A/N: I didn't want to cover 'Christmas at Tintagel' but a conversation with my sister led to this. All rules have been thrown aside. Writing at a time I shouldn't be. Please forgive errors. Mordred is supposed to be around 14 or so mentally and in appearance.

Removed is a bit a friend suggested bore similarity to a scene in which Dudley Dursley (of Harry Potter fame) received gifts. My sister, who helped, said it was not her intention to borrow from HP. I am so distant from the HP universe I did not realize that it may have seemed as if it was borrowed from the franchise. If I give a nod to something, I try to acknowledge it. Mordred's behavior in my story was based on a) himself and b) a family member who shall remain nameless.


~oOo~


Mordred hurried out of his room without first bothering to change from his sleeping clothes or put on his shoes. He ran through the paths that led to the main hall of Tintagel, his long dark hair flowing behind him, and pushed open the massive double-doors of the grand chamber. He grinned when he discovered the tremendous array of gifts awaiting him. Queen Mab was alone inside the hall, sitting in a sleek curved back chair. Her eyes were glowing as she took in his reaction. A faint smile was on her lips. Beside her was a large Christmas tree alight with candles, a crown residing at its top.

Years before, when Mordred had first heard of Christmas, he all but demanded they celebrate it. The religious aspect of the holiday needn't be acknowledged — it was a day to receive gifts! Frik, in Mab's absence, agreed that the general mood of the trio could benefit from the festivities and by magic decorated the interior of Tintagel with garlands, trees, wreaths and all manner of holiday decor, once again having reached into the future. He'd taken special care to place sprigs of mistletoe throughout the castle.

The boy did not care for the decor, but tolerated it if it meant he would receive gifts. However, Morgan happily inspected the entire castle, stopping to in awe look at each new thing. She was more a child at heart than her own son.

The gnome learned early on that it was an unwise decision to take on the appearance of St. Nicholas or any of his helpers. The experience with Mordred was not one he liked to recall.

Mab had been furious when she returned from watching Merlin to find the inhabitants of Tintagel apparently celebrating Christmas. Frik explained that they were not celebrating the birth of Christ, more the excuse for Mordred to be given presents. "Surely, Madame, once you see young Master Mordred's face, the twinkle in his eye, his smile, you simply won't be able to turn down his request to celebrate the holiday." And he'd frustratingly been correct. Mab's fury subsided as soon as she saw Mordred. "Oh, if it makes you happy," she'd said.

Now, on a Christmas morning many years later, Mordred was wearing ebony pajamas as he approached his aunt. She was dressed in her usual midnight splendor, all dark blues and black; eyes heavily shadowed. Behind Mordred, Frik and Morgan sleepily entered the hall. He in a periwinkle nightcap with a matching smoking jacket and nightshirt, she in an off-white sleeping gown and a lavender robe.

Mordred chuckled, running in spurts, taking in the sight of innumerable gift-wrapped boxes. They were stacked in piles throughout the room. Some of their towers looked as though they might topple over.

"They're all yours, my sweet," Mab said from her chair.

He had already started unwrapping a gift before Mab finished speaking. When he saw the contents of the first box, he placed it to the side, without even removing the item and began unwrapping another. He was seated on the floor, his legs curled beneath him. Mab observed him intently, leaning forward in her chair, her hands on her knees. She almost appeared deranged her features were so removed from their normal cast. When Mordred reacted with joy upon seeing a gift Mab would laugh with pleasure in her odd, feathery way. It was almost like the hissing of a great lizard.

Frik and Morgan watched from where they stood, hearing Mordred frantically tear paper and at times comment on the gifts he'd been given. Soft strange music played from unknown sources in corners. They exchanged gifts, lost in their own world, separate from the others. Frik gave Morgan a necklace which appeared to be made of liquid gold. She offered Frik a ring set with rubies, a family heirloom, but he told her to keep what remained of her family. Her love was more than he could of ever dreamed of.

When Mordred finally came to the end of his gifts, he overturned several empty boxes and hurled them across the room. "Is that it?"

"Well, it's quality over quantity, Master Mordred," Frik offered.

Mab, with the blink of her eyes made several gifts appear in a space clear of debris. "There you are Mordred." Without thanks, Mordred began to open the new packages.

"Mowdwed, didn't you get anything fow youw Auntie Mab?" Morgan asked, fingering her necklace.

"Auntie Mab said my smile was enough. Isn't that right, Auntie?"

"Yes, Mordred. More than enough."

"I suppose it's enough for all of us," said Frik, as Mordred hadn't given gifts to anyone. He never did, and Frik shuddered to think what Mordred might hand out if he were a more giving soul.

