Post by devilinthedetails on Aug 31, 2018 23:55:48 GMT 10
Title: The Law of Averages
Rating: PG
Prompt: Ambition
Summary: Alex defeats Duke Gareth for the first time but the victory doesn't taste as sweet as he believed it would.
The Law of Averages
Triumph–a flooding vindication for all his hard work since he had first picked up a sword–surged through Alex as he pressed his advantage on Duke Gareth whose faltering footsteps were so faint as to be imperceptible to any with less honed, less narrowly fixated upon a single shining purpose vision than Alex’s. Even on the cusp of victory–with it so close that he could taste it like the salty sweat on his lips–his muscles were coiled tense as snakes, anticipating that Duke Gareth, who never wavered in strike or stride, was feinting. Yet his blade swung neatly to rest under his mentor’s chin.
The powerful knowledge that the student had even if only just this once defeated the teacher rippled through him, and he smiled slightly. This morning as the sun rose blood orange he had beaten the best fencer in Tortall and in doing so surpassed perfection itself in the form of the King’s Champion.
It wouldn’t be wise to offend the pride of the man who was still the strongest swordsman in the realm, however, so Alex slid his weapon away from the jutting veins in Duke Gareth’s thin neck and bowed deeply. When he rose, Duke Gareth was gazing at him differently–maybe with more respect or more consideration–than he ever had before.
“Well-struck, Alex.” Somehow Duke Gareth’s praise undid Alex more than any criticism. A crisp correction he could have dismissed as a mentor’s bitterness in being overshadowed in for an instant by a promising pupil but a compliment meant that his opponent was being magnanimous in defeat because he was too inconsequential to be a threat.
Why shouldn’t the duke feel that way about him? Abruptly it occurred to Alex’s mathematical mind that he had been dueling against Duke Gareth at daybreak for two months and this was the first time he had won the fight. The merciless law of averages suggested that his treasured triumph this morning was little more than chance–a lucky break more than a testament to his skill with a sword– and therefore not something to which he should attach any substantial value.
“I’ve fenced against you every morning at dawn for two months, Your Grace, and I’ve only managed to defeat you one out of sixty-two attempts.” Alex shook his head as the thrill of victory ebbed from him, muscles aching as adrenaline faded along with his exhilaration. “With respect, that is no cause for celebration.”
“Your ambition overleaps itself, young Tirragen.” Duke Gareth’s mouth twitched with what Alex had a sneaking suspicion was amusement, and the notion of being laughed at like a bumbling court jester was worse even than the idea of receiving praise as pitying as a pat on the head. “At your age, you should be glad to beat me at all. When you’re older, if you’re dedicated to your training, you might be able to defeat me one out of every four or five times.”
“And I should be content with that law of averages, Your Grace?” Alex arched an eyebrow.
“Not at all. Contentment breeds complacency.” Duke Gareth responded with an uplifted eyebrow of his own. “What you ought to be is motivated, not discouraged, by your performance today. Youth is the time to be motivated.”
“Yes, sir.” Alex nodded and wondered how the duke couldn’t see the ambition burning inside him, firing him to supplant his mentor as the best swordsman in the kingdom. Perhaps, he thought with a mind that had been taught to hunt for any weaknesses, the duke’s success had bred a complacency Alex could one day exploit to defeat him. Then nobody would laugh at him or praise him with anything less than envy–a desire to diminish him–in their eyes.
Rating: PG
Prompt: Ambition
Summary: Alex defeats Duke Gareth for the first time but the victory doesn't taste as sweet as he believed it would.
The Law of Averages
Triumph–a flooding vindication for all his hard work since he had first picked up a sword–surged through Alex as he pressed his advantage on Duke Gareth whose faltering footsteps were so faint as to be imperceptible to any with less honed, less narrowly fixated upon a single shining purpose vision than Alex’s. Even on the cusp of victory–with it so close that he could taste it like the salty sweat on his lips–his muscles were coiled tense as snakes, anticipating that Duke Gareth, who never wavered in strike or stride, was feinting. Yet his blade swung neatly to rest under his mentor’s chin.
The powerful knowledge that the student had even if only just this once defeated the teacher rippled through him, and he smiled slightly. This morning as the sun rose blood orange he had beaten the best fencer in Tortall and in doing so surpassed perfection itself in the form of the King’s Champion.
It wouldn’t be wise to offend the pride of the man who was still the strongest swordsman in the realm, however, so Alex slid his weapon away from the jutting veins in Duke Gareth’s thin neck and bowed deeply. When he rose, Duke Gareth was gazing at him differently–maybe with more respect or more consideration–than he ever had before.
“Well-struck, Alex.” Somehow Duke Gareth’s praise undid Alex more than any criticism. A crisp correction he could have dismissed as a mentor’s bitterness in being overshadowed in for an instant by a promising pupil but a compliment meant that his opponent was being magnanimous in defeat because he was too inconsequential to be a threat.
Why shouldn’t the duke feel that way about him? Abruptly it occurred to Alex’s mathematical mind that he had been dueling against Duke Gareth at daybreak for two months and this was the first time he had won the fight. The merciless law of averages suggested that his treasured triumph this morning was little more than chance–a lucky break more than a testament to his skill with a sword– and therefore not something to which he should attach any substantial value.
“I’ve fenced against you every morning at dawn for two months, Your Grace, and I’ve only managed to defeat you one out of sixty-two attempts.” Alex shook his head as the thrill of victory ebbed from him, muscles aching as adrenaline faded along with his exhilaration. “With respect, that is no cause for celebration.”
“Your ambition overleaps itself, young Tirragen.” Duke Gareth’s mouth twitched with what Alex had a sneaking suspicion was amusement, and the notion of being laughed at like a bumbling court jester was worse even than the idea of receiving praise as pitying as a pat on the head. “At your age, you should be glad to beat me at all. When you’re older, if you’re dedicated to your training, you might be able to defeat me one out of every four or five times.”
“And I should be content with that law of averages, Your Grace?” Alex arched an eyebrow.
“Not at all. Contentment breeds complacency.” Duke Gareth responded with an uplifted eyebrow of his own. “What you ought to be is motivated, not discouraged, by your performance today. Youth is the time to be motivated.”
“Yes, sir.” Alex nodded and wondered how the duke couldn’t see the ambition burning inside him, firing him to supplant his mentor as the best swordsman in the kingdom. Perhaps, he thought with a mind that had been taught to hunt for any weaknesses, the duke’s success had bred a complacency Alex could one day exploit to defeat him. Then nobody would laugh at him or praise him with anything less than envy–a desire to diminish him–in their eyes.
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!