Immortal: I live! But in recompense for being late in arrival, I had to roll the gacha as many times as Gudako ordered me to. She is dictating the author section as I type this and she is at least appeased by me getting Jack the Ripper, Xian Yu, Yu Mei-Rin, Atalanta, Ilya, Miyu and a few others. But my wallet paid the price. Every week I was late I had to do a 30 Saint Quartz draw, and if I didn't have it well…

Gudako: He had to pay out of pocket! The threat of poverty is an awesome motivator!

Immortal: However, this one was tricky simply because I had to do some digging and figure out some locations. It is admittedly a little difficult because there is just so much surrounding Arthurian mythology. So for context, our Mordred was born in the islands of Orkney after Morgan stole Artoria's seed and she is currently in hiding, waiting for the right time to emerge. Furthermore, for context Britain is currently not united as there are still other people who call themselves King of their own regions, like King Lot of Orkney, King Mark of Cornwall, and so on. Now for the most part for this story, the average person see's King Arthur as the true king of their entire nation, but the other king's still hold a piece of their land, basically a nation unto themselves.

Also, Camelot's location ended up being important because this decides where Mordred and Morgan have been hiding all this time and after a month or so of looking I ended up going with the place most scholar's seem to agree on, plus going off of Le Morte d'Arthur, for the purpose of this story, Camelot will be located in Winchester. So if you look at a map of Britain in King Arthur's time, this will give you an idea, which is where modern day Wales is located. There IS a forest nearby where Camelot was supposedly located so this will explain how it took so short (relatively speaking) a time for Mordred and Morgan to arrive. This WILL become important as this determines the destination and passage to where they need to go. Admittedly it feels I'm going more into Arthurian myth than the Fate series itself, but I hope I am doing this well.

Gudako: Oh, by the way, you were late so you know what that means!

Immortal: Okay, I get that you are dictating me to write this, but why do I have to add your comments too?

Gudako: Okay, type this in. YES, word-for-word and with correct grammar! Currently, I have hold of your phone and I unlocked the password! Oh, what's this? Short on quartz and it's an event? Wow! That librarian is HOT! Don't worry, I'll just purchase the 79.99 amount for Saint Quartz. You failed to get Sanzang, you failed to get Nightingale, you failed to get Altera, so it looks like I'll have to up the ante and try to get Saber's sexier older self! Finish the author section by the time I'm done with these rolls and MAYBE you'll have enough funds to actually have food this week.

Immortal: My wallet…

Gudako: Yep folks! I OWN Immortal's wallet. It's amazing how the threat of poverty as well as liberal use of a tazer motivates people. Tell you what, because I am such a generous Master, if you leave a review and a like here, I'll limit him to only a single roll per day.

Immortal: Please, my wallet's survival needs you!

Disclaimer: This fanfiction is fan-based writing. All characters and locations are owned by their respective owners for the Nasuverse as well as Arthurian mythology. I do not own any of them in any way, shape, form, or concept. Please support the official release, but don't go too crazy spending your money on Fate/Grand Order's Gacha!

Mordred

First there was nothing. Then muffled voices were heard and great gates were opened, blinding Mordred temporarily as the sunlight broke through the darkness.

Bells rang, horns blared in musical harmony, and voices cheered as Mordred ascended the stairs leading up to the great castle Camelot. The nameless, faceless masses cheered and chanted her name as she walked the main street.

"Sir Mordred!" "Sir Mordred!" "Sir Mordred!"

"Look mother! It's Sir Mordred the newest knight of The Round Table!"

Her field of vision was slightly off as she turned and waved to the masses, before accepting a flower from somebody, but who? It was hard to see when she realized that she must be wearing her helmet. The cheers continued as she reached the inner gates leading to Camelot itself and a horn blared like a rolling thunder to signal her entry. Mordred felt her breath stolen as she saw that awaiting her at the gates were the Round Table Knights themselves. They were applauding her and every one of them, save for Agravain, were smiling for her as if to grant her the appropriate welcome to them to their brotherhood. Even Sir Kay was there, admitting that he had been wrong all along with a humble bow and Sir Mordred graciously accepted his apologies.

That's when HE approached and they all bent their knees as King Arthur approached Sir Mordred who instinctively went to her knees as well. He was still shorter in stature than his knights, but to Mordred he was taller than her and seemingly out of reach astride his magnificent white horse. Then she heard him dismount and approach her, his body blocking the sun as he placed one hand across his heart and extend a hand towards her, a smile on his face in spite of his face still being obscured mostly. He wanted her to stand on her feet! He wanted her to stand as his chosen one, extending his hand to her and no other. But when she tried to grab the hand, her narrow vision made it difficult to see, causing her to miss his hand, or did it somehow miss as if he were made of air. In annoyance, Sir Mordred removed her helm and her sight cleared as she looked up with joy and delight plain to see on her face, tears of happiness almost threatening to fall.

Shock was written on the royal face, then he backed away from her and waved his hand with a flourishing gesture as he wrenched his hand away from Sir Mordred. The joy and elation turned to into horror for Mordred as she heard Sir Kay begin to laugh at her. Soon the other knights were laughing at her, calling her weak, a girl, stupid, fake, female, woman, homunculus, freak, girl, GIRL, WEAK, GIRL, WEAK, WEAKWEAKWEAKWEAKWEAKWEAKWEAKWEAK.

