sirmordred-thedruid:

iamthefirechild:

xregicide-deactivated20140812:

      Mordred stopped, placing his vambrace down on the bench, his heart sinking. For a moment he concentrates completely on his armour, how could he answer such a question? Telling her would mean her life and the lives of those whom called Camelot home. An impossible predicament.   

     The young knight turns to face her, his fingers brushing lightly against the metal of his armour. “I’m not hiding anything” he tells her simply.

“How do you expect me to leave? She’s not going to let me go, Mordred. Not now.” Summer closes her eyes. “Even if she did, where would I go, caught between two armies? I can’t save you, and I can’t stop you, but I can stop her using me against you.”

       ”I can tell you right now that she has far greater things on her mind than allowing one person to leave, she doesn’t have to know, I can get you out without anyone knowing.” Mordred takes a breath, steadying himself. “I’m not asking you to save me, I’m not asking anyone to save me, I don’t need to be saved.”

“There’s nowhere left for me to go.” She turns away. “She doesn’t trust you, Mordred, and she is going to use me against you. I can stop that happening, but not if I leave.”

sirmordred-thedruid:

iamthefirechild:

xregicide-deactivated20140812:

      Mordred stopped, placing his vambrace down on the bench, his heart sinking. For a moment he concentrates completely on his armour, how could he answer such a question? Telling her would mean her life and the lives of those whom called Camelot home. An impossible predicament.   

     The young knight turns to face her, his fingers brushing lightly against the metal of his armour. “I’m not hiding anything” he tells her simply.

“She’s not going to let me do that,” Summer replies, quietly. She turns back, to look at him. “And I won’t leave your side again. She has you, the collar about my throat, and she will use us each against the other.” Stepping back to face him, she reaches up to stroke his cheek.

       Mordred shook his head. “No, I will not hear of it,” he tells her. “You being by my side in this situation is near next to impossible, Summer. It’s not that I don’t want you; it’s that here is far too dangerous for you, especially with Morgana.”

“How do you expect me to leave? She’s not going to let me go, Mordred. Not now.” Summer closes her eyes. “Even if she did, where would I go, caught between two armies? I can’t save you, and I can’t stop you, but I can stop her using me against you.”

sirmordred-thedruid:

iamthefirechild:

xregicide-deactivated20140812:

      Mordred stopped, placing his vambrace down on the bench, his heart sinking. For a moment he concentrates completely on his armour, how could he answer such a question? Telling her would mean her life and the lives of those whom called Camelot home. An impossible predicament.   

     The young knight turns to face her, his fingers brushing lightly against the metal of his armour. “I’m not hiding anything” he tells her simply.

She stops, head hanging. The guards must have left when Mordred returned, because nobody seems to be around. “What would you have me do? I can’t — I won’t help her, and I won’t ask you to change.”

      “Then leave, go back to Arthur, go back home, somewhere where you will be safe,” he pleads, “this place is no place for you.”

“She’s not going to let me do that,” Summer replies, quietly. She turns back, to look at him. “And I won’t leave your side again. She has you, the collar about my throat, and she will use us each against the other.” Stepping back to face him, she reaches up to stroke his cheek.

sirmordred-thedruid:

iamthefirechild:

xregicide-deactivated20140812:

      Mordred stopped, placing his vambrace down on the bench, his heart sinking. For a moment he concentrates completely on his armour, how could he answer such a question? Telling her would mean her life and the lives of those whom called Camelot home. An impossible predicament.   

     The young knight turns to face her, his fingers brushing lightly against the metal of his armour. “I’m not hiding anything” he tells her simply.

One hand rests lightly on his chest. Summer searches his face. “I won’t try to stop you. I;m going to go tell Morgana what I’ve chosen.” She swallows, hard. “Just remember that I loved you. Goodbye, Medraut.”

She wants to kiss him, but she’ll lose her courage if she does that. So instead she steps back, and slips out of the tent.

        A frown pulls his brows together and he turns as she walks from the tent. “Summer!” he calls, following her out of the tent, going to grab her hand but his fingers just miss the skin. “Don’t.”

She stops, head hanging. The guards must have left when Mordred returned, because nobody seems to be around. “What would you have me do? I can’t — I won’t help her, and I won’t ask you to change.”

sirmordred-thedruid:

iamthefirechild:

xregicide-deactivated20140812:

      Mordred stopped, placing his vambrace down on the bench, his heart sinking. For a moment he concentrates completely on his armour, how could he answer such a question? Telling her would mean her life and the lives of those whom called Camelot home. An impossible predicament.   

