So I'm starting off with the longest chapter I have written so far! I think it shows, but Mordred is definitely my favourite character, and fluff is a great way to start a story anyways:)
AndreKl: I'll be exploring Arthur's reasoning behind the peace treaty with the Sarrum in future chapters and I hope that will shine some light on his reasoning behind it. It's true, it does seen rather hypocritical.
Dawn was just beginning to glow on the horizon as Sir Percival dragged himself out of bed. Yawning he sleepily tugged off his linen night shift and pulled on a pair of flaxen pants, a shirt, socks, and his most worn leather boots. He was still buckling on his belt as he stepped out of his chambers into the hall. Percival rubbed at his eyes, trying to perk himself up. He would have to be awake enough to not only get himself down to the armoury, but Sir Gwaine too. And, unlike Percival, Gwaine was certainly not known for his charisma this early in the morning. Percival picked up his pace as he made his way down to Gwaine's chambers.
Before he had become a knight Percival had always enjoyed waking up before everyone else in his family to run in the morning. The peace of the steady cadence of his footsteps soothed his soul. Even now that he lived in the castle Percival obstinately refused to give up this routine. Usually he ran around the training fields, or along the edge of the forest. The solitary quiet of the morning was so rare among the hustle and noise of the castle. Today however, Percival would be enjoying the peaceful morning with Gwaine. He had been trying to convince his fellow knight to join him during these runs for some time, and Gwaine had always staunchly refused. But last night Percival had gotten his wish when Gwaine lost a bet over whether he could convince Merlin to sneak out to the tavern with them. If he wasn't up already Merlin would be waking up well rested and sober this morning.
Percival reached Gwaine's door and knocked. A low groan was heard from inside. Percival plastered a big smile on his face and swung the door wide, letting in all the light from the corridor.
Some time later Percival and Gwaine managed to make it to the armoury. They would leave the castle through the armoury door because it was the closest to the forest, where Percival liked to run. As he was about to enter the armoury Percival heard a voice from inside humming a low tune. It was odd, he thought, for none of the other knights had ever been up this early before. The two men stepped inside, and Percival exclaimed in surprise,
"Mordred!" The young knight abruptly stopped humming, and looked up from putting on his chainmail, but relaxed and smiled when he saw the two older knights.
"Good morning."
"What are you doing up this early?" It was Gwaine who asked, having dropped all sign of sleepiness upon seeing Mordred. Mordred raised half an eyebrow, obviously thinking, I could ask you the same, but instead he said,
"I thought it would be good to get some extra practice this morning, after all the training I missed." It had been only a week and a half since Arthur and Merlin had returned from their second visit to the Disir, and Mordred had miraculously recovered. Although the symptoms of his injury at the hands of the Disir had seemingly disappeared overnight the King, by the advice of Gaius and his own concern, had still asked Mordred to refrain from participating in training until at least eleven days had passed. Gaius had said that he should be back to nearly his full health by then, and that would give him time to make sure that no further symptoms of illness presented themselves. Mordred had had to watch all the training sessions from the sidelines, and was feeling woefully even further behind all the other knights.
The knights had come to think of Mordred as a little brother, Gwaine and Percival included. Regardless of Gaius's timeline they were more reluctant to admit their "little brother" was fully well again. Mordred stood up to go retrieve his sword from the rack but Gwaine and Percival blocked him, eyes narrowing. Did Mordred seem a little pale? Was that a twitch of pain on his face? Was he still not able to stand completely straight? The questions flew rapid-fire through Gwaine's mind. If I had my way I would order that boy back to bed for another week! Without looking Gwaine suspected Percival felt the same. Mordred maintained too much composure to huff at his fellow knights, but he still looked faintly annoyed.
"Really, I'm fine. Gaius said that by today I would be ready to rejoin training." And I don't need the two of you playing nursemaid either. I've already had enough of that from Gaius and the King.
Gwaine smiled impishly at him.
"In that case I do suppose you are right. Well then, off with you mate." He stepped aside as Mordred eyed him warily, and turned to the sword rack. Gwaine shared a wink with Percival behind Mordred's back.
"Ah yes, and Mordred," Gwaine interjected, causing the later to suddenly turn back around, suspicion radiating off him. "Why not start the first lesson that you missed right now: never turn your back on an opponent." Mordred's eyes widened slightly in realization, but he was too late. Percival's strong arms encircled him from behind, easily pinning the smaller boy's arms to his side and lifting him up while Gwaine seized Mordred's boot, and with a great heave pulled it off. Gwaine wasted no time dashing out the armoury door to the outside, and after a couple seconds Percival dropped Mordred and ran out as well, a giant grin plastered to his face. Turning back he could see a crimson-faced Mordred, standing in one sock-covered foot, framed by the open doorway.
A few minutes later Percival caught up to Gwaine, still clutching Mordred's boot. Gwaine's face was red from suppressed laughter, and as Percival reached him he let out a huge guffaw. Percival couldn't help but join in. Clutching their sides it took the two some time before they could stop laughing. Finally Gwaine glanced down at the boot in his hand. "I guess we'll have to return it to him at some point." Percival nodded but chuckled.
"We can take our time. Gaius did say eleven days at the least." Gwaine nodded, sobered. Percival saw the real concern in his eyes and knew it was reflected in his own.
"He'll be fine. He did look fairly healthy. Now he'll get one more day to rest, and then we'll give him his boot back." Gwaine nodded and cleared his throat, but he didn't speak.