Morgan began to make her way through the piles of torn wrapping paper and toward the Christmas tree. Seeing that she was having some difficulty, Frik with his thought made the papers disappear, one after the other before her feet came in contact with them. "Send them to the wizard's cottage. Why don't you?" Mordred suggested.

When she reached the tree, Morgan looked to Frik who knew it as a sign to magically make a few gifts appear in the upper branches of the tree. "I know youw Auntie Mab alweady gave you many gifts, but this is fwom me," she bent and placed a gift-wrapped package in his lap. "And this one is fwom Uncle Fwik." She placed it on top of the other and kissed her son's head. "I love you so much," she said. "I hope you know that."

"Yes, mother," came Mordred's dutiful reply.

Mordred was displeased but not surprised to unwrap a toiletry set and a book on manners and etiquette. His mother was always giving him things she thought might be useful. Never things that might make him happy. His Auntie Mab had given him all the things he truly wanted, traps, knives, instruments of torture, candies, and toy soldiers to demolish, among many other things. He would burn the gifts from his mother and her idiot later.

Outside the windows, snow was steadily falling. Mordred's mother returned to the Christmas tree. "Oh, look thewe's one hewe for Auntie Mab!" Morgan le Fay smiled and happily waltzed toward Queen Mab, handing her the package. Mordred paused from what he was doing, trying to appear nonchalant as he looked over his shoulder and listened.

"Y-You didn't need to do that," Mab hissed, faintly pleased. Her skin glimmered in the fire-light as she reached for the package, her nails making a faint noise as they drummed against the box.

"It's fwom both of us. Fwik and me. I picked it out, though," Morgan said, standing near. The light glitter over her eyes was the color of a sunset.

Queen Mab carefully tore the paper from the box, knowing she could have used magic to open it. She found inside an iridescent purple vase of carnival glass.

Tilting her head, a raven taking in a shining object, she held it to the light for a moment then placed it back in its container, which she lowered to the floor and slid under her chair. "It's. . . nice." It was hard for her to say, and she said it quickly, almost under her breath. "Now, if everyone is ready, it's time for the feast."

"Oh, oh Auntie. Take from my father's table!" Mordred pleaded, suddenly on his feet.

Gravelly sounds left her throat, her eyes narrowed with her grin. "As you wish, Mordred. What would you like?"

"I'm in the mood for whatever my father and Merlin are most looking forward to."

Mab's face betrayed her affection for the boy. Several bowls and platters of food appeared on the table.

"Will they have anything left?" Frik asked.

"They have plenty," Mab said. "What concern is it of yours?"

"Merely a question." Frik magically changed his, and Morgan's clothes into their day-to-day wear. He left Mordred as he was, afraid of angering the boy.

"Besides," Mordred started, taking a seat beside Mab, "being a good Christian, Arthur should have no reason to complain. It's all going to a worthy cause. Isn't that the sort of thing they believe in? Giving to the bastard children of the world. The sacrifice will make him all the more Christ-like in the eyes of himself and his pet."

"I wonder if Master Merlin is enjoying himself?"

"I hope not, but I'm suwe he is if he's with Awthuw," Morgan said before drinking from her goblet of mulled wine. She was at her usual place at the end of the long table, opposite Mab. The two males sat beside their respective Queens. Before them was a wide verity of puddings, meats, potatoes, pies, cakes and sweet yams, along with fruit juices, cider and wine. Candles and vases of flowers were mixed between crockery.

"Did you get all that what you wanted, sweetling?" Mab wondered aloud, her voice low, almost a purr. She was basking in Mordred's silent adoration.

"Yes, Auntie. I suppose so." There was more, always more, but he did not voice his other requests.

Far off, in Camelot, Mab could sense Merlin's disappointment in not finding his favorite baked apples filled with cream and honey at this years feast. Nor the mulled wine. For a split second Mab envisioned Merlin sitting beside her, sharing their feast and happiness. Even the insipid Nimue was called forth in her mind. She chose not to let it effect her.

She patted Mordred's hand. "Good. I'm glad. Now eat, my dear. Here," she retrieved the plate with the baked apples and placed it before him, "I know for a fact that these are some of Merlin's favorites. Eat them, my dear, simply because he can't and he wants them."

"With pleasure." Mordred stabbed an apple and placed it on his plate.

"Have some of the potato cakes too, Mowdwed," Morgan suggested, collecting another from the platter. "Thewe vewy good."

"You won't go amiss with the lamb either. Master Arthur really has a most talented kitchen staff."

Mordred ignored them, selecting roast chicken.

"Did evewyone see the beautiful necklace Fwik gave me? I love it." She played with the chain again, lifting it slightly from her neck.

"That's nice, Mother," Mordred said only to placate her.


~oOo~