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 pulls herself up as tall as she possibly can, face set.”No. Not until you stop lying to me.” It’s hard to hold on to the anger when what she wants to do is ease the worry away, but she can’t do that if he won’t tell her. “This can’t work if you lie to me!” Changing tack slightly, she adds, coaxing, “Maybe I can help, whatever it is.”
A form of a permanent frown etches itself into his forehead, looking over her for a moment. There was no way he was going to tell her and there was no way he was going to hurt her by trying to move her. “Summer,” he hisses, “this doesn’t concern you,” he tells her, “now move.” The look on his face was one he hadn’t worn in a long time, one of danger and warning, one that caused his eyes to darken and shadows to dance across his face. “Please.”
She flinches back, wholly involuntarily, and for the first time fears him a little. “Please,” she pleads back, in return. “Only tell me, don’t lie to me.” Tears stand in her eyes. “Why do you insist on lying to me?”
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.
“Fine. Then I will find a room that has only one door, and lock us in it, until you tell me what is worrying you.” She stalks across the floor, hands still on hips, to fetch up on the other side of the bench he’s standing at. “I don’t like it when you hide things from me, things that make you upset.” Whatever it is, he feels very strongly about it, and she wonders if maybe she would do better to try to take his mind off it, instead of prying it out of him.
”It has got nothing to do with you,” he tells her.
A lie, pure and simple.
It had everything to do with her.
Mordred walked forward, stopping a few feet from the door to the armoury. He needed to get out, he couldn’t breathe, it felt like someone was suffocating him. “May I get through?”
She pulls herself up as tall as she possibly can, face set.”No. Not until you stop lying to me.” It’s hard to hold on to the anger when what she wants to do is ease the worry away, but she can’t do that if he won’t tell her. “This can’t work if you lie to me!” Changing tack slightly, she adds, coaxing, “Maybe I can help, whatever it is.”
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 many times must I remind you? You /cannot/ lie to me, I will always know.” She fists her hands against her hips. Eyes flashing, she announces, “We’re not leaving this room until you tell me.”
He cocked a brow, chewing the inside of his cheek as he watched her. “You’re sorely mistaken if you believe that there is only one way out of this room, Summer.” Almost instantaneously he had decided that the best way to tell her was to not tell her, to make her hate him so that she would leave and they wouldn’t harm her. For her to hate him would tear him apart, but he would rather have her hate him than give her up willingly and watch her die, or keep her in danger.
“Fine. Then I will find a room that has only one door, and lock us in it, until you tell me what is worrying you.” She stalks across the floor, hands still on hips, to fetch up on the other side of the bench he’s standing at. “I don’t like it when you hide things from me, things that make you upset.” Whatever it is, he feels very strongly about it, and she wonders if maybe she would do better to try to take his mind off it, instead of prying it out of him.
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 many times must I remind you? You /cannot/ lie to me, I will always know.” She fists her hands against her hips. Eyes flashing, she announces, “We’re not leaving this room until you tell me.”