"I know…" Percival knew what Gwaine didn't, or couldn't say. He still remembered the long vigils the knights had kept at Mordred's bedside, watching the boy's chest rise and fall shakily, his druid tattoo startlingly dark against his deathly pale skin, purple rings under his eyes, and red staining the bandages around his chest. How many times had he nearly woken Gaius, terrified, when Mordred's breathing hitched, or he took a few extra seconds before taking his next breath? The boy was still so young, only eighteen years old. But Percival had heard his fevered mumblings during enough nights to know that his life had not been an easy one. Words like "Uther," and "Father," and "Emrys" had been repeated enough for him to know, even if he didn't understand it all, that the boy had suffered repeatedly. Percival thought again of Mordred's triskele druid tattoo and of the druid shrine the knights had stumbled upon all that time ago. What atrocities had he witnessed? Had they been at the hands of the knights of Camelot? He shuddered. Gwaine's hand on his shoulder pulled him out of his reverie. The knight's ever joking mouth was silent, but his eyes smiled.
When the two reached the castle it was much more lively than it was when they had left. Servants carried trays and baskets up and down the halls, horses whinnied from the stables, and light poured through the stain glass windows. By now most of the servants knew of Gwaine's rambunctious nature so if they thought it odd to see him carrying around a random leather boot they just shrugged it off. A serving girl passed by the knights, mouth-watering aromas coming from the steaming plate of eggs, rolls, and sausage on her tray. Gwaine inclined his head with a devilish smile as she passed. The girl blushed crimson and in her distraction Gwaine pilfered one of the oven-warm rolls from the tray.
"Ha! You are terrible! Have I ever told you that?" said Percival as they neared Gwaine's chambers. Gwaine managed another smile around his mouth full of bread.
"You were certainly right Percival." He said, changing the subject. "I would have never guessed morning runs could be this fun. If I had know I would have joined you long before now!" Percival chuckled, and continued on to his own chambers.
It was mid-afternoon when Percival was finishing his late lunch and an authoritative knock sounded on the door to his chambers. Frowning he crossed the room and opened the door to reveal Sir Leon, dressed in his red cape and chainmail.
"The King has requested the presence of yourself, Gwaine, Elyan, and Mordred for an important council in his chambers." Percival nodded, eyebrows furrowing. "If you could relay the summons onto Gwaine I will be speaking with Elyan next. Also, if you see Mordred would you tell him as well? He's seemingly disappeared, didn't show for training." It was Leon's turn to look confused. "It was odd, he seemed so excited to continue his training…" Leon shrugged. "Regardless, I would appreciate if you would inform him."
"Leon," Percival interjected, "Do you know what this is about? Should I be concerned?" Leon's mouth turned down slightly.
"All I know is that the King was clear that the matter was urgent. He didn't tell me any details." Percival nodded.
"I see. I will be there shortly."
Mordred was sitting, fuming, on his bed, his single boot lying discarded in the corner of the room. Over the last eleven days He had bided his time at the sidelines watching the rest of the knights train. Only Arthur's most trusted few knew about what had happened with the Disir. Mordred's life-threatening chest wound had been explained away by Arthur. How, Mordred had no idea. Though from his place at the sidelines he had received some sympathetic glances from the other knights.
The Disir never did anything by half measures. Mordred had reasoned that if the Disir has lifted their magical curse off of him he should be completely cured. Of course, the residual weakness had taken a couple days to leave him, but when Gaius had sentenced him to eleven days of rest he had nearly screamed. Thankfully he managed to contain his fury in a tight smile until Gaius had left before letting the facade drop. He had gripped his hair and let out a silent scream of frustration. Mordred was already self-consciously aware that his youth and lack of training put him behind the rest of the knights, so he had worked as hard as he could to catch up, and now he would have to deal with another setback. Eleven days. And now that his time of waiting was over he was missing the day he had been dreaming about and waiting for. He hated to imagine the disappointed look on Sir Leon's face when he hadn't shown up to training. And even though he did his best not to advertise his Druidic heritage there were enough other knights who already knew about it and distrusted him for it. Now missing training would only add another reason for their mistrust.
Returning to the present Mordred tried to regain a grip over his emotions. His face still burned with humiliation when he thought about this morning, however a plan was already forming in his head. Gwaine had been in his room all morning, but Mordred reasoned he would have had to leave it for afternoon training. Using magic in the castle was risky at the best of times; he had no idea how Emrys had managed to keep his secret hidden all these years. But, Mordred reasoned, desperate times call for desperate measures.
His sock feet made no noise on the stone floor, and a whispered spell quieted his rustling clothing. He reached the door to Sir Gwaine's chambers, he stopped, and pressed an ear to the door. Not hearing any sounds he extended his hand, and a flash of gold illuminated his eyes as the previously locked door swung open on silent hinges. Mordred peered around the door into the room. Unsurprisingly Sir Gwaine had left his room in a mess, clothes were strewn over the floor and bits of his lunch still clung to the discarded plate on the table. A servant could arrive at any time to clean it all up so Mordred scanned the room with haste searching for his boot. He spotted it lying beside the bed. Gwaine would have assumed that a locked door would be enough to keep Mordred out until he choose to return the boot. He chuckled darkly. Suddenly Mordred heard voices approaching from the corridor and he swept out of the room, using another spell to silently shut and re-lock the door behind him. He was so relived to have escaped unnoticed that he nearly slammed into Sir Percival as he turned a corner.
"Mordred!" The older knight exclaimed. Immediately he looked down at Mordred's hand clutching his boot and Mordred sensed his surprise. Not desiring to become the victim of another "lesson" Mordred tried to slip quickly around Percival but the a heavy hand on his shoulder stopped him.
"The King has requested your presence in his chambers for an urgent meeting." Percival stated, his tone serious. Mordred nodded slowly, surprised."I will be there as soon as possible."
