Word Count: 100 x 2 (two connected drabbles)
Characters: Wolfram, Conrad, Gwendal
Rating: T
Notes: I imagine a younger Wolfram would be more emotional. Just a warning.
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There was a tingling in Wolfram's stomach, the sort that signaled anticipation and fear. He could hear the sounds of the battle around him, the cries of men, the crash of steel.
Although his training was dictating his movements (duck, weave, parry), this was not training. This was war, dangerous and exhilarating and frightening all at once.
Wolfram found himself losing ground. In the blink of an eye, Conrad was before him, steel stained red with blood. "Brother..." the blonde breathed, watching with big eyes as his opponent fell.
"Watch my back," Conrad replied. Wolfram obeyed instantly, the brothers fighting back-to-back.
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The battle was over. Both sides had taken losses and were gathering their dead under a temporary truce.
Wolfram, however, was in Conrad's tent, watching Gwendal wrap a cut on the half-human's torso.
"You did well today, Wolf."
At the brunette's praise, the blonde turned crimson. "But it's my fault you were injured..."
"People are hurt in war," Gwendal replied in his gruff manner. "It's not your fault."
Wolfram opened his mouth to argue, but Conrad just smiled. "You survived your first battle, Wolfram. Be proud. We are"
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