“Things I don’t need to remember, things I don’t want to remember! Things like,” she stumbled on the words, “like how little I am liked here. How I am not wanted. Not — there’s nothing /here/ for me. And if there’s nothing here, how can there be anything anywhere else?” Summer pushed the door to the armory open and stepped inside, bracing her hands on the table with her head low.
”Summer —” he sighed, “we will leave as soon as we can? Okay?”
“Do you really want to deal with what my mother would have to say about that? Because I don’t.” She just stood there, trembling slightly. “Tell me something nice,” she whispered.
“I — I don’t know how to explain it. Just … being here. Everything. Memories. Edward, and Winter, and father, and just — everything.” Her shoulders slumped, voice carrying a weight of frustration and sadness. “I left to get away from this. Partly, anyway. To find out who I was, and I come back and everything I gained is lost.”
He shakes his head, “it isn’t lost, you just got reminded of things and now need to think.”
“Things I don’t need to remember, things I don’t want to remember! Things like,” she stumbled on the words, “like how little I am liked here. How I am not wanted. Not — there’s nothing /here/ for me. And if there’s nothing here, how can there be anything anywhere else?” Summer pushed the door to the armory open and stepped inside, bracing her hands on the table with her head low.
Summer didn’t stop, or look back, but she did slow her step until he walked beside her. She was doing it again, she knew she was doing it again, but somehow always being here, with the memories breathing from every tapestry and the same faces turned in the same old way — it made her feel small, pressed back into the shell of the person she used to be. The person she’d gone to Camelot to escape.
And that person could never deserve the knight by her side. That person deserved nothing and no one, was destined to rot in Dobria until she was bargained off as goods to some old fool in an alliance, in whose castle she would then continue to rot until she died. She became aware her hand was opening and closing on the hilt of her sword, and forced herself to still.
“What is it?”
“What is wrong?” he asks jogging up to her, slowing as he got up towards her.
“I — I don’t know how to explain it. Just … being here. Everything. Memories. Edward, and Winter, and father, and just — everything.” Her shoulders slumped, voice carrying a weight of frustration and sadness. “I left to get away from this. Partly, anyway. To find out who I was, and I come back and everything I gained is lost.”
“I don’t know why I said that.” Her voice was low. “Just being here … sometimes … I think of things, I remember things I’d be better off forgetting.” She glanced over her shoulder, eyes sweeping over the Dobrian knights emerging onto the field. “They aren’t envious of you, the way they are, a little, of Mihangel. You — should talk to them.” Summer looked back up at him, but she wasn’t really seeing him; she was seeing the past, her childhood. “I’ll just — I should put up my gear.” She straightened her shoulders, glancing back again, and walked toward the castle.
”Summer — ” he calls with no intention of heading towards the other knights. “Summer!” he calls again, chewing the inside of his cheek, “wait up!”
Summer didn’t stop, or look back, but she did slow her step until he walked beside her. She was doing it again, she knew she was doing it again, but somehow always being here, with the memories breathing from every tapestry and the same faces turned in the same old way — it made her feel small, pressed back into the shell of the person she used to be. The person she’d gone to Camelot to escape.
And that person could never deserve the knight by her side. That person deserved nothing and no one, was destined to rot in Dobria until she was bargained off as goods to some old fool in an alliance, in whose castle she would then continue to rot until she died. She became aware her hand was opening and closing on the hilt of her sword, and forced herself to still.
“Oh, unkind!” Summer took Mordred’s hand and pulled, wrapping her arms around him as she came to her feet. “And yet you say you love me. I thought you said I am beautiful, but I see now.” She grinned up at him. “Perhaps you agree with Edward, I am unfeminine and therefore undesirable?” The words spilled out of her mouth before she thought, a memory pulled to the surface she hadn’t meant to expose quite so rawly.
Mordred pursed his lips, looking down at her, an unamused expression on his face.”Summer,” he says firmly. “You know I didn’t mean it like that,” he tells her. “You’re a beautiful mess.”
“I don’t know why I said that.” Her voice was low. “Just being here … sometimes … I think of things, I remember things I’d be better off forgetting.” She glanced over her shoulder, eyes sweeping over the Dobrian knights emerging onto the field. “They aren’t envious of you, the way they are, a little, of Mihangel. You — should talk to them.” Summer looked back up at him, but she wasn’t really seeing him; she was seeing the past, her childhood. “I’ll just — I should put up my gear.” She straightened her shoulders, glancing back again, and walked toward the castle.
She sighed. “Well. Is there aught you want to do?” She looked down at herself, leather and leggings and sweat, and added, “I should probably bathe, and put up my gear properly. I’m sure if you ask round someone will be willing to train with you — or I could.”
”It’s fine, you need to bathe and change,” he tells her, rising to his feet and offering her his hand, “you look like a mess.”
“Oh, unkind!” Summer took Mordred’s hand and pulled, wrapping her arms around him as she came to her feet. “And yet you say you love me. I thought you said I am beautiful, but I see now.” She grinned up at him. “Perhaps you agree with Edward, I am unfeminine and therefore undesirable?” The words spilled out of her mouth before she thought, a memory pulled to the surface she hadn’t meant to expose quite so rawly.
Winter’s fingers twitched, ever so slightly, and then she stepped back. “I think I will go inside.” Her voice sounded strange, and Summer started up from the grass, hand outstretched. Her twin flicked a hand, and she stopped, then glanced down to Mordred.
“I, um, sorry. We — I didn’t mean — sorry.”
Mordred swallowed, looking up at her. “It’s fine – there is nothing to be sorry for —” he tells her, glancing away, chewing his cheek.
She sighed. “Well. Is there aught you want to do?” She looked down at herself, leather and leggings and sweat, and added, “I should probably bathe, and put up my gear properly. I’m sure if you ask round someone will be willing to train with you — or I could.”
Summer squeaked, flailing once with all limbs and then falling flat. “Cruel. But I know your weakness!” She grabbed at his leg and tickled the spot behind his knee. “I will never yield!” Her eyes flicked over his shoulder, and then Winter put her hands lightly round his neck.
“Yield to us, sir knight,” the darker twin whispered with a grin.
Mordred chuckled, kicking out, falling back from her. When Winter’s hands wrapped around his neck he froze, squirming ever so slightly. “Get your hands from around my neck, please.”
Winter’s fingers twitched, ever so slightly, and then she stepped back. “I think I will go inside.” Her voice sounded strange, and Summer started up from the grass, hand outstretched. Her twin flicked a hand, and she stopped, then glanced down to Mordred.
“It looks it, but you don’t sound it!” She grabbed his wrists and pinned them down.
He hummed, using all his strength to flip her over, sitting on top of her defiantly. “There.”
Summer squeaked, flailing once with all limbs and then falling flat. “Cruel. But I know your weakness!” She grabbed at his leg and tickled the spot behind his knee. “I will never yield!” Her eyes flicked over his shoulder, and then Winter put her hands lightly round his neck.
“Yield to us, sir knight,” the darker twin whispered with a grin.