Then they shoved Mordred back and Camelot's gates SLAMMED in Mordred's face, the people's cheers turning into scorn and Mordred felt herself suddenly burdened by the armor and it began to shrink on her, choking her, making her vision go dark, and her screams were cut off as her heavy armor devoured her from the inside out. It was like a living thing that swallowed her alive and she could only claw and bang her fist on the door. The laughter suddenly was silenced and Mordred heard the sound of somebody weeping. It was soft, but the agony and sorrow Mordred heard was more than she could bear and it tore at her heart more than any mocking laughter ever could, but she still fought for one last breath and she yelled with all the air left in her lungs

"DON'T SHUT ME OUT! PLEASE LET ME IN!"

She banged on the gates of Camelot's fortress castle over and over, her armor devouring her until-

"WAKE UP!"

Mordred's eyes opened with a choked gasp as she felt herself struggling to breathe. Her heart was hammering in her small chest as she found herself tangled in her blanket. She heard the banging of her door before she heard the key turn the lock and Mother strode into the room. She had the slightest of frowns on her face as Mordred finally untangled herself and pulled the blanket off from her neck.

"Child, we shall be departing soon for Cornwall and we shall not be delayed because of your oversleeping."

"But Mother-", began Mordred as she freed herself and stepped onto the floor only to be silenced as Mother cut her off, "Furthermore, you must have your hair shortened if you are to pass as a boy."

Mordred felt a chill and she instinctively reached for her hair as if to protect it from being sheared. Although she didn't understand just why she was feeling protective of it, there was some impulse in her that felt that her hair was solely hers. To have it trimmed short would be like… like something precious was taken from her. Ever since she had seen herself in the mirror, Mordred had started to be more diligent in brushing her hair except for when she forgot that one time on the trip to Camelot. But after they had gotten back, her hair had gotten longer to the point it reached her lower back.

She had been trying to let her hair grow out so she could tie it in a bun like King Arthur, so at the prospect of losing her hair, she shook her head furiously, her first open defiance of her Mother in too long a time.

Mother's expression did not change its chilly expression as she said with tones that chilled, "Are you defying me child?".

The question was softly spoken, but Mordred knew this was a warning and that punishment was sure to follow. Always Mordred had been cowed into meekly obeying Mother's orders after experiencing her punishments, but like the time Mother had left her alone for a whole day, a familiar anger stirred in the child.

"Mother…", began Mordred nervously in spite of trying to keep the wavering out of her voice, "I… I like my hair long. I want to keep it this way, it's not fair that you get to keep your hair long and I have to have my hair cut.".

"It is for your own protection Mordred.", said Mother stiffly, her eyes flashing as she kept her voice the same calm tone in spite of her rising anger at Mordred's defiance, "Perhaps I should keep you here. If you are so insistent on keeping your bird's nest of a hair, then perhaps I shouldn't waste any time in taking you to be trained after all.".

Mordred felt her stomach freeze as if a ball of snow had dropped into her stomach. No, Mother wouldn't do that! She wouldn't! After everything that they had discussed, would Mother truly snatch away her chance at being a knight in King Arthur's court.

"You-you're lying!", said Mordred in desperate fear before she could stop herself, "Please Mother, you can't do this! I won't let you!".

Mother's face became a disgusted look of cold anger at her child's defiance and she held up her hand. Her pale green eyes shone, her chest markings glowed like red fire, and she spoke a word in a language Mordred did not recognize. All of a sudden, the child felt her breath leave her lungs, her eyes grow heavy, and exhaustion sap her strength as she slumped to the floor. She suddenly had felt more tired than she ever had in her life, but she fought to keep her eyes open despite feeling an overwhelming urge to sleep.

In her blurred vision she felt Mother grab her long tresses and began to drag her. Somehow the pain was dull and far away to Mordred as she felt her eyes flutter shut.

Snip, snip, snip

She hears only the snipping of the scissor before her eye cracks open to see the pile of golden hair around her feet. She feels cold hands tug on her hair, then snip, snip, snip, snip, and more hair tumbles down her back. She feels cold and itchy as her hair slides down her bare back. Through the fog that clouds her eyes, she can see that her nightgown was remove to leave her as bare as the day she was born. That clears up at least for Mordred just why she feels so cold.

Snip, snip, snip

More hair is removed, the cold hands return and more of her hair is sheared. Then her eyes flutter shut again as she feels herself lifted up by the cold hands, her head feeling strangely light.

Then she feels herself falling and falling before being submerged in water. Mother had told her that the sea King Arthur tried to kill her with supposedly was like a giant pond, further than her eyes could see. She couldn't breathe, but she felt too tired to fight and her vision danced in front of her eyes as she sank deeper and deeper into the water. Her limbs refused to move and she sank deeper into the abyss, the light above her seemingly shrinking.

Was she dying?

Even as young as she was, Mordred understood the concept of death. Mother had been certain to drill it into her head during her lessons… that poor cat had been the first she had killed at the behest of her mother during a magic ritual. Pain began to overwhelm the dull senses and Mordred found she couldn't be bothered to care. She was simply too tired to care that her lungs were screaming from lack of oxygen and she began to close her eyes again so she could sleep and stop this pain. Then she saw a hand reach out to her through the water towards her and she remembered her dream…

"I will protect all that you represent… Arthur."

