Entry tags:
FIC: Simple Words (M'ways/Arthurian)
TITLE: Simple Words
FANDOM: Arthurian mythology via M'ways Bar
PAIRING: Mordred/Galahad
RATING: PG
WORDS: 374
DISCLAIMER: Arthurian mythology is public domain: this version of Mordred is mine, while this version of Galahad belongs to![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fahye
Simple Words
Mordred hates reading. Oh, he can. And write as well, if he has to, it’s just that…
(his fingers are dancing a restless pattern on the table; one two one two three one two one two three four and repeat)
Reading always makes him feel stupid. Which in itself is stupid, when most of his friends and allies and oh! just about everyone else he knew at Camelot couldn’t understand more then their own name, if that.
(Galahad never blinks as the pattern repeats and repeats like a broken record. Well, not broken.
There’s no break)
If truth be told, that’s a lie. It’s not the act of reading itself, but the moments afterwards when he blinks and tries to reorient his sense of self. Stupid. Blind and dumb and ringing with someone else’s sentences in your head. So many words, so many…so many letters and meanings and images and doesn’t anyone realize how easy it is to drown in words and never come out?
(not yet, anyway, but the prince is getting bored. Bored and restless and he needs something to do, something to focus his mind on. It’ll start swooping and diving, otherwise, from heights to depths, from the cloud-filled sky to just touch the surface of the deep, dark lake)
That’s why he watches the golden knight read one book and two, one book and two and three, then four and then repeat. Watches and hovers like the falcon he can now become, watches and worries like the father he’ll never be. Watches until he can’t take the lack of reaction anymore, can’t take the sight of Galahad drowning in words with far more grace then Mordred had drowned in blood without making some effort to spark his mind back into life.
(that’s the fear, isn’t it? That one day, as he dives down, he’ll miscalculate and slam into the cold water. Feathers wet, mind groggy, and there’s a reason they used to believe that if you sunk deep enough you’ll reach the land of the dead.)
A quick move, fast and trained and selfish as always, and blue eyes blink and refocus as the book moves upwards and away. There’s an accusation in those blue, blue eyes, but Mordred just smirks (in relief) and everything is back to normal.
Action and reaction. Cause and effect. The cornerstone of their relationship.
(one two one two three one two one two three four and repeat)
“My lord?” The voice is soft, the accent lazy and French even as the words themselves are precise. The voice of scholar, and the prince always knew that too much reading as bad for one’s health. So Mordred smiles and, well, he always had a weakness for simple words.
“I’m bored.”
They can provoke a reaction in such a short space of time.
FANDOM: Arthurian mythology via M'ways Bar
PAIRING: Mordred/Galahad
RATING: PG
WORDS: 374
DISCLAIMER: Arthurian mythology is public domain: this version of Mordred is mine, while this version of Galahad belongs to
fahyeMordred hates reading. Oh, he can. And write as well, if he has to, it’s just that…
(his fingers are dancing a restless pattern on the table; one two one two three one two one two three four and repeat)
Reading always makes him feel stupid. Which in itself is stupid, when most of his friends and allies and oh! just about everyone else he knew at Camelot couldn’t understand more then their own name, if that.
(Galahad never blinks as the pattern repeats and repeats like a broken record. Well, not broken.
There’s no break)
If truth be told, that’s a lie. It’s not the act of reading itself, but the moments afterwards when he blinks and tries to reorient his sense of self. Stupid. Blind and dumb and ringing with someone else’s sentences in your head. So many words, so many…so many letters and meanings and images and doesn’t anyone realize how easy it is to drown in words and never come out?
(not yet, anyway, but the prince is getting bored. Bored and restless and he needs something to do, something to focus his mind on. It’ll start swooping and diving, otherwise, from heights to depths, from the cloud-filled sky to just touch the surface of the deep, dark lake)
That’s why he watches the golden knight read one book and two, one book and two and three, then four and then repeat. Watches and hovers like the falcon he can now become, watches and worries like the father he’ll never be. Watches until he can’t take the lack of reaction anymore, can’t take the sight of Galahad drowning in words with far more grace then Mordred had drowned in blood without making some effort to spark his mind back into life.
(that’s the fear, isn’t it? That one day, as he dives down, he’ll miscalculate and slam into the cold water. Feathers wet, mind groggy, and there’s a reason they used to believe that if you sunk deep enough you’ll reach the land of the dead.)
A quick move, fast and trained and selfish as always, and blue eyes blink and refocus as the book moves upwards and away. There’s an accusation in those blue, blue eyes, but Mordred just smirks (in relief) and everything is back to normal.
Action and reaction. Cause and effect. The cornerstone of their relationship.
(one two one two three one two one two three four and repeat)
“My lord?” The voice is soft, the accent lazy and French even as the words themselves are precise. The voice of scholar, and the prince always knew that too much reading as bad for one’s health. So Mordred smiles and, well, he always had a weakness for simple words.
“I’m bored.”
They can provoke a reaction in such a short space of time.