The bodies that laid before me. The smell of fresh corpses and rusted iron. They were soldiers conscripted to fight for their King. I killed them on my own accord. I slaughtered them for the rebellion against my Father.
I chose this path, a future destined to be taken by the bastard child of the King. There was no remorse for I embraced my destiny. The blood and guts soaking my blade was proof of my commitment.
For once in my life, I felt free…Free reign over my body…body.
Was I a different person? No, that was not possible. I was and forever would be Mordred. But I have knowledge and emotions I could not have experienced in this life. Who was I before this…before Mordred? I vividly remember referring to myself as an otaku. The title was very confusing since no such honor was given to anyone of this land.
NO! It didn't matter who I was before and who I was not now. I was Mordred, the Knight of Rebellion and Treachery. Nothing else mattered until I quenched my flames of hatred.
"Guh." A blond knight pushed himself off the ground. His armor was horribly damaged and his wounds were mortally severe.
"You're still alive, Gawain?" The injured knight gasped for air as he steadied himself with his stained sword. I applauded his tenacity for life. "Very impressive considering that hole in your stomach."
"How were you able to gain so much support? Just how were you able to do all of this from our notice?" He asked in between large puffs of air. I stood firm on my position. Gawain was too weak to be a threat any longer. My armor was also covered in blood, though not my own. We stared in silence, his eyes never wavering and demanded answers.
"Merlin and women." I sternly replied. My response shook Gawain's entire being, even more so than his injuries. Gawain probably remembered his last interaction with Merlin. Poor mage, he lived and died forever remembered to be a womanizer. In my honest opinion, he had it coming for cheating on multiple powerful women. I didn't make any plans to kill him; it just happened as foretold by those strange memories of mine. It was supposed to happen way after my rebellion. Just my luck that it happened now rather than later.
Without the mage, Arthur was blinded by his ideals and ignorant of the many affairs of his domain. Too much of a perfect king to lower himself to petty affairs of the common folk. It led to a huge drop in his support. He became sheltered in his glory and empty praises of his allies. Though the people around him didn't openly express their displeasure, their distaste for the king grew within their hearts like a parasite feasting on the defenseless. I used it to my advantage.
"I see." Gawain pointed his sword towards me. "Even so, I can not allow you to live."
"Big promises coming from a dying fool. Is the blood loss too much for you to handle?" I mocked my former ally.
"No, he's just a natural airhead." A youthful figure came into view from behind me.
"G-Gareth…Why have you sided against the king?!" The shock of seeing his cousin and fellow Knight of the Round Table induced weakness into his legs. Gawain fell onto his knees, his sword was the only thing keeping his face from crashing onto the soil.
"You should know as well as I do that things are getting out of hand." Gareth narrowed her eyes. "I had seen the pointless deaths of my two siblings during the execution of Guinevere by the hands of Lancelot. If it wasn't for Sir Mordred, I would have also joined them in death."
She walked towards Gawain, holding her gaze with his. "All because our king could not express a bit of humility to his subjects-to his very wife. Britain would be in ruins if nothing is done to save it, either by the barbarians or an internal rebellion." She stopped and kneeled in front of Gawain's bloodied face. "And I know Sir Mordred has the heart to right the wrongs forced on the people of Britain."
"Your compliment is unfounded. I am not much of a leader." I blushed at her admiration towards me.
"No need to be so humble." She faced me and bowed her head. "If you will allow it, please spare my cousin's life."
I facepalmed at her outrageous request. I went through all that trouble to fight a battle against Gawain's army and landing a fatal blow on his person only to spare his life. I really wanted to deny her plea, but there's that weird voice in the back of my head saying otherwise. I bet Gareth knew that too.
"Fine. Take him to get patched up." I sighed. Gareth gave me a wide smile before carrying the unconscious knight away from the battlefield. He either fainted from shock or blood loss. She expressed her gratitude all till she was out of earshot.
When have I become this soft? This side of mine is going to be a hindrance to my rebellion.
Apparently, I was wrong.
*Slash* "GAHH!"
There goes mob soldier number 748. Another mob rushed to confront me and similar to his dying brethren, he too was cut down with a single swing. I could not comprehend my sudden impulses of kindness. I still ruthlessly killed my enemies and had beheaded many knights, even a few former comrades of the Round Table.
'It's not like they mattered. Side characters should stay out of the way.' Another strange thought perpetrated my mind. I did not understand who these side characters were, but I instinctively knew them to be useless. It was a rational thought that the irrelevant should be removed before they cause more havoc to my army. Perhaps that was what I was trying to convey to myself.
"I don't want to die." I heard a voice below my feet. One of my unlucky foes seemed to have a bit more fight in them left. I looked into his fearful eyes, it was screaming for mercy. Screaming in pain like all the other soldiers I had slaughtered. I pitied his circumstance, but I did not guilt over his misfortune. He chose to fight and faced the repercussions.
"Side characters should know their place." I brought my sword on his neck, decapitating the suffering man. His blood mixed with the hundreds of other nameless soldiers slain by my blade. Alas, his death was not in vain. He brought me closer to the completion of my rebellion.
The setting sun painted the battlefield, littered with bodies and swords, an orange hue. I stood amidst the deaths of my allies and enemies. Mostly enemies because a rebellion was always more successful when the murdering happens against a tired army that had recently returned from a campaign.
A shadow loomed over me as the person in question stood upon a hill and outlined himself with the sun's rays. He held no emotions and weirdly wore a dress. It was hard not to see King Arthur as male if the person himself chose to wear a blue long skirt. Yet, no one ever questioned him. I had to keep my mask on full time to keep my gender a secret.
