Okay, so 10 months since my last update. I am so sorry. I've kinda fell off the writing train and it was hard to get the motivation to dive back into this story. I can promise at least 5 more chapters in the next few weeks but after that the updates will be super slow again.

Better late than never?

o}O{o

Along the River Chemary near the Mountains of Isgard, tucked away on a weathered dirt trail was an inn boasting the name, The Salty Nymph. Once a reputable establishment by a different name in years passed, the inn now drew a degenerate crowd. Travelers on their way to the Vale of Isgard no longer stopped at the inn, risking the road instead of a room. But the man tying his old horse to the lean to serving as the stables, fit right in.

A man called Bert sauntered into the place, a cloud of smoke and distrust greeting him as he passed the threshold. A small smattering of people were gathered, five of them, and all sitting separate from each other. They took in his scarred face and black cloak before they looked away, recognizing him as not someone to be trifled with. The newcomer's dark eyes scanned them all before deeming none of them a threat. He made his way to the bar where he grabbed a stool, noticing the innkeeper nod to someone sitting in the corner.

"What'll it be, Bert?" the innkeep asked. Sam was his name, or that was what he told people to call him at least.

"Usual," Bert replied gruffly.

Whoever Sam had nodded to slowly approached where Bert was sitting. A cloaked man took a seat beside him, not speaking until Bert had a mug of strong ale in front of him. There was a shadow cast by the man's hood blocking most of his features from view but even in the half light of the dark inn, Bert could see it was an old man.

"I hear you are the best at what you do," the man said after Bert took a drink.

It was a hardened voice, forged by pain and loss over the years. Bert had seen his type before but he hadn't witnessed many who were old by the time hate hadn't killed them. Bert laughed a humourless chuckle and eyed the stranger sideways. "If you've heard of me, I aint the best," he said in an uncaring tone. "You interested in my skills?"

"Yes," the man said, "my name is-"

"Don't care who you are," Bert interrupted and sighed. This guy clearly had no idea what he was doing but that wasn't so outlandish for a druid. He took another swallow of ale, eyeing the tattered grey cloak the man was wearing. The only thing of value looked to be an iron band around the old man's thumb. "You got coin?"

"Five silver pennies," the druid said quietly.

Bert laughed again. "Is whoever you want taken care of small? Cause I 'aint doing shite for that."

"Why yes. He's eleven years old. Should be easy for a man of your… skills."

Bert set his mug down and straightened his back. "I don't kill children." A man had to have principles after all. This he could tell upset the old man. "Why don't you off him yourself, if it's so easy?"

"Someone of my kind is not welcome in Camelot," he said.

"The city proper, eh? And five silver pennies…you must be mad."

"And this," the druid said and reached into his pocket. Bert's eyes widened at what the old man set on the wooden bar in front of him. He was quick to snatch the amethyst ring before anyone could see. "Yours if you agree to the job."

Well how could Bert say no to that? "Sam," he called. "Get this man a drink."

o}O{o

Tynan sat with a stooped back at the bar and pushed his finished drink away now that the assassin had left. His beady grey eyes glared at the dusty bottles on the shelf in front of him, but they held no interest for him. The druid had thought that he would feel satisfied at hiring the assassin, but the yearn of revenge still burned in his throat as strongly as ever. He supposed only when he heard of Mordred's demise he would feel sated and not before. The boy had crossed a line when he had dared harm Tynan's wife. It had been months now since Ethel and Ben had tried to take the boys, months since Ethel had come back with a broken hip. She could hardly walk now, and was growing weaker as the days grew by. He would lose her far sooner than he was ready and would then be alone. Tynan closed his eyes, thinking of the past. He had a family once- Ethel and two precious daughters with children of their own, not to mention his own brothers and sisters. But only he and Ethel had survived the purge. And it was Mordred's fault that he would be losing Ethel too. His fingers formed into fists and he took a breath to calm himself.

He noticed that Royce was approaching him, set on refilling his cup. Tynan shook his head. "No thank you, Sam," he said. The barkeep shrugged and took a swig from the bottle. He wasn't the most professional man, but he was an excellent contact for Tynan and had owed him a debt. It was Royce, or Sam as he liked to be called nowadays, who gave him an enchanted ring just last week when he had arrived.

"I'd lay low for a while if I was you," Royce advised, leaning against the counter and putting down the bottle. Tynan eyed the man from under the shadow of his hood. "Bert isn't the most honourable bloke around. That ring will be more than enough payment for him."

