It was probably nerves — though hers or his she couldn’t tell — but Summer felt like her laces were much too tight. Had Mordred maybe pulled them too tight, or was she just struggling to breathe out of sheer stupid panic? She kept a hand pressed to her chest, and clutched Mordred’s with the other.
At this point, she rather figured there was no point in claiming he was ‘just a knight’ who happened to escort her home. Winter knew, and therefore Mihangel knew, and Edward knew, and her father knew — and anything those four knew was unlikely to be a secret from her mother for long. So she tangled her fingers with his and pretended to be brave and uncaring as they walked into the hall.
Without even a pause, her mother rose from her seat at the high table and came toward them, hands outstretched. “Anwyl! Who is your companion?”
“Mother, this is Sir Mordred, a knight of Camelot — Mordred, this is my mother, the Lady Elisabeth.”
Anxiety ran up through him as he did up the laces to her corset. “Apologies if I hurt you, this is rather — complicated.” When he is done he ties the silk ribbon into a small bow before moving around to her front, “all done?” he questions.
He didn’t know whether he had been more nervous and scared in his entire life; this time, out of all the times he couldn’t remember, would have to take precedence. “It’s a pleasure, my lady,” he says gently, bowing to her.
“You must come sit by me,” Summer’s mother said comfortably, catching Mordred’s arm up with hers. Summer herself was left to trail a little forlornly behind to the empty seats between Winter and Laurence. To the other side of Winter a tall, narrow fellow with a mop of curly blond curls offered Mordred a nod, and rose to help Summer into her seat.
“Diolch, Mihangel,” she said softly, patting his hand. “I’m fine. Truly.” She tried not to look too worried as Elisabeth gestured Mordred into the seat on her other side.
(ooc; seats mihangel – winter – summer – mordred – elisabeth – laurence – edward’s empty place)