Tag Archives: sirmordredthedruid

It takes a while to track him down; Camelot is not a small place, even just the castle. Finally Summer finds him in the armory, putting away his weapons after practise. “Mordred.” There’s only one door, so she stands in it, trying to look a little intimidating. It’s hard to be angry at him, though; her voice comes out more worried. “Mordred. What are you hiding from me?”

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’s voice cracks as she snaps, “Mordred. There are two armies out there, and I have barely slept. I will not make it a mile, and I will not leave. By this time, the King will know I have gone, and they are not going to take me back in. Please, be sensible.”

        The ex-knight raises a brow in disbelief. “Me? Be sensible?” he scoffs. “I am not the one running head on at my death, Summer,” he hisses. In truth, that was a lie, he knew there was a large chance he could very well end up among the countless faces and names of the fallen. “I have not slept in the last four days, I’m barely functioning and you are certainly not helping my case, please, go, go anywhere but to Morgana — I am begging you.”

“So, my proudest warrior continues to betray me. Is this the honour you promised me, helping my prisoner escape?” Morgana’s voice comes to them before they can see her, and then she steps from around a nearby tent. “I kept her alive at /your/ behest, Mordred.” Morgana flicks a hand, eyes flaring gold, and Summer flies backward, though a flare of fire erupts from her hands as she crashes down.

Summer can’t move for a long moment, and Morgana advances on Mordred. “Do you forget what Arthur did to Kara? And yet so willingly you send your love into his arms, pretending it’s for her safety.” The madwoman produces a knife and strokes his cheek with the flat of it. “The woman stays, Mordred. I thought to give you one last night together, as a reward for bringing her to me, but you’ve thrown that away.” Abruptly she withdraws the knife, smiling sweetly. “Go, and sleep, Mordred. Tomorrow we go to war.”

Morgana lifts her chin, and several guards appear, taking Summer by the arms and hauling her up. She sways, and spreads her fingers, and Morgana rounds on her, tutting. “The tiniest spark, and I will kill him where he stands,” the high priestess hisses. It’s a bluff, but there’s so much madness, so much chaos in Morgana’s emotions Summer dares not take the chance.

“Wake up,” Summer murmurs in Mordred’s ear. She kisses his cheek. “I’ve brought you breakfast, fy nhariad.”

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?”

“Wake up,” Summer murmurs in Mordred’s ear. She kisses his cheek. “I’ve brought you breakfast, fy nhariad.”

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/.”

“Wake up,” Summer murmurs in Mordred’s ear. She kisses his cheek. “I’ve brought you breakfast, fy nhariad.”

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.”  

“For so long as the high king forbids magic in his lands I do not think we can be at peace.” He slants a glance toward Mordred. “We would not wage war into his lands, but nevertheless we cannot be at peace.” Edward flicks a pebble off the top of the wall. “I cannot see any man worthy of my sister on only a glance. You wear the crest of Camelot — do you think that alone makes you worthy of her?”

       A pain spread across his chest at the mention of magic being banned in Camelot. “Arthur is not like Uther,” he tells him, placing a hand on the top of the wall, casting his gaze down to the ground below. “He does not drown children or steal their parents away from them.” In the last part of his sentence there was disdain, an anger that he had held towards Uther for a long time. “And no, I do not believe that what I wear on my shoulder is cause for anyone to believe I am worth something.”

“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.”

“Wake up,” Summer murmurs in Mordred’s ear. She kisses his cheek. “I’ve brought you breakfast, fy nhariad.”

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.”  

“Should I not care for the well-being of my sister?” Edward leans on the wall, relaxing his posture. “I’ll not see her with any man save the best. One who would hold his honour in battle, yet treat her with all the gentility her birth deserves.” He pauses. “We have few allies here, caught between Camelot and Odin.”

       At his comment Mordred had to resist raising a brow but instead, climbed the stairs to meet him. “And you do not believe me to be worthy of such,” Mordred tells him, chewing his cheek gently, “she deserves more than what her birth gives her.” He observes him for a moment. “Yes, well, we are working towards peace, although some people have other ideas.”

“For so long as the high king forbids magic in his lands I do not think we can be at peace.” He slants a glance toward Mordred. “We would not wage war into his lands, but nevertheless we cannot be at peace.” Edward flicks a pebble off the top of the wall. “I cannot see any man worthy of my sister on only a glance. You wear the crest of Camelot — do you think that alone makes you worthy of her?”

