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tamingthemuseTitle: Fight
Fandom: Arthurian legends
Prompt: Prompt 432 - Kamikaze
Warnings: N/A
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: "Come on," Mordred hissed. "What are you waiting for?" He jumped on the table, sending glasses full of beer crashing onto the floor.
"Come on," Mordred hissed. "What are you waiting for?" He jumped on the table, sending glasses full of beer crashing onto the floor. He laughed at the sound. The other customers turned their heads at the commotion. Galahad lowered his. He had not come to fight. He wanted a truce and for things to go back as they were before but Mordred was already drunk and his anger was the only thing that seemed to remain in him.
"Mordred, come down," Gawain asked calmly. He extended a hand to his brother. Mordred flicked it away. "I'm not backing down," he said oblivious of the other customers, his gaze firmly locked on Galahad's. "Are you too scared I'll beat you?"
"I'm not scared of you," Galahad replied as he raised his head to meet his former lover's eyes. "I simply do not see the point in fighting a drunk man." He winced as he said the words. He had not intended to point this out. They had fight too many times about alcohol in the past and he should have known better than to bring this back on the table.
"So you're scared," Mordred exclaimed victoriously. He sent his fist into the air, stumbling backward at his own sudden gesture.
Mordred was too drunk to even get mad at the mention of alcohol. Galahad shook his head and walked out of the pub.
"I win," Mordred shouted as the door closed. He stepped down the table onto the nearest chair and laughed.
"Clever, very clever," Gawain commented sarcastically as people started to turn their attention back to their own drinks and conversations.
"What?"
"Do you think you'll get him back by fighting him in pubs?"
"Who say I want to get him back?" Mordred raised his head defiantly.
Gawain didn't bother to reply. He place a hand on his brother shoulder. "Come, I think it's time to go home."
"I'm not finished here." He made an attempt to rise but his feet didn't support him and he fell back onto the chair.
"Yes you are. Don't force me to drag you away. You know I'm stronger," Gawain added when Mordred could protest.
The younger man considered resisting longer but his vision was starting to blur. He could use a hand to get back home.
"It's just 'cause I'm drunk," he mumbled before accepting his brother's hand. He leaned against him as they exited the pub.
---*---
The following morning Mordred woke up on the floor next to his bed. Every limb in his body felt sore and it took him five minutes before he managed to climb back into his bed. He let his head fall onto the pillow, rolling gently on the side. He could see his face reflected in the metallic clock on the night stand. His eyes were bloodshot and underlined by deep yellow line of tiredness. He wanted to punch the clock and erase the vision of himself but he had no strength left in his body. Instead, he closed his eyes and silently wept.
Fandom: Arthurian legends
Prompt: Prompt 432 - Kamikaze
Warnings: N/A
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: "Come on," Mordred hissed. "What are you waiting for?" He jumped on the table, sending glasses full of beer crashing onto the floor.
"Come on," Mordred hissed. "What are you waiting for?" He jumped on the table, sending glasses full of beer crashing onto the floor. He laughed at the sound. The other customers turned their heads at the commotion. Galahad lowered his. He had not come to fight. He wanted a truce and for things to go back as they were before but Mordred was already drunk and his anger was the only thing that seemed to remain in him.
"Mordred, come down," Gawain asked calmly. He extended a hand to his brother. Mordred flicked it away. "I'm not backing down," he said oblivious of the other customers, his gaze firmly locked on Galahad's. "Are you too scared I'll beat you?"
"I'm not scared of you," Galahad replied as he raised his head to meet his former lover's eyes. "I simply do not see the point in fighting a drunk man." He winced as he said the words. He had not intended to point this out. They had fight too many times about alcohol in the past and he should have known better than to bring this back on the table.
"So you're scared," Mordred exclaimed victoriously. He sent his fist into the air, stumbling backward at his own sudden gesture.
Mordred was too drunk to even get mad at the mention of alcohol. Galahad shook his head and walked out of the pub.
"I win," Mordred shouted as the door closed. He stepped down the table onto the nearest chair and laughed.
"Clever, very clever," Gawain commented sarcastically as people started to turn their attention back to their own drinks and conversations.
"What?"
"Do you think you'll get him back by fighting him in pubs?"
"Who say I want to get him back?" Mordred raised his head defiantly.
Gawain didn't bother to reply. He place a hand on his brother shoulder. "Come, I think it's time to go home."
"I'm not finished here." He made an attempt to rise but his feet didn't support him and he fell back onto the chair.
"Yes you are. Don't force me to drag you away. You know I'm stronger," Gawain added when Mordred could protest.
The younger man considered resisting longer but his vision was starting to blur. He could use a hand to get back home.
"It's just 'cause I'm drunk," he mumbled before accepting his brother's hand. He leaned against him as they exited the pub.
---*---
The following morning Mordred woke up on the floor next to his bed. Every limb in his body felt sore and it took him five minutes before he managed to climb back into his bed. He let his head fall onto the pillow, rolling gently on the side. He could see his face reflected in the metallic clock on the night stand. His eyes were bloodshot and underlined by deep yellow line of tiredness. He wanted to punch the clock and erase the vision of himself but he had no strength left in his body. Instead, he closed his eyes and silently wept.
