sirmordred-thedruid:

iamthefirechild:

She took his hand, lifting it to her lips and kissing the fingers. “How will it be,” she asked, pushing the door open, “for you to dress me instead of the other way round?” She looked up at him, grinning. “I think my armour is less complicated than yours.”

      He chuckled, “it should not take me long — nothing is as complicated as our armour.”

Summer held up the cuirass, untangling the laces. “I would not be able to walk under the weight of yours. I hope this still fits, I think I’ve got fat since last I wore it.” 

sirmordred-thedruid:

iamthefirechild:

Neatly, she braided it again, tightly to her scalp with a handful of pins, then shook her head hard, to see if it would come loose. “Thank you. Will you come down to the armory, then?”

      Mordred holds his hand out to her, “of course.”

She took his hand, lifting it to her lips and kissing the fingers. “How will it be,” she asked, pushing the door open, “for you to dress me instead of the other way round?” She looked up at him, grinning. “I think my armour is less complicated than yours.”

sirmordred-thedruid:

iamthefirechild:

“You’ve encountered Morgana Pendragon? And survived to tell the tale. There must be more to you than meets the eye.” Elisabeth toyed with the food on her plate. “What would that lady want with my daughter, Sir Mordred?”

       Mordred pulled a face. Morgana had saved him long ago as a boy and he had betrayed her for Arthur, he was surprised nothing had come of it yet, but he was waiting. “She is attacking anyone affiliated with Camelot in any form. She doesn’t give exact orders, her men raid anything and anyone.” He dared not mention the fact that he stabbed her.

“Hmmm.” Elisabeth flicked a glance at her husband. Laurence leaned forward, meeting Mordred’s eyes. “Do you think we need to worry? Ismere is the far side of Camelot from here — Odin is far closer. If they’ve joined forces, it’s cause for concern.”

Elisabeth’s hand closed slowly on the knife by her dish. Laurence laid a hand on her shoulder. “You are right. This is not talk for now. But I would be glad to hear your advice later, Mordred.”

sirmordred-thedruid:

iamthefirechild:

Summer turned her head away, refusing to mention that /she/ had asked /him/ to escort her, not the other way round, and jabbed Mordred in the side with her fingers under the table. Elisabeth merely nodded and said, “You must be very persuasive, then. Summer is a independent sort of lass, and she can usually take care of herself.”

       He cast her an ‘I know’  look before returning to the conversation at hand. “Not really,” he tells her, setting the goblet down, “I know, Summer is very independent, one of her admirable qualities, but things are getting dangerous. I have no doubt she could handle herself, but Morgana – I know exactly what she is capable of.”

“You’ve encountered Morgana Pendragon? And survived to tell the tale. There must be more to you than meets the eye.” Elisabeth toyed with the food on her plate. “What would that lady want with my daughter, Sir Mordred?”

sirmordred-thedruid:

iamthefirechild:

“I could hardly fail to honour the knight who brought Summer home when she was most needed.” Elisabeth made sure his cup and plate were filled, and gave him a wise smile. “I hope you two will be able to stay awhile. A few days, at least. Surely King Arthur can spare you for that long?”

       Mordred gave a soft smile, drawing his eyes to his plate of food, his cheeks reddening ever so slightly. “It was nothing, truly, I refuse to let her leave by herself, it’s getting far too dangerous.” He reaches forward, taking his goblet, raising it to his lips before he speaks, “of course, it will be my honour, my lady.”

Summer turned her head away, refusing to mention that /she/ had asked /him/ to escort her, not the other way round, and jabbed Mordred in the side with her fingers under the table. Elisabeth merely nodded and said, “You must be very persuasive, then. Summer is a independent sort of lass, and she can usually take care of herself.”

sirmordred-thedruid:

iamthefirechild:

“You must come sit by me,” Summer’s mother said comfortably, catching Mordred’s arm up with hers. Summer herself was left to trail a little forlornly behind to the empty seats between Winter and Laurence. To the other side of Winter a tall, narrow fellow with a mop of curly blond curls offered Mordred a nod, and rose to help Summer into her seat.

