Gwen Battle 09 Fic: Of Swords and Needles
Creator: maroon_sue
Type of Submission: Fanfic
Prompt: A-10 girl!knight
Rating: PG
Warnings: Pre-Series, A tomboy-ish Gwen?
Summary: Gwen challenged a boy to a sword fight.
Author's Notes: Thank you so much to of_too_minds for the beta works! She's a real sweetie :)
Of Swords and Needles
A girl stepped over a fallen log, gingerly picking up her skirts to avoid the dewy grass. Her dark head turned towards the clear blue sky and a frown settled between her young brows as she gave her empty basket an irritated huff. The feel of her damp hem pulled her away from the nuisance clutched in her hand and she sighed. Walking around with a soiled hem glued around her ankles was not something she looked forward to.
Her brown eyes drifted towards the basket again, the one her father had thrust into her hands earlier, and her frown deepened, the line of her jaw jutting out in a stubborn angle as she continued to glare at the woven ensemble. Her father’s stern words drifted through her mind and she sighed at the absolute definiteness that had laced his words as he pushed her out of his forge. Gwen, go out and fill this basket with flowers. And make sure it’s full before you return.
She didn’t know why her father suddenly felt obligated to make her do all these unfamiliar things but if it was up to her she’d rather spend her time in the forge, not traipsing around in her wet dress looking at flowers. Her feet stopped moving as her eyes turned misty and she sighed. The soft sound was filled with anguish, an emotion that was too deep for a girl of her age to feel.
No, that was a lie because deep down in her heart she already knew why. She had heard the harsh whispers and seen the cold eyes the older women gave her as she spent hour after hour in her father’s workshop.
How unbecoming, girls need to learn about sewing, not sword making. That’s what happens when you grow up without a mother.
She had turned a deaf ear to the callous words, pretending she couldn’t hear the insensitive whispers as she stubbornly kept working over a blade. Her small hands couldn’t help her father much with his heavy tools and in time, she found another way to spend her days. Swords were her passion but she had learned to love working with the much lighter armour pieces. She couldn’t help but to gravitate towards the forge, she just needed to be somewhere close to her father. It was too lonely by herself at the house.
And spending time with him, watching him as he deftly moved about the place, was enough for the eight year old girl. She couldn’t imagine a life outside of her father’s forge and now here she was, picking flowers when she could have been practicing with her sword. Gwen knew she would have tossed the women’s words away with a flick of her black curls but she saw the worry in her father’s eyes and that shook her. She had watched the longing and guilt swimming in his dark eyes and she would never say an outright no to her father. She was just not capable of that.
She pushed aside a low hanging branch before crouching down and grabbing the flowers growing nearby, tossing them into her basket without much interest. Her attention was pulled from the colourful petals by a loud clanging and a small smile flitted over her lips as she recognized the sound. She thrust the leaves aside eagerly, the clatter of metal against metal urging her on. Gwen placed her basket by her side, her dark eyes trained on the two boys in the clearing as they lunged and swerved at each other.
Her eyes slide to the taller boy and noticed that his chestnut hair was plastered to his skull from the sweat. Even from a distance she could see the forceful glint in his blue eyes. She marveled at the way he handled his sword, how quickly the blade slashed the air as he brought it down towards his opponent. The other boy, a lad with broad shoulders and lanky black hair sidestepped, bringing his arms up to meet the thrust. She could see that both of them were probably a few years older than she was but they possessed such self assurance that they looked even older.
‘Ha!’ the brown haired boy yelled as he took advantage of his challenger’s unsecured left flank, his sword a white slash of light as it sped to its target.
‘Enough.’ The dark haired boy sidestepped easily before running his hand over his face. He shook his head and fat drops of sweat fall on the ground. ‘I think that’s enough for today.’
‘Oh come on, Gawain,’ the other boy promptly replied, gripping his own sword tightly in his gloved hand. ‘Let’s have another round.’
‘No, I’m exhausted. We’ve been at it since this morning.’ Gawain tossed his partner an annoyed glance before walking away. ‘I need water.’
The other boy pushed his wet hair away from his eyes as he took off after him. Gwen tried to shuffle backwards when they moved closer to her. Both of them were unfamiliar to her and the possibility that they were from the neighbouring village crossed her mind but the two boys were oblivious to her presence.
‘You’re avoiding me because you know you can’t win.’ He pointed out that fact gleefully and that made Gawain turned around with a glare.
‘That is ridiculous. I am as good as you are. Better in fact.’
‘Then prove it.’ The boy hefted his sword up.
