He strikes the prince's sword from his hand with one motion, knocks him to the ground with the other.
Hal's blade clatters to the hard ground, and Hal himself stares up at him, wide-eyed and lost.
Harry can taste it. He adjusts his grip on the hilt of his sword, circles the downed prince, allows himself a laugh, a knowing shake of the head. All these months, forging this one moment--
He lifts his sword. His arms begin the plunge.
The prince is quick. When he rolls to his side and surges upward, both Harrys seem surprised that he's done it.
Yet one finds his feet, the dagger in his hand bloody, and the other staggers back a pace, and falls.
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--taste it, he almost has him, so nearly--
He strikes the prince's sword from his hand with one motion, knocks him to the ground with the other.
Hal's blade clatters to the hard ground, and Hal himself stares up at him, wide-eyed and lost.
Harry can taste it. He adjusts his grip on the hilt of his sword, circles the downed prince, allows himself a laugh, a knowing shake of the head. All these months, forging this one moment--
He lifts his sword. His arms begin the plunge.
The prince is quick. When he rolls to his side and surges upward, both Harrys seem surprised that he's done it.
Yet one finds his feet, the dagger in his hand bloody, and the other staggers back a pace, and falls.