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tamingthemuseTitle: Waste land
Fandom: Arthurian legends
Prompt: Prompt 351 - Parched
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 king shifted in his bed, trying uselessly to find a more comfortable position. His open wound was hurting and he couldn't ease the pain.
"It was Summer time and the land was riped with golden, greens, and reds. The sky above was bright blue and the sun was casting a loving light upon the earth. All was right in the land. The kingdom was safe and sound."
The king shifted in his bed, trying uselessly to find a more comfortable position. His open wound was hurting and he couldn't ease the pain.
"Then what happened," asked the curious young boy.
"I was hit. And the land was wounded with me."
The king sat up, resting his back against the head of the bed. He tapped the cover next to him and the boy jumped on the mattress, pressing his small body against the imposing one of his grandfather.
"Why did the land got hurt with you," he asked his eyes full of curiosity looking up into the grave eyes of his elder.
"Because a king is responsible for his land. If he is well, if he acts well, the land is well. But if something were to go wrong, the land would dry, become hard and inhospitable."
"But...," the young boy started, his forehead frowing under the weight of understanding, "...you got hurt a long time ago. I wasn't even born. So... why are you not healed?"
The old king smiled. "I have a special wound. A very special wound."
"Like magic?"
"Just like that, yes. It's a wound that can't heal with herbs and medicine."
"Will you be wounded all your life then," the boy's voice tremble slightly as he asked his question. He did not want his grandfather to be forever hurt.
"No my boy. I can be healed. But I can't heal by myself. I need someone very special to do it for me."
"I'm special," the little boy said, his back raising straighter. "Mommy always says I'm very special."
The old king smiled. "Oh yes you are very special. But I'm afraid you can't heal me." Not yet.
The boy's back slumped as he was told he couldn't help. He loved his grand father very very much and he was incredibly sad to know he wasn't special enough.
"There you are!" A maidservant entered the room a big smile across her face. "I've been looking all over the castle for you young boy. It's time for your lessons."
"But..." the boy started but was stopped as he felt his grandfather's hand upon his back.
"Go my boy. Your lessons are important. And I'm tired. I need my rest."
The boy looked up at the old man. His smile was wide and his eyes were warm and full of love. It was alright then. He could leave him for now. The young boy was sure the wound wasn't hurting too much anymore, not if the pain was gone from the king's face.
"See you at dinner then."
The king nodded.
The boy jumped off the bed and hurried out of the room followed closely by the maidservant.
As the boy disappeared into the corridors, the king slumped into his bed once more, trying uselessly to ease his pain, his face contracting under the strain of it.
Fandom: Arthurian legends
Prompt: Prompt 351 - Parched
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 king shifted in his bed, trying uselessly to find a more comfortable position. His open wound was hurting and he couldn't ease the pain.
"It was Summer time and the land was riped with golden, greens, and reds. The sky above was bright blue and the sun was casting a loving light upon the earth. All was right in the land. The kingdom was safe and sound."
The king shifted in his bed, trying uselessly to find a more comfortable position. His open wound was hurting and he couldn't ease the pain.
"Then what happened," asked the curious young boy.
"I was hit. And the land was wounded with me."
The king sat up, resting his back against the head of the bed. He tapped the cover next to him and the boy jumped on the mattress, pressing his small body against the imposing one of his grandfather.
"Why did the land got hurt with you," he asked his eyes full of curiosity looking up into the grave eyes of his elder.
"Because a king is responsible for his land. If he is well, if he acts well, the land is well. But if something were to go wrong, the land would dry, become hard and inhospitable."
"But...," the young boy started, his forehead frowing under the weight of understanding, "...you got hurt a long time ago. I wasn't even born. So... why are you not healed?"
The old king smiled. "I have a special wound. A very special wound."
"Like magic?"
"Just like that, yes. It's a wound that can't heal with herbs and medicine."
"Will you be wounded all your life then," the boy's voice tremble slightly as he asked his question. He did not want his grandfather to be forever hurt.
"No my boy. I can be healed. But I can't heal by myself. I need someone very special to do it for me."
"I'm special," the little boy said, his back raising straighter. "Mommy always says I'm very special."
The old king smiled. "Oh yes you are very special. But I'm afraid you can't heal me." Not yet.
The boy's back slumped as he was told he couldn't help. He loved his grand father very very much and he was incredibly sad to know he wasn't special enough.
"There you are!" A maidservant entered the room a big smile across her face. "I've been looking all over the castle for you young boy. It's time for your lessons."
"But..." the boy started but was stopped as he felt his grandfather's hand upon his back.
"Go my boy. Your lessons are important. And I'm tired. I need my rest."
The boy looked up at the old man. His smile was wide and his eyes were warm and full of love. It was alright then. He could leave him for now. The young boy was sure the wound wasn't hurting too much anymore, not if the pain was gone from the king's face.
"See you at dinner then."
The king nodded.
The boy jumped off the bed and hurried out of the room followed closely by the maidservant.
As the boy disappeared into the corridors, the king slumped into his bed once more, trying uselessly to ease his pain, his face contracting under the strain of it.