From her hiding place, Gwen studied him with objective eyes, noticing the confidence and cockiness that seemed to bubble over the surface of his skin.
‘Find someone else to practice with, I’m done for today.’ Gawain shrugged out of his chainmail before tossing his sword away.
‘You know you want to.’ His tone had dropped down to a wheedle but Gawain just ignored him as he took a thirsty gulp. ‘One more round. Help me out here, cousin. There’s no one else to challenge.’
Gawain turned with exaggerated slowness. Even at his young age, there was a steely coolness about him that couldn’t be shaken. Before he could say anything, his eyes flicked towards the bushes when a small sound caught his attention.
‘What do you say? I don’t want to leave just yet.’
‘Apparently, we’re not as alone as you thought we were. Why don’t you go and get your new partner there?’ Gawain cocked his head towards her way and she stiffened, her eyes darting wildly around her. ‘You over there, come out of the bush and come here.’
She would’ve dashed off but something in his voice commanded immediate obedience. Gwen stopped moving forwards and stepped tentatively out of the bushes, squinting a little in the harsh sun and Gawain’s amused reaction.
‘Well well... What do we have here?’
The other boy turned to her and his grin disappeared when he saw her approaching figure. ‘A girl? I can’t fight a girl! Have you lost your mind?’ he said with a scowl at his cousin.
‘I didn’t know she was a girl,’ Gawain glared back at his fuming cousin before turning to her. ‘I’m sorry, you can go now.’
Their offhand dismissal scratched painfully at her pride. She took a step forward, her thin shoulders squared in preparation for the coming battle. ‘Just because I’m not a boy doesn’t mean I can’t fight you.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Gawain’s cousin waved her away dismissively. ‘You can go back to your dolls now, girl. Just go.’
‘I don’t think so. Dolls are for babies, I prefer to play with this,’ she crouched down and picked up Gawain’s discarded sword and held it out, testing the feel of it in her hands. ‘I want you to fight me.’
The excitement of holding a sturdy blade in her hands thrummed hungrily in her blood and Gwen almost smiled as she relished in its sweet tang. She had been dreaming of this moment for a long time, waiting for the time to test her mettle against someone else. From what she had observed, he was the one who kept on attacking while his cousin Gawain was the more level headed one in battle and Gwen was itching to try her skills on him.
‘Unless you’re too scared of losing to fight me.’
He faced her with an exaggerated sigh. The look he shot his cousin was laced with irritation and this is all your fault written all over it.
Gawain just shrugged and smirked. Your problem now, deal with it.
‘This is ridiculous. I refuse to fight you. Why don’t you just run along to your mother. Come on now, off you go.’
His patronizing tone rankled her, the resentment digging deep into her. ‘Definitely scared of getting beaten by a mere girl, aren’t you?’ She forced just a hint of amusement to colour her voice and purposely relaxed her muscles. ‘A big strong boy like you, losing a fight to a small girl like me. It’s unheard of.’
‘I will not fight a girl and that’s it.’ He sniffed disdainfully at the word girl and turned his back on her. ‘And there is no way you’re going to win.’
Gwen’s eyes narrowed in concentration, her body readied itself instinctively as she kept her eyes on him. Without warning, she lunged, her small body moving swiftly towards him, her hand deftly slicing the air with her sword.
The boy stiffened when he sensed the movement in the air before his arm lashed out to stop her sword with his. His blue eyes were wide as they skidded from their tangled swords to her face.
‘Not too shabby, I’d say.’ The grin on her lips disappeared as her eyes hardened in concentration. Gwen pulled back her sword, her small fingers gripping the hilt in her steady hand before she swung it again in his direction. He didn’t have time to breathe as he moved his arms to block her attack.
She knew he had size and strength on his side but she was faster. And she had a slight edge over him as he scrambled frantically to get over his shock at a mere girl hefting a sword. Her father had always pointed out that in time of battle, play to your own strengths and she knew this is as good as any time to practice that.
‘You’re not too bad but play time is over.’
His cold tone made her grin wider. ‘Oh no, I’m just getting started.’
She took a step back, the tip of her blade hovering a few inches from the ground before her fingers tightened around the hilt as she arched the blade upwards.
He swallowed his surprise when his arms shook in the effort to block her stride. The small girl had quite a swing. He pulled back and veered the sword, the metal catching the sun rays of the afternoon sun. Gwen brought her sword down and her shoulders screamed as he used his brute strength on her, using his weight to press her sword down. She pulled back her sword quickly, the air screeching with the sound of her blade hissing against his as she retreated before she lunged again to swipe her sword towards his feet. From the haze surrounding her, she could hear the sound of his surprised gasp before he jumped upwards as the metal swished harmlessly from under his boot.