"Will he do the job?" That was all Tynan cared for. The man he used to be was reviled at what he had become but was smothered by the pain and loss King Uther had caused.

"Aye. But he might tip King Uther off that there is a druid in these parts. Me? I'll be keeping an eye out."

"That would be rather brazen, no?"

"I told you he weren't the best. There's a chance he will get caught."

Tynan laughed. "The guards of Camelot are hardly impressive."

"Neither is Bert."

"It makes no difference to me," Tynan said and stood up. "Thanks again for your help."

"All I did was point 'im out," Royce mentioned. The nodded to each other in a silent farewell before Tynan turned to leave. Once out the door, he breathed in the fresh air and wasted no time in heading to the nearby grove of trees. Tynan did not even glance to the river, flowing strongly beside the beaten road. He had been away from Ethel for too long and was anxious to get back despite the questions he would no doubt receive.

Once within the shelter of the trees, Tynan raised his hand to look at the ring on his fingers. He activated it with his magic and focused on where he wanted to go. The runes on the iron band gleamed brightly and with a short incantation, Tynan disappeared in a strong gale of wind.

o}O{o

Mordred walked curiously through the lower town, enjoying looking at people as they carried on with their business. Most were trying to sell something, but others were bargaining down prices and some just passing through without interest. There were no houses here, just tiny shops and even smaller stalls lining the ramparts. The castle was near-by and Mordred was travelling one of the side streets which led into the courtyard.

He was working up his courage. Telling himself that when he got to the castle, he really would tell Morgana about her dreams. He had tried several times now but they were always interrupted, either by Gwen or Merlin mostly. Mordred sighed as he passed a man selling a variety of spices. A small canvas overhead kept his wares in the shade as well as the vendor. He narrowed his eyes at Mordred in a silent warning to move along. The prince's servant picked up his pace, not wishing to be mistaken for a thief.

Mordred was walking by an alleyway between two thatch roofed buildings when he heard a voice calling out. "Hey, you there. Boy!" it hissed.

He looked around slowly, becoming suspicious when saw a black cloaked man pressed against the side of a building. The man was beckoning Mordred closer, an inviting smile on his scarred face. He'd heard of the black market. Was this it?

"I- I don't have any money," Mordred stated.

"That's alright, that's alright," the man said and opened up the sleeve of his cloak. The pockets inside were weighed down by something Mordred could not see. "A trade, then?"

"I'm not interested," Mordred said to him and moved on. He winced when the cloaked man scurried closer to the mouth of the alley.

"But I have magical items," he whispered. Mordred froze on the spot and looked back at the man. The shadow was not so thick and Mordred did not like the look in the man's dark eyes. Mordred backed up a step but the man inched closer, reaching into his pocket. "I'll show you."

An alarmed look alighted Mordred's face. They could both be killed. "No, look for someone else," Mordred said but his eyes lingered on the man's pockets as he turned. It saved his life. The cloaked man tensed and lashed out with a dagger like a snake going for the kill. Only thanks to Arthur's training did Mordred move back in time.

The blade caught him just above the breast, missing his heart by a few inches, ripping through fabric and skin to his shoulder. A piercing scream flew out of Mordred's lips as he fell, filled with agony and fear. People stopped on the street, every eye drawn to him. But he did not notice them- a flurry of movement rose in front of him and the cloaked man raised his arm for another strike. Mordred's eyes burned golden and the man tripped, falling right beside him. The boy cried out and scrambled to his feet, running before he had a destination in mind. Pain reverberated in his chest and his other arm clutched the wound, instinctively stemming the blood. It felt like a burning iron poker was branding his skin, the pain growing worse with each clumsy step he took.

His breathing started to come in small pants and it was knocked right out of him when he tripped and fell. A roar of yells sounded behind him, the peasants alerted of his plight but the assassin was gaining on him. Mordred made it to his knees but froze in fear. The dagger the black cloaked man was raising above him was stained with Mordred's blood, the realization shocking Mordred into trying to flee again.

A man yelled from the side and the assassin's dagger changed trajectory to meet the blade of a spear, deflecting it to the side. Mordred scrambled away, watching the guard engage the black cloaked man. People were fleeing and some tried to help Mordred but a guard got to him first. The boy couldn't see his eyes from the shadow of his helmet but allowed himself to be dragged along. They ran the short way to the bridge leading into the courtyard, with Mordred looking back frequently. The pain was getting worse and when he saw that the assassin killed the other guard, he cried out.

