Fic: Lesson Learned
Title: Lesson Learned
Author: alesh101
Characters: Allan, Kate mentions Much, Robin, Guy
Word Count: 921
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I own nothing, Tiger Aspect and BBC do
A/N: After an S3 episode rewatch, I meant to do Kate some harm, but it didn't really turn out that way.
“Aw come on! That shoulda been easy!” Allan glared at his opponent. “You ain’t even tryin’!”
“I am too!” Kate cried. ‘You weren’t fighting fair!” She flicked her sweaty hair out of her face with an angry toss of her head.
Allan’s mouth dropped open in surprise. Then his face darkened. His mouth twisted into a scowl.
Kate didn’t care what kind of faces Allan made. She was only telling the truth. He wasn’t fighting fair, using both his swords on her when she only had the one, and she still clumsy with it.
He stalked toward her now, swords raised, and she retreated a couple of steps. No mistake, he was angry. Taking a good look at him, Kate thought she might have gone a little too far this time. A tiny shiver of fear wormed through her. She knew what Allan was capable of with those blades.
He stopped just short of running her over. He leaned in close to her face. They were nose to nose and Kate suddenly realized she could smell him-forest and sweat mixed. Were his eyes always that blue? Or only when he was angry? She didn’t know, but thought she might have to be more observant of Allan’s eyes in the future.
For a second she was horrified at her thoughts. Robin was the one she wanted, not “I’m not bein’ funny, but...” Allan, who never took things seriously. There was nothing attractive about Allan at all. She gave herself a mental shake, and focused on the situation at hand.
“The sheriff’s men ain’t fightin’ fair, either, Miss High an’ Mighty,” Allan was saying now, scorn dripping from his voice. He poked her shoulder with a hard finger.
“They want to kill us. They won’t care if you’re tired, or clumsy.” He leaned back out of her face a little and his blue eyes raked her up and down with disdain. “Or if you’re a weak little girl.”
Kate’s gripped the hilt of her sword tightly. Weak? Little girl? The heat of her own anger flared in her cheeks. She cast about in her mind for something cutting to say.
“I am not weak!” The denial sounded lame, even to her. But it was all she could think of to counter the sting of Allan’s words.
Allan spun on his heel and tromped away from her, only to halt a few paces away. He turned again to face her, swords at the ready. His face was grim.
“Prove it.”
Kate raised her own weapon, ignoring her protesting shoulders. She was used to lifting clay pots all day, but this wasn’t the same. The range of motion was entirely different, and the sword was actually heavier than her mother’s clay pots.
Allan slunk toward her, moving lightly on the balls of his feet, not even the rustling of leaves to mark his passage. His eyes never left hers, and his swords never dropped an inch. He stalked her slowly, but Kate knew what he was about. He wanted her to strike first, as she had every single time this afternoon. But she was learning, and so she waited. He would strike first this time.
She stood her ground, feet planted firmly apart like Robin showed her. When she asked why he wouldn’t teach her swordplay, he told her she should learn from the best in the gang, and that was Allan. He was better than any of them in close quarters. Kate remembered the flush of pleasure in Allan’s cheeks when Robin said that.
Robin was right, she thought now. Allan was a good fighter-quick and agile. And to her dismay, tireless, it seemed.
“Kate!” Much’s cry to her left brought her back to herself just in time to see Allan nearly on top of her. A quick step backward took her out of his reach and gave her just enough space to bring her sword up to block her chest. A smirk and a nod from Allan told her she’d made the right move.
The surge of pride was swiftly dashed, though. Allan raised the blade in his left hand high, feinting a downward strike. Kate foolishly took the bait, bringing her own weapon up to block his blow. Before she knew it, his right hand blade was at her throat and he whacked her hip with the flat of his left hand sword. She could feel the bruise already forming.
He stepped back. “Better.” He waggled both swords at her. “But you gotta keep your eyes on both hands.”
“As far as I know, none of the castle guards carry two swords, Allan,” she snapped. “Why should I worry about more than the one I’m blocking?” Frustration was getting the better of her. They‘d been at this all afternoon and nothing was getting any better.
Allan sighed and shook his head. “Those gloves they wear ain’t exactly fluffy soft, ya know.” Then he held up a crooked finger. “An’ Gisborne carries a sword and a dagger. Nasty curved little thing. Tear you up proper.”
Kate looked at Allan’s finger and imagined the damage a dagger like that could do. A small shudder of distaste worked through her. Figured a devil like Gisborne would have such a weapon. Something you couldn’t see, but that would kill you just as easily as a sword. Well, she decided, if he ever tried to use on her, she’d be ready.
“All right, then,” she said, squaring her shoulders. “No more complaining. Show me what to do.”