When Mordred awoke for the second time that day, it was being pulled out of a cold bath. She coughed and spluttered as she choked up water, her chest on fire as she began to gasp and breath. Mother held her up from the large tub, her face as stoic as ever, but the way Mother pulled Mordred naked and wet from the tub gave her the sense that Mother was… relieved in some way. She was wrapped in a large wool blanket and carried in her mother's arms. She still coughed and panted as she took in lungful's of air she didn't know she was desperate to have. Did she fall asleep in the bath? That didn't make sense because she knew she couldn't breathe underwater and when did she even take a bath in the first place?

Mother carried Mordred into her own room to the child's surprise, but then she saw that her own clothes had been laid out and ready for her to wear. Mother sat on the edge of the bed and she began to roughly dry Mordred off. The relief Mordred sensed in her was passed and now it was replaced with her usual indifferent mannerisms. Mordred protested at her Mother's intensity in the way she dried her off, but she was ignored and then when the towel was removed, Mother instructed her to get dressed before leaving without another word.

Mordred shivered a bit due to the chill from the water and her own lack of clothing as she stepped onto the carpet. Her head felt strangely lighter as she slipped on her white leggings and black breeches, her body pink and clean from the way Mother dried her. However, she caught a glimpse from the corner of her eye the shining mirror. Standing there was a person she barely recognized as she walked forward to look herself over. Mordred wasn't sure how exactly how much time had passed since she was last in Mother's room, but she could swear she had grown a little taller. Her limbs had definitely stretched out, her torso was slightly longer, but her chest was as flat as a board unlike the voluptuous bosom of her mother.

Then she took a look at her own face and saw with shocking dismay that her long hair had been shortened so closely to her head that at most it looked three or so inches long all around. It stuck out in some places, making it obvious that Mother wasn't very good at cutting hair. If Mordred hadn't seen the image of herself in the mirror, she would not have believed that it really was her, yet it was indeed her. She ran her fingers through her now shortened hair and trembled as she clenched her fist with her other hand. The sheer unfairness of it all made her want to lash out, consequences be damned when she felt another chill. This wasn't the cold chill of her upper body merely being exposed to the elements, but much deeper and more sinister. It was very, very familiar as well.

Like so long ago, Mother suddenly appeared when she blinked and she saw that she was standing there, right there behind her! Mordred didn't even look at her mother, she just continued to stare in frank disbelief at herself in the mirror. But Mother seemed oddly pleased, given the the slight tilt of the axis on the corner of her lip. A smile to the trained eye.

"Good. Now unless you were to be so foolish as to allow your lower parts to be seen, you will pass easily for a boy.", said Mother as she placed her hands on Mordred's bare shoulders. Mother's cool skin brought another shiver to Mordred and a strange, uncomfortable feeling made her feel embarrassed to be seen like this. She didn't know why as she had bathed with Mother before and they had seen each other's bodies. But like this it felt… she didn't know the word for it, only that she didn't like it.

"Finish dressing. It is almost time.", Mother said suddenly before she moved out of the room once more, her black and blue gown billowing slightly.

Mordred took one last look over herself before she glared back at the mirror image of herself, her fist still clenched from before and she drew her hand back to smash the mirror with her hand, Mother's voice sharply called out for her to hurry up.

In spite of her anger at the injustice she suffered, Mordred still felt she couldn't disobey, but in one last act of spite she mumbled to herself, "You look stupid as a boy.". She knew she was saying it to herself, but that didn't make it any less true. Then she proceeded to finish changing and as she did, Mordred knew she would not forgive her Mother for cutting her hair like this. But the last thing she noticed before she turned away was that Mother's knife wasn't on its usual stand.

After a while, Mordred had finished dressing herself before meeting her mother and found that she had packed her meager belongings before they left in a rucksack. Mother however carried nothing and when asked, she answered, "You will be acting as a squire until you are deemed ready to be a knight. Even then you will not be fit for King Arthur's court until you have proven yourself."

Thankfully Mordred knew what a squire was due to her reading and despite her discontent with her mother, she still felt the stirrings of excitement at the prospect. A page was usually the first step on the road to becoming a knight. A page was a messenger and an attendant to a noble or a knight. They received their first education on becoming a knight in this stage before they became a Squire. Squires still performed the same duties as a page, but the main difference was that squires would actually accompany their knight into battle directly.

After proving their valor and feat of arms, the squire would be officially dubbed a knight. Mordred was determined to be a knight worthy of King Arthur's court. No matter how hard the tasks she was given, she would do her best in and never, ever quit. She would think of Arthur, of Camelot, of the Round Table Knights, and focus on that solely to make her dream come true. When she was done, she might even forgive her Mother for all the times she made her take the special baths, pulled her hair, struck her, or talked down to her as if she were an imbecile.

With that, she donned her cloak and shouldered her pack and followed Mother outside of the cottage before her mother returned inside to finish the last of the packing.

To the end of her days, Mother refused to say exactly where she learned this spell from, but a curious Mordred could SWEAR she heard the words, "Hockety" and "Pockety" as well as "Higitus Figitus" come from her mother's lips. Mordred struggled not to laugh as all the items in their house were shrunk in size until they were no bigger than a pebble and neatly fit into a small purse. Mordred had to hold her hands to her mouth and not laugh at the absurd and silly words even as the magic did its job.

