Tag Archives: xregicide

turpisvirtute:

iamthefirechild:

She gives up, just leaning on him. There’s a different kind of balance to be found there, listening to his heartbeat while he stands guard, surrounded by the things that live in their bones deeper than most. “We can do magic here,” she murmurs. “Did you realise that?” She turns a little, putting her back to his arms, and sweeps her mind out over the ocean. There should be fishermen out there, maybe a ship plying trade.

There shouldn’t be fear. There shouldn’t be a boatload of anger — Summer stills, except for one hand groping for the hilt of Mordred’s sword.

     “We can,” he agrees, relaxing only slightly. The thought scared him slightly, his uses of magic were so few and far between that there were moments, small moments in the morning when he awoke and pulled back the covers, that he forgot he could do it at all. ‘But I won’t,‘ he thinks to himself.

     Even here word got back to Camelot, even here if someone had seen him Arthur would most certainly find out, then where would he be? He could quite possibly be exiled or worse – dead.

“There’s something out there.” She hardly even realises she’s spoken. She strains forward, body canted toward the sea — and then the longboat rounds the rocks and grinds onto the pebbles with a crunch, spilling roaring dirty Saxons onto the shore barely twenty feet away.

Whatever they’re shouting, it’s not in any language spoken in the Five Kingdoms. She throws up a wall of fire in front of them, and they simply charge through it, blades hissing through the air.

вєуση∂ тнє νєιℓ || open.

turpisvirtute:

iamthefirechild:

“You can’t have it both ways,” Summer says sweetly. She refuses to back down from him, staring up with narrowed green eyes. “Either you will prevent me from following you, or once you escape — /if/ you escape — my actions no longer matter.” She laughs, sharp and harsh, and runs a finger along the curve of his jaw.

“You can’t stop me, pretty prince. You can’t even find a way out. You’re useless. No hope.” She backs up a step, and another, before turning her back on him and returning to the surface.

      Mordred’s hand captures her wrist, squeezing until, if he wanted to, he could easily have snapped the bone. “I can have it anyway I please,” he hisses, “I will leave, gather an army, kill Arthur and take my place as rightful king, you will stay here and rot for all I care.”

     He eventually lets go of her wrist, throwing it back at her before she walked away. For a moment, he stayed, scowling up at her before he turned on his heel, storming towards his chambers.

Outside, the wind cutting across her face, Summer cradles her wrist, fingertips dancing along the lines of pain. For that, he would pay. Slowly. But she could hold her revenge.

Hold it until she found the way out. Just the day before, she had come across a book in the crumbling library that hinted at a way. Her mind whirls with plans. Pushing off the wall, she snaps the pain of her crushed wrist into whomever is standing nearby, eliciting a shriek of agony, and stalks toward the library.

вєуση∂ тнє νєιℓ || open.

turpisvirtute:

iamthefirechild:

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.”

      A vindictive laugh passed his lips and he tossed his head back, his eyes sparkling in amusement. “How cute, you think you’re a cat,” he says, his tone mocking as he steps up onto the bottom step, looming over her. “You will keep your nose out of my affairs, I do not care what you do once I am gone, you are not my concern, Arthur is my concern.”

“You can’t have it both ways,” Summer says sweetly. She refuses to back down from him, staring up with narrowed green eyes. “Either you will prevent me from following you, or once you escape — /if/ you escape — my actions no longer matter.” She laughs, sharp and harsh, and runs a finger along the curve of his jaw.

“You can’t stop me, pretty prince. You can’t even find a way out. You’re useless. No hope.” She backs up a step, and another, before turning her back on him and returning to the surface.

turpisvirtute:

iamthefirechild:

“Even here?” she asks sorrowfully. “Why should you be paranoid here?” One hand sweeps at the expanse of softly lapping waves before them, the beach caught between the cliff and the water. “We’re safe. Let it go.”

      Mordred glances at her before turning his attention out to the water. “It’s part of a knight’s burden,” he tells her. “But I shall try.”

She gives up, just leaning on him. There’s a different kind of balance to be found there, listening to his heartbeat while he stands guard, surrounded by the things that live in their bones deeper than most. “We can do magic here,” she murmurs. “Did you realise that?” She turns a little, putting her back to his arms, and sweeps her mind out over the ocean. There should be fishermen out there, maybe a ship plying trade.

There shouldn’t be fear. There shouldn’t be a boatload of anger — Summer stills, except for one hand groping for the hilt of Mordred’s sword.

вєуση∂ тнє νєιℓ || open.

