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.”
Giving him a sideways smile, Summer looped her leg around his, using him as a balance point, and bore him down to the ground with her. “Different kind of stable.” Then she sat on him.
Mordred groaned, feeling all the air release from his lungs. “I – was meant to do that” he wheezes, his face reddening.
“I’ve known cats who are more convincing at that than you.” Summer slid off to the grass. “Do you yield?” She grinned at him.
“I’m a lot more stable than you think. Come on, try to knock me over.”
Mordred cocks a brow, raising his arm to motion as if he was going to aim for her body but he threw his foot out, tipping her over sideways, catching her before she hit the ground. “Stable aye?”
Giving him a sideways smile, Summer looped her leg around his, using him as a balance point, and bore him down to the ground with her. “Different kind of stable.” Then she sat on him.
“My weight isn’t supposed to be on that foot,” Summer said, shifting forward a bit. “I should be able to move quickly, not be planted in the earth the way you do.”
“Yes, but you should also be able to keep yourself stable too.”
“I’m a lot more stable than you think. Come on, try to knock me over.”
Laurence pushed Mordred gently toward the two girls. “Go and play while you still may. I’ve neglected my duties long enough for this sport.”
Mordred chuckled. “As you wish, my lord,” he says, bowing to him before he walks towards Summer and Winter. “You’re doing it wrong,” he teases, “your foot isn’t stable.”
“My weight isn’t supposed to be on that foot,” Summer said, shifting forward a bit. “I should be able to move quickly, not be planted in the earth the way you do.”
“If she shows her fear to you, you are very high in her estimation.” Laurence shook his head. “Higher than I, even.” He clapped Mordred on the shoulder. “Show her, as often as possible; maybe she will believe of you what she could not believe of others. And when you make up your mind, come back and tell us.” He nodded across the field, where Winter and Summer were apparently re-enacting various bits of the combat. “I think you will do well enough.”
“Let’s hope so.”
Laurence pushed Mordred gently toward the two girls. “Go and olay while you still may. I’ve neglected my duties long enough for this sport.”
“You may be right, though she is full old for it.” Summer’s father fell silent for a moment. “Tell her. As often as you may do, tell her so, and show her so — she won’t believe you otherwise. Magic or not, my daughter judges herself harshly, and compares herself to others.” He folded his hands behind his back again. “You know she is not my daughter of my blood. She calls me father of her own will, and I try to be so to her. Ward perhaps is a better word for our standing.”
“I know,” he tells him, “I have seen her do as such, there are times where we will be up past midnight and it’s then I see all her fears. As much as she doesn’t like to admit it, she does have them.” Mordred nods, “she has told me — I think it sweet.”
“If she shows her fear to you, you are very high in her estimation.” Laurence shook his head. “Higher than I, even.” He clapped Mordred on the shoulder. “Show her, as often as possible; maybe she will believe of you what she could not believe of others. And when you make up your mind, come back and tell us.” He nodded across the field, where Winter and Summer were apparently re-enacting various bits of the combat. “I think you will do well enough.”
Laurence studied Mordred for a moment. “What do you want?”
”Personally, I just want her,” he tells him, “I think it’s a bit early to think of betrothal but it’s a possibility.”
“You may be right, though she is full old for it.” Summer’s father fell silent for a moment. “Tell her. As often as you may do, tell her so, and show her so — she won’t believe you otherwise. Magic or not, my daughter judges herself harshly, and compares herself to others.” He folded his hands behind his back again. “You know she is not my daughter of my blood. She calls me father of her own will, and I try to be so to her. Ward perhaps is a better word for our standing.”