sirmordred-thedruid:

iamthefirechild:

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.”  

Summer smothers a giggle. “No, I did not, and now you shall have to, for waking her curiosity.”

Indeed, Winter’s expression is of avid curiosity. “She sang your praises til I was like to be deafened by it. Indeed, if my sister is to be believed, you should have a halo of light and be more noble than Sir Lancelot.”

       ”Some things are best left unsaid,” he tells her simply, leaning against the wall. Mordred smiles, shaking his head, “no, Lancelot was our finest, I am only sorry that I never got the chance to meet him.”

“No, you shan’t be let off so easily as that!” Winter pushes herself upright, though a hand goes to her stomach as she does so. “If I must lie here ill and heartsore and be fussed over, then I will have my will by way of tales, and I sense a tale here. So tell, Medraut, lest I unleash my wrath.”

By the end of this speech, Summer is hiding her face in a pillow, shoulders shaking with laughter.

“And then you may confess what concerns brought you in here in the first place,” Winter finishes, loftily.

sirmordred-thedruid:

iamthefirechild:

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.”  

Winter smiles, somehow edged. “Let me guess, our darling braud has been at you. Summer,” she laid her dark head on the empath’s shoulder, “has been at pains to tell me of you, Medraut.” Her voice is lighter than her twin’s, somehow less sweet for it, and more strongly accented.

Summer glances away, turning her head to kiss her sister’s hair. “Nothing she would not have guessed in a moment,” she assures Mordred.

       The knight’s cheeks flush crimson and he glances away, looking back up when he is certain the colour has faded from his face. “I’m unsure of whether to take that as a good thing or a bad thing,” he tells Winter truthfully. “How bad was what she told you?” he asks. “You didn’t tell her about the horse thing?” 

Summer smothers a giggle. “No, I did not, and now you shall have to, for waking her curiosity.”

Indeed, Winter’s expression is of avid curiosity. “She sang your praises til I was like to be deafened by it. Indeed, if my sister is to be believed, you should have a halo of light and be more noble than Sir Lancelot.”

sirmordred-thedruid:

iamthefirechild:

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.”  

This whole time Summer has been with her twin, wholly focussed on her. When Mordred comes in, they are together on a little couch, their heads bent together, dark and light. Summer’s hand lays on Winter’s stomach. Two pairs of green eyes, exactly identical though no other feature is shared between then, dart up to look at the knight.

“Mordred.” Summer beckons him closer. “This is my sister, Winter. Winter, Sir Mordred kindly escorted me from Camelot.” She reaches out to take his hand. “What is it?”

        The young knight smiles, bowing slightly. “It’s a pleasure my lady,” he tells her with a smile. “It can wait,” he tells her, although he is not sure if he can. The knight swallows, glancing over at Summer, everything Edward had told him formulating around in his head. What could he offer them that would appease them? All he had was his heart and Camelot. That was it, and to them he knew it was worthless.

Winter smiles, somehow edged. “Let me guess, our darling braud has been at you. Summer,” she laid her dark head on the empath’s shoulder, “has been at pains to tell me of you, Medraut.” Her voice is lighter than her twin’s, somehow less sweet for it, and more strongly accented.

Summer glances away, turning her head to kiss her sister’s hair. “Nothing she would not have guessed in a moment,” she assures Mordred.

sirmordred-thedruid:

iamthefirechild:

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.”  

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.

       For a while, Mordred watches as Edward walks off, taking his steps down the way he came before disappearing from sight. A wave of anger washes over him. He couldn’t allow her to stay there, he wouldn’t let her. When the young knight believes it to be safe he leaves to find Summer. “Summer?” he questions, edging into a room he had seen her disappear into. “My lady, we need to talk.”

This whole time Summer has been with her twin, wholly focussed on her. When Mordred comes in, they are together on a little couch, their heads bent together, dark and light. Summer’s hand lays on Winter’s stomach. Two pairs of green eyes, exactly identical though no other feature is shared between then, dart up to look at the knight.

“Mordred.” Summer beckons him closer. “This is my sister, Winter. Winter, Sir Mordred kindly escorted me from Camelot.” She reaches out to take his hand. “What is it?”

sirmordred-thedruid:

iamthefirechild:

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.”  

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.

sirmordred-thedruid:

iamthefirechild:

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.”  

“Where that business concerns my sister, surely!” Edward replies angrily. “It’s easy to see why you are a knight of Camelot and not some other place, you dodge questions like a fae. For the last time, lest I beat it out of you: what have you to do with my sister?”

        The druid scoffed slightly. He couldn’t believe the nerve of this man. Indeed the fae were excellent at dodging questions but there were reasons they would do as such, the same with Mordred. He exhaled, closing his eyes for a brief moment, wondering whether or not he should tell him. “Because I love her.”

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.”

sirmordred-thedruid:

iamthefirechild:

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.”  

“Sweet?” Edward’s brows fly upward. “Are we speaking of the same lady? My sister is in no wise sweet. Rather say quicktongued, even cruel at times, distant, and enamored of unwomanly pursuits. I ask you again, what has a knight of Camelot to do with my sister’s happiness? It is not her place to be /happy/.”

        A small smirk danced around the man’s lips but he dared not allow it to show. “Oh really?” he asks, cocking a brow, “you clearly then do not know your own sister.” Mordred turns his full attention to him. “Is it any of your business to be in my business?”

“Where that business concerns my sister, surely!” Edward replies angrily. “It’s easy to see why you are a knight of Camelot and not some other place, you dodge questions like a fae. For the last time, lest I beat it out of you: what have you to do with my sister?”

sirmordred-thedruid:

iamthefirechild:

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.”  

“Yet magic is still forbidden, on pain of death. She would go, and would not hear of danger, but now Summer is returned I do not think she will go to Camelot again. The danger is too great now for her.” Edward’s words are almost idle, a mere commentary on fact. “She must stay here in Dobria and be wed to advantage. Father has allowed her — you will have seen how unwomanly headstrong she is — father allows her far too much leeway, for my lady mother’s sake.”

        Mordred turned towards him, a slight look of disbelief on his face at Edward’s words. “Summer is perfectly happy where she is, she won’t be happy with some man you’ve forced her to marry,” he tells him, his hand still on the brick of the wall. “She is too sweet a girl to be married off for an advantage.”

“Sweet?” Edward’s brows fly upward. “Are we speaking of the same lady? My sister is in no wise sweet. Rather say quicktongued, even cruel at times, distant, and enamored of unwomanly pursuits. I ask you again, what has a knight of Camelot to do with my sister’s happiness? It is not her place to be /happy/.”