sirmordred-thedruid:

iamthefirechild:

Laurence caught Summer’s eye, and after a moment she gave a wry smile, shaking her head. “Yes, father,” she said. “Please don’t keep him too long.” Winter drew her away, pulling the sword from the ground with every evidence of familiarity.

Summer’s father looked back to Mordred. “I must agree with my son’s assumption, though with little else — there is quite a bit between you and my daughter. Would you care to explain it to me?”

      The knight felt his heart rise to his throat. Of course he was right, why did he think he could escape such a thing? Mordred swallowed, taking a deep breath before he even considered speaking. He had told Edward, but then again this was her father. “I -” he begins, trailing off, wondering whether or not he should even tell him, “I’m in love with your daughter, my lord.”

“I do think I had rather gathered that,” Laurence chuckled. “You certainly don’t trouble to hide it. So, then. You wish my blessing?”

sirmordred-thedruid:

iamthefirechild:

“You’ll have to show me.”

Laurence patted Summer’s shoulder. “I’ve been telling you, but perhaps you will learn better from Sir Mordred.” He put his hand on Mordred’s shoulder as well. “So, you don’t mind this aspect of my daughter, as Edward does?”

     ”One day,” he tells her with a laugh. Mordred turns his attention to Laurence, shaking his head. “No, of course not, where I grew up women were just as responsible as the men for ensuring our safety.”

Laurence caught Summer’s eye, and after a moment she gave a wry smile, shaking her head. “Yes, father,” she said. “Please don’t keep him too long.” Winter drew her away, pulling the sword from the ground with every evidence of familiarity.

Summer’s father looked back to Mordred. “I must agree with my son’s assumption, though with little else — there is quite a bit between you and my daughter. Would you care to explain it to me?”

sirmordred-thedruid:

iamthefirechild:

She brushed a damp strand of hair out of her eyes, smile widening. “Hardly even a bruise, you see?” She lifted on her toes to kiss him.

Winter cleared her throat. “Here comes father.”

Laurence clasped his hands behind his back, the same habitual gesture Edward displayed. “Well, daughter, is honour satisfied? Sir Mordred?”

       Mordred smiled, turning his attention to Laurence, flashing another smile to him also. “Quite, my lord,” he tells him, “your daughter did well, both of you should be proud — you just need to watch your footing, if someone can notice that you might as well not fight at all.”

“You’ll have to show me.”

Laurence patted Summer’s shoulder. “I’ve been telling you, but perhaps you will learn better from Sir Mordred.” He puts his hand on Mordred’s shoulder as well. “So, you don’t mind this aspect of my daughter, as Edward does?”

sirmordred-thedruid:

iamthefirechild:

That made her laugh and pushed the fear away. She blew a swift kiss to Mordred. Resting the sword on her shoulder, Summer turned on her bootheel and marched out to the field, where Edward waited, plate mail and shield throwing off flashes of light. She knew she seemed frail, very small, next to him. Most of the folk of the castle were there, lining the open square.

Summer paced out to the centre of the field, a few steps from Edward. Gravely she saluted him with the sword, and he bared his teeth at her in snarling acknowledgement. “You can still change your mind, Summer,” he said.

She laughed at him. “I’ve no more desire to disobey our father than you want to be here. En garde, braud.” The tangle of languages fell off her tongue easily, and she lifted the sword higher, stepping closer. “You made a mistake. You’ve made a lot of mistakes, but this one — ” Summer shook her head. The twined braids flared like fire around her head.

Edward jerked his shield up hastily as she brought the sword around, barely catching the blow. It wasn’t hard or heavy, but he staggered a little nonetheless, and fell back a step. She advanced on him, sword in a two-handed grip, the blade licking out at him. It took a full minute before he regained his mental equilibrium, and he took one sharp strike to the shoulder before he managed it.

Then it was Summer’s turn to fall back as Edward tried to bash her. She ducked and wove, spinning beneath an outflung arm, and scrambled backwards as he came at her again. And if quickly became apparent to the onlookers that though he was stronger, and perhaps better trained, she was simply faster and better. Another spin, and then she thrust a foot out, and Edward staggered over it, and fell, heavily.

      There had been a lot of times throughout the fight that he’d wanted to step in and as soon as Edward had landed the first blow, but Winter’s hand on his arm had told him not to step in.

      He had watched the exchange eagerly, as if he was watching the steps of a strange dance that he had to learn by viewing. It, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, Edward was clearly more well trained, but Summer was fast, which bode in her favour. Quite considerably.

     ”Well done,” he says, holding out his hand to Edward, “get up.”

Edward gave Mordred a disgusted glance, clearly embarrassed by the fall he had just taken, but accepted the hand nonetheless. He didn’t pass up the chance for another dig at the pair of them, though, saying, “You see how unwomanly she is.”

Summer didn’t hear him; she thrust her sword into the turf and fanned herself, breathing hard. Her face was flushed from the combat, but she wore a pleased smile, and Winter brought her a cup of water. The redhead accepted gratefully, drinking deep.

sirmordred-thedruid:

iamthefirechild:

She closed both hands around the hilt, lifting it slowly from his hands. “I love to tempt you. But this is my task, I think.” The edges of the blade glittered in the slanting morning light. “Time to go chastise my brother.” Summer glanced at Mordred, eyes dark and set. “You don’t have to watch.”

      “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

That made her laugh and pushed the fear away. She blew a swift kiss to Mordred. Resting the sword on her shoulder, Summer turned on her bootheel and marched out to the field, where Edward waited, plate mail and shield throwing off flashes of light. She knew she seemed frail, very small, next to him. Most of the folk of the castle were there, lining the open square.

Summer paced out to the centre of the field, a few steps from Edward. Gravely she saluted him with the sword, and he bared his teeth at her in snarling acknowledgement. “You can still change your mind, Summer,” he said.

She laughed at him. “I’ve no more desire to disobey our father than you want to be here. En garde, braud.” The tangle of languages fell off her tongue easily, and she lifted the sword higher, stepping closer. “You made a mistake. You’ve made a lot of mistakes, but this one — ” Summer shook her head. The twined braids flared like fire around her head.

Edward jerked his shield up hastily as she brought the sword around, barely catching the blow. It wasn’t hard or heavy, but he staggered a little nonetheless, and fell back a step. She advanced on him, sword in a two-handed grip, the blade licking out at him. It took a full minute before he regained his mental equilibrium, and he took one sharp strike to the shoulder before he managed it.

Then it was Summer’s turn to fall back as Edward tried to bash her. She ducked and wove, spinning beneath an outflung arm, and scrambled backwards as he came at her again. And if quickly became apparent to the onlookers that though he was stronger, and perhaps better trained, she was simply faster and better. Another spin, and then she thrust a foot out, and Edward staggered over it, and fell, heavily.

sirmordred-thedruid:

iamthefirechild:

“If you’d rather fight for me,” Summer said, wryly. She shook herself, then pulled herself up straight. “Well. My sword?”

      “Don’t tempt me,” he tells her, turning to take her sword, presenting the hilt to her. “Here you are.”

She closed both hands around the hilt, lifting it slowly from his hands. “I love to tempt you. But this is my task, I think.” The edges of the blade glittered in the slanting morning light. “Time to go chastise my brother.” Summer glanced at Mordred, eyes dark and set. “You don’t have to watch.”