Mother returned from the cottage and had Mordred rejoin her. The child looked she looked up at her Mother and saw her wave her hands in a circular motion and began to speak in a strange tongue as her hands began to shimmer with the same green glow as her eyes.

Her tattoos shone, her eyes blazed, and Mother whispered her words of power, causing the entire structure to lose its solidity. The thatch roof withered as though they were burnt and the ashes scattered to provide nutrition to the soil, the rocks which kept the building strong crumbled to dust and have their cycle start again. The mud that kept them safe from the outside, the wood which provided solidity and comfort, all of which was granted by nature was returned. The basement where Mother's workshop and her "special bath" was located was completely filled up with earth. Soon, the only proof that their house had even existed was a patch of freshly churned earth.

Mordred stared at it, at a loss for words. Despite everything, this place had been the only home she had ever known and it was further proof that they were leaving everything behind. Mordred looked at it for a while longer before Mother approached the patch of earth and lay her hand upon it, whispering a few words.

"Something new will grow there in time."

"In time…", repeated Mordred and stared at the emptiness for a while longer before Mother told her they were leaving in a brusque tone. The forest parted for them to leave and Mordred followed reluctantly. A part of her wanted to look back, but then she felt her ears chill as the wind blew and she drew her cowl around her head more. The last thing she saw was the beginning of new green grass growing before she followed her Mother into the forest. Though the land still exists to this day, the only identifiable feature of the land, was a sense of disquiet and the sense that you were being watched.

It was two days of travel from their former home in the forest to Wessex. Their home was in the region of the Welshes, so there had been several avenues of approach to Cornwall. At first Morgan thought of traveling by sea to Cornwall's harbor and from there reach Tintagel Castle, the home of King Mark of Cornwall. But that would require an appropriate ship as well as a crew, which left too many unpredictable factors no matter how careful Morgan could be. Until they were in the territory of Cornwall, Morgan and Mordred did not have Cornwall's protection.

In the end, they would simply travel by carriage past the mountains of Wiltshire, arrive at Wessex, and using her magic, Morgan would take both herself and Mordred to Glastonbury Abbey where they would receive sanctuary. Upon arrival, they merely had to wait until an envoy sent by Cornwall would take them to Tintagel Castle. But while they were at the Abbey, Morgan would have to be extremely careful as the Abbey was not kind to practitioners of magic of any kind.

The trip was uneventful to Morgan, but Mordred was curious and wanted to know everything they saw. People, animals, locations, and much more. With nothing better, Morgan indulged Mordred for the purpose of helping her gain insight into the workings of Britain. Any of the political doings went over her head, but Mordred seemed to have a grasp on the basics of the overall picture. Though King Arthur was considered the lawful ruler of the nation as a whole, there were still others who called themselves, "king", "prince", or "lord" and had considerable power in their own right.

Mordred had been warned beforehand that King Mark of Cornwall was a prickly man who had been cursed to have the ears of a horse as well as the mane. It was a condition that Morgan was to cure the king of his "affliction" as he would get extremely wroth with anybody who dared mention it. It was strange how such an angry and boisterous man as he was uncle to Sir Tristan, a calm, polite, if melancholic soul. There were also rumors of his nephew having an affair with his wife, Iseult. Because of this, he had been given the nickname, "The Cuckold King". Saying so in his hearing was a guaranteed death sentence regardless of who you were.

But in exchange for ridding Mark of his ears and mane, Morgan and her "son" would granted sanctuary and shelter at Cornwall, which even Arthur would not be able to politically broach if he wanted to keep the loyalty of his vassals. Furthermore, Cornwall's greatest knight and personal champion, "Bertilak de Hautdesert" would take on Mordred as his personal page and squire. When asked about the knight, Morgan was purposefully vague, yet still truthful.

Sir Bertilak, was called "The Green Knight", due to his beard, horse, and livery being completely green. He shunned tourneys and would only ride should King Mark command it, which had been exceedingly rare. But it was stated that he was invincible in batter and that not even beheading him would kill him. He also never had a squire before as none could meet his nearly almost impossible standards. He was said to place his squires in dangerous situations, give them tasks that could result in their deaths, or simply play mind games with them in the hopes that they would quit. But Mordred assured her that she would become King Arthur's knight no matter what it took. Morgan however had her doubts about this in spite of assuring that Mordred at least was clever enough to do basic tasks. Her body would develop at its pre-designated rate, but thanks to her being a homunculus, her body would endure whatever tasks the Green Knight would have for her. But it would be up to Mordred herself to accomplish what was demanded of her.

In the meantime, Morgan would be carefully managing her own affairs to see to it that Artoria and her knights would not be able to touch her. Though that other man was on the other side of the land, Morgan le Faye had a contingency plan in place involving Orkney and King Lot. Though Gawain, Gareth, and Gaheris wanted nothing to do with her, King Lot would be a different story. But that would be something else to look into later.

For now, she would focus on getting to Cornwall. Mordred was asleep with her head in her lap as the carriage rocked her child to sleep. So much effort, all for revenge against Artoria. When did she stop loving her?

