Drabble Number: 2
Prompt: Dastan can never mimic them enough.
Word Count: 471
Warnings: Angst and a sad young Dastan.
Summary: Dastan will always try to mimic them, but he can never quite get it right.
Dastan tries to do everything like them.
They eat their food with several different forks, but he can never remember if he is supposed to start from the outside and work his way in, or start at the inside and work his way out.
He gets yelled at whenever he does it wrong, but he can never remember when he does it right.
(Garsiv is usually the one yelling.)
They ride their horses proud and tall, and are able to swing up at a moment's notice, but he needs a boost and he falls off anyway.
He gets laughed at for hitting the ground, but he never can get the balance to stay upright.
(Garsiv is usually the one laughing. Tus just stands.)
They read their scrolls in silence in the library, but he can never remember which letter is which, and so often has to ask his new older brothers what it says.
He gets sighed at when he quietly pokes a shoulder, but he can never remember the difference between v's and u's.
(Tus is actually the one who sighs. Garsiv just scowls in the background.)
They fight with swords, swinging them around with ease and agility, but he cannot lift the heavier blades, and he wonders why he cannot use the lighter daggers.
He gets reprimanded for asking such stupid questions, but he can never tell which questions are stupid and which are not.
(Garsiv and Tus are both reprimanding him, standing over him together so they are doubly intimidating.)
They do everything right, speaking and moving and bowing and following instructions, but he can never forget what it was like when he was free and happy and not here.
He does not get yelled at or laughed at or sighed at or reprimanded because he tells no one of these wished, because he can never tell who will listen and who will mock.
These are the reasons Dastan attempts to mimic his brothers; because they do not have silly dreams of being a street urchin, climbing walls like a dumb monkey and smelling of filth all day. They have dreams of leading armies and fighting strong men and ruling Persia, and they say he should have dreams like theirs and not like his, because being a Prince is better than anything.
Better than getting yelled at because he did something 'cool'.
Better than getting laughed at because he was funny.
Better than getting sighed at because his mother does not wish to scold him.
Better than getting reprimanded because the street vendor does not want to see him stealing.
Better than having dreams that are simple and good enough for a street rat like him.
He is a Prince now, and he should act accordingly.
But at least his acting is getting better...