“Wake up,” Summer murmurs in Mordred’s ear. She kisses his cheek. “I’ve brought you breakfast, fy nhariad.”

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.”  

“My sister does not make friends easily.” Edward keeps his face forward, the picture of a serious knight. “You must be something out of the ordinary to be such a friend to her.” He mounts a set of stairs, pausing at the top to look out over the wall. “Tell me, Sir Mordred, what has a knight of Camelot, which land disdains magic, to do with my sister in such a way that she would turn to you for comfort in her sore need?”

        The druid looks up at him, swallowing slightly. “To be there for her, to be a shoulder to lean on, an ear to listen, someone to comfort her,” Mordred tells him. “Now may I ask you a question?” The younger knight asks, not bothering for his response. “Why do you care so much?”

“Should I not care for the well-being of my sister?” Edward leans on the wall, relaxing his posture. “I’ll not see her with any man save the best. One who would hold his honour in battle, yet treat her with all the gentility her birth deserves.” He pauses. “We have few allies here, caught between Camelot and Odin.”

“Wake up,” Summer murmurs in Mordred’s ear. She kisses his cheek. “I’ve brought you breakfast, fy nhariad.”

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.”  

“Walk with me.” Edward begins a loop about the courtyards, castlefolk scattering before his stride. “How do you come to know my sister?”

       He swallowed, following along beside him, his crimson cloak gleaming in the sun. “Well, I met Summer in the castle and we’ve been friends ever since,” he tells him, knowing full well that Edward might not believe it.

“My sister does not make friends easily.” Edward keeps his face forward, the picture of a serious knight. “You must be something out of the ordinary to be such a friend to her.” He mounts a set of stairs, pausing at the top to look out over the wall. “Tell me, Sir Mordred, what has a knight of Camelot, which land disdains magic, to do with my sister in such a way that she would turn to you for comfort in her sore need?”

“Wake up,” Summer murmurs in Mordred’s ear. She kisses his cheek. “I’ve brought you breakfast, fy nhariad.”

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.”  

Before they get to the door, though, Edward emerges, hands clasped behind his back. “Sir Mordred!” he calls. “A word, if you would be so kind.”

Mordred’s jaw locked, turning slightly to see Edward and internally, the young knight sighs. “Of course.”

“Walk with me.” Edward begins a loop about the courtyards, castlefolk scattering before his stride. “How do you come to know my sister?”

“Wake up,” Summer murmurs in Mordred’s ear. She kisses his cheek. “I’ve brought you breakfast, fy nhariad.”

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.”  

It’s only an hour or so before they reach Dobria Castle, and Edward swings down easily in the courtyard, stripping off his gloves before he turns to lift Summer down from the saddle. A handful of pages turn up quickly to take the horses, and Summer casts an appealing glance back to Mordred before Edward hurries her up the steps.

A freckle-faced urchin page stops at Mordred’s elbow and says, “Take your horse, milord? Drew’ll lead ye within, see to yer needs.”

       Mordred smiles, sliding down from the saddle as he hands the boy the reins. “Thank you kindly,” he says, removing his sword from the saddle and placing it back at his waist before he heads up the stairs.

Before they get to the door, though, Edward emerges, hands clasped behind his back. “Sir Mordred!” he calls. “A word, if you would be so kind.”

“Wake up,” Summer murmurs in Mordred’s ear. She kisses his cheek. “I’ve brought you breakfast, fy nhariad.”

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.”  

There’s a flicker in Edward’s dark gaze when Mordred replies in the old language of Dover. Summer swallows hard, glancing from one to the other, and her voice is still high as she says, “Oh don’t, please don’t. Please, just take me home, don’t.”

Her brother glances down at her shining hair and sighs. “Very well, sister. It would be ill-done to not at least resupply him before he must return to Camelot.” He jerks his horse’s head away from trying to nibble the bridle of Mordred’s, and sets off down the road.

        He shot her a look of apology but in those few moments something had taken over him. Perhaps it was because he was in the presence of someone who seemed to believe that he was higher than the gods. Mordred petted his horse gently, attempting to calm her and he followed on.

It’s only an hour or so before they reach Dobria Castle, and Edward swings down easily in the courtyard, stripping off his gloves before he turns to lift Summer down from the saddle. A handful of pages turn up quickly to take the horses, and Summer casts an appealing glance back to Mordred before Edward hurries her up the steps.

A freckle-faced urchin page stops at Mordred’s elbow and says, “Take your horse, milord? Drew’ll lead ye within, see to yer needs.”