"Run!" The guard ordered and pushed him to the bridge before sprinting for his comrade's killer. Mordred took off at once, the edges of his vision darkening as he ran. His feet pounded across the wooden bridge and he tripped again when he made it to the courtyard. A wave of vertigo rocked through him but fear had him getting up again. The people in the square were all staring at him, but then there was a commotion at the gates. A call for the guards made Mordred fear the worst and he hastened into the castle. A sudden thought nearly made him trip. Gaius. Gaius fixed it when he was hurt. Mordred stood still, panting rapidly and blinking to try and clear the shadows flowering in his vision. His left arm felt like it was on fire, all the way down to his fingers and the pain made it hard to plan.

"No," he mumbled, and started walking again, rocking precariously as he did so. "No, Merlin'sthere. Merlin'safe." Mordred whimpered and ran as fast as he was able, tears of pain sliding down his cheeks when he started hurrying up the steps. Morgana's chambers were closer. He chanted her name in his head, his voice growing more desperate as he got closer. The warning bells were ringing now.

o}O{o

Morgana shared a laugh with Gwen as she and the maidservant shared a toast. Last night she hadn't any dreams and thought it was worth a celebration. It was a bit early for wine so she had ordered Gwen to get some that was watered down. Just as she raised the goblet to her lips, the door to her chambers crashed open, causing her to jump and nearly spill the her drink. Gwen twirled and put her goblet down fearfully. Seeing that it was Mordred, caused Morgana to laugh.

"Mordred!" Morgana joked, "have you forgotten how to knock?" Mordred's back was turned and he closed the door with a shaking hand. Morgana's face fell. "Mordred?" she called, this time in alarm.

He stepped back from the door, backing away and losing his balance. Gwen reacted first, she surged forward to keep the boy standing, Morgana hurrying to help. "Morgana!" Gwen cried, and Morgana shrieked when she stood beside Mordred. Blood was seeping from high on the boy's chest, darkening his cloak and staining his pale shirt.

"Mordred!" Morgana called fearfully, startling the servant into fluttering his eyes open.

"Tried to kill me," he said but his voice came out hoarse and barely understandable.

But Morgana understood. She shared a horrified glance with Gwen before she pulled Mordred further into the chambers and her maidservant leapt to grab a sword from the nearest rack. The maidservant hesitated when Mordred could not support his weight anymore, torn between helping Morgana and standing guard.

"Mordred," Morgana exclaimed worriedly, sinking onto her knees to hold the boy up and pressing a hand to his wound to put pressure on it. "Mordred!"

He squinted up at her, a pained moan escaping his lips. Gwen took a step toward them but as she did, a fierce pounding came from the door, startling all of them. The assassin, Morgana feared. Mordred's eyes flew open and he sucked in a gasp. At the same time, the large mirror hanging on Morgana's wall shattered loudly. She jumped and stared at the broken glass, unable to look away. Cracks spiderwebbed all across, fragmenting in dozens of reflections. Her gaze slowly drifted back down to Mordred's clouded eyes.

"Morgana!" Arthur's voice shouted, and started opening the door.

Mordred's eyes rolled into the back of his head and went limp in her arms. "Arthur!" she screamed.

o}O{o

The guards were on their best behaviour today. It was an official inspection day where Arthur walked around town to monitor their ethic. Every man was straight backed and vigilant, not one fooled by the casual way Arthur was walking. He strolled down a wide rode in the town, keeping an eye not only on the guards but on the people as well. Crops were being brought in from the surrounding fields, the two men just in front of Arthur were hauling baskets of carrots towards the courtyard. The prince passed them by and felt their stares on his back. He was sure they did not recognize him but the rather extravagant coat he was wearing marked him as a noble and not many came by this way. The road led to the south gate but Arthur veered off it to weave between buildings and reappear on a wide dirt street.

Stalls lined the sides of it, each one selling some variety of grain. There were less people here and it was easy for Arthur to see there were no guards, causing a scowl to pop onto his face. He would have to find out the reason there were none of his guards around. There was only supposed to one, so the prince did not see any excuse. His footfalls became heavier with annoyance but stopped altogether when he heard the warning bells start to ring. Arthur was running the next moment and looking frantically around for any disturbance. He heard distant shouting from the western ramparts and hurried his pace now certain of his destination.