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:

“What are you so tense about?” Summer said finally, turning to Mordred. “You aren’t paying any attention to me. There’s no one out here but us.” She put her hand over his on the hilt, then leaned her head on his shoulder.

       He turns his attention back to her, jumping when her hand brushed against his. “Sorry, it’s just my paranoia gnawing at me,” he tells her with the smallest of smiles. “I am alright.”

“Even here?” she asks sorrowfully. “Why should you be paranoid here?” One hand sweeps at the expanse of softly lapping waves before them, the beach caught between the cliff and the water. “We’re safe. Let it go.”

вєуση∂ тнє νєιℓ || open.

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.”

turpisvirtute:

iamthefirechild:

When she finally scrambled down to the narrow beach, Summer looped the reins of her horse over a convenient pillar which showed signs of being used that way many times before. She barely glanced at Mordred, pacing down to the water’s edge. After a moment staring out over the water, she pulled her shoes off and stepped down into the waves. The wind from the ocean swirled her hair, mostly fallen out of the braid, around her back and shoulders like a bright banner.

There was something easing to her soul about that place, standing between sea and sand, sun and sky. Summer stood there for a long time, face tipped up to the sky, until the last tension eased out of her body.

      The knight had only just reached the sands when he noticed she had placed herself in the water, and for awhile he sat, perched atop his horse, watching, waiting. For what, he did not know, but for something. Perhaps maybe, deep down he knew that Morgana may just send her men this far west. Only if she needed or wanted something so desperately.

      Eventually, the knight jumps down from his horse, lingering on the beach as he watched her and the surrounding tree line, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“What are you so tense about?” Summer said finally, turning to Mordred. “You aren’t paying any attention to me. There’s no one out here but us.” She put her hand over his on the hilt, then leaned her head on his shoulder.

вєуση∂ тнє νєιℓ || open.

sirmordred-thedruid:

iamthefirechild:

He’s someone to watch, that prince, with his burning hatred and pale, intense eyes. Perhaps she should have stayed near the castle before, and learned about him sooner, but when the madness takes her fully, she doesn’t know where her feet take her. Only away. But she’s here now, so she resolves to keep a closer eye, and bids one of the children follow the dark prince.

If he does find a way out, she wants to know.

      Mordred’s slender fingers curled around the bars, his blue hues landing on the woman who sat curled in on herself. “Mother —” he called, his tone mixed with spite and disgust for the woman who resided in the cell. The word rolled off his tongue, leaving a foul taste in his mouth. He hated her, with every fiber in his being, every part of him. He loathed her. She was the reason he was here, the reason he had spent so much of his time locked away in purgatory. 

     Morgaine lifted her head, studying him for a moment. “I knew you would come,” she tells him, her voice hoarse and in turn, the boy raises a brow. “You claim you knew a lot of things,” he mutters, letting go of the bar. “This however, is not a social visit,” he tells her, his tone cold as he begins to pace. “Have you found a way out?” To this, Morgaine shakes her head and her son’s face stills, rage filling it. “Gods be damned!” He shouts, “you got us in here – it’s been how long and you haven’t figured out a way out?” He yells, “you’re a high priestess and you can’t even get past a veil?”

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.

sirmordred-thedruid:

iamthefirechild:

The stablemaster murmured to him, under the guise of checking over his horse’s bit and bridle, “There’s been Saxons seen on the channel of late, my lord.” He didn’t admonish the knight to caution the way he had Summer, but nodded, man to man, instead.

Summer didn’t hear. She put her mare to a canter as soon as they were free of the courtyard, not waiting for Mordred, not even glancing back. The wind caught at the loose strands of her hair and dried the tears on her face. She only slowed when she came to the path down to the strand, which was steep, sandy, and rocky.

      Mordred nodded. “Are you certain they are Saxons?” Mordred questions, uncertain. “Morgana would never send her men this far west, it’s too much time, too much effort from what she really wants,” he tells him. “Believe me, I know, but I will keep my eye out. Thank you.”

When she finally scrambled down to the narrow beach, Summer looped the reins of her horse over a convenient pillar which showed signs of being used that way many times before. She barely glanced at Mordred, pacing down to the water’s edge. After a moment staring out over the water, she pulled her shoes off and stepped down into the waves. The wind from the ocean swirled her hair, mostly fallen out of the braid, around her back and shoulders like a bright banner.

There was something easing to her soul about that place, standing between sea and sand, sun and sky. Summer stood there for a long time, face tipped up to the sky, until the last tension eased out of her body.