turpisvirtute:

iamthefirechild:

“You can’t have it both ways,” Summer says sweetly. She refuses to back down from him, staring up with narrowed green eyes. “Either you will prevent me from following you, or once you escape — /if/ you escape — my actions no longer matter.” She laughs, sharp and harsh, and runs a finger along the curve of his jaw.

“You can’t stop me, pretty prince. You can’t even find a way out. You’re useless. No hope.” She backs up a step, and another, before turning her back on him and returning to the surface.

      Mordred’s hand captures her wrist, squeezing until, if he wanted to, he could easily have snapped the bone. “I can have it anyway I please,” he hisses, “I will leave, gather an army, kill Arthur and take my place as rightful king, you will stay here and rot for all I care.”

     He eventually lets go of her wrist, throwing it back at her before she walked away. For a moment, he stayed, scowling up at her before he turned on his heel, storming towards his chambers.

Outside, the wind cutting across her face, Summer cradles her wrist, fingertips dancing along the lines of pain. For that, he would pay. Slowly. But she could hold her revenge.

Hold it until she found the way out. Just the day before, she had come across a book in the crumbling library that hinted at a way. Her mind whirls with plans. Pushing off the wall, she snaps the pain of her crushed wrist into whomever is standing nearby, eliciting a shriek of agony, and stalks toward the library.

turpisvirtute:

iamthefirechild:

She pauses on the next-to-last step, leaving her eyes on a level with his. “How do you plan to make that happen? Once you leave here, you can no longer hope to have any effect on my actions.” The death of the child surges through her blood, bringing heat to her skin. “I will follow you,” she breathes. “However you escape, I will follow you. No cat gives up its prey.”

      A vindictive laugh passed his lips and he tossed his head back, his eyes sparkling in amusement. “How cute, you think you’re a cat,” he says, his tone mocking as he steps up onto the bottom step, looming over her. “You will keep your nose out of my affairs, I do not care what you do once I am gone, you are not my concern, Arthur is my concern.”

“You can’t have it both ways,” Summer says sweetly. She refuses to back down from him, staring up with narrowed green eyes. “Either you will prevent me from following you, or once you escape — /if/ you escape — my actions no longer matter.” She laughs, sharp and harsh, and runs a finger along the curve of his jaw.

“You can’t stop me, pretty prince. You can’t even find a way out. You’re useless. No hope.” She backs up a step, and another, before turning her back on him and returning to the surface.

sirmordred-thedruid:

iamthefirechild:

He’s someone to watch, that prince, with his burning hatred and pale, intense eyes. Perhaps she should have stayed near the castle before, and learned about him sooner, but when the madness takes her fully, she doesn’t know where her feet take her. Only away. But she’s here now, so she resolves to keep a closer eye, and bids one of the children follow the dark prince.

If he does find a way out, she wants to know.

      Mordred’s slender fingers curled around the bars, his blue hues landing on the woman who sat curled in on herself. “Mother —” he called, his tone mixed with spite and disgust for the woman who resided in the cell. The word rolled off his tongue, leaving a foul taste in his mouth. He hated her, with every fiber in his being, every part of him. He loathed her. She was the reason he was here, the reason he had spent so much of his time locked away in purgatory. 

     Morgaine lifted her head, studying him for a moment. “I knew you would come,” she tells him, her voice hoarse and in turn, the boy raises a brow. “You claim you knew a lot of things,” he mutters, letting go of the bar. “This however, is not a social visit,” he tells her, his tone cold as he begins to pace. “Have you found a way out?” To this, Morgaine shakes her head and her son’s face stills, rage filling it. “Gods be damned!” He shouts, “you got us in here – it’s been how long and you haven’t figured out a way out?” He yells, “you’re a high priestess and you can’t even get past a veil?”

The child, spying from a shadowed corner, twitches back further into the darkness at the prince’s raised voice. But it listens hard, paying attention to every word, to the smallest nuances — after all, it’s already seen what will happen if the mistress isn’t pleased.

The children’s nightmares are full of fire.

So it creeps out just a little, listening as hard as ever it can, and waits to follow the dark prince back out to the surface.

sirmordred-thedruid:

iamthefirechild:

“Oh, did I keep you waiting?” Her tone was poisonously sweet, the smile a slash of red lips across pale skin. She could hardly remember a time before she was trapped in Avalon, before being tricked through the veil into a place so completely antithetical to her being it was painful. She had adapted, been forced to adapt — broken, some would say.

Her madness was like a raging thunderstorm.

With a purposeful stride, Summer stepped over to Mordred and lifted the goblet out of his hands, sipping from the same place. “I’m so sorry to keep you waiting.” If sarcasm could cut, his face would be bleeding.

      Mordred turned his attention back to the goblet, the red liquid, yet again, taking his fancy over the woman that walked into the room but her presence became a problem when she removed the goblet from his grasp. “I do not care where you have been,” he tells her, snatching the goblet back, “and nor do I care what you are doing. You kept them waiting, not me.”

      The man pushes himself up from the table, walking towards the window, his attention cast down to the land below, watching the way the moon reflected on the bodies of the dead. “It is their minds that need your amusement, not me.”

“If it’s amusing they want, I’ll build them a nightmare,” she hissed. “Is that what you want, Mordred? A nightmare to distract you from the nightmare that is Avalon? Or do you still believe you will escape somehow?”

sirmordred-thedruid:

      Beyond the veil there was nothing but night, the moon taking precedence in the sky over everything else. There was no warmth to be found amongst everything else, it was a land as desolate as the people in it, swallowing any sun that fell through the veil, twisting it to Avalon’s will. It was not the beautiful place of legends, for Mordred, it was a prison, the place that slow sucked away his soul, leaving him nothing but an empty vessel.

Avalon was dark, cruel, and evil.

                                                              Just like him.

         There had been a time, once long ago, or perhaps it had been only yesterday, there was no sense of time beyond the veil, no sense of anything, that he had been filled with love, and perhaps would have cared for what he saw from the people here, but now he did not. It was a fickle thing. 
        Mordred sat there, swirling the wine around in his goblet, half listening to the mindless chatter of those who joined him. He cared not for them just as much as they cared not for him, just as willing to plunge his dagger into their back as they were to his. At the sound of the door opening the man snapped his attention upwards, raising the goblet his lips, the red staining the skin.

                                                                           ”It’s nice of you to join us —”

“Oh, did I keep you waiting?” Her tone was poisonously sweet, the smile a slash of red lips across pale skin. She could hardly remember a time before she was trapped in Avalon, before being tricked through the veil into a place so completely antithetical to her being it was painful. She had adapted, been forced to adapt — broken, some would say.

Her madness was like a raging thunderstorm.

With a purposeful stride, Summer stepped over to Mordred and lifted the goblet out of his hands, sipping from the same place. “I’m so sorry to keep you waiting.” If sarcasm could cut, his face would be bleeding.