Title: Le Vie de Mordred

Author: Jesse

Rating: PG-13

Warning: violence

Disclaimer: not mine, no money made

Summary: The story Mordred ap Arthur, and the comedy of errors that led to him being marked traitor and coward. Because history depends entirely on the view of who writes it down.

Of the Coming of Ruin to Camelot

Eventually, the other knights trickled back in, along with the message that Galahad, Percival, and Lionel were gone, taken by the Grail to wherever. Mordred did not much care, except that Arthur named his heir the day after the messenger came. Nearly eight years at Arthur's side had cured Mordred of the lingering sense of doubt about his worth in that particular regard, so he knelt at his father's feet during the ceremony and accepted the coronet and his rightful title 'prince,' bestowed by Arthur along with his status as heir, with only a light embarrassment colouring his cheeks.

Of course, he still forgot to answer to his new title, half the time.

"My Prince!"

Mordred twitched around, realising Kay was addressing him and had been for the last several moments. "Sorry, Kay. I was thinking. What is it?"

Kay smiled. "Letter for you, Highness. From your lady mother."

Mordred's eyes climbed into his hairline. Morgause had not written him since his arrival at court.

Kay offered over the parchment with the same fond, half-deferential part-bow he gave Arthur.

Mordred grinned at him. "My thanks, Kay." He broke the seal as soon as he reached his room and skimmed his eyes over the single line of text. 'I am proud of you, my son.' Mordred frowned. In truth, he had not thought on his mother in years, and the last time he had it had only been to realise, distantly, that she was mad. He felt more Arthur's son than Morgause's, though his father had told him once how much he looked like her. He shrugged, dropping the parchment on his desk. He would try to think of a reply later, and he supposed it was good to know both his parents were proud of him given that he had spent his whole life with only the approval of one or the other.

His door banged open. "Did you get one too?" Gaheris asked.

"I think we're supposed to knock now that he's a prince," Gareth said dryly.

Mordred snorted. "If you knocked I would try to find the sorceress that had enchanted my brothers. And complete sentences aid understanding, Gaheris."

"A letter from mother," Gaheris drawled slowly.

Mordred raised his brows. "Of course. Is there a reason I might not've?"

"Gawain didn't. And Gaheris didn't either," Gareth answered. "Agravaine did. And me. And you, apparently."

Gaheris laughed joyfully. "Mordred, do you believe it? Agravaine is one of the 'good children' for once!"

Mordred raised his brows. "And you and Gawain aren't?"

Gareth shook his head. "They've strayed from the path and are swayed by Arthur's lies."

Mordred spluttered.

"Agravaine's letter actually said that. Of course, he doesn't know I read that part." Gaheris shrugged. "I'm rather fond of uncle's lies, actually. All though I'm not sure how getting yourself named heir is not being swayed by his lies."

"Or how I've done anything different than Gawain and Gaheris," Gareth added. "Since apparently I'm not swayed either."

"All of court doesn't love you like they love Gawain and Gaheris?" Mordred suggested.

"They love you too."

Mordred shrugged. "But I'm mother's secret weapon. Of course I'm only getting close enough to stick a knife in his ribs."

Both his brothers stared at him. "Does she think that?" Gaheris breathed.

Mordred raised an eyebrow again, mouth curling.

"Yes," Gareth said softly, realising in that moment that she truly did. Gareth touched Mordred's sleeve. "Was she always so mad?"

Mordred nodded. "I think so, Gareth. I think so."

"We really came in to tell you that we're afraid Agravaine is going to do something."

"What?" Mordred asked, instantly concerned. Though Agravaine was the one he got on with the least, he was still Mordred's brother.

"Don't know, but mother's letter told him his plan had merit. I think she must have written you because he wrote her and she assumed you knew his plan." Gaheris had a frown of worry on his face that made him look much like the serious twelve year-old Mordred had left at home all those years ago.

Mordred bit his tongue. That was worse, because it meant not that Agravaine was going to do something to get himself in trouble, he was going to try to hurt Arthur. "I'll keep an eye on him," he promised. "If you will too. And we'll get Gawain in on it. We can keep him out of trouble. We've only been doing it all our lives," he said, aiming for a light tone and only failing a little.

They nodded. "We'll go let Gawain know," Gaheris said.

Mordred nodded and watched them leave, chewing his lip. What could Agravaine be planning to do to hurt Arthur…?

"Mordred," Bedivere said in surprise. "I thought you'd be with Arthur."

"Why?"

Bedivere raised his eyebrows. "Didn't you know? Agravaine demanded an audience right after breakfast this morning."

Mordred frowned. At breakfast this morning… He hissed in horror. At breakfast this morning Gwen had wanted to go riding and asked if Arthur could accompany her, Arthur had claimed work, and asked Lance if he would go in his place. The pleased smile on both their faces had been hard to miss. "Damn," he hissed, and took off running.