He landed and he even had the time to glare at her. When he heard the chuckle from his cousin’s way, his glower deepened but the girl was relentless. He quickly sprung upwards but before he could stop the swing of her sword, he blinked in shock when suddenly she was right in his face. Before he could string together enough thought to react, her bony shoulder rammed itself against his ribs and he huffed, propelled backwards by the force of her push.
He fell on his back, the dust swirling around him in a lazy brown veil as he stared at the glinting tip of Gawain’s sword, trained directly at his chest. His eyes were big in his sweaty face as they clashed with her dark ones.
She was silent for a few heartbeats, staring down into his mutinous face before her lips quirked into a satisfied smile. ‘Thanks for the practice.’ She tossed the sword and walked away, a big grin on her dusty face. As she leaned down to collect her basket, she could hear his aggravated voice as he faced his laughing cousin.
‘Do not mention this to anyone. Ever. I will run you through with your own sword if you do.’
If she were closer, she would’ve heard the cheeky retort. ‘You mean the sword that girl used to beat you? That sword over there, Arthur?’
As she walked back home, Gwen laughed and there was a spring in her steps.
Throughout the following months, her father continued to pressure her to take more interest in what he said were the appropriate tasks for girls. This continued until a year later when he arranged for her to start working at the Castle. Even then, as she was on her knees scrubbing the floor, her fingers were itching to hold a sword instead of the rough brush. When she was chosen to be young Lady Morgana’s maid, she just listened as her new Mistress spent many hours lamenting the fact that the King had forbidden her to practice in the Courtyard.
Gwen would have agreed wholeheartedly on the subject but she was not as vocal as Morgana in airing her grievances in public and she felt it was not wise of her to criticize the King openly at that point. Gwen could only nod at her Lady’s angry words as she stabbed her knitting needle wildly into her cloth, not even pretending to be working on the intricate pattern. Spending hours trying to repair Lady Morgana’s mangled knitting had turned Gwen into an excellent seamstress and in time, she had taken pleasure of creating something from her needles, just like the time when she was hovering over a blade at her father’s forge.
Type of Submission: Fanfic
Prompt: A-10 girl!knight
Rating: PG
Warnings: Pre-Series, A tomboy-ish Gwen?
Summary: Gwen challenged a boy to a sword fight.
Author's Notes: Thank you so much to of_too_minds for the beta works! She's a real sweetie :)
Of Swords and Needles
A girl stepped over a fallen log, gingerly picking up her skirts to avoid the dewy grass. Her dark head turned towards the clear blue sky and a frown settled between her young brows as she gave her empty basket an irritated huff. The feel of her damp hem pulled her away from the nuisance clutched in her hand and she sighed. Walking around with a soiled hem glued around her ankles was not something she looked forward to.
Her brown eyes drifted towards the basket again, the one her father had thrust into her hands earlier, and her frown deepened, the line of her jaw jutting out in a stubborn angle as she continued to glare at the woven ensemble. Her father’s stern words drifted through her mind and she sighed at the absolute definiteness that had laced his words as he pushed her out of his forge. Gwen, go out and fill this basket with flowers. And make sure it’s full before you return.
She didn’t know why her father suddenly felt obligated to make her do all these unfamiliar things but if it was up to her she’d rather spend her time in the forge, not traipsing around in her wet dress looking at flowers. Her feet stopped moving as her eyes turned misty and she sighed. The soft sound was filled with anguish, an emotion that was too deep for a girl of her age to feel.
No, that was a lie because deep down in her heart she already knew why. She had heard the harsh whispers and seen the cold eyes the older women gave her as she spent hour after hour in her father’s workshop.
How unbecoming, girls need to learn about sewing, not sword making. That’s what happens when you grow up without a mother.
She had turned a deaf ear to the callous words, pretending she couldn’t hear the insensitive whispers as she stubbornly kept working over a blade. Her small hands couldn’t help her father much with his heavy tools and in time, she found another way to spend her days. Swords were her passion but she had learned to love working with the much lighter armour pieces. She couldn’t help but to gravitate towards the forge, she just needed to be somewhere close to her father. It was too lonely by herself at the house.
