little closer to Mordred. "Now go to sleep." His voice had a tone of command, forbidding Mordred to think further on the topic.
Mordred wanted to reply but he found he couldn't. Galahad had put an end to the conversation, disregarding it as irrelevant and somehow that comforted him. If Galahad has always known then it had to mean it was true. He had always been the pure one, the one to see through people's disguises and lies and see only who they really were.
Mordred closed his eyes, relaxed his body and enlaced his lover's body into his arms, bringing him still closer. He could feel his heart beat against his skin. He smiled, and let himself be lulled into sleep by the soft and slow rhythm of Galahad's breathing.