Arthur had not arrived yet, though there were a few others aside from Agravaine in the room. He looked up in surprise when Mordred skid into the room at a run. "Don't do this," Mordred hissed when he reached his brother.

Agravaine looked up. "I thought you'd be pleased."

"That you're going to ruin three lives? No!"

Agravaine stared at him. "Mordred, what-"

Arthur entered before he could finish. "Agravaine? What can I do for you?"

"Don't," Mordred pleaded under his breath.

Agravaine sent Mordred a smug look and addressed Arthur. "My liege, I can keep silent on my suspicions no longer. It is my belief that you are being betrayed."

Mordred sent his father an anguished look, but Arthur remained impassive. "Betrayed?"

"Sir Lancelot, Sire. It is my strong belief from his actions that he is betraying you with the Queen."

Arthur steepled his fingers. "A strong accusation, Agravaine. Are you sure you want to make it?"

"Positive. I know what I see, Sire."

Arthur nodded. "If you can bring me proof, then I will attend to the matter."

Agravaine nodded, smiling victoriously, and retreated.

Mordred bowed his head and followed, defeated.

"Gawain!" It had taken Mordred several hours to track down his oldest brother. Hours in which he discovered that Arthur was going hunting overnight with Gareth and Gaheris at Agravaine's suggestion. 'So Agravaine could gather proof,' an explanation Arthur could not deny, not without looking like he was covering for Lance and Gwen.

"Mordred," Gawain said, surprised, taking in Mordred's dishevelled appearance. "What's wrong?"

Still a touch breathless, Mordred gasped out the whole story. "I need you to talk to Lance. Talk him out of going to Gwen tonight. Agravaine's all but laid a trap for them."

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to talk sense into Agravaine. And you know Lance likes you better."

Gawain nodded. Despite Agravaine's tendency to get his back up when Mordred tried to order him, Mordred still had better luck convincing Agravaine to do things he did not want to than any of their other brothers. And Lance's love for Gareth and Gaheris spilled into a fondness for Gawain that Mordred, despite his friendship with the knight, had never managed. "I'll talk to him." They nodded at each other and parted ways.

When they next met it was evening. "Any luck?" Mordred asked.

Gawain shook his head. "Wouldn't pay me any mind. I wish Gaheris were here."

Mordred nodded fervently.

"Tell me you have good news on the Agravaine front."

Mordred shook his head sadly. "Wish I could."

"Shit."

Mordred nodded. "Get the king, Gawain. This isn't going to end well."

Gawain nodded and hurried off.

Mordred sighed softly and went looking for Agravaine to try one more time. The sound of clanging steel had him running. When he rounded the corner, it was to a scene of chaos.

Lancelot fought off a single knight, but both were hindered by the bodies scattered around them. Mordred could see seven fallen, but one body was in the doorway, which suggested there were more in the room behind Lance. As Mordred arrived on the scene at a run, Lance ran his opponent through and brought the blade whipping around at Mordred. It opened a line across Mordred's cheek and he lunged back, nearly falling at the reversal of momentum. "Lance!"

"Mordred?"

The sound of hoofbeats and voices from the courtyard roused him to action. "Get out of here!" Mordred ordered, manhandling Lance out of the mess of bodies.

"Gwen!" Lance said.

Guinevere stood in the doorway. "Go, Lance."

"But you-!"

"Go!" the Queen ordered. "And come back to rescue me."

"Get going, before you have to fight your way out." In Mordred's voice was the unspoken warning, 'Against Arthur.'

Lance squeezed his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Mordred." And then he was gone, running down the hall.

Mordred looked at Gwen.

Gwen nodded back into the room. "Sit?" she invited.

Mordred stepped over the fallen carefully, heart breaking a little when saw the one furthest into the room was Agravaine.

Gwen sat in the windowseat, hands tightly knitted in her lap.

Mordred stood silently beside her. They were still thus when Arthur, Gawain, and a group of knights rushed in: side-by-side, white faced and white knuckled, the fine trickle of blood sliding down Mordred's face matching the tear on the Queen's cheek.

Mordred stood silently outside Arthur's study. Arthur, Kay, and Bedivere were holding a closed court session, trying Gwen for adultery. Mordred, as key witness, was waiting in the hall to be called. Gwen was inside, giving what he knew was her confession.

The door opened. "Mordred," Bedivere said gravely.

Mordred nodded and followed the older knight in.

"Know, Prince Mordred, that the laws of chivalry demand total honesty, and a lie here will be on your own conscience as well as punishable by law," Kay informed him evenly.

"I know," Mordred said, voice steady, if a little raw.

"Then do you swear on your word as a knight that all words from henceforth shall be true and honest as though you stood before God?" Bedivere asked.

