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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.”
The other knight eyes him coolly. At last he says, “Is that why you came with her? You want to petition my father for her hand? You would do better to give up this foolish emotion. Do you bring with you an alliance?” Edward folds his arms. “Lands, castles? A great name? Anything at all save your sword and the Pendragon crest?”
He leans forward a bit. “Home she is, and home she’ll stay.”
His question was something he could not answer. Before he had become a knight he had nothing. No family to speak of, nothing. What could he offer her? The earth that was freely theirs? The earth he had been taught as a boy to worship, the earth he still did worship. And there was his problem, he was nobody save for the crest he wore. He was nobody before and he would be nobody when he died. Uther was right, he was nothing but a druid boy.
Edward nods, seeing the realisation cross Mordred’s face. “We’ll see you back on your way to Camelot in the morning, then.” He brushes past Mordred, going back down the steps. Briefly, he considers warning Mordred off from trying to see Summer again, then decides it’s unlikely to be necessary.