IP: 82.19.140.112
Posted on June 22, 2014 at 03:15:31 AM by arthur
“It’ll take time, Tris,” Arthur reminded his son gently, “you’re just out of condition, that’s all.” The boy had replaced one frustration with another in the last few weeks and it was beginning to take a rather serious toll on his mood. Under advice from the castle’s medical core Arthur had stopped the prince from engaging in any activity deemed too strenuous by the doctors. Gentle exercises which had been approved were encouraged, but Arthur had been able to tell that the boy found them almost as boring as mathematics. Finally, he had been allowed to resume his old routine of athleticisms; but had discovered that he wasn’t as good as he had been before he was kidnapped. He got out of breath more easily, and his muscles ached after training sessions. In one sparring match with the other teenagers he had been beaten for the first time Arthur could remember. He had been proud at the grace with which Tristan had accepted his defeat, but later, in private, he had discovered that the mounting frustrations were starting to bubble into adolescent temper. Beside him Tristan muttered something under his breath and nudged his food around his plate with his knife. Arthur sighed. “I’ll help,” he offered, resting a hand on his son’s shoulder, “we’ll do more training together, just the two of us and build you back up. It will get better, I promise.” Tristan smiled for the first time that meal time and muttered his thanks as he finally gave up on the chunk of meat and passed it under the table to Cafall and Hodain, their tails beating gratefully against the table leg. The King sighed, feeling a wave of relief, and caught his sister’s glance. “How is he?” she mouthed along the table. Arthur shrugged back, it was difficult to tell. Tristan had closed himself off a little from his father since his return, and seemed to be spending more time in the company of those his own age. Of course, they could talk about the training, they could talk about Tristan’s health...but what was there left to say about Mallos? The thought was enough to make Arthur sigh again, and he sat back in his chair wiping his fingers on his napkin. He suspected that was a contributing factor to Tristan’s behaviour – there hadn’t been any significant change in nearly three months – and they were all trying their best to stay optimistic. It just got harder. Arthur didn’t have the answers Tristan wanted...and they were answers he wanted to. He was not going to give up on his friend, he had no intention of writing him off, if anyone could blow themselves up fighting a giant sea monster and bounce back, then it was Mallos...even if his only motivation for waking up was to piss off the sea monster. “Your Grace?” The squire’s voice took Arthur by surprise, he had been lost in his thoughts, and he turned his face towards the young man, raising a questioning eyebrow. “I need to speak to you...” the squire pressed, flicking a pointed glance in Tristan’s direction, “in private.” Frowning, Arthur nodded and stood up out of his chair. He followed the squire off the dais, patting Tristan on the shoulder again as he walked past, and into the antechamber beyond. The king took care to close the door behind him, and instructed the squire to continue in a quiet voice. Half way through the message, Morgana slipped in through the door and stood near the doorway, leaning against the wall with her arms folded across her chest and her ravens on her shoulders. Brother and sister hurried along the castle corridors and up the winding stone staircases as quickly as they could without running; neither one of them spoke, but in their silence was a shared hope, but each was aware of its presence in the other. They had spent late nights discussing Mallos over goblets of wine which in the time he had been unconscious had transformed from the fresh cool flavours of summer to the comforting heat of mulled. It would be Christmas soon, Arthur realised, it had crept up on him this year. They crossed the regular ward and met Mallos’ nurse in the centre of the room. “Fearne?” the king said, taking her hands in his, “what’s going on?”  |
Replies:
- the dark side of the sun. - By mallos June 26, 2014 at 00:52:55 AM
- guide him with your grace - By arthur June 29, 2014 at 02:59:44 AM
- the dark side of the sun. - By mallos June 30, 2014 at 01:12:15 AM
- guide him with your grace - By arthur June 29, 2014 at 02:59:44 AM
Post a reply:
<--
-->