"I swear," Mordred managed.

"Then tell us what happened," Arthur ordered.

Mordred closed his eyes for one long moment, and then gave his version of events: hearing the fighting, running up, his minor injury, Lancelot's flight—and even his own part in it—and waiting with Guinevere for the arrival of the others.

Arthur sighed softly. "Then it is decided."

Bedivere nodded. "By her own confession and Prince Mordred's testimony."

"Guilty," Kay said softly.

Guinevere, in the corner, nodded solemnly. Mordred thought her very brave.

Arthur's voice broke a little when he spoke, but he mastered himself. "The penalty of such is death by fire."

Guinevere crossed the room to kneel at Arthur's feet. "As I betrayed you, Lord, punish me to the full extent."

Arthur put his hand on her head. "So be it." And if his voice was hoarse, no one present could blame him.

It was even and clear that night when he made the proclamation after the evening meal, and his eyes were dry. Only Mordred had been present for the in-between time, when Arthur's voice had cracked and broken and given out, when his eyes had filled and overfilled, and Mordred had wept with him. And only Mordred heard his whispered, "God, I hope Lance comes."

The day of the execution dawned damp and grey and a fine drizzle blanketed everything, making the gloom complete. Mordred stood silent beside Arthur at the window, watching Guinevere bravely mount the steps. Gawain was looking for Gareth and Gaheris, unable to watch his aunt die.

Arthur leaned heavily on his son, face drawn and pale.

Mordred, too, was pale and gaunt, but the periodic sneezes he struggled to suppress and the rough cough in his chest that came up whenever he moved too quickly suggested illness not worry. He worked though it, doing his best to ignore the weakness and still support his king. He could feel Arthur's tenseness as the executioner carried his torch.

The gateway slammed open and several mounted knights burst in, spreading out and engaging the guards. Lance heeled his charger through the crowd, using the horse's shoulders and the hilt of his sword to press though, only engaging the armed guards at the base of the stake with the actual blade.

When he cut Gwen loose, Arthur sagged so much in relief Mordred was hard pressed to keep them both vertical. "Oh thank God," he whispered, staggering to the chair.

Mordred remained at the window, watching Lance's knights striking out to keep the crowd back as their lord forced free and they fled. "Cleared the gate," Mordred told Arthur, voice slightly nasal from his blocked nose.

Arthur buried his face in his hands. "I shouldn't be so glad to see justice denied."

Mordred touched his shoulder. "Many of us are."

Kay and Bedivere burst in at a run. "Milords," Kay gasped breathlessly. "My Prince, you'll want to go down."

Mordred tilted his head.

"Your brothers," Bedivere said softly.

Mordred darted a look out the window; he could see Gawain, marked by his red hair, kneeling in the melee. His heart clenched and he bolted for the door.

Mordred ignored the coughing fit he could feel building in his chest. No, no, no, he thought desperately. It could not be.

Gawain was kneeling in an empty space near the gate. Gareth's head was in his lap.

Mordred's legs collapsed under him as he skid to a halt beside them. Gaheris looked like he might have been sleeping, if Mordred could ignore the bloody wound across his throat. "No," he choked, lifting Gaheris into his arms. The coughs and sobs got tangled up together until strong arms lifted him back, holding him upright until oxygen finally cleared his blackening vision.

"Come, Highness," Bors' gentle voice said in his ear. "You're in no fit state to be out in this rain."

"Gaheris-" Mordred gasped.

"We'll take care of it," Dagonet promised, touching his shoulder and then crossing to drape an arm around Gawain. "Get out of the damp, Sire."

Mordred sent one desperate glance back at Gawain and his brother's bodies, and then Bors was all but carrying him back into the castle and the world was spinning again. This time, Mordred let the darkness clamouring upward through his vision claim him.

Mordred was back on his feet the next day, though still not truly well, but it was already far too late to stem the budding tide of Gawain's rage. Arthur had already—reluctantly but without much fight—begun preparations for battle with Lance. They were ready to ride out the next day. Mordred, still too sick to ride, was to remain as regent.

"I don't like it," Mordred said quietly, touching Arthur's shoulder as the king prepared to mount his horse. Gawain was already in the saddle, outside gates, waiting at the head of the army.

Arthur shook his head. "I don't know what I think. I just want this whole mess over."

"And me," Mordred agreed. "Don't," Mordred said hoarsely. "Don't get killed. I'm not ready to be king."

Arthur chuckled roughly, the sound barely a laugh. "I'll do my best."

"Ride safe, Sire. God grant you good journeys and a safe return."

"God watch you," Arthur replied, hugging Mordred and mounting.

Mordred watched them ride away, the sick feeling in his stomach nothing to do with the illness sapping his strength.

