{"id":22270,"date":"2013-10-31T18:22:05","date_gmt":"2013-10-31T18:22:05","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.firechildren.net\/lightfire\/iamthefirechild\/2013\/10\/31\/it-takes-a-while-to-track-him-down-camelot-is-not-47\/"},"modified":"2013-10-31T18:22:05","modified_gmt":"2013-10-31T18:22:05","slug":"it-takes-a-while-to-track-him-down-camelot-is-not-47","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.firechildren.net\/lightfire\/iamthefirechild\/2013\/10\/31\/it-takes-a-while-to-track-him-down-camelot-is-not-47\/","title":{"rendered":"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?”"},"content":{"rendered":"

sirmordred-thedruid<\/a>:<\/p>\n

\n

iamthefirechild<\/a>:<\/p>\n

\n

xregicide-deactivated20140812<\/a>:<\/p>\n

\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0<\/span>M<\/strong>ordred 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\u00a0<\/span>impossible<\/em> predicament. \u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0T<\/strong>he young knight turns to face her, his fingers brushing lightly against the metal of his armour. \u201cI\u2019m not hiding anything\u201d he tells her simply.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

They had meant to rape her. She remembers that, now. She\u2019s eaten so little in the past few days there\u2019s nothing in her stomach to come up. Mordred had been stopping them, sword drawn. He\u2019s not garbed in knightly splendour now, but in dark layers that somehow suit him better than the shining silver and red of Camelot. Burying her hands in her hair to hold it away from her face, she gags again, and looks up at Mordred. The rush of blood makes her dizzy and cold. \u201cWhy are you here? You left \u2026 I left. I\u2019ve been lost.\u201d Her eyes fall on the pile of ashes again. There should be blood on her hands. \u201cJust \u2026 leave me here to die.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 H<\/strong>e wanted to reach forward but then he remembered the warning. Would it even matter now that he was away from Camelot? \u201cI went back to the way I was,\u201d he tells her simply. \u201cI couldn\u2019t stay and abandoned my post and broke my vow,\u201d Mordred says, glancing away, self hatred welling up in him. \u201cI refuse to leave you to die. Not now, not ever.\u201d\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

“I’m a murderer.”<\/p>\n

Summer should care that he fled Camelot; should be grateful he found her — or she found him; should reach to ease his self-loathing. It’s what she is.<\/p>\n

Except what she is is lost under pain and self-hatred of her own. “This,” she gestures limply around the bandit camp, “is what I deserve. Leave me here. Go back.”<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

sirmordred-thedruid: iamthefirechild: xregicide-deactivated20140812: \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0Mordred 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\u00a0impossible predicament. \u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0The young … Continue reading 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?”<\/span> →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[10,2390,2637,2399,2025],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.firechildren.net\/lightfire\/iamthefirechild\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/22270"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.firechildren.net\/lightfire\/iamthefirechild\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.firechildren.net\/lightfire\/iamthefirechild\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.firechildren.net\/lightfire\/iamthefirechild\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.firechildren.net\/lightfire\/iamthefirechild\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=22270"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/www.firechildren.net\/lightfire\/iamthefirechild\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/22270\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.firechildren.net\/lightfire\/iamthefirechild\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=22270"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.firechildren.net\/lightfire\/iamthefirechild\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=22270"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.firechildren.net\/lightfire\/iamthefirechild\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=22270"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}