It's not like it mattered right now. "What now Arthur?" I spread my arms, presenting the endless corpses around us. "This is the end of your kingdom." The dead would serve as witnesses to my destiny.
"Face the consequences of your own doing!" I screamed at him, the king who tried so hard to become the false idol of worship. He never responded to my spite and kept his face void of emotions. Was this truly the type of king Arthur wished to be? Perhaps, but it was not a ruler the people wanted. His only gesture of signifying my presence was the lifting of his sword Excalibur. Everyone called Excalibur, and its lookalike Caliburn, the swords of legend. Caliburn being the weapon that deemed its user to be fit for kinghood. I would laugh every time anyone called it that. To me, they was more of curses than miracles. They forced themselves on people and bestowed upon individuals a destiny they may not be willing or prepared to take.
"Is it hate that drives you?" I removed my mask and gave a cheeky grin. "Hatred for me?!"
Arthur kept his silence. An act which was pissing me off. This was my glorious rebellion created specifically for him and he gave no reaction to it.
"Say something…ARTHUR!" I rushed him and slashed at the figure. Not unexpected, he deflected the blow. I pushed myself away to gain some distance.
"I never hated you." Arthur stoically declared. He readied his battle stance for his own strike.
"No shit." I spat back, which astounded him. His poker face finally cracked with emotion. Though it was just his eyes widening a bit, it was still something.
"Is that shock on your stony face?" I taunted, hoping for a better reaction. Arthur regained his composure and ruined my fun.
"Tsk…Still believing in that perfect king bullshit." I threw more shade. "Everyone important to you is either dead or has left you! Why can't you see the failure of the king you are?"
"I'm still here!" Bedivere shouted from somewhere.
"Everyone important."
*sad Bedivere noise*
*Stomp* That got a decent reaction from Arthur. He lowered himself and-Damn!
Arthur thrusted Excalibur straight at my chest. I deflected the strike with my own blade before throwing a fist against his face. Arthur blocked my punch with his arm guard.
"Oh ho. So you're approaching me. Instead of running, you are coming closer." He kept his silence during the exchange of blows.
Each second we fought, I felt Arthur getting faster. She was becoming more accustomed to my fighting style. I kicked the dirt to push myself backwards to gain some distance. My speed wasn't enough and the blows kept coming.
Then, I made a fatal mistake. I went for a wide swing and the resulting force of Arthur's counter, left my chest open. He capitalized on my weakness and Excalibur once more towards my chest. My instincts went into turbo drive and I released the grip on my sword to free my right hand. Swiftly, I grasped the upcoming blade with both hands, refusing to let it slide in my armored fingers. My feet left marks on the ground, excavating roots and soil.
Surprisingly, I stopped the attack. We stood in awe at my desperate, though successful, attempt to protect myself. My wild instincts allowed a kick to connect with Arthur's right hip. The sudden impact detached the king from his trusty sword.
My encounter with death had been postponed, but the sword in my hands proved to be a bigger problem.
"Mordred, what have you done?" Genuine fear came from Arthur as I held Excalibur's handle in my hands. Honestly, I was scared too. People who are deemed unworthy to wield the sword were said to be corrupted with an unquenchable thirst for power. Arthur grabbed hold of her holy lance Rhongomyniad in preparation of my rampage. I stared at the shining blade, awaiting my overwhelming emotions.
…
…
It never came. "Heh. Neat." I did a couple of test swings of the sword, marveling at its workmanship.
"You don't have the capacity to be king." I turned towards the speaker to see the frowning face of Arthur. I laughed at his claim. "The pot calling the kettle black. Eh, Father?"
Silence reigned through the lands as we stared at each other. I could see many conflicting emotions swirling Arthur's eyes. It was a huge contrast to his normal calm self; he was becoming human.
In a blink of an eye, we ran and clashed for a second time. This time though, I held the upper hand with Excalibur on the left and Clarent on my right. I released a ferocious series of attacks, forcing my father to defend in the entirety of our duel. The adrenaline overpowered my sense of reason and exhaustion as I kept striking Arthur's lance. Then, a blow knocked the lance loose of Arthur's grip. The force shot him off his feet and his back crashing to the ground.
"It's over!" I raised Clarent to strike down Arthur. Yet, I was interrupted by a cockroach.
"My King!" Bedivere screamed as he joined the skirmish with his sword drawn. I redirected my attention towards him.
"Didn't I say that you're insignificant!" I aimed Excalibur towards Bedivere, an action he didn't anticipate.
*Stab Noise*
The sword hit its mark…Bedivere should be dead, but he wasn't. My eyes shot open at what I just witnessed. Blood bleached the blue of Arthur's armor and cloth. I stared at the bleeding back of my father's figure. Father fell onto Bedivere as the sword I held within my grip slowly slid out of his body.
Bedivere cried and screamed at his dying king. Me…I was paralyzed at the scene. I had done what I had dreamed of. I had killed Arthur…So why does it hurt so much? Why did I feel so robbed?
"Mor-Mordred." Arthur released a weak breath. I turned towards my father, dying in Bedivere's arms. "Maybe I was wrong."
"Huh…" I felt wet streams traveling down my cheeks. "What-t-t?"
My grip on the swords loosened. My legs grew weak and I fell onto my knees.
"Hahaha~. What are you saying? Haha."
"I am sorry." Arthur breathed his last. Everything was getting blurring; everything was unbearable.
NonononononNONONONONO!
"AHHHHHHHHHH!"