turpisvirtute:

iamthefirechild:

The child yelps and kicks out, hopelessly. It bares its teeth, and then Summer steps out of the shadows at the top of the stairs. “If you’re going to kill it, get on with it or let me do it.” She takes a step down, and another, completely disregarding the dragging of her skirts through the mess of the floor.

The child yelps again, and its struggles redouble. “Please, please,” it pants out, whimpering.

“And then we can talk about how you think you’re going to prevent me from taking the same path you do. If you find it.”

       Mordred presses the blade of his dagger against the child’s collarbone, edging it deeper into the skin. The man looks from the child to Summer and back to the child, a smirk curling at the edge of his lips. “You’d die anyway,” he hisses, dragging the blade through the child’s throat and the boy fell limp against him, his life blood spilling out over Mordred’s black armour.
       He let go, allowing the body to crumple to the floor and he steps over it, nudging him with his toe walking towards her, his fingers curling around the hilt of the dagger. “I don’t think so, you see, while I leave and take my rightful place as king of Camelot, you shall stay here to rot.”

She pauses on the next-to-last step, leaving her eyes on a level with his. “How do you plan to make that happen? Once you leave here, you can no longer hope to have any effect on my actions.” The death of the child surges through her blood, bringing heat to her skin. “I will follow you,” she breathes. “However you escape, I will follow you. No cat gives up its prey.”

turpisvirtute:

iamthefirechild:

The child, spying from a shadowed corner, twitches back further into the darkness at the prince’s raised voice. But it listens hard, paying attention to every word, to the smallest nuances — after all, it’s already seen what will happen if the mistress isn’t pleased.

The children’s nightmares are full of fire.

So it creeps out just a little, listening as hard as ever it can, and waits to follow the dark prince back out to the surface.

       ”If she sent you to follow me, you’re doing a horrible job,” Mordred says, a smirk dancing around his lips as he turned his head towards the shadows. Mordred’s cloaks brushed against his ankles as the breeze from the stairwell hit him and he looked up towards the landing at the top. Suddenly, the man reached out, taking the boy by the scruff of the collar.

      For a moment, he says nothing, just standing there as his cold gaze fixed on the boy’s face, lifting him from the ground. “Tell her, she is going to have to find her own way out, because she isn’t getting out with me.”

The child yelps and kicks out, hopelessly. It bares its teeth, and then Summer steps out of the shadows at the top of the stairs. “If you’re going to kill it, get on with it or let me do it.” She takes a step down, and another, completely disregarding the dragging of her skirts through the mess of the floor.

The child yelps again, and its struggles redouble. “Please, please,” it pants out, whimpering.

“And then we can talk about how you think you’re going to prevent me from taking the same path you do. If you find it.”