The small clearing was quiet in the pre-battle stillness. Ridon gently brushed his pony in the quiet, making deliberate strokes of the brush. He would not be riding into battle on Primrose, storming the castle to take it back. He would be among those in the back, providing for the soldiers and making sure they went into battle prepared. On one hand, he preferred this. He could stay behind and help those in need. On the other...
Ridon detangled a knot in Primrose's mane.
He'd offered himself for sacrifice, that death was the best sacrifice for hope. Yet, he'd never expected to be chosen, to be elevated to that status. He was just a young boy; how could the fate of the world rest on his shoulders? They did, however, and he felt himself tremble in terror. His fingers tightened in Primrose's mane, and the pony nuzzled his side as he shed a river's worth of tears.
It was one thing to know you'd die one day and accept that. It was another to know you were going to die.
He shook, sobbing into his pony's neck. He was going to die. He'd offered himself to die. He'd offered his life so others could life. Ridon was giving up everything for hope. What if it failed? What if they failed? What if the Great Knights turned on each other, again, and all was lost? Would his sacrifice be worth it then? Or would he have thrown his whole life away for absolutely nothing?
So many questions, so little answers. Prim would say.... He realized with grim sadness, that he didn't know what Prim would say. He didn't remember what she'd say, or what she was like. Ridon had one stray memory of her, one fleeting reminder he'd had a life before all of this. A life he'd given up for this. To be here. Lancelot had said they'd known it would come to this. He wondered how much of that was true, and how much of that was trying to lessen the blow. It hurt.... it hurt so much that they'd known, and decided to keep it quiet.
Ridon was fifteen summers old, and he was to die.
He pulled the bridle off Primrose and nuzzled her face. She was a hardy pony, a steadfast steed. She looked at him with sad eyes as he told her how much he cared, and how he thanked her for being his pony. He patted her on the rump, and bid her farewell into the rest of the forest.
Ridon was fifteen summers old, and he was to die in the name of hope and saving Camelot.
[ Inevitability Solo; WC: 449 ]
OOC
My character's name: Ridon
Character's journal link: [ x ]
BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER Ridon is a small boy, with pale skin and fine blonde hair. Light blue eyes sit in a sort of hollow face, and his cloths seem too big for his body.
Rank of character Knight
HERE YOU SHOULD QUOTE ANYONE YOU ARE TALKING TO
QUOTE MORE PEOPLE IF YOU ARE TALKING OT THEM