“Diolch, Mihangel,” she said softly, patting his hand. “I’m fine. Truly.” She tried not to look too worried as Elisabeth gestured Mordred into the seat on her other side.

       He had just gone to pull the chair out for Summer when the blond man reached it and Mordred gave him a smile, pulling out the chair for Lady Elizabeth. “After you my lady.” Once she is seated, he takes his seat, slightly uncomfortable in his position but he doesn’t comment on anything. “Thank you for allowing me into your home.”

“I could hardly fail to honour the knight who brought Summer home when she was most needed.” Elisabeth made sure his cup and plate were filled, and gave him a wise smile. “I hope you two will be able to stay awhile. A few days, at least. Surely King Arthur can spare you for that long?”

sirmordred-thedruid:

iamthefirechild:

It was probably nerves — though hers or his she couldn’t tell — but Summer felt like her laces were much too tight. Had Mordred maybe pulled them too tight, or was she just struggling to breathe out of sheer stupid panic? She kept a hand pressed to her chest, and clutched Mordred’s with the other.

At this point, she rather figured there was no point in claiming he was ‘just a knight’ who happened to escort her home. Winter knew, and therefore Mihangel knew, and Edward knew, and her father knew — and anything those four knew was unlikely to be a secret from her mother for long. So she tangled her fingers with his and pretended to be brave and uncaring as they walked into the hall.

Without even a pause, her mother rose from her seat at the high table and came toward them, hands outstretched. “Anwyl! Who is your companion?”

“Mother, this is Sir Mordred, a knight of Camelot — Mordred, this is my mother, the Lady Elisabeth.”

       Anxiety ran up through him as he did up the laces to her corset. “Apologies if I hurt you, this is rather — complicated.” When he is done he ties the silk ribbon into a small bow before moving around to her front, “all done?” he questions.

       He didn’t know whether he had been more nervous and scared in his entire life; this time, out of all the times he couldn’t remember, would have to take precedence. “It’s a pleasure, my lady,” he says gently, bowing to her. 

“You must come sit by me,” Summer’s mother said comfortably, catching Mordred’s arm up with hers. Summer herself was left to trail a little forlornly behind to the empty seats between Winter and Laurence. To the other side of Winter a tall, narrow fellow with a mop of curly blond curls offered Mordred a nod, and rose to help Summer into her seat.

“Diolch, Mihangel,” she said softly, patting his hand. “I’m fine. Truly.” She tried not to look too worried as Elisabeth gestured Mordred into the seat on her other side.

(ooc; seats mihangel – winter – summer – mordred – elisabeth – laurence – edward’s empty place)

sirmordred-thedruid:

iamthefirechild:

“To find us together,” she clarified. Getting up on her knees, she stretched out and snagged his shirt, piling it on his head. “There will be no answers here. Help me to dress? Maybe there will be answers at dinner.”

       He nodded, pulling himself to his feet, going to find his shirt before he starts to help her dress. “Let’s hope.”

It was probably nerves — though hers or his she couldn’t tell — but Summer felt like her laces were much too tight. Had Mordred maybe pulled them too tight, or was she just struggling to breathe out of sheer stupid panic? She kept a hand pressed to her chest, and clutched Mordred’s with the other.

At this point, she rather figured there was no point in claiming he was ‘just a knight’ who happened to escort her home. Winter knew, and therefore Mihangel knew, and Edward knew, and her father knew — and anything those four knew was unlikely to be a secret from her mother for long. So she tangled her fingers with his and pretended to be brave and uncaring as they walked into the hall.

Without even a pause, her mother rose from her seat at the high table and came toward them, hands outstretched. “Anwyl! Who is your companion?”

“Mother, this is Sir Mordred, a knight of Camelot — Mordred, this is my mother, the Lady Elisabeth.”