And spending time with him, watching him as he deftly moved about the place, was enough for the eight year old girl. She couldn’t imagine a life outside of her father’s forge and now here she was, picking flowers when she could have been practicing with her sword. Gwen knew she would have tossed the women’s words away with a flick of her black curls but she saw the worry in her father’s eyes and that shook her. She had watched the longing and guilt swimming in his dark eyes and she would never say an outright no to her father. She was just not capable of that.
She pushed aside a low hanging branch before crouching down and grabbing the flowers growing nearby, tossing them into her basket without much interest. Her attention was pulled from the colourful petals by a loud clanging and a small smile flitted over her lips as she recognized the sound. She thrust the leaves aside eagerly, the clatter of metal against metal urging her on. Gwen placed her basket by her side, her dark eyes trained on the two boys in the clearing as they lunged and swerved at each other.
Her eyes slide to the taller boy and noticed that his chestnut hair was plastered to his skull from the sweat. Even from a distance she could see the forceful glint in his blue eyes. She marveled at the way he handled his sword, how quickly the blade slashed the air as he brought it down towards his opponent. The other boy, a lad with broad shoulders and lanky black hair sidestepped, bringing his arms up to meet the thrust. She could see that both of them were probably a few years older than she was but they possessed such self assurance that they looked even older.
‘Ha!’ the brown haired boy yelled as he took advantage of his challenger’s unsecured left flank, his sword a white slash of light as it sped to its target.
‘Enough.’ The dark haired boy sidestepped easily before running his hand over his face. He shook his head and fat drops of sweat fall on the ground. ‘I think that’s enough for today.’
‘Oh come on, Gawain,’ the other boy promptly replied, gripping his own sword tightly in his gloved hand. ‘Let’s have another round.’
‘No, I’m exhausted. We’ve been at it since this morning.’ Gawain tossed his partner an annoyed glance before walking away. ‘I need water.’
The other boy pushed his wet hair away from his eyes as he took off after him. Gwen tried to shuffle backwards when they moved closer to her. Both of them were unfamiliar to her and the possibility that they were from the neighbouring village crossed her mind but the two boys were oblivious to her presence.
‘You’re avoiding me because you know you can’t win.’ He pointed out that fact gleefully and that made Gawain turned around with a glare.
‘That is ridiculous. I am as good as you are. Better in fact.’
‘Then prove it.’ The boy hefted his sword up.
From her hiding place, Gwen studied him with objective eyes, noticing the confidence and cockiness that seemed to bubble over the surface of his skin.
‘Find someone else to practice with, I’m done for today.’ Gawain shrugged out of his chainmail before tossing his sword away.
‘You know you want to.’ His tone had dropped down to a wheedle but Gawain just ignored him as he took a thirsty gulp. ‘One more round. Help me out here, cousin. There’s no one else to challenge.’
Gawain turned with exaggerated slowness. Even at his young age, there was a steely coolness about him that couldn’t be shaken. Before he could say anything, his eyes flicked towards the bushes when a small sound caught his attention.
‘What do you say? I don’t want to leave just yet.’
‘Apparently, we’re not as alone as you thought we were. Why don’t you go and get your new partner there?’ Gawain cocked his head towards her way and she stiffened, her eyes darting wildly around her. ‘You over there, come out of the bush and come here.’
She would’ve dashed off but something in his voice commanded immediate obedience. Gwen stopped moving forwards and stepped tentatively out of the bushes, squinting a little in the harsh sun and Gawain’s amused reaction.
‘Well well... What do we have here?’
The other boy turned to her and his grin disappeared when he saw her approaching figure. ‘A girl? I can’t fight a girl! Have you lost your mind?’ he said with a scowl at his cousin.
‘I didn’t know she was a girl,’ Gawain glared back at his fuming cousin before turning to her. ‘I’m sorry, you can go now.’
Their offhand dismissal scratched painfully at her pride. She took a step forward, her thin shoulders squared in preparation for the coming battle. ‘Just because I’m not a boy doesn’t mean I can’t fight you.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Gawain’s cousin waved her away dismissively. ‘You can go back to your dolls now, girl. Just go.’
‘I don’t think so. Dolls are for babies, I prefer to play with this,’ she crouched down and picked up Gawain’s discarded sword and held it out, testing the feel of it in her hands. ‘I want you to fight me.’
The excitement of holding a sturdy blade in her hands thrummed hungrily in her blood and Gwen almost smiled as she relished in its sweet tang. She had been dreaming of this moment for a long time, waiting for the time to test her mettle against someone else. From what she had observed, he was the one who kept on attacking while his cousin Gawain was the more level headed one in battle and Gwen was itching to try her skills on him.