The thought came unbidden, likely as a result of having trouble sleeping, but it was there nevertheless. Morgan thought she hated Artoria from the moment she laid eyes on her, but that somehow didn't feel quite right. Wasn't there a point where she and Artoria were close? Close as siblings could be when they found each other again after Artoria had been sent to live with Sir Ector and Kay?

"I must be more tired than I thought…", she said aloud to herself and pushed the wayward thought away from herself as she looked down at Mordred again. To her surprise she began to hum softly and once more began to sing the lullaby that she used to use to put her child to sleep. She had not sang that song in a very long time, but the tune never left her. But in all this time, Mordred only knew the refrain, and not what Morgan le Faye intended for her.*

"Hush, child, the darkness will rise from the deep
And carry you down into sleep
Child, the darkness will rise from the deep
And carry you down into sleep

Guileless Son, as architect of your fate
To your Father your love will turn into hate
Though you will hold him to heavenly height
You will become known as the Treacherous Knight

Loyalty Loyalty Loyalty Loyalty
Loyalty Loyalty Loyalty only to me

Guileless Son, you will love no one
Your loneliness will sharpen your sword
The Knight of the Lake will hasten your doom
Father and Son must die to secure mine own throne

Loyalty Loyalty Loyalty Loyalty
Loyalty Loyalty Loyalty only to me

Hush, Child, the darkness will rise from the deep
And carry you down into sleep
Child, the darkness will rise from the deep
And carry you down into sleep

It was just as well that Mordred was fast asleep, but even so there was a now troubled look on her face and she shifted slightly, moving from one dream to another. Morgan continued to hum softly before she too was lulled into blissful oblivion of sleep.

Upon arrival at Glastonbury Abbey, Mordred and Mother had ingratiated themselves with the people there by volunteering to aid in the care of the wounded and sick. Mordred was surprised to see her mother act so… nice whenever it wasn't the two of them. She returned to her usual cold and indifferent self when it was just herself and Mordred, which made the child feel somewhat resentful at this treatment. But it was fascinating in its own queer way at how Mother was a completely different person when tending to the wounded and the sick. Strangely, Mordred was not really that put off by the various injuries the soldiers had. Though she wasn't allowed to do much, at the very least she brought fresh rags and washed linen along with the others.

Her disguise was perfect because she was always referred to as "he", "boy", or "lad", which made Mother seem more approving of her. The nuns and monks were delighted by her as well, fascinated at how well-read she was. Once they had even asked her to read a passage from their "Holy Bible" during a service for the people. Mother had been in attendance and seemed satisfied at her ability to read. But Mordred didn't understand what was so great about reading in front of other people. The head abbot explained that most of the people were illiterate and could neither read nor write.

"So you see lad,", explained the head abbot, "it is a precious thing to be able to read, write, and understanding the written word."

Despite the disguise working well, Mordred found that having to work around her bodily functions were annoying. On the rare times that bathing or cleaning oneself was available, she would have to wait to do it with her Mother. Other times she would simply have to be VERY early or wait until VERY late before she could even attempt such a thing. Going to the privy was annoying as well, but thankfully the abbey's latrines were isolated for the most part.

When she wasn't helping her Mother or practicing her reading, Mordred was allowed to play with the other novices and children about the abbey. Mordred found early on that she was VERY competitive and physically stronger than all the children, even the older ones. She ran faster than any of them, threw stones further than all of them, and was much stronger than even the eldest boy in wrestling matches.

She also found that she DID NOT like losing at all. So when the oldest boy, nearly a man grown decided to tear up some flowers that the other girls gave her, Mordred tackled him and then the brawl was on. But the older boy was able to use his weight to basically sit on her and rub her face into the ground until the head nun pulled them apart. Mordred was disciplined by her mother by a denial of supper, but Mordred was too angry to care. It didn't matter that this made her more popular than ever with the other girls and boys, for all she cared about was that she lost in a fight.

The boys her age always wanted to have her hang out with them, noting that she was really pretty for a boy. Some laughed and scoffed at her dream of being a knight, but the girls were quite infatuated with the idea. Occasionally they would even pretend to be Mordred's damsel in distress so she could rescue them. Mordred knew this was the part of the stories that she had read, but she personally enjoyed the battles with the pretend monsters and evil knights more than rescuing the damsels. Once she had even pretended to defeat a dragon in battle and instead of rescuing the "damsel", one of the girls, she befriended the "dragon", one of the boys, and left the girl as she yelled at them indignantly to go on more adventures.

It was a rather pleasant week at the abbey before Mother informed her one day that they would soon be meeting with the envoy from Cornwall. After she had told her this, Mordred walked by the stables to go to her room to begin packing when she spotted a tall, hooded figure standing by a great white horse. By some form of instinct, she hid herself so as to not be discovered. The figure had their back turned to her and was about to turn, when Mordred saw their attention was attracted by something else.

A beautiful woman wearing the plain uniform of the nuns save for the cowl and habit stepped into view, calling the knight's name.

"Sir Tristan."

Mordred felt her heart leap in excitement as she saw the figure pull back his own cowl to reveal the red hair of Sir Tristan himself. He was not wearing the excellent armor nor fur-rimmed cape when she lay eyes on him for the first time.