He cut through the courtyard, narrowing his eyes at the splashes of blood leading from the gates and to a side entrance into the castle. The sounds of yelling made him pass it, and he quickly found the source of the danger. Guards were surrounding a single black cloaked man, forcing him to his knees roughly.

"What is the meaning of this?" Arthur bellowed and marched up to them. The man had his arms up despite the shoves and kicks he was receiving.

"He killed Rodric!" one of them answered loudly.

"He killed a little boy!" Another yelled.

While another shouted, "He's a mad man, Sire!"

Arthur held up his hand to silence them, ignoring the sudden sickness that flashed in his gut. "He killed a child?" All of the guards seemed to freeze and none of them seemed eager to talk anymore. Several glances were exchanged between them, and the frown on Arthur's face deepened. Seeing that they were no help, the prince stepped forward to question the prisoner. "Well?"

The dark cloaked man grimaced. "He got away," he said simply, and then laughed. "Won't last for long though. Got him pretty good."

Arthur glared at the man heavily, feeling a cold surge of hate. "Where is he?" Arthur demanded of the guards at once. "Has no one gone after him?"

"He- he went into the castle, Sire," one of the guards answered and Arthur remembered the spots of blood that he had seen. "Sire…"

"You kill me now, you'll never find out who paid me," the cloaked man interjected.

Paid? Arthur had never heard of someone paying to have a child assassinated. And why would Arthur kill him before he faced judgement? "Sire," the guard continued, "the boy was your servant, Sire." The prince froze, not sure if he had heard right.

"What?"

The guard winced and a voice in Arthur's head screamed at him to find Mordred. He turned a murderous glare on the black cloaked man before sprinting back to the courtyard, shouting out for the guards to take the assassin to the dungeons. If Mordred had been able to run away, that surely meant that he was alright. That was what Arthur kept telling himself as he followed a scattered trail of blood into the castle. He knew where his servant was heading as soon as he passed the turn leading to the physician's chambers. Morgana's chambers were the next closest place to hide.

Arthur took the steps two at a time, noting with horror that the blood spotting the floors was becoming more frequent. It was like a hot poker stabbed him in the gut before a torrent of ice water was dumped over his head. He could not stop thinking of Mordred's infuriatingly childish face.

The prince practically ran into Morgana's door. He slammed his fist against it, calling out to Morgana with more panic in his voice than he'd like to admit. Mordred was a servant yes, but over the months it was almost like Arthur had an annoying little brother. Almost.

"Morgana!" he shouted, not waiting for a response before forcing the door open.

"Arthur!" Morgana called out to him, panic in her voice.

The prince felt his breath leave him in a horrified gasp. Guinevere practically threw down the sword she was brandishing but Arthur hardly noticed. Mordred was held in Morgana's arms, unconscious and bleeding from a wound on his chest.

"He said- he said someone tried to kill him," Gwen gasped when Arthur passed her to kneel in front of Morgana.

"Give him here," the prince demanded of Morgana, unable to take his eyes off the red soaking through Mordred's shirt. Arthur hauled the boy up, one arm behind his back and the other under his knees.

"It's not that bad," Morgana pled, rising up with him.

Arthur met her worried gaze for a moment before he spun on his heel and hurried out the door. Mordred did not so much as twitch despite the speed which Arthur carried him at. "Mordred," he called under his breath. "It's just a little scratch, just a little scratch, alright."

o}O{o

As much as the prince told himself that, he could not stop pacing restlessly as Gaius stitched Mordred up. Morgana insisted on helping and Guinevere was in the back room with Merlin, keeping him from wandering out. The physician was calm and Arthur did not know how he could be. Mordred was a child, he was not supposed be having his chest sewn shut. While he knew he was overreacting, Arthur couldn't help it. Anger was building inside him, the only thing keeping it at bay was his worry for Mordred.

"Arthur," Morgana called. She was cleaning the blood smeared on Mordred's skin but there was an expression on his face which terrified even him. "See that bastard executed."

The prince did not move right away but he nodded his head after thinking about it. He was doing no good here and it would be putting his anger to good use. Arthur could take seeing his men wounded, could take seeing them bleed. But a child was a completely different story. So Arthur took off without a word, striding angrily through the halls with Mordred's blood still on his hands and tunic.

o}O{o

Updating this seems like such a big deal to me for some reason. I just hope whoever is still around likes it!

Till next time