Song of the Lioness fic - Three Arrows
Characters/Pairing: Alanna
Rating: K
Summary: Alanna has a difficult decision to make. Pre-series.
It wasn’t a split second decision. As much as she acted like it, as much as it seemed out of the blue, the thought had been niggling at the back of her mind for most of the year. Especially with her ever more isolated father, her continued practices with Coram, and the constant nagging of the aunt that had forbade them. No, it wasn’t a split second decision.
It would be hard. It was impossible to even imagine the difficulties she would face. From the numerous lectures she had overheard her father giving her brother, one for every time they had disobeyed him, she knew that training to be a knight was brutal, occasionally even boys returned to their families in disgrace, unable to complete their training, unable to face society at large once more. And she was a girl.
And that would make it even more difficult . She would not only be at a disadvantage physically, but would be constantly forced to hide her true identity. Even avoiding shared showers, her gender would one day make itself very apparent.
But she could be a knight. Not one of the simpering ladies she had come to despise (her aunt said through lack of a proper role model, she said out of common sense).The thought of spending days perfecting needlework, writing letters, accepting flowers, wearing dresses, learning to walk made her shake. Gods! She could walk well enough thank you very much.
With her thoughts in such turmoil, she was useless for anything. Anything except archery, and soon she found herself standing at the fief’s meagre range, three bales of hay at varying distances with concentric circles painted haphazardly in different colours.
Her bow, or Thom’s really, was familiar to her. She knew every curve, every grove. She could predict its precise temperature after it had been lying in the sun, as useless as that was. The wood it had been expertly carved from was bright, to the point of being yellow. But what she saw was not as important as what she felt. The string was well oiled, the fletching of the arrow soft and perfectly aligned. Her body relaxed into a position familiar to her, the string drawn back to as far as she could pull it. She released the string, it scraped over her fingers and the arrow glided through the air, embedding itself in the furthest target. Almost, but not quite a bullseye.
Any page could hit a bullseye, easy. A squire could hit two just as easily. Three would be a challenge for anyone, anyone except a knight.
One. The arrow hit with a dull thud, loud enough that she could hear it from this distance. Within the centre circle, barely.
Two. This arrow did not make as loud a noise, but embedded itself just as deeply.
Three. The arrow whistled through the air, singing as it flew towards the target, and buried into the target. Dead centre.
Rating: K
Summary: Alanna has a difficult decision to make. Pre-series.
It wasn’t a split second decision. As much as she acted like it, as much as it seemed out of the blue, the thought had been niggling at the back of her mind for most of the year. Especially with her ever more isolated father, her continued practices with Coram, and the constant nagging of the aunt that had forbade them. No, it wasn’t a split second decision.
It would be hard. It was impossible to even imagine the difficulties she would face. From the numerous lectures she had overheard her father giving her brother, one for every time they had disobeyed him, she knew that training to be a knight was brutal, occasionally even boys returned to their families in disgrace, unable to complete their training, unable to face society at large once more. And she was a girl.
And that would make it even more difficult . She would not only be at a disadvantage physically, but would be constantly forced to hide her true identity. Even avoiding shared showers, her gender would one day make itself very apparent.
But she could be a knight. Not one of the simpering ladies she had come to despise (her aunt said through lack of a proper role model, she said out of common sense).The thought of spending days perfecting needlework, writing letters, accepting flowers, wearing dresses, learning to walk made her shake. Gods! She could walk well enough thank you very much.
With her thoughts in such turmoil, she was useless for anything. Anything except archery, and soon she found herself standing at the fief’s meagre range, three bales of hay at varying distances with concentric circles painted haphazardly in different colours.
Her bow, or Thom’s really, was familiar to her. She knew every curve, every grove. She could predict its precise temperature after it had been lying in the sun, as useless as that was. The wood it had been expertly carved from was bright, to the point of being yellow. But what she saw was not as important as what she felt. The string was well oiled, the fletching of the arrow soft and perfectly aligned. Her body relaxed into a position familiar to her, the string drawn back to as far as she could pull it. She released the string, it scraped over her fingers and the arrow glided through the air, embedding itself in the furthest target. Almost, but not quite a bullseye.
Any page could hit a bullseye, easy. A squire could hit two just as easily. Three would be a challenge for anyone, anyone except a knight.
One. The arrow hit with a dull thud, loud enough that she could hear it from this distance. Within the centre circle, barely.
Two. This arrow did not make as loud a noise, but embedded itself just as deeply.
Three. The arrow whistled through the air, singing as it flew towards the target, and buried into the target. Dead centre.