What Will You Do to Win?
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/Description/
In the modern world full of boxers and cheaters, the company run by the Pendragon family is extremely well-known. But successful companies have enemies. The to-be CEO, Arthur Pendragon, is the only child of Uther Pendragon. When the life of the successor is threatened, the bodyguard Merlin, who had just recently moved into the capital, crosses paths with Arthur.
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Prologue –Two Sides of a Coin
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A Great Warrior, One Day, A Great King - (But How Long Will It Take Him to Listen as Well as He Fights?)
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"Good to meet you, Arthur." Said Odin, the owner of one of the most famous companies in the country.
"You too, sir." He spoke calmly, a small smile plastered on his face, masking his emotions of boredom, one he had to have in nearly every single one of these absurd parties they had for every time someone visited them.
His mind was whirring with reasons on why his father had completely shut down his question of what happened to his mother this morning, a question he had for years upon years left alone, and now that he had plucked up the courage to ask his father he got an immediate response telling him not to bring up such a topic ever again. He simply did not understand why his father refused to speak a single word about his mother, but by the looks of things, the words left unspoken must be too painful to speak of.
The boy next to the man then took a step forward, Odin putting a hand on the boy's shoulder as he talked. "This is my son. He does not go out much, so you must excuse his bad manners-if he has any." Odin said, and then he was in a talk of politics with Uther Pendragon, Arthur's father and the CEO of the Pendragon Company, the top in everything in this city, and perhaps the best – and the most famous company in the entire country.
Left alone to socialize with someone he didn't know much about, he mentally sighed, imagining all the other boring things he could be doing right now had it not been for this party.
Glancing around, he stopped when he saw Morgana, having a great time with friends she had thought of inviting – something he hadn't thought of doing. She was having a much better time than he was, he could say for sure when she laughed along with her friends, looking his way for a moment to give him a look that was meant to annoy him.
Looking away in irritation, he quickly finished his drink, then leaving it on a table next to him.
He had to talk with this guy he didn't even know, so that drink let him loosen up a little. When he was about to start a conversation, the person in front of him talked, his voice much less nice than he could have assumed. "I heard you are known as the best boxer in the country."
It was not a question, but rather a statement said with venom and hatred. Why, he did not know.
But he had a few guesses. Or, one guess.
Jealousy.
"Yes. Do you also box?"
As an answer, he got a nod, the boy his age running his hands through his dark hair, and then sipping from the drink in his hand.
There was no topic he could find that could possibly be something they have in common, so, instead of asking a random question, Arthur asked of something he thought was a simple, proper question. "What do you like doing?"
Seconds of silence passed, and he thought of asking again, wondering if his voice had not reached the person right next to him through the music coming from the piano.
"You and I both know you're a big disappointment to your father." Well, that was unexpected. And very rude.
He quickly started retorting. "Excuse me, but who are you to-"
"I hate you, Arthur Pendragon." The boy spoke with complete hate, piercing eyes glaring at him. "You think that, just because you may be the greatest boxer ever to live in this country-you think you can do as you wish?"
Where was all this coming from?
"There must be a misunderstanding-"
"Some misunderstanding!" The boy said, voice slightly louder than before, drink forgotten on the counter next to them.
Looking around, he then grabbed Arthur's collar, spitting out the words quietly. "My father has compared me to you far too many times to count. Telling me to do better, to be better. You have no idea of what I have been through – all because of you!"
Standing taller, he spoke with status. "I, as the next head of the company of my father, Odin, challenge you on a boxing match."
"Winner gets the glory of making the other lose." He finished, watching the emotions race in the blue eyes of the young Pendragon.
And so, the two went to the room downstairs, a few joining them to watch, one of them Leon, one of Arthur's closest friends.
They both got their gloves on, and got ready in a short time.
"One match. The fight finishes only when one is unconscious, or taps out." He said as he stood in front of Arthur, fists in front of him, position ready.
Once hearing the bell, they circled each other, neither wanting to lose, wanting to make their father proud, both minds clouded with doubt. Arthur was doubting he could ever make his father proud, both because he had tried for years, doing anything and everything he possibly could to get any sort of impression that he has made his father proud, though he rarely ever got any, and having heard of what someone had to say, how he was nothing but a big disappointment only made his confidence crack, confidence in ever making his father proud decreasing.
The other son of a wealthy family was, however, doubting his father could ever be proud of him after being compared for years upon years.
Arthur dodged the swing that was a bit quicker than he imagined, remembering all the training he had, and still was having, and pinpointed the parts of the body that he was supposed to attack, keeping his eyes open at all times.
