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.”
“But he’s the king! Who could possibly forbid him from anyone he likes?”
”His father could, did, once long ago.”
“Ah.” Fathers. Of course. Somehow it is hard to think of the commanding, golden King of Camelot as a son with obedience to his father. Then there was no time left to think, or fret, for they were at Arthur’s chamber door, and she pulls her hand from Mordred’s to press it over her galloping heart.