     The young knight turns to face her, his fingers brushing lightly against the metal of his armour. “I’m not hiding anything” he tells her simply.

“Camelot isn’t the only place in the land.” Summer shakes her head. “You’ve come too far to turn back, haven’t you? I won’t fight for her.”

She doesn’t tell him the cost of her choice, just circles the table to stand in front of him. “Can we forget about all this for just one moment?”

        “Indeed it is not, but Arthur united the five kingdoms, what he says goes. We will not be free until this land is purified of the pendragon reign—” he cuts himself off, realizing she would never understand. “How can I when it’s right outside my door?”

One hand rests lightly on his chest. Summer searches his face. “I won’t try to stop you. I;m going to go tell Morgana what I’ve chosen.” She swallows, hard. “Just remember that I loved you. Goodbye, Medraut.”

She wants to kiss him, but she’ll lose her courage if she does that. So instead she steps back, and slips out of the tent.

sirmordred-thedruid:

iamthefirechild:

xregicide-deactivated20140812:

      Mordred stopped, placing his vambrace down on the bench, his heart sinking. For a moment he concentrates completely on his armour, how could he answer such a question? Telling her would mean her life and the lives of those whom called Camelot home. An impossible predicament.   

     The young knight turns to face her, his fingers brushing lightly against the metal of his armour. “I’m not hiding anything” he tells her simply.

“She wants me to help her,” she says. “I don’t — what she wants, it’s a good thing, but there’s something terrible inside her, Mordred. This isn’t the right way.”

       Mordred turns on her heel to face her, placing his hand on the table, dragging his worn and cut fingers against the wood. “It’s the only way,” he tells her, “Arthur, just like his father is consumed by fear and it is evident that he may not change.”

“Camelot isn’t the only place in the land.” Summer shakes her head. “You’ve come too far to turn back, haven’t you? I won’t fight for her.”

She doesn’t tell him the cost of her choice, just circles the table to stand in front of him. “Can we forget about all this for just one moment?”

sirmordred-thedruid:

iamthefirechild:

xregicide-deactivated20140812:

      Mordred stopped, placing his vambrace down on the bench, his heart sinking. For a moment he concentrates completely on his armour, how could he answer such a question? Telling her would mean her life and the lives of those whom called Camelot home. An impossible predicament.   

     The young knight turns to face her, his fingers brushing lightly against the metal of his armour. “I’m not hiding anything” he tells her simply.

She had slept a little, propped against the pole. For a while, every time there was a sound she jumped, but eventually exhaustion overwhelmed her. Now she forces her eyes open, tossing her head to get the hair out of her eyes.

“She left me here.” Summer’s voice is a little rough, still struggling out of sleep. “I think it’s her idea of a joke. Or just encouraging me to think about my choice.”

         Swiftly, Mordred placed the tray and the pitcher down on the table, walking forward until he stopped before her. After a moment he lifted his hand over the lock. “Abanne átí,” he whispers, his eyes flashing gold as the lock fell undone. “There, eat,” he orders, moving away as he undid the clasp to his cloak, placing it over the chair.

She takes a minute to work the kinks out of her shoulders, rubbing at her wrists. She’s not sure how to react to Mordred right now, dark and stern, and puts the table between them. She does eat, though, neatly picking her way through the food. After a few minutes, Summer puts down the bone, turning shadowed eyes on Mordred.

“She wants me to help her,” she says. “I don’t — what she wants, it’s a good thing, but there’s something terrible inside her, Mordred. This isn’t the right way.”

sirmordred-thedruid:

iamthefirechild:

xregicide-deactivated20140812:

      Mordred stopped, placing his vambrace down on the bench, his heart sinking. For a moment he concentrates completely on his armour, how could he answer such a question? Telling her would mean her life and the lives of those whom called Camelot home. An impossible predicament.   

     The young knight turns to face her, his fingers brushing lightly against the metal of his armour. “I’m not hiding anything” he tells her simply.

“Like recognises like,” Summer says. It’s a statement not entirely about magic, as much about the seething shadows within the other woman as anything else. 

Morgana smiles again. “Then you should be helping me.”

“I can’t. Not the way you want.”

“You are on Arthur’s side.”

But Summer shakes her head. “This isn’t my war.”

“It is now,” Morgana purrs. “With you, I control Mordred. With him, I control you. And that is without that little prophecy he told me concerning you.”

“If it’s that simple I’ll kill myself now.”