He wore an open-collared tunic that was long-sleeved with black-colored leather wraps and cloths. His hands were covered in white gloves with his ring and index finger laid bare. He wore iron greaves and sabatons and his breaches were sea-blue and black. On his hips he wore a leather belt with a simple sword in a black and grey sheath. Mordred noticed on his horse was a great bow that was almost as large as Failnaught, but it looked like an ordinary bow. This was curious to Mordred, who didn't know why Sir Tristan had decided to not bring his greatest weapon. Without it, nobody would know it was one of King Arthur's knights!

Just what was he doing here!? What reason could have brought the Knight of Lamentation to this location? Thankfully Mordred was out of sight as the knight and woman approached each other before they embraced. Sir Tristan held her like she was his very life-line, yet his hand gently stroked her hair as he said, "Iseult… my beloved Iseult."

"Oh Tristan.", said Iseult as she looked up at him.

In spite of the obvious happiness of their voices, the two of them looked so sad that they might begin weeping at any moment. Sir Tristan's eyes were closed as he and Iseult kissed each other.

'Gross!', thought Mordred as she saw the two kiss deeply, passionately before the woman suddenly pushed Sir Tristan off her mouth.

"Please, Tristan… you know you cannot be anywhere near Cornwall. Mark would kill you if he were to find out we still saw each other. King Arthur-"

"Iseult.", cut off Sir Tristan gently, but firmly, "King Arthur has many worries and woes. I would not have us burden him with this. Please, let me just have this with you. Iseult, I love you. I love you with all my being."

"I love you as well Tristan. But what we are doing is-"

Mordred tuned out the words as she began to think, 'Iseult… as in, Queen Iseult? King Mark of Cornwall's wife? Wait, she is married to King Mark, but she is in love with Sir Tristan?'

It was all very confusing, but the meeting between the two lovers was soon cut short as Iseult explained, "I must depart now. I have ridden away from my escort on pretense of meeting with Morgan le Faye and her son. If I do not return soon to my escort, it will become suspicious."

Sir Tristan's expression did not change, but Mordred could hear his misery as he said, "How sad. I could never forgive Mark for sending you to that leper colony. He could have beaten me, hurt me, and even the rope they used when he ordered me to be hanged does not compare to the pain I felt when you were confined in that hell hole."

Iseult gently brushed some of Sir Tristan's red hair out of his face and her eyes also shone with tears. Mordred felt her former disgust change into sorrow for the two. They really, really were in love, but they couldn't be together. Maybe when she too became a Knight of the Round Table like Sir Tristan, maybe she could help them somehow?

"Mark forgave us despite what happened. Yet everyday he has to suffer being known as "The Cuckold King". He may not always hear it, but it is there. We are doing him a disservice for his reaction to us. Please don't think badly of Mark. My love for you is as strong as the day we met in Eiru.*. But please be patient. The day will come when I can convince Mark to lift your banishment and allow you to return to Cornwall. Please be patient my love and have faith in me. Will you do this, for me?", pleaded Iseult.

Sir Tristan was silent for a long moment and Mordred whispered softly, "Come on, come on Sir Tristan! You gotta promise her! You just gotta!".

The Knight of Lamentation lifted his head and looked in her direction suddenly as if he did hear her whisper, but Mordred quickly hid herself again in the nick of time. Iseult urged Tristan to answer her, and the Knight of Lamentation reluctantly did so. Thankfully the tryst did not last much longer and immediately after Iseult left, Sir Tristan donned his disguise again, mounted on his horse and began to leave the stables. Mordred let out a breath of relief as he passed her and did not glance in her direction.

"You breathe too hard and your whispering was loud enough for me to hear.", said Sir Tristan aloud to Mordred. Her heart stopped and she gulped. This was the second time that one of King Arthur's knights was speaking directly to her and once more she was at a loss for words. Sir Tristan did not look back at her and said with a hint of amusement in his voice, "Love is a sad, yet lovely thing. Perhaps one day you will understand should you find yourself fortunate enough to love as deeply as I do for Iseult. I ask that you say nothing of this to anybody. I would be very grateful to you and I would owe you a debt.".

This was fast becoming the greatest day of Mordred's life, almost as much as arriving at Camelot and seeing King Arthur in person. Kay was nothing but a jerk, but Tristan spoke politely and reasonably to her. Yet despite this, Mordred could not shake the feeling that Tristan and Iseult were doing something wrong and they both knew it.

But having a knight, a Round Table knight no less, swear to be in her debt was something she could not pass up.

"I promise as… as a future knight of The Round Table to not say anything!", said Mordred before she could stop herself. 'Stupid, stupid!'¸ she scolded herself. She just might have ruined everything! But instead, Sir Tristan laughed, his voice soft and tinged with melancholy.

"What is your name, boy?", asked Sir Tristan, still not looking back at her, "I would do well to remember the name of the one who will sit beside our beloved King Arthur in brotherhood."

"Mordred.", said the child taking a step. It felt almost as if Sir Tristan was mocking her just as Sir Kay had done. He wasn't even looking at her, so Mordred repeated herself with emphasis as if daring Sir Tristan to forget it, "My name is Mordred."

