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tamingthemuseTitle: Beat the odds
Fandom: Original (based on the Arthurian Legends)
Prompt: Prompt 328 - Conformity
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: The young boy forced his hand loosen his grip against his sword. He couldn't attack Aggravaine.
Mordred tightened his grip on the wooden sword. He took a deep breath and focused all of his attention on the one red point painted on the target practice. He launched at it at full speed and hit the target as hard as he could. He heard a loud thud as his sword hit the target and bent his head down just in time to avoid a piece of wood he had dislocated with his blow. He slowly got up, his breath short. He looked at the target. The red paint was gone. He smiled. He was eleven years old and he was strong enough to attack wood violently enough.
"I don't see why you persist."
Mordred greeted his teeth at the sound of the voice. He hadn't heard Aggravaine entering the training field.
"You'll never be a knight."
The young boy forced his hand loosen his grip against his sword. He couldn't attack Aggravaine. He closed his eyes for a second, focuisng on his surrounding. He could feel the wind blowing against his back, bringing with it the scent of his step-brother. He wasn't too close for Mordred to face him just yet.
"You'll be my squire."
Mordred took a deep breath and forced himself to relax his face muscles. He opened his eyes slowly. His face bore no mark of anger any longer. He turned his body to face Aggravaine, his hand not letting go of his sword.
"And why not," he asked, defying the older boy.
"Why not," laughed Aggravaine. "Because you're not a proper son of Mother. You're like a pet."
"I am not," he replied through gritted teeth.
"Oh really? Then why don't you ever sit at the royal table?"
Mordred didn't reply. He was afraid of the words he would utter if he were to speak.
"Lost your tongue, huh?" Aggravaine took a step closer to him. "Can't deny the truth..." he rustled Mordred's hair before kicking him behind his heels, sending him to the ground "...pet."
Mordred felt his head hit the dirt as the last word reached his ears but he didn't hear it. Instead he listened to the slow footsteps of his step-brother walking away waiting for them to fade in the distance before getting up.
As he slowly got back to his feet he realised he was still holding his sword, pointing it in the direction Aggravaine had disappeared to. He looked at it for a few seconds perfectly immobile. He could sense his pulse racing hard through the veins in his hand. His knuckles were white, his palm hurting his against the rough wood of his sword. His breathing quickened and suddenly he couldn't stay still. He ran to the target and hit it as hard as he could. He would destroy the human shape of it. He would annihilate it, prove him he was the best, the strongest. He would be so good, no one would ever let him be a simple squire. He would find a way, he would be a knight and everyone would forget he wasn't a proper son.
Fandom: Original (based on the Arthurian Legends)
Prompt: Prompt 328 - Conformity
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: The young boy forced his hand loosen his grip against his sword. He couldn't attack Aggravaine.
Mordred tightened his grip on the wooden sword. He took a deep breath and focused all of his attention on the one red point painted on the target practice. He launched at it at full speed and hit the target as hard as he could. He heard a loud thud as his sword hit the target and bent his head down just in time to avoid a piece of wood he had dislocated with his blow. He slowly got up, his breath short. He looked at the target. The red paint was gone. He smiled. He was eleven years old and he was strong enough to attack wood violently enough.
"I don't see why you persist."
Mordred greeted his teeth at the sound of the voice. He hadn't heard Aggravaine entering the training field.
"You'll never be a knight."
The young boy forced his hand loosen his grip against his sword. He couldn't attack Aggravaine. He closed his eyes for a second, focuisng on his surrounding. He could feel the wind blowing against his back, bringing with it the scent of his step-brother. He wasn't too close for Mordred to face him just yet.
"You'll be my squire."
Mordred took a deep breath and forced himself to relax his face muscles. He opened his eyes slowly. His face bore no mark of anger any longer. He turned his body to face Aggravaine, his hand not letting go of his sword.
"And why not," he asked, defying the older boy.
"Why not," laughed Aggravaine. "Because you're not a proper son of Mother. You're like a pet."
"I am not," he replied through gritted teeth.
"Oh really? Then why don't you ever sit at the royal table?"
Mordred didn't reply. He was afraid of the words he would utter if he were to speak.
"Lost your tongue, huh?" Aggravaine took a step closer to him. "Can't deny the truth..." he rustled Mordred's hair before kicking him behind his heels, sending him to the ground "...pet."
Mordred felt his head hit the dirt as the last word reached his ears but he didn't hear it. Instead he listened to the slow footsteps of his step-brother walking away waiting for them to fade in the distance before getting up.
As he slowly got back to his feet he realised he was still holding his sword, pointing it in the direction Aggravaine had disappeared to. He looked at it for a few seconds perfectly immobile. He could sense his pulse racing hard through the veins in his hand. His knuckles were white, his palm hurting his against the rough wood of his sword. His breathing quickened and suddenly he couldn't stay still. He ran to the target and hit it as hard as he could. He would destroy the human shape of it. He would annihilate it, prove him he was the best, the strongest. He would be so good, no one would ever let him be a simple squire. He would find a way, he would be a knight and everyone would forget he wasn't a proper son.