Slowly, Morgana shakes her head. “You won’t. You love him too much to do that.”

For that, Summer has no answer.

The high priestess sits back in her chair, fingertips tapping together. “Fight by my side, and I’ll ensure you both live, as befits my proudest warrior and his witch. Refuse … ” She doesn’t finish the sentence, but she doesn’t have to. “You have until tomorrow to decide.”

Summoning guards again, Morgana directs them to take Summer to Mordred’s tent and shackle her to the center pole. She gives the key to one of the guards, bidding him give it to Mordred when the ex-knight returns.

        When they had returned the sun was beginning to rise, casting a soft glow over the horizon and filtering through the leaves of the trees. The numerous fires has been reduced to nothing but ashes, yet still, men sat around them, why, the young druid would never understood.

       He had found Morgana, her head resting on the oak table, her hand curled around a vial and for a moment, Mordred cast his gaze around the tent, a mix of both fear and perplexity striking him as he found Summer’s presence vacant. “Where is she?” Mordred asks, and the priestess lifts her head up, the faintest hint of a smirk tracing her lips, her emotionless blue eyes sparkling. “Waiting for you,” she tells him simply and he purses his lips.
    “The information your spy gave us was of very little use, things we already knew, she has done well though. But it is not surprising, Gwaine so easily falls for the charms of a woman.”

      Mordred left her a few minutes later, fetching a pitcher of water and a plate of food. The food, however was not for him, his appetite waning as of late finding little comfort or joy in the task. When he entered his tent he’d almost dropped the food, “Summer, what the-“

She had slept a little, propped against the pole. For a while, every time there was a sound she jumped, but eventually exhaustion overwhelmed her. Now she forces her eyes open, tossing her head to get the hair out of her eyes.

“She left me here.” Summer’s voice is a little rough, still struggling out of sleep. “I think it’s her idea of a joke. Or just encouraging me to think about my choice.”

sirmordred-thedruid:

iamthefirechild:

xregicide-deactivated20140812:

      Mordred stopped, placing his vambrace down on the bench, his heart sinking. For a moment he concentrates completely on his armour, how could he answer such a question? Telling her would mean her life and the lives of those whom called Camelot home. An impossible predicament.   

     The young knight turns to face her, his fingers brushing lightly against the metal of his armour. “I’m not hiding anything” he tells her simply.

Summer shudders at the venom hidden in those words. Something is deeply, hideously /wrong/ in Morgana, something that twists at her gut if she looks into it too long. A contagious, corroding madness.

Mordred leaves, and Morgana lifts a finger, dismissing the guards as well. Summer doesn’t move when the two of them are alone, trying to both watch Morgana and not fall into that seething well of madness in her eyes. It’s like watching a deadly snake, waiting for it to bite.

“So,” the high priestess purrs, smiling. It’s meant to be friendly, but to someone like Summer, who can see beneath the surface, it’s grotesque, a mockery. “Magic. And yet you came from Arthur’s camp. You are quite a puzzle.” She takes a seat, studying the redhead. “How is it Mordred knows of it, and Arthur does not?”

      “Come,” Mordred hisses, ordering the guards to trail him as he makes his way out of the camp, torch in hand and sword in the other as they made their way down the valley. Now, the entire mission seemed next to worthless, not while Summer sat back in that tent with Morgana, the gods only knew what was going on. 

For a while they waited until a blonde woman came into view and Mordred lifted the blade of his sword. “You come with news I trust?” The man asks and she nods, pushing the blade from her “indeed.”

“Like recognises like,” Summer says. It’s a statement not entirely about magic, as much about the seething shadows within the other woman as anything else. 

Morgana smiles again. “Then you should be helping me.”

“I can’t. Not the way you want.”

“You are on Arthur’s side.”

But Summer shakes her head. “This isn’t my war.”

“It is now,” Morgana purrs. “With you, I control Mordred. With him, I control you. And that is without that little prophecy he told me concerning you.”

“If it’s that simple I’ll kill myself now.”

Slowly, Morgana shakes her head. “You won’t. You love him too much to do that.”

For that, Summer has no answer.

The high priestess sits back in her chair, fingertips tapping together. “Fight by my side, and I’ll ensure you both live, as befits my proudest warrior and his witch. Refuse … ” She doesn’t finish the sentence, but she doesn’t have to. “You have until tomorrow to decide.”

Summoning guards again, Morgana directs them to take Summer to Mordred’s tent and shackle her to the center pole. She gives the key to one of the guards, bidding him give it to Mordred when the ex-knight returns.