xregicide-deactivated20140812:
Mordred stopped, placing his vambrace down on the bench, his heart sinking. For a moment he concentrates completely on his armour, how could he answer such a question? Telling her would mean her life and the lives of those whom called Camelot home. An impossible predicament.
The young knight turns to face her, his fingers brushing lightly against the metal of his armour. “I’m not hiding anything” he tells her simply.
“She wants me to help her,” she says. “I don’t — what she wants, it’s a good thing, but there’s something terrible inside her, Mordred. This isn’t the right way.”
Mordred turns on her heel to face her, placing his hand on the table, dragging his worn and cut fingers against the wood. “It’s the only way,” he tells her, “Arthur, just like his father is consumed by fear and it is evident that he may not change.”
“Camelot isn’t the only place in the land.” Summer shakes her head. “You’ve come too far to turn back, haven’t you? I won’t fight for her.”
She doesn’t tell him the cost of her choice, just circles the table to stand in front of him. “Can we forget about all this for just one moment?”