Author: alesh101
Characters: Allan, Kate mentions Much, Robin, Guy
Word Count: 921
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I own nothing, Tiger Aspect and BBC do
A/N: After an S3 episode rewatch, I meant to do Kate some harm, but it didn't really turn out that way.
“Aw come on! That shoulda been easy!” Allan glared at his opponent. “You ain’t even tryin’!”
“I am too!” Kate cried. ‘You weren’t fighting fair!” She flicked her sweaty hair out of her face with an angry toss of her head.
Allan’s mouth dropped open in surprise. Then his face darkened. His mouth twisted into a scowl.
Kate didn’t care what kind of faces Allan made. She was only telling the truth. He wasn’t fighting fair, using both his swords on her when she only had the one, and she still clumsy with it.
He stalked toward her now, swords raised, and she retreated a couple of steps. No mistake, he was angry. Taking a good look at him, Kate thought she might have gone a little too far this time. A tiny shiver of fear wormed through her. She knew what Allan was capable of with those blades.
He stopped just short of running her over. He leaned in close to her face. They were nose to nose and Kate suddenly realized she could smell him-forest and sweat mixed. Were his eyes always that blue? Or only when he was angry? She didn’t know, but thought she might have to be more observant of Allan’s eyes in the future.
For a second she was horrified at her thoughts. Robin was the one she wanted, not “I’m not bein’ funny, but...” Allan, who never took things seriously. There was nothing attractive about Allan at all. She gave herself a mental shake, and focused on the situation at hand.
“The sheriff’s men ain’t fightin’ fair, either, Miss High an’ Mighty,” Allan was saying now, scorn dripping from his voice. He poked her shoulder with a hard finger.
“They want to kill us. They won’t care if you’re tired, or clumsy.” He leaned back out of her face a little and his blue eyes raked her up and down with disdain. “Or if you’re a weak little girl.”
Kate’s gripped the hilt of her sword tightly. Weak? Little girl? The heat of her own anger flared in her cheeks. She cast about in her mind for something cutting to say.
“I am not weak!” The denial sounded lame, even to her. But it was all she could think of to counter the sting of Allan’s words.
Allan spun on his heel and tromped away from her, only to halt a few paces away. He turned again to face her, swords at the ready. His face was grim.
“Prove it.”
Kate raised her own weapon, ignoring her protesting shoulders. She was used to lifting clay pots all day, but this wasn’t the same. The range of motion was entirely different, and the sword was actually heavier than her mother’s clay pots.
Allan slunk toward her, moving lightly on the balls of his feet, not even the rustling of leaves to mark his passage. His eyes never left hers, and his swords never dropped an inch. He stalked her slowly, but Kate knew what he was about. He wanted her to strike first, as she had every single time this afternoon. But she was learning, and so she waited. He would strike first this time.
She stood her ground, feet planted firmly apart like Robin showed her. When she asked why he wouldn’t teach her swordplay, he told her she should learn from the best in the gang, and that was Allan. He was better than any of them in close quarters. Kate remembered the flush of pleasure in Allan’s cheeks when Robin said that.
Robin was right, she thought now. Allan was a good fighter-quick and agile. And to her dismay, tireless, it seemed.
“Kate!” Much’s cry to her left brought her back to herself just in time to see Allan nearly on top of her. A quick step backward took her out of his reach and gave her just enough space to bring her sword up to block her chest. A smirk and a nod from Allan told her she’d made the right move.
The surge of pride was swiftly dashed, though. Allan raised the blade in his left hand high, feinting a downward strike. Kate foolishly took the bait, bringing her own weapon up to block his blow. Before she knew it, his right hand blade was at her throat and he whacked her hip with the flat of his left hand sword. She could feel the bruise already forming.
He stepped back. “Better.” He waggled both swords at her. “But you gotta keep your eyes on both hands.”
“As far as I know, none of the castle guards carry two swords, Allan,” she snapped. “Why should I worry about more than the one I’m blocking?” Frustration was getting the better of her. They‘d been at this all afternoon and nothing was getting any better.
Allan sighed and shook his head. “Those gloves they wear ain’t exactly fluffy soft, ya know.” Then he held up a crooked finger. “An’ Gisborne carries a sword and a dagger. Nasty curved little thing. Tear you up proper.”
Kate looked at Allan’s finger and imagined the damage a dagger like that could do. A small shudder of distaste worked through her. Figured a devil like Gisborne would have such a weapon. Something you couldn’t see, but that would kill you just as easily as a sword. Well, she decided, if he ever tried to use on her, she’d be ready.
“All right, then,” she said, squaring her shoulders. “No more complaining. Show me what to do.”