Work Text:
“Your form is wrong.”
Again. He’d listen to Aglovale lecture him over countless things. From battle tactics he wasn't interested in to his behaviour. In the two hours after he was convinced to pick up a sword to practice, he'd just listen to Aglovale tell him off repeatedly. First it was his stance, then his form, then his speed, then who knows what else – Lamorak stopped really listening after a while.
In a fit of rage, he tossed the sword in his hand aside. His brother only looked at him disappointed as the metal clanked against the ground. Lamorak scowled, pushing past Aglovale wordlessly. If he starts shouting, he might go overboard and frankly, he’s not in the mood to argue again.
Sure, his brother meant well but it got so annoying to be corrected for every single thing he said or did. He sped walked through the castle, ignoring the servants who tried to call him. He didn't want to talk right now or see anyone. He either hid somewhere in the castle or run off into the forest again, did it really matter? Either way, it seemed like he’d get scolded no matter what.
He quickly made it to his room, dragging a chair in front of the door. He couldn't lock it and really, the chair was not going to do much. Perhaps it was similar to a placebo effect, it felt like he still had some control. Grabbing one of his favourite books from his collection, he sat down on his bed.
He stared at the red cover before rubbing his eyes aggressively with a groan. He felt tears prick at his eyes, threatening to spill. Why was he even crying? He was mad! His mother would probably tell him to let it all out. Maybe alone in the comfort of his room, he could…just for a bit.
And so he did. Rolling onto his back, long forgetting about the book which laid next to him on the soft mattress. He let the tears flow freely, allowing himself to feel every emotion that would soon make him overwhelmed.
Was he jealous? Maybe. He knows how hard his brother studies but sometimes it feels like Aglovale was just naturally gifted too. He truly did look up to the older boy, he could only hope to be good enough to be considered on equal footing with him. He was amazing, everything Lamorak wasn't. He was smart, strong, brave, selfless, polite – every positive trait you’d expect of someone’s higher status.
It’s not like he had to be exactly like Aglovale. Lamorak was his own person and he had his own dreams to chase which of course he tried his hardest to study to achieve them. Maybe he had let his feelings build up for way too long, every negative thought and feeling he pushed away was coming back to haunt him. If only he could truly just laugh and joke forever when he felt bad without any negative consequences.
Eventually he found himself staring at the ceiling, tears long forgotten, his mind blank and more at ease. He pushed himself up, wiping away the dried tears as he looked down at the book he left aside.
All these emotions have left him a bit thirsty with his mouth uncomfortably dry…
He'll speak to his older brother eventually but first, a drink was in order.