1ours is the fury
(family. duty. honor.)
.
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You are the words Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken, of your family's honor and home etched into your bones and sinking in your blood. You are the last one standing, carrying the name, with words that mean strong to others and mean living to you. You are the one with scars on your head and death on your hands, with a less hope and more desperation, and to you those words mean fight; not love or happiness, friendship or light, because maybe once they had meant that to you, when you wished for it, but now it meant life.
(You couldn't imagine a time when you were sure you were going to live.)
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You have the words Death Before Disgrace wrapped around your heart, sitting on your collarbone for all to see, in the ways of silver necklaces or perfect golden rings. Your family has whispered the words into your ears since you were born, words as smooth as wine. You were taught to glide just like them, to talk like them, and no matter what you are one of them. Your hands are as flawless and your lips are the perfect pink, and as you hold a knife to your chest, as your son leaves to try and redeem his and your name, you whisper the words to yourself.
"Death Before Disgrace."
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You are marked with Behold Our Bounty, the words stuck to you like the freckles on your nose. You, with your secondhand clothing, secondhand name, secondhand love; the words clung to you in irony, mocking you. Your life is poor, overlooked, never the first to anything and never going to be much. You live a life of oh him and brother or sibling, a lonely, nameless life of Behold Our Bounty but with no bounty to behold. Your existence is sixth, no seventh son of seventh son, the sixth son and who is that?, and you should have known you'd never amount to much, because why would you?
(Behold Our Bounty, the sound of it made you laugh.)
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Fire and Blood is your pride, your heritage- even though you don't have much of a heritage, you like to think you do. Your nose is always bloody, your jaw nailed with an ugly purple bruise. Half your clothes are ruined with dirt or cuts or singed a sooty black, but you wear them anyways- not like you've got much of a choice. Your dad's long gone and your mum's working three jobs, so it isn't much of a stretch for you to stay late out at night, coming home only at six AM before school to secretly shove some money in your mum's ragged purse. She pretends she doesn't know what you do, and you pretend you don't know what she does, and it's a dirty life filled with Fire and Blood, but funnily enough, it's the only one you've got.
(Sometimes you even forget what your real name was- seeing your name on an envelope your mother didn't bother to explain till then was a nasty shock.)
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Your mouth easily forms the words- Here We Stand. It's not very powerful, or loud, but when you murmur it under your breath before you fight, before you sing or dance, when it gives you both strength and happiness, it has meaning to you. It's not words shoved together, it's not blood or tradition. It's three words that together means so much to you, three words that remind you of your comrades, friends, not-quite-family but good enough anyways for you. It doesn't remind you of anything but standing back up again, of the thought of people at your back.
It wasn't strong, but it was good enough. Here We Stand.
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fin.
in order of appearance: harry, narcissa, ron, seamus, remus.
i don't own hp.
(house words taken from houses strife, valentine, kisaragi, sephiroth, nanaki)
((LOL))