Author's Note – Puppy won't let me sleep so this is early (I usually take a three day break).
Warnings – Same as before, but more enforced. Also, I suck at writing young children, so beware (Ha).
Disclaimer – If you don't like Mordred at all (you can't get passed him killing Arthur and see him as a hypocritical prick that needed to die a painful death), you might not like this chapter.
(I could see that the show writers wanted Mordred as a gray character, and by the God of Ice Mochas I will respect their wishes!)
Not beated, so all mistakes are my children (be nice to them).
Have fun reading (or waiting for the next chapter).
* ~ " 'I will not speak of...your Sin. There was a way out...for Him. The mirror shows...Not. Your values are...all Shot.' " – Mumford and Sons: Broken Crown ~ *
Mordred led his party through the streets of Camelot, his nose quickly becoming accustomed to the smell of human waste and death. The poor had piled their dead neatly near the center of the archway, the ashes of flowers smeared on the deceased's faces or hands.
'They are still too frightened to go to the mass graves,' Mordred thought as he help his group put the bodies in the cart. He watched the cart go down the road for a moment before he continued the patrol.
He looked down one of the alleyways and saw his first Feral for the night, looting a sleeping man. He held up his hand and approached the Feral slowly, lunging at him when he looked up. Mordred tried to hold him while the sleeping man, as thin as the Feral, woke up and, with a signal swoop, took his things and bolted down the dark alley.
The Feral cursed and tried to bite him as he ordered some men to go after the runner. Some came to help pin the Feral down and bind him in rope. 'He's the same age as the Boy in the crowd,' he thought as the men gagged the Feral. He looked away and, when his men came back empty handed, led them further into the sector.
Young Ferals who were new to the streets ran blindly to dead ends and, being too weak or short to climb, were quickly caught. The older ones, Wildcats, would either run to unknown hiding spots or, if they were traveling with younger Ferals, bid their time before striking and rescuing their 'Siblings'.
'They still don't realize that I'm trying to help them,' Mordred thought as he led the captured Ferals and Wildcats into the temple.
He helped take off the ropes as some went to tell the priest of the new arrivals, watching how the Ferals moved closer to the Wildcats, who glanced at each other before looking away. 'They found a leader already...'
The priests and his men came with a large pot of hot brown soup. Mordred went to the pot and filled a bowl, then put a spoon inside and went to the first Feral he caught that night. He stopped before he got too close and waited. The Feral didn't blink his eyes as they stared at each other, his stomach rumbling with the others.
Mordred dared to inch a little closer before offering the bowl. The Feral's eyes started to water as he looked down, finally blinking. He stayed still as the Feral slowly stepped towards him on his toes. He stopped and stared up at him for a moment before quickly grabbing the bowl from his hands and backing away.
He watched the Feral nearly swallow the contents in one gulp, neither wincing at the heat or the taste. When he was done, the Feral looked down at the bowl before glancing at the others. Mordred looked over and saw a Wildcat tilting his head back. He felt the Feral move forward and turned to watch him press the bowl back into his hand, looking up at him with demanding eyes.
Once all the Ferals and Wildcats were fed, a priest picking up the pot while the others motioning for the children to follow them. He watched the children form a triangle as they slowly started walking, with the smallest Ferals in the middle.
"Organized little bastards," he heard one of the men comment as they left.
"At least one didn't bite their tongue off again," a younger one said mostly to herself.
"At least one will before the night is over," the man from before said. "One always does."
Mordred said nothing as they changed with the other patrol, taking most of the armor off himself and letting the servants deal with the pile as he left to his room. He nodded to the guards before walking in.
He saw his small wife, Thea, resting her head on the desk, her bound hair ruffled from her unease fingers. He looked to the bed and saw two lumps under the sheets. He went over and looked down at his twins, bending over to run his fingers through their hair and kissed them softly on their heads. Then he went to his wife, gently picked her up, and laid her down on the bed.
"I hope you find a real love, Mordred," Merlin's voice rang in his head as he looked down at them. "The kind many never find in their short lives. That someone who holds half of your soul...I want you to find that love, Mordred. I want you to experience that, to cherish that someone, whoever they may be. So you can watch as I tear them from your arms and rip them to shreds with my bare hands."
He swallowed into his dry throat and went to his papers, working on them until the sun rose and his sons wobbled their way towards him.
He smiled down at them and put his arms around them both, tickling their sides when they hugged back, laughing at their shrieks. He grew worried when his sickly child coughed for too long.
"I'll go to the healer," he told his wife, starting to stand.
"I'll go," Thea said, then whispered to him, "they don't get to have this kind of time with you anymore."
His heart dropped a bit as he watched her walk away, looking down at the different yet identical joyous faces. He heard her open the door and give a small gasp of surprise. He looked up and kept his face still as the messenger walked in.
"The Queen has ordered an emergency meeting, sire," the messenger said before he bowed and left.
