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 struggles to her knees, trying anyhow to crawl to Mordred, and casually Morgana fists a hand in her bright hair and jerks her down. Her throat is so scraped she can’t even make a sound at the tug, just falls back with her mouth gaping.

‘Mordred,’ her lips shape, soundlessly.

Morgana’s gaze flicks back to the map. “I want to use this path to come in on Arthur from the flank.”

        Mordred rises to his feet, hesitating before he turns his attention to the maps, his chest burning with pain. “If his camp resides there it would indeed be useful, we can cut down some of their army before the battle even begins,” he tells her simply, dragging his finger over the map. “Rumour has it Arthur is getting Gwaine and Percival to lead a score around here — we can cut them off.”

“I will handle that. You will lead the main army on the field. Be sure you seek out Arthur; it is not his men we need to remove but the head of the dragon itself.” Morgana looks up at him, eyes burning with hate. “Do not fail me in this.”

“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.”  

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.

“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.”  

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.”

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.

When Mordred gets there, Morgana is calmly seated at the table, cutting bits off an apple and eating them. At her feet, Summer lies in a heap, eyes swollen with crying and throat raw from screaming. The Nathair is coiled in its box, close by Morgana’s hand, and a map is spread on the table.

“I trust you slept well, Mordred.” It’s as if the events of hours ago had never happened. “Come, warm yourself. We must plan the assault.”

       He stops, his face contorting in anger and pain as he notices Summer in a heap on the floor. For a moment, the entire world ceases to exist before his gaze flicks to Morgana. “What did you do to her?” he hisses, moving towards her but he is sent flying across the space of the tent with a single flick of her wrist. Mordred chokes, the air from his lungs being removed in a swift motion as he curls up on his side, struggling to breathe. “Once you’re done with your ignorance, Mordred, you may sit.”

Summer struggles to her knees, trying anyhow to crawl to Mordred, and casually Morgana fists a hand in her bright hair and jerks her down. Her throat is so scraped she can’t even make a sound at the tug, just falls back with her mouth gaping.

‘Mordred,’ her lips shape, soundlessly.

Morgana’s gaze flicks back to the map. “I want to use this path to come in on Arthur from the flank.”

“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.”  

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.

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.

The guards bring Summer once more to Morgana’s tent, where the sorceress picks up a woven box and lovingly caresses the top of it. “Do you know what this is?”

Summer shakes her head, almost convulsively. Morgana’s madness feels like a shadow, sucking her in; she’s never been so frightened before.

“I was going to accept your offer to join me,” she tells Summer, who shudders. “But I see now that you will never be loyal.” She opens the box, and slowly a snake rises out of it, tongue flickering. “This is a Nathair.”

Hardly aware of what she’s doing, consumed with terror now, Summer tries to step back, but the guards pull her up short. Morgana smiles, and lifts the snake out of the box. She whispers a spell to it, and holds her hand to Summer.

Summer screams.

        Mordred drifts off to the sound of a scream, curled up on the floor by his bed, the place where he had fallen and dare not move from. The temperature had dropped at some point, he’d felt a wave of cold air wash over his skin and by the time he had awoken his pale skin was a shade of purple. 

       He remains on the ground for some time before the flap to his tent is pulled back and in walks a guard. “The lady Morgana requests your presence.” 

When Mordred gets there, Morgana is calmly seated at the table, cutting bits off an apple and eating them. At her feet, Summer lies in a heap, eyes swollen with crying and throat raw from screaming. The Nathair is coiled in its box, close by Morgana’s hand, and a map is spread on the table.

“I trust you slept well, Mordred.” It’s as if the events of hours ago had never happened. “Come, warm yourself. We must plan the assault.”

“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.”  

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?”

“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.”  

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.

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.

“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.

       He watches her, the flames from the nearby fire dancing across the blade as it runs down his cheek. For a brief moment he had wished she actually had plunged it into his chest, it would have, in his opinion, been less painful. “I have not forgotten,” he hisses, pain exploding over him as Kara’s name reached his ears and he felt his breath hitch. 

       There had been a time where Kara had meant more to him than his own life, but she had left him. Even after all these years she still meant just as much to him now as she did then. But so did Summer. Mordred swallows, glancing away from her, “as you wish.”
        Mordred doesn’t so much as glance up at Summer as he heads back into his tent, removing his vambrace carefully before his anger spills over and he throws it, the metal connecting to the mirror over the other side of the room. It angered him, how could he have been so stupid? This was exactly what Morgana wanted, another reason to keep him with her.

                           Kara.

                                                              Summer.

         That’s all they were to her. Reasons. Not people, they were another reason to hold onto his already crumbling heart. He should have just stayed in Camelot and sent Summer away. Perhaps Kara wouldn’t be dead and they both wouldn’t be here. “I’m so sorry.”

The guards bring Summer once more to Morgana’s tent, where the sorceress picks up a woven box and lovingly caresses the top of it. “Do you know what this is?”

Summer shakes her head, almost convulsively. Morgana’s madness feels like a shadow, sucking her in; she’s never been so frightened before.

“I was going to accept your offer to join me,” she tells Summer, who shudders. “But I see now that you will never be loyal.” She opens the box, and slowly a snake rises out of it, tongue flickering. “This is a Nathair.”

Hardly aware of what she’s doing, consumed with terror now, Summer tries to step back, but the guards pull her up short. Morgana smiles, and lifts the snake out of the box. She whispers a spell to it, and holds her hand to Summer.

Summer screams.

“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.”  

“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.”