“Wake up,” Summer murmurs in Mordred’s ear. She kisses his cheek. “I’ve brought you breakfast, fy nhariad.”

sirmordred-thedruid:

iamthefirechild:

xregicide-deactivated20140812:

      Mordred grunts, his eyes fluttering open after a few seconds and he smiles. “Good morning” he mutters, moving into a sitting position “you didn’t have to.”  

“I know you didn’t say that.” Summer’s frustrated. She’d thought maybe if she didn’t think about it, distracted herself taking care of Mordred — and that wasn’t working. “Something isn’t right, and I don’t know what it is.”

        “Then we should indeed go.”

She pushes her hair out of her face, chewing on her lip. “I think — I think it’s my twin,” she says, quietly. “I think maybe I shouldn’t wait very long. I’m sorry. She lapses into the language of her homeland. “Rwy’n flin, mae hyn yn mynd i fod ofnadwy.”