"…Mordred.", said the Child of Sadness and he looked to the sky and watched a bird fly overhead. "I pray for your success. I look forward to the day when you become Sir Mordred of the Round Table. And on that day I will weep for you.". Then he urged his horse onward, never once looking back, leaving Mordred feeling lost and confused.

Sir Tristan felt his melancholy reach out to Mordred. Another naïve child thought that they would become a knight in King Arthur's court. Having served for a long time now, he knew the realities and of the disappointments of being King Arthur's knights. He loved King Arthur with all his heart in a different way compared to Iseult, he would die for his king if needed, but even so… King Arthur made it very difficult to relate to him sometimes. Sir Tristan knew of his own faults and yet King Arthur's perfection made him seem almost unreachable and above human failings.

The boy Mordred would learn this to his own sorrow, should he ever grow up and become a knight and learn the truth of the world.

"How sad…", he whispered as he rode on and began his return journey to exile.

It was almost another full day before the envoy arrived at the abbey. It was very early in the morning after breakfast when all the abbey nuns, head abbot, and children were made to present themselves at the entrance. Up the road came the envoy, followed by a large escort of mounted men on horseback. At the very head of the column rode the same woman who had that secret meeting with Sir Tristan. Mordred's eyes widened at the difference in appearance, but this was something that she had decided not to tell Mother. It may have been petty revenge for her hair being forcibly cut, but Mordred didn't want Mother to know that a Round Table Knight was now indebted to her.

Iseult rode atop a white horse and Mordred noted the difference in her entire demeanor. She was not dressed like one of the humble nuns, but was in an actual gorgeous dress, covered with a green fur-lined coat with a beautiful green belt. In fact, she wore predominantly green colors, which brought out the color of her equally green eyes. Mordred was dressed in her usual garment while Mother wore a much more modest version of her usual black and blue gown. Only the tops of her shoulders were visible while her neck and front were covered, yet still leaving some room for her cleavage to be seen.

before she received help to dismount from one of the knights that escorted her. There were colored flags displaying the different lord's colors and coat-of-arms as well as an especially large one displaying the blue and white of King Arthur's livery. A large carriage, almost twice as big as the carriage Modred and her mother took, pulled by a team of half a dozen large draft horses caught Mordred's eye as Iseult, Queen of Cornwall and wife to King Mark approached them.

Mother gracefully gave a curtsy while Mordred knelt just like how she was taught until she was told to stand. Iseult looked at Mordred and for a moment when their eyes met, she feared Iseult knew that Mordred had seen her and Sir Tristan. Thankfully the awkward moment was broken when Iseult said, "Do not be frightened. I am Iseult, wife to King Mark of Cornwall. Please, would you tell me your name?".

Mordred looked at her mother and she nodded silently in response.

'It is safe.'

"I am Mordred. Son to Morgan le Faye.", said Mordred, standing straight and tall, "It is an honor to meet you, Queen Iseult.".

"Such a polite young man.", said Iseult warmly as she kissed the top of Mordred's head, "I do not doubt that you will become a splendid knight once you have completed your training."

Mordred felt the stirrings of pride well up in her. Maybe Iseult wasn't so bad if she already held this much belief that Mordred would be able to become a knight. Once the introductions were made, Queen Iseult made the formal declaration that as acting envoy in her husband's stead, Mordred and her mother were officially granted protection in Cornwall. With that, the two immediately had their belongings handled by the squires and they went into the large carriage.

Mordred leaned out as the other children called out after her, cheering her name while a few of the girls looked sad to see her go. Mordred smiled back at them and she waved goodbye before she was yanked back inside the carriage.

Thankfully the travel only took half of the day and during that whole drive, Mordred began to feel her excitement grow. It was finally here! She was finally going to start her training to become a knight! Mother however seemed to be asleep and ignored her almost the entire way to Cornwall. Mordred frowned at her in irritation before she sulked. Mother had been nothing but kind and gentle to the wounded and sick, but when it was just the two of them, she acted cold and uncaring. Mordred was starting to really get sick of her Mother, but she tried to console herself by saying that perhaps she was just being nice because they were dying. Yeah, that must be it! Mother knew they were dying, so she wanted to comfort them in their last moments and she was sad that they would not be able to get any better.

It was nearly sunset when they finally reached Tintagel Castle, standing tall on the cliffs near the ocean and surrounded by great rolling hills. A great stone bridge connected the castle to the mainland and the village at its edge where the serfs lived. Mordred looked out of the great carriage window, somewhat sleepy despite napping after their midday meal and looked up at the castle. While it was big and impressive, it was still nothing compared to Camelot. In fact, the great towers and walls seemed somewhat old and dreary. As if somebody had almost completed it, but at some point apathy had taken place and the builders did the minimum job necessary to finish. But she was much more impressed by the large body of water at the back of Tintagel Castle and she asked her mother if that was the "sea".

"It is child. Gaze well upon it. It was there that your doom would have been certain at the hands of King Arthur."

Mordred looked over the edge of the stone bridge as the carriage moved over the cobbled bridge and gazed at the blue waters and white foam. The great wooden doors to Tintagel Castle opened and soon they were all inside the large courtyard. The heralds sounded the horns to announce the return of Queen Iseult and her convoy. The serfs and local peasantry in the courtyard cheered, but it looked like their hearts weren't really in it compared to the cheers King Arthur received. Without any further fanfare, the knights and their squires departed for the stables while the escort all wandered off. Iseult's personal escorts helped her off her horse and told her and Mother to wait for a moment before they would be brought before King Mark.

