Not insomnia fueled, more like just had an idea and I wanted to run with it until the point I realized I had to go to bed. Hope you all enjoy.
Mordred's departure from The Rock had not been tear less, Tyrion, her poor brother struck with the bad luck of dwarfism was wailing as the only mother figure he had ever known was being sent away from him. Jaime, trying to look resolute, but in truth was suffering from a sense of trepidation that he would never see his older sister again, all while there was Cersei in the middle, bless whatever Gods may or may not exist for Cersei.
Her little sister was holding it together, if barely. Following in Mordred's footsteps she had taken it upon herself to be fierce yet kind, terrible yet forgiving, and had accepted the rather dubious honor of keeping their younger brothers in line while she was forced to the capital.
Mordred's final words to her little sister before she rode away from The Rock were, "You're the Lord of the House now Cersei, keep our boys safe, and don't let them slack off yeah?"
Cersei had pulled her into a tight hug while whispering, "I promise, sister." The little girl let her go and Mordred threw a jaunty salute towards everyone gathered for their departure as she hoisted herself upon her steed. without a thought all while resisting the urge of looking back she struck her spurs into Saber's sides as her mare trotted out to meet her waiting father.
"All settled then?" Her father asked quietly.
Mordred was silent for a moment, then she was struck with a quote from an author from her original home timeline that had been jammed into her head by the Grail, yet unlike most of the nonsense it imposed on her, this one...felt like it mattered.
The fact that she admittedly felt tears gather at the corners of her eyes as she spoke it was completely ignored by her, if not by her father.
"How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard."
Tywin remained silent for a time then reached over to ruffle his daughters hair while bearing a sad smile.
"You are your mother's child my dear, of that there is no doubt."
It had taken them three sennights to reach the outskirts of the Crownlands, and four more days after that to reach the borders of the capital all thanks to the rather ridiculous amounts of rainfall that had befell them. All of which seemed to have managed to vanish in less than an afternoon creating a miasma of terrible humidity that dragged everyone down.
Personally Mordred found her companions lethargy amusing, she had been from England after all, amateurs.
That aside she was currently sticking her tongue out of the corner of her mouth while she scrunched up her brow in frustration as she attempted to manifest her armor, only for Clarent to yet again appear before her and nearly crush her toes as it fell to the ground with a crash.
Letting out a frustrated sigh the Knight of Rebellion picked up her sword and examined it in a haze of annoyance, wondering not for the first time why her twelve year old body was able to wield the two handed broadsword without any issues yet why she could not summon her armor.
Uncomfortable it may be, but the protection and intimidation bonus it supplied made it well worth the effort.
Balancing Clarent by its pommel on her fingertip Mordred was beginning to think that her Secret of Pedigree had managed to leak into the blade thus the reason no one ever called out the slip of a girl for wielding a sword longer than she was tall. Though, yet again that created more questions, for instance was she still a Heroic Spirit, or was she something else now?
If she wasn't, what was she? If she was mortal, what was she drawing her mana from to manifest her strength and blade?
Glancing down at her left hand she let arcs of crimson lightning curl about her fingers as she buried Clarent into the damp ground and rested her chin on its pommel, truly lost as to what her purpose here was. Sighing she was about to begin her sword drills when she heard her father yell for her, letting Clarent fade back to...wherever it faded to she skirted past the hedges she had been hiding behind and trudged up the hill until she stopped beside her father, leaning into his side ever so slightly.
"Welcome my dear, to Kings Landing, the center of all Westeros."
Mordred remained silent for a time, then eventually she crinkled her nose and muttered, "It smells like shit."
Tywin snorted, then ruffled her hair affectionately, "Yes my dear, yes it does."
The quote is from A.A. Milne, writer of Winnie the Pooh, I thought it would be a somewhat ironic thing for Mordred to be quoting. She is after all hard as nails, but all she ever wanted was to be wanted and acknowledged.