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.
“Like recognises like,” Summer says. It’s a statement not entirely about magic, as much about the seething shadows within the other woman as anything else.
Morgana smiles again. “Then you should be helping me.”
“I can’t. Not the way you want.”
“You are on Arthur’s side.”
But Summer shakes her head. “This isn’t my war.”
“It is now,” Morgana purrs. “With you, I control Mordred. With him, I control you. And that is without that little prophecy he told me concerning you.”
“If it’s that simple I’ll kill myself now.”
Slowly, Morgana shakes her head. “You won’t. You love him too much to do that.”
For that, Summer has no answer.
The high priestess sits back in her chair, fingertips tapping together. “Fight by my side, and I’ll ensure you both live, as befits my proudest warrior and his witch. Refuse … ” She doesn’t finish the sentence, but she doesn’t have to. “You have until tomorrow to decide.”
Summoning guards again, Morgana directs them to take Summer to Mordred’s tent and shackle her to the center pole. She gives the key to one of the guards, bidding him give it to Mordred when the ex-knight returns.
When they had returned the sun was beginning to rise, casting a soft glow over the horizon and filtering through the leaves of the trees. The numerous fires has been reduced to nothing but ashes, yet still, men sat around them, why, the young druid would never understood.
He had found Morgana, her head resting on the oak table, her hand curled around a vial and for a moment, Mordred cast his gaze around the tent, a mix of both fear and perplexity striking him as he found Summer’s presence vacant. “Where is she?” Mordred asks, and the priestess lifts her head up, the faintest hint of a smirk tracing her lips, her emotionless blue eyes sparkling. “Waiting for you,” she tells him simply and he purses his lips.
“The information your spy gave us was of very little use, things we already knew, she has done well though. But it is not surprising, Gwaine so easily falls for the charms of a woman.”Mordred left her a few minutes later, fetching a pitcher of water and a plate of food. The food, however was not for him, his appetite waning as of late finding little comfort or joy in the task. When he entered his tent he’d almost dropped the food, “Summer, what the-“
She had slept a little, propped against the pole. For a while, every time there was a sound she jumped, but eventually exhaustion overwhelmed her. Now she forces her eyes open, tossing her head to get the hair out of her eyes.
“She left me here.” Summer’s voice is a little rough, still struggling out of sleep. “I think it’s her idea of a joke. Or just encouraging me to think about my choice.”