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intheheartTitle: Dreams
Rating: G.
Summary: Sometimes, Lars dreams that he is human.
AU: Fairy Tales
Notes: A little taste of Lars's part of the Fairy Tale AU.
Sometimes, Lars dreams that he is human.
Apart from that, they are not very strange dreams. He is wrapped tight in a woman's arms as she rocks back and forth before a blazing fire. He can see a burly, bearded man on a bench before them, bouncing another child on his knee. Two little girls sit on the rug, their heads bent demurely to play with their dolls. The light shimmers off the man's armor and axe hanging on the wall, and he knows, in his sleepy small way, that soon he must don them and go to war.
But not yet, not now while the snow drifts down outside their snug house, falling down the chimney and hissing in the fire. For now, they are all together.
When he wakes from these dreams, he lifts his head from his paws and moves closer to his mother, whose warm white bulk is always comforting beside him. "Mama," he says, "you would tell me if I was not a bear."
"Of course I would," his mama says, "but that is silly. You're my son, and as I am a bear, so must you be. Now go back to sleep."
"Yes, Mama," he says, obediently, turns around three times like she has taught him, and settles close to her, snuggled into her warm fur, staring up at the cloud-swirled sky of stars while he waits for sleep to come.
He still feels, sometimes, that he's lost something.
Rating: G.
Summary: Sometimes, Lars dreams that he is human.
AU: Fairy Tales
Notes: A little taste of Lars's part of the Fairy Tale AU.
Sometimes, Lars dreams that he is human.
Apart from that, they are not very strange dreams. He is wrapped tight in a woman's arms as she rocks back and forth before a blazing fire. He can see a burly, bearded man on a bench before them, bouncing another child on his knee. Two little girls sit on the rug, their heads bent demurely to play with their dolls. The light shimmers off the man's armor and axe hanging on the wall, and he knows, in his sleepy small way, that soon he must don them and go to war.
But not yet, not now while the snow drifts down outside their snug house, falling down the chimney and hissing in the fire. For now, they are all together.
When he wakes from these dreams, he lifts his head from his paws and moves closer to his mother, whose warm white bulk is always comforting beside him. "Mama," he says, "you would tell me if I was not a bear."
"Of course I would," his mama says, "but that is silly. You're my son, and as I am a bear, so must you be. Now go back to sleep."
"Yes, Mama," he says, obediently, turns around three times like she has taught him, and settles close to her, snuggled into her warm fur, staring up at the cloud-swirled sky of stars while he waits for sleep to come.
He still feels, sometimes, that he's lost something.