Experience was more important than knowledge, he recalled his father saying once, and as the young Pendragon was punched in the stomach, then on his shoulder, making him fall, then another hit on his back, almost missing the one that was going towards his ear, moving so his opponent missed at the last second.
He had to be the best; the only son of Odin knew. He was told to be better than the rest, better than this Pendragon.
No one is unbeatable, Arthur knew for some time.
He had to win; Odin's son had decided long ago.
Both of them were swinging their fists with precision every now and then, eyes open, both skilled, dodging, missing, avoiding.
But one fact was still true. While Odin's son had some skills in boxing, Uther had made sure Arthur was the best in boxing, making him train every day. Arthur was still a greater boxer than people thought he could be. Even though he was underestimated, Arthur was a champion fighter, his stance, his skills, all carved to be perfect from the moment it was possible by Uther.
With so many hits, eyes locking, mind clear, Arthur was winning, and it was obvious to all. Including their fathers, who had come to watch, as had all the other guests.
One more swing, to the jaw this time, and Odin's son was dropping to the ground, head hitting the hard floor.
Arthur was about to call off the match, seeing as how his opponent was down for more than a few seconds, but then he was up, and the young Pendragon had his fists ready again, waiting for the other to prepare.
Not much time passed, and the outcome was, once again, the same.
Both were bruised, Odin's son more so than Arthur was, his skin black and blue in the places he was hit, watching as the light-haired boy in front of him looked in much better shape, little scratches and fewer bruises visible.
They were breathing heavily, the air tense, the crowd watching with little chattering going on.
Four more punches, and Arthur was sure he had won, but one thing was now bothering him. His opponent was laying far too still than anyone else he had ever won against.
Then he noticed the pool of blood growing at an alarming rate where he lay his head.
Quickly, he ran to check on what had happened, taking a step back instinctively when he saw the empty eyes staring into nothing. Had he hit too hard? No, he saw, watching the blood drip from the dark hair. The floor was hard, and one hit to the floor, and anyone could have very bad injury to their head.
But there was no way this opponent of his was…
Murmurs were increasing in the crowd watching, the audience having their phones out, the flashes making Arthur more worried, his eyes wide, fear creeping in, a sick feeling settling in.
Someone in the crowd – Gaius, he recognized, the doctor of their company, was checking something, a pulse most likely, and then he was shaking his head, and then Odin was rushing to be by his son's side, and then Uther was yelling something at everyone who had their hands covering their mouths, phones out, flashlights going off, and then they were being led somewhere, making them all start leaving, and then Leon was grabbing him by his shoulders, shielding him from the view that was stuck in his mind, shouting something at him with concern and worry evident in his eyes.
Arthur looked down, and saw blood on his hands. He hadn't meant to do this. But Odin's son had made things clear, saying that the match wouldn't end until it was time to tap out, or passing out occurred.
This was not something he meant to do; it was something his opponent had demanded.
And his opponent hitting his head hard on the ground one time, yet continuing and getting hit more wasn't his fault.
Was it?
Would Odin be angry at him or his father? Or would this be taken as an accident – same as other similar events he had watched online?
He could only hope it did not cause more bad things to occur, and for all to end well.
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The Bravest Man He's Ever Known – (And That's Coming from Courage Himself!)
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It was a nice day out, sun shining, birds chirping, the leaves on trees moving with the wind. It was all peaceful, a day like any other in this small urban area.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Quickly, the birds were flying away into the bright blue sky.
The man, Balinor, gave the gun to the young boy, waiting to see if the months of teaching was going to be for something. "Remember to use it the way I showed you, son."
Merlin, one of the guys living in this urban area with his family, felt ready to show how much he had improved to his father, who was a retired professional sniper.
Holding the small gun in his hand – it was small compared to the rifle sniper his father used to use – Merlin held it in his grip, the target not too far from where he stood, his eyes locked on it, his stance ready to fire.
Bang!
If it had been months and months ago, he'd have been thrown back from the push of the gun, but he had practiced, and his father had taught him how to hold it, and how to shoot, and everything needed to know about it. Merlin had even put it back after screwing it open again and again, now knowing what pieces went where in the gun by heart.
Putting the safety back off, he stared at the target, and then at his father, then at his mother, Hunith – who had just joined them with some baked goods in the plate in her hands.
His mother gave him a loving smile, and then she shared a look with his father who, at this moment, did not show much emotion, as if he kept what he felt a secret to keep him guessing. "That was…" His father started, speaking slowly, like he was trying to come up with the best words.
"…Awful." He finished after a few moments, receiving a disapproving look from Hunith.
Handing over the food to Balinor, she put her hands to Merlin's shoulders, and looking at Merlin, she spoke softly. "That was great, Merlin. Anyone your age wouldn't even know how to use one, and would no doubt miss the target entirely."