The return of the remainder of the Knights of the Round Table had quelled most of the nobles' grumblings about independence. Mordred had waged his own private campaign within Camelot and the surrounding towns against the crimes that had begun cropping up again during the Quest. Things were fairly quiet, now, even with most of Knights gone and the King away.

A page came in to Arthur's study. "Prince Mordred," he called.

Mordred glanced up from the reports he was studying. "Yes, what is it?"

"News from the front, sire."

"Any of it good?" Mordred inquired dryly.

The page stuttered, uncertain how to reply to this.

Mordred smiled encouragingly. "What news has my father sent?"

"He and Sir Gawain intend to continue after Lancelot to Banwick, the lands of his father. The church negotiated a peace in regards to the Queen, but Sir Gawain's honour was not resolved in it, and he will follow. The king elected to go with him rather than allow him to go alone."

Mordred nodded. "And the Queen?"

"On her way back to Camelot in the company of Sir Constantine as guard. She's been pardoned and reinstated, at the order of the church."

Mordred nodded. "Very good. Did the messenger say how everyone was?"

The page nodded, understanding exactly what Mordred meant. "The King is well, unharmed and seemingly at peace since the church got involved. Sir Gawain is unhurt, but still beside himself with fury."

Mordred nodded. At this point all he could ask of the Lord for his only surviving brother was that he was unhurt; peace of mind would have to come later, if it came at all. "My thanks, lad. Do you know when the Queen is to arrive?"

"A matter of days, sire. The messenger said she left but a few hours behind him."

"My thanks. You're dismissed."

The boy bowed and darted out. Mordred sighed and got up, intending to go find Kay, before stopping to remind himself that Kay was with Arthur. So was Bedivere. Mordred tilted his head back, thinking. Preparations had been so furious, and he had been so ill, it was hard for him to remember who was at court and who was with Arthur.

Stepping into the hall, he just happened to see Dagonet rounding a corner. "Dagonet!"

"Sire?"

"Are you busy?"

The jester shook his head.

"Do me a favour?"

"Always, Prince Mordred."

Mordred smiled at him. "Tell the housekeeper that Sir Constantine is returning with My Lady the Queen—pardoned and reinstated—within the next few days and their rooms will need to be prepared."

"I'll do that now."

"Many thanks, Dagonet." Mordred turned back into the study, sinking into the chair again with a groan. He hated crop reports, but someone had to do them.

Gwen did not want a feast on her return, saying "Not till Arthur is home." Mordred, with the king gone, had not seen the point of the huge state dinners Camelot usually had. Food was still served in the great hall, but there was little ceremony, and most nights Mordred was not even there. He tended to get caught up in whatever paperwork he was doing.

Aristance, the head servant, Kay's assistant, had taken to bringing Mordred plates in the study if he did not see the Prince at the meal.

Guinevere, her first night back, just happened to see him taking a plate from the kitchen, and followed, curious.

She slipped into the study as Aristance left, looking at Mordred, dark head down over some paper or another, squinting in the poor light with his dinner cooling at his elbow. "Mordred."

He jerked up, startled. "My Lady."

She took the seat across from him, waving him down when he started to stand.

Mordred stood anyway, head dipped politely. "I trust you're well?"

"I'm fine, Mordred. Eat that before it gets cold."

Mordred smiled, picking up the plate. "I'm sorry I didn't greet you today," he said. "Got a report in from Lyonesse that they're short of supplies for the winter; they've been struggling without Tristan."

Gwen nodded warmly. "I know. I figured you were busy. How have things been here, with Arthur gone?"

Mordred tilted his head, lip curling slightly as he hastily swallowed to answer. "Not as bad as it could have been, I suppose. Things have mostly settled since the Grail. Just a great deal of paperwork."

Gwen smiled sympathetically. "This war with Lance can't last forever and they'll come home."

Mordred nodded his agreement. "How were they?" he asked.

Gwen smiled gently. "Arthur looked very well. Relieved the mess was done. Gawain, well…"

Mordred nodded. "But unhurt."

"Yes. Unhurt and sound of judgement. Just terribly angry and terribly sad."

"I can hardly blame him."

"Nor I," she answered. "I don't know that he and I will ever get along again." She hesitated. "You- you aren't angry with me?"

"No," Mordred said honestly. "Nor at Lance. Gareth and Gaheris, it was terrible. But no one was really at fault."

"If we hadn't-"

"In that vein of thought," Mordred interrupted softly, "We may as well blame Agravaine as anyone, because you and Lance weren't hurting anyone. It was Agravaine who put malicious intent into the picture."

Gwen raised her head, tears in her eyes. "Everything's gone so wrong," she whispered.

Mordred knelt beside her chair, wrapping his arms around her. "I know," he murmured. "I know. But we'll come through." Fate, however, seemed determined to make a liar out of him.