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.”
“There’s no surprise there. Edward has always pushed for that.” Summer glances at Winter, then away. “He’s always been angry at me for that I’m not more like Winter that way.”
“And I give him the edge of my tongue when he so does,” Winter reassures her twin. “But why would he say so now? Can he not see — no, of course,” she cuts herself off, “our braud has ever accounted love to be the least worthy of all emotions. Only by sheerest luck am I let to love my lord Mihangel.” Winter’s face turns stormy.
“Well,” Summer says. “I did warn you, Mordred. I don’t understand why it concerns you so. It’s not as though there’s anyone who will have my hand in marriage anyway, so it doesn’t matter what Edward wants.”
The man’s brow furrowed together again, not understanding why she didn’t understand. He had told her why it concerned him so, but had she forgotten already? ‘I would,’ he thinks to himself, intertwining his fingers together. “You did warn me, but since when have I ever listened to you?”
“Oh, never. Neither you nor anyone else, except to cut me down with it later.” The words are bitter. “Did he say anything else, or just that he expects me to marry to advantage?”