The target had three rings, the outer layer white, the ring contrast to the bright colour was the darkest colour, black. Then came the second, blue, and the one closest to the circle in the middle red, with a yellow coloured in circle in the middle. The wooden target had been scratched on the blue part, not the furthest from the yellow circle, and certainly not the closest.
On the other hand, his father had shot all three right in the centre of the target.
Either his dad was telling the truth, and he really was pretty awful at this, or he had really high expectations. His mom appeared to think the latter.
"Why don't you go and finish your project for school?" At his mother's suggestion, Merlin nodded and, after giving both his parents a surprise hug, feeling good about the compliment he got, he ran home, eager to get the work done so he could play video games and finish reading a book he had started in the morning.
Once he was out of sight, Hunith turned to Balinor, and, frowning, she talked evenly, raising her voice slightly. "I can't believe you! Merlin is much better than anyone I can think of, or have met, yet you don't ever give him some good feedback."
"Being strict on him is the only way for his skills to improve fast and well." He said in return, not truly understanding how not giving good feedback was so bad. "While, I admit, he has learned a lot, and can use a gun better than most, he still lacks experience. He still needs to practice."
While that may have been true, Hunith thought that there was nothing wrong with giving a compliment from time to time.
She then remembered something that was supposed to be today. Something she wished did not need to be done. "…Do you still plan on…" Leaving? It was too painful for her to say it out loud, and knowing he understood, she looked at him sadly.
He also knew what she was referring to, nodding slowly in response.
As a wanted man in this city, he had to go into hiding. Even though this village was at the border, and not entirely in the main part of the city itself, he still thought it would be best for him to go to another city to remain under the radar. But leaving family wasn't ever as easy as it sounded.
The two looked into each other's eyes, wishing things would be different. However much they wished, it made no difference to the situation they were in.
"Tell Merlin not to look for me. He should improve his skills, and continue being a good student. Find a job that pays well – more importantly, a client with a good heart."
Looking at her with love, he continued with a low voice. "Remember that I love both of you."
When morning comes by, and Merlin finds one of his parents' room empty, his mom explains vaguely how his dad had to leave, and everything he wanted to let Merlin know.
For the next two days, Merlin did not feel as cheerful. But by the end of the week, he turned it into determination to do well in class, and to be much better at using a gun – or any sort of item he could turn into the use of a weapon.
Sometimes, he hung out with the only person that wasn't weirded out by his use of guns, William, and he felt happy.
Although he had to admit, seeing parents take their kids back in their house when he was around – just because he practiced and knew how to use a gun…It didn't really get him to feel so positive. And it may be true that this was a peaceful village, with nobody using a gun because it was never necessary, and the police station was really far from their village.
"You're leaving?" William asked while they were walking, their hands filled with wood the two collected from the nearby forest.
Merlin didn't really want to leave his hometown, but he felt he needed to. "Schools already out, and I plan on travelling around to find a good job. It can't be that hard since there are quite a lot of work that can be done-"
"So, you are leaving…"
After moments of silence, he hummed in agreement.
Mere days later Merlin did as he planned, having already gotten approval from his mother, his things packed into a suitcase, essentials in his backpack, he was ready to go and find a good job.
One job after another, he did not lose hope at finding a job, knowing that even if it was a contract job, he was getting experience from it.
He learned how to differ the types of clients. Some were lying through their teeth, and he knew it to be true. Other times, the client didn't care about the environment, littering here and there, ignoring his advice in not doing so. There were even a few which had threatened to fire him for opening his mouth and speaking his mind.
But he did not give up. He went from city to city, searching for a job that would pay well, often watching and learning how fighting is done in order to know how to defend himself if need be, sometimes going from videos on mixed martial arts to wrestling to fencing, watching with interest.
Although he did watch them with interest, he wasn't actually interested in participating or doing those actions. He just enjoyed watching the fights and matches.
While travelling from cities, he saw how boxing was the most popular fighting sport, watching videos of the most famous matches, either predicting who will win, or get surprised at the results. In most of them, a player did not leave unscathed, always having a bruise or a scratch, and, on rare occasion, one of the players were critically injured. Some injuries that were severe ended up being from dirty tricks, weapon use, or not stopping even when the match already ended.
Merlin was certain he wouldn't want anyone to ever be on the receiving end of those punches thrown by a winning opponent, liking many videos, saving lots for later so he could watch them in his free time.
If only he'd known how this search was going to end…He would've preferred staying with one of these not-so-good people than having to be a witness of events much worse than any video he had chosen to watch. Sadly, in the future, if he ever thinks of wanting to go back in time, it will only be a wish.
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