FIC: Firstborn
Title: Firstborn (Rec this?)
Author: Mhari
Fandom: Arthurian
Characters: Mordred
Rating: G
Words: 214
Disclaimer: The words are mine, the characters are everyone's.
Summary: Mordred adjusts to fatherhood.
Notes/Warnings: Written as a thank-you fic for canadabear.
At first it's easier to think of them like puppies -- a fine thing to say of his sons, but there it is; they're too small, too helpless to seem human yet. He has trouble telling them apart. His wife can; she swears they look like him, and Mordred can only hope she's wrong.
Melehan's hair comes in first, dark and silky, and that helps. By then he's getting a notion of their habits; one fusses louder; one sleeps easier; one clings mutely to his finger, the other tries to chew on it. Puppies.
Soon they can sit up, clutch things, smile. Melehan's smile is mostly in his eyes, that are darkening slowly from blue into brown. His brother has a sudden startled grin, always slightly worried, as if he might at any moment decide to cry instead, and Mordred can't see it without a faint stirring of guilt. His mother had her favorite children; they always knew which they were. He suspects Melou knows too.
A year goes by. One night he looks in and finds them with the blanket kicked off them, sleeping hand in hand. He and Gawain slept so once, in his earliest memory. Gently he eases Melou's thumb out of his mouth, and tucks the blanket back into place.
Author: Mhari
Fandom: Arthurian
Characters: Mordred
Rating: G
Words: 214
Disclaimer: The words are mine, the characters are everyone's.
Summary: Mordred adjusts to fatherhood.
Notes/Warnings: Written as a thank-you fic for canadabear.
At first it's easier to think of them like puppies -- a fine thing to say of his sons, but there it is; they're too small, too helpless to seem human yet. He has trouble telling them apart. His wife can; she swears they look like him, and Mordred can only hope she's wrong.
Melehan's hair comes in first, dark and silky, and that helps. By then he's getting a notion of their habits; one fusses louder; one sleeps easier; one clings mutely to his finger, the other tries to chew on it. Puppies.
Soon they can sit up, clutch things, smile. Melehan's smile is mostly in his eyes, that are darkening slowly from blue into brown. His brother has a sudden startled grin, always slightly worried, as if he might at any moment decide to cry instead, and Mordred can't see it without a faint stirring of guilt. His mother had her favorite children; they always knew which they were. He suspects Melou knows too.
A year goes by. One night he looks in and finds them with the blanket kicked off them, sleeping hand in hand. He and Gawain slept so once, in his earliest memory. Gently he eases Melou's thumb out of his mouth, and tucks the blanket back into place.