Moonspear da iawn
149 Posts
Ooc — Miryam
Offline
#1
All Welcome 
Anyone pursuing the mercenary trade interested in a thread?

[Image: oWQXunB.jpg]
He remembers the first day his father taught him to fight as if it were yesterday, and only one sleep separates him from his family, the bliss of childhood. The shimmering gold of Gwynedd's pelt, pacing back and forth in front of him, waiting for the young prince to strike. His sisters watching in fascination, Seren in particular taking note of the lesson. While not trained as vigorously as he will be, the women of Mynydd are not raised to be helpless: they, too, will be warriors.

"Look for weak points," the king instructed, gimlet stare fixed on his son. "Am I distracted by anything? Is my body positioned incorrectly? Where best to attack, in order to catch me off-guard?"

Llewellyn, eager to test his father's mettle, jumped forward--and was quickly subdued, bouncing off Gwynedd's brawny shoulder, flushing hotly at the sound of laughter from onlookers. But the prince would not be scorned for long--before the king could even offer constructive criticism, Llewellyn had snaked under his belly and knocked him into the dust, placing a paw over his gilded throat, the royal heart beating madly against his pad. "Da iawn," Gwynedd said, shaking dirt from his pelt, eyes glowing with pride.

Far away as he'd ever been from that glorious scene, Llewellyn sits under the boughs of an old pine tree, part of the forest that blanketed the lower slopes of the mountain. The air is redolent of evergreen, and heavy with impending rain. Still, he thinks the need for shelter is not immediate. Instead, he closes his eyes, smiling as his mind takes him on a journey to the past, reliving a time when all was well, and all was right.