‘Unless you’re too scared of losing to fight me.’
He faced her with an exaggerated sigh. The look he shot his cousin was laced with irritation and this is all your fault written all over it.
Gawain just shrugged and smirked. Your problem now, deal with it.
‘This is ridiculous. I refuse to fight you. Why don’t you just run along to your mother. Come on now, off you go.’
His patronizing tone rankled her, the resentment digging deep into her. ‘Definitely scared of getting beaten by a mere girl, aren’t you?’ She forced just a hint of amusement to colour her voice and purposely relaxed her muscles. ‘A big strong boy like you, losing a fight to a small girl like me. It’s unheard of.’
‘I will not fight a girl and that’s it.’ He sniffed disdainfully at the word girl and turned his back on her. ‘And there is no way you’re going to win.’
Gwen’s eyes narrowed in concentration, her body readied itself instinctively as she kept her eyes on him. Without warning, she lunged, her small body moving swiftly towards him, her hand deftly slicing the air with her sword.
The boy stiffened when he sensed the movement in the air before his arm lashed out to stop her sword with his. His blue eyes were wide as they skidded from their tangled swords to her face.
‘Not too shabby, I’d say.’ The grin on her lips disappeared as her eyes hardened in concentration. Gwen pulled back her sword, her small fingers gripping the hilt in her steady hand before she swung it again in his direction. He didn’t have time to breathe as he moved his arms to block her attack.
She knew he had size and strength on his side but she was faster. And she had a slight edge over him as he scrambled frantically to get over his shock at a mere girl hefting a sword. Her father had always pointed out that in time of battle, play to your own strengths and she knew this is as good as any time to practice that.
‘You’re not too bad but play time is over.’
His cold tone made her grin wider. ‘Oh no, I’m just getting started.’
She took a step back, the tip of her blade hovering a few inches from the ground before her fingers tightened around the hilt as she arched the blade upwards.
He swallowed his surprise when his arms shook in the effort to block her stride. The small girl had quite a swing. He pulled back and veered the sword, the metal catching the sun rays of the afternoon sun. Gwen brought her sword down and her shoulders screamed as he used his brute strength on her, using his weight to press her sword down. She pulled back her sword quickly, the air screeching with the sound of her blade hissing against his as she retreated before she lunged again to swipe her sword towards his feet. From the haze surrounding her, she could hear the sound of his surprised gasp before he jumped upwards as the metal swished harmlessly from under his boot.
He landed and he even had the time to glare at her. When he heard the chuckle from his cousin’s way, his glower deepened but the girl was relentless. He quickly sprung upwards but before he could stop the swing of her sword, he blinked in shock when suddenly she was right in his face. Before he could string together enough thought to react, her bony shoulder rammed itself against his ribs and he huffed, propelled backwards by the force of her push.
He fell on his back, the dust swirling around him in a lazy brown veil as he stared at the glinting tip of Gawain’s sword, trained directly at his chest. His eyes were big in his sweaty face as they clashed with her dark ones.
She was silent for a few heartbeats, staring down into his mutinous face before her lips quirked into a satisfied smile. ‘Thanks for the practice.’ She tossed the sword and walked away, a big grin on her dusty face. As she leaned down to collect her basket, she could hear his aggravated voice as he faced his laughing cousin.
‘Do not mention this to anyone. Ever. I will run you through with your own sword if you do.’
If she were closer, she would’ve heard the cheeky retort. ‘You mean the sword that girl used to beat you? That sword over there, Arthur?’
As she walked back home, Gwen laughed and there was a spring in her steps.
Throughout the following months, her father continued to pressure her to take more interest in what he said were the appropriate tasks for girls. This continued until a year later when he arranged for her to start working at the Castle. Even then, as she was on her knees scrubbing the floor, her fingers were itching to hold a sword instead of the rough brush. When she was chosen to be young Lady Morgana’s maid, she just listened as her new Mistress spent many hours lamenting the fact that the King had forbidden her to practice in the Courtyard.
Gwen would have agreed wholeheartedly on the subject but she was not as vocal as Morgana in airing her grievances in public and she felt it was not wise of her to criticize the King openly at that point. Gwen could only nod at her Lady’s angry words as she stabbed her knitting needle wildly into her cloth, not even pretending to be working on the intricate pattern. Spending hours trying to repair Lady Morgana’s mangled knitting had turned Gwen into an excellent seamstress and in time, she had taken pleasure of creating something from her needles, just like the time when she was hovering over a blade at her father’s forge.