Mordred stared at the empty space and turned before Thea could look at him. He looked down at his children and watched them back up so he could stand. They gave him one last hug before they left the room, their hands clasped together.
He glanced at Thea, her shoulders tense as she closed the door so he could change. He tried to caress and speak to her before he left, but she flinched from his hand. He went to the council chambers and sat with a heavy heart, ignoring Morgana's concerned look.
"Why did you ask me for this meeting, John?" Morgana asked after they all arrived, her voice chipped.
"Reports from the East tells of the Rebirth of the Roman Empire."
"Rebirth?" Mordred asked. "I thought the scouts said that Odoacer took Ravenna and dispatched Romulus into exile."
"A general named Iulianus retook it with the help of...well, the scout said the people praise this man as the 'Father of Dragons'."
"Father of Dragons..." he mumbled to himself, then asked, "he took Rome with dragons?"
"They, nor anyone else, has seen or heard any dragons, but that is what the people praise. A new religion has formed in Ravenna because of it."
"I thought they were worshipers of Christianity?" Morgana asked.
"The majority still worship Christianity," John began to explain, "the 'Father of Dragons' is said to be tolerate of all religions. He rebuilt temples to the Roman Gods for those who wish to pray to them. He also had temples built to the Germanic, Asian, and Egyptian Gods for visitors."
"And a Holy War hasn't broke out?" Mordred asked.
"The Emperor Iulianus has kept the fighting to a minimum. The last major fight was over a year ago, and that was only a tiff."
"Over a year ago?" Morgana asked. "How long has this Iulianus reigned?"
"Five years."
"And we're just hearing about this now?"
"Is the Emperor a threat?" Mordred asked before Morgana could burst.
"There has been no words from the capital, but most of it's citizens are not happy with us, calling you, Usurper, and you, Kingslayer."
"Why do they care about us?" he asked, clenching his teeth slightly.
"Since you allied yourself with the Germanic people, they blame you and our Goddess for their downfall."
"And the 'Father of Dragons' has become their savior," Mordred finished his unsaid sentence. "Do you think they struck a deal with Odoacer?"
"Unless the deal was to behead him and have men who wouldn't join them flogged and given to the citizens to do what they pleased, no."
Mordred almost winced as images of what an enraged group of civilians could do flashed through his mind, "have any crossed the sea?"
"We have no sighting of them here, but we've seen signs that they're influencing this land. Temporary shrines built in the South, sightings of colored flames in the North, tales of ash covered priests and priestesses roaming the land, prayers being sung about blood being thicker than water."
"Don't the Saxons say that sometimes?" a councilwoman asked.
"Yes," Mordred said, "it means that the blood spilt on the battlefield make stronger bonds than the water from the womb."
"Drastic," he heard someone whisper to themselves.
"Has there been any signs of Emrys in Rome?" Morgana suddenly asked.
'I thought she would have asked that before now.'
"No. As for here, well, some say they saw him in the North, others say they saw him fighting krakens in the sea."
"So nothing," Mordred stated.
"It's been nine years since he escaped my grasp, how is he still hidden from me?!"
'Damn it,' he thought as she continued to rant. "He has no allies, Morgana," he spoke over her. "No friends, no family, no army, no dragon, no one loyal to him. He has nothing."
She seemed to relax at the thought of her returned dragon and leaned back in her chair. "Right. I hold Camelot, all of Arthur's former supporters bowed to me, and I have the Goddess' favor. Can he say the same?"
As before, he wanted to hit her smug face. 'Do you know how many children I had to put in unmarked graves? How many mothers I couldn't help that smother their babies so they wouldn't see them starve?'
He saw Morgana dismiss them and rose with everyone else. He smiled at her and left with the group.
Thea was staring at the table when he walked in, her face clouded. Mordred saw that look pass her eyes when she finally looked up. He looked down as he went behind the room divider while tugging at his clothes, bile forming in his throat.
Mordred felt her put her hand on his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. He turned give her a smile, which she returned. He bent to kiss her but she flinched from him again. Mordred moved his head back as she looked away from him. He took a step away as he finished putting on his clothes.
"...I thought about our talk."
Mordred controlled his voice, "did you?"
He felt her thumb run over his shoulder, "when I took the boys out for a walk, a nobleman tried to kill them – their fine and I took them back into the castle as soon as I could...When I tried to explain to them about what happened, Melehan asked if it was because their the traitor's bastards..."
He looked down as she continued to talk, "I love you Mordred, don't think I don't, but I love our children more. This city is a hellhole, filled to the brim with murderers, liars, and rapists. It's no place to raise boys who are only four, who should be playing in the sun and eating dirt, not – "
They both flinched as the door was forcefully opened, "we need to talk, now!"
He closed his eyes before looking at Thea, silently asking if they could talk later. The look passed her eyes again before she pecked his lips and left. "My Queen," he heard her greet before the door closed.
