Title: Your Heart On the Line
Chapter: Weep For Yourself
Author: smilingsoprano
Rating: T for the whole series (angst, violence, some pretty overt sexism and occasional swearing). K+ for this chapter.
Pairings: None.
Summary: A series of ficlets inspired by Mumford and Sons' Little Lion Man, in which Zahir fights his demons and learns how to be Jon's squire.
A/N: Completely gen throughout. Fairly dark and angsty. The ficlets are sequential and loosely tied together (some more so than others), but they are more character development than plot. Each chapter (they are all separate ficlets) begins with some lyrics. Written for Goldenlake's most excellent SMACKDOWN competition.
"Weep for yourself, my man/You'll never be what is in your heart"
Zahir pulled his knees up to his chest, rocking back and forth slightly. He couldn't do it. He remembered every assurance he'd given his parents, every "I'm strong enough," and "don't worry." They all rang hollow now, empty words he had trivialized back when he didn't know their import. He drew a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm the fitful tremors in his hands. Hot tears streaked his face and he dashed them away. He wouldn't cry.
"There you are." It was the king's voice, heavy and wearied. "I've been searching for you. Come with me."
Looking up, the squire saw Jon's mud- and sweat-stained face and only began to shake harder. "I—I can't," he choked out.
His knight-master reached out a gauntlet-clad hand, his gaze kind. "We all have trouble the first time."
Zahir's face twisted and he looked down again. "I ran," he spat.
"I threw up," Jon replied, his tone even. "What matters isn't what happens now. It's how you use that knowledge in the future to better yourself and protect your country. You are the King's squire. You will stand up, calm yourself, and return to camp. The next time we meet bandits, you will be prepared. Do you understand?"
After a slight hesitation, Zahir nodded and took the proffered hand, hauling himself to his feet. But no matter how reassuring Jon's words, he hadn't been the one to flee. Zahir knew he would always be a coward, and the knowledge shredded his ambitions like steel through paper. He had wanted so badly to be great, but from this moment on his reassurances would turn to dust in his mouth.
At least he could still lie.