"Mother, may I walk around a bit?", asked Mordred, wanting to explore more and hopefully run into the Green Knight who would train her.

"Do not wander far Mordred. If you are not back by the time King Mark is ready to receive us, you will sleep in the stables."

Mother had barely gotten a word out after giving permission before Mordred practically leapt out of the carriage. The smell in the air brought to mind of salt and the winds were quite chilly thanks to her shortened hair. Mordred looked all around and began to walk away from the carriage to look more at the castle. As she approached the great castle doors, flanked by two guards she suddenly heard a voice being raised. She started to turn her head to the sound when she suddenly felt something hard and wet hit her face with a wet SMACK.

Mordred grimaced and felt her cheek sting as she wiped off the brown stuff that stuck to her face. Thankfully it was only mud and anger flared in her as she looked for who threw the mud at her when she heard the voice again more clearly this time.

"DODGE!"

This time she saw the briefest glimpse of the thrower before she another ball of mud came flying at her and she ducked. But even so it glanced the top of her head, leaving a muddy spatter against her head. She bared her teeth in anger and humiliation before she heard the loud, rolling laughter of the biggest man she had ever seen walk in from the stables. He was even larger than Sir Kay, bedecked in full plate armor from head to toe, a branch of holly in his left hand and a small stone in his right. He wore no helmet save for a metal coif as green as his armor. His face was almost hidden by a large, bushy beard as green as moss, yet his skin was pale with only the slightest hint of green.

"So you are to be my squire!", boomed the knight in a deep voice as he tossed the ball of mud up and down, "Excellent! I was afraid that you would be one of many squires who broke down crying or called for their mother's at the first stage. I am Sir Bertilak de Hautdesert. But for those whom I deem unworthy I am simply known as The Green Knight! Normally I don't like to come to Cornwall because of the salt in the water and in the air, but to see who I would be training… well I felt an exception would be made. Feel free to thank me on hand and knee for my generosity.". When Mordred did not, Sir Bertilak went on with a mocking smirk, "So tell me, you snot-nosed brat, will you cry for your mother thanks to a bit of mud?"

"I won't cry for my mother!", snapped Mordred as she wiped more of the mud out of her hair and face, "Why did you do that anyway!?"

"To test your reflexes and willingness to withstand a little pain. Furthermore, if you can dodge mud, you can dodge a rock.", answered the man nonchalantly and before Mordred could ask what he meant, the Green Knight merely yelled again for her to "DODGE!".

Then he threw the next rock in his palm at Mordred faster than he threw the mud. It knocked her right in the middle of the forehead, and despite the threat of tears coming forth, Mordred gritted her teeth and refused to let them fall. She felt her eyes prick with tears, but she gritted her teeth and scrunched her eyes shut.

The Green Knight stared hard at her, his face daring her to let the tears fall, but they didn't after a few seconds of concentration and the knight sneered, "Well, not bad at all. Your mother's letters were correct after all. Despite being insolent, you really do have a drive to succeed. But let's see how long that lasts.".

Mordred felt the wetness of blood drip down her forehead and she said through gritted teeth, "Just you… try. I… WILL be a knight. No matter what you think, I WILL be-"

"DODGE!"

This time, after getting hit in the head with another stone, Mordred didn't shed tears and instead fell flat on her back. Her vision swam before her eyes as she stared up at the orange skies and she heard was the approach of Sir Bertilak's heavy steps approach her followed by the softer steps of another person. The last thing she saw was his smirking face standing alongside her Mother, but she still had enough time for one thought as her consciousness faded.

'I will be a knight… for you King Arthur.'

Then Mordred lost consciousness. Thus began her first day as the squire to Sir Bertilak de Hautdesert; The Green Knight.

Today had been her first test and though she was not conscious to hear it, Mordred had passed.

Immortal: WOW, this took a LOT longer than I thought it would. I did A LOT of research to get to this point in between work, but I think this probably isn't my best chapter, however I will endeavor to maybe shorten future chapters depending on what you all think.

Gudako: Dammit, I didn't get Lancer Artoria or the hot librarian… RATE UP IS A LIE! A LIEEEEEEE!

Immortal: Thank you all for reading, liking, and reviewing this! I will try to be quicker, but just let me know first if you all like the length, want the chapters to be shorter, or longer. Until next time!

Notes: So listening to "Mordred's Lullaby" by Heather Dale really gives a good idea of Morgan's singing to Mordred. Interestingly enough, one of the reasons that Mordred in Arthurian mythology went from a good and honorable knight was that at a certain point, he received a head injury from Lancelot. So perhaps our Mordred's fate to begin the downward spiral begins the same way?

Eiru is the old term to regard to Ireland. Also, if I have made any errors in the naming of people and places, please let me know! So for context for Sir Tristan, after the first time he had an affair with King Mark's wife, he sentenced him to death by hanging and Iseult was banished to a leper colony. Then after freeing himself, Tristan rescued Iseult and returned her home. King Mark forgave the both of them on the condition that Tristan was banished from Cornwall and was to be isolated at South Wales. But he still snuck out from time to time to see Iseult regardless of the banishment.