He gathered himself before walking out, "what couldn't wait, Morgana?"
She held out a scroll, her eyes wild. "Look at it!" He hesitated before taking it, unrolling the thin, rough paper. "It came from traveling tradesmen. A priest made it in honor of the 'Father of Dragons'."
He glanced at her before looking down at the painting. He saw a man with a bird's head offering a cup to another man, who was dressed in robes and had a normal head. "What am I suppose to be searching for?"
"Emrys." He blinked. "The Romans Empire's secret helper, the 'Father of Dragons', it's Merlin."
He looked up at her, "you have no proof."
"Look!" she stabbed at the papyrus, "look at him and tell me that's not Emrys!"
He kept his face still as he looked down again. The robed man had the same blacked lined eyes as the bird man and stood in that sideways stance. He was painted with pale skin, and his black hair was bound. There was no other resemblance to Merlin.
"You can't start a war with Rome over an assumption." She looked ready to argue, "think, Morgana, it's been ten years since you saw his face. If Arthur was to walk in this room right now you wouldn't recognize him."
"I would – "
"Not...We can't start a war that we can't win." He held the scroll out for her to take, which she didn't. "If what John said is true, then we'd be crushed by the force of the Empire and her allies."
"We have the five kingdoms firmly in our grasp, we could destroy them."
Mordred closed his eyes as he rubbed his forehead. "Tell me, what is the larger number. Five, or one?"
He heard her scoff, "five."
He dropped his hand and held up the fingers, "five," he closed them into a fist. "One. One army under one ruler built for a single purpose...Our purpose died with Uther and Arthur Pendragon."
He turned and dropped the scroll on the desk, "now we have more armies than men armed with daggers and women with poisons. Every ruler wants something different, and the civilians are no different."
"They would put aside their differences and fight for us."
Mordred breathed through his nose. "...Say we do outnumber them and start a war, what then? Do we invade their lands? Most of the soldiers don't even know where Rome lies. Do we wait for them to invade us? We have strong walls, and we could wait them out for years. Wise move, only an idiot would dare meet a disciplined Roman army in an open field...
They leave us in our castles, going from town to town, looting, burning, and killing any man who can't hide behind a stone wall, stealing all our crops and livestock, enslaving all the women and children. How long do the people of the five kingdoms stand behind their absentee Kings and Queens, their cowardly rulers? How long do you think it'll take before they abandon their strained loyalty and stand beside the Roman Empire?"
"...It's such a queer trick you do," Morgana said. "You open your mouth and my brother's voice comes pouring out."
"Say what you will about him, but he understood war." 'More so than the Captain we've got.' "It was people he had trouble with." He looked into her eyes, "is that everything, Morgana?"
She stared at him with unreadable eyes, "yes, that's all. I'll have my spy go to Rome – just to scout, nothing more."
He watched her walk away while his mind raced. He felt his eyes move to the table and stared at the robed man.
Emrys' eyes burned with flames as he stared up at his fallen friends and mother, "you will know when I repay this dept, Morgana."
"Someone stop her Please!"
He looked down as the Boy's voice rang in his head. 'He's dead, they're all dead.'
He glanced at the scroll again, noticing the blue eye for the first time. He grabbed the scroll and tore it to pieces. He let the papyrus fall from his fingers and left the room. 'Stay far from here, Emrys.'
* ~ " 'Broken dreams and silent screams. Empty churches with soulless curses. We have found a way, to escape the day.' " – Mr Ms: Bones ~ *
...What?
Direction I went with Mordred – Love it? Hate it? Intrigued? Confused? Couldn't care less? Tell me, I'm curious.
(" 'The most loneliest day of my life...' " Thank you, System of a Down, for that poetic justice.)
Fact #1 – Did not make up the meaning of 'Blood is thicker than water', got it from Cracked's article 'The 5 Most Frequently Misused Proverbs (Where things must be taken with a grain of salt). Makes sense when you think about it, don't it? Otherwise, why would your friends be considered water?
Fact #2 – I borrowed the concept of Ferals from Max Brooks' book World War Z, not ashamed to admit it. I made up the Wildcat one on the spot, but I wouldn't be surprised if the term was used in a TV show or something.
Fact #3 – Mordred and Morgana's talk was heavily influenced by Robert and Cersei's talk from the first season of Game of Thrones (I loved Robert, when I have a child I'm naming them after him). I think I changed and made it flow enough that this speech isn't so far off the rails.
To Guest – Nothing, really, just know that your name is now Certain Guest. Nah, it's too much of a mouthful. Maybe I'll call Cerest, or Taingue, or even CG. Like the name, CG? Too bad, that's what I'm calling you now.
(My attempt at comedy has failed, and has only highlighted my slow descent into madness from sleep depravity. I apologize. Let's both forget this ever happened.)