onceandfutureprat

Entry tags:

.023

[Spam for Merlin]

[The last Arthur remembered, he went to sleep in his room. The king pushed himself up on his elbows, scanning his surroundings. That was definitely not where he was now. For one thing, the bed he was on was... completely horrible and he only knew of one person that slept in this tiny, messy room. And that was--]

Merlin!

[Later; filtered to friends; one nice conversation rule applies]

I understand I... slept through a port. How are you doing?

[Private to Arya]

What did you do for the last week?

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[Are you ever really just standing around, waiting for an attack? No. Arthur ignores that look and aims another swipe at her.]

Too many.

[Whatever it's still cheating. This time she brings her sword up to block it, pushing her weight behind so she can take a swing at him.]

Did a man give bad orders?

[Arthur parries and takes the time to think of an appropriate answer.]

Camelot has many enemies. Dangerous ones. And my knights are willing to sacrifice themselves to keep it safe.

That's good. [Maybe if Robb had more knights like that, he'd be alive. But she doesn't let herself think on that long. She thrusts at his middle.]

A girl didn't like the port.

[Ngl, it you had enjoyed it, Arthur would be both concerned and convinced you were totally mental. As it is, he's hovering somewhere around the 'mental but also traumatized' line.]

I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. [He twists and knocks her blade aside.]

[Well that's comforting.] The bushes would've tried to eat you too. [She almost drops it, but somehow manages to hold on, dancing back a few steps so he won't catch her with her hands stinging.]

Think I could've handled it. [Since it's a bush. And not like, a dragon or a questing beast or a lamia. And maybe he needed Merlin to survive those come to think of it, but Arthur likes to operate his life under the assumption that 98% of the uncomfortable or bad stuff never happened.

He doesn't give her much of a rest either, advancing with her, and swinging again before she's probably ready.]

[She brings her sword up anyway, gritting her teeth when it jars her arms. But it's all right - she doesn't drop the sword, and kicks out at his shin to make him back off.]

You would have needed Nymeria's help.

[Gwaine fights like she does. It brings a ghost of a smile to his face as he retreats a step or two. And he's a little surprised and proud that she didn't drop the sword. Enough to give her a half second's break before aiming for her other side.]

Of course.

[The breather throws her, and she realizes he gave her that half second on purpose. So she brings her sword around to knock into his as hard as she can - which jars her, but she steps inside his reach with the swing, thrusting the sword point at his stomach. With some restraint, at least, because she doesn't want to hurt him, just beat him. In her head, it's as easy as the way Syrio Forel beat her when she first held a wooden sword, but in practice, it's much harder.]

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.023

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