Author's Note – Finally got major inspiration back and boy does it feel good!
Warnings and disclaimer the same, though more blood and gore in this chapter.
We're finally going to war...(which I'm sure I suck at describing, but what else is new?)
* ~ " 'Étaín will you seize the wind? Hold on...Fuamnach's anger piercing curse. Her rowan striking Étaín soul.' " – Leaves' Eyes: Étaín ~ *
Merlin felt his heart rise as the man yelled, "Land!"
"Finally," Constantine muttered next to him.
Merlin looked at him, "do you want a few more moments with..."
A flash of yearning flash through his face before it was gone, "no."
Merlin nodded, "very well." He turned around, "put up the flag! Every man I've picked should have been ready last night!"
He watched the men scurry like ants, then to the other ships as they started lowering some sails.
He frowned when he felt the wind blow softly and picked up his staff, starting to chant a spell.
"Let it be," Constantine said. "We are in no hurry."
"You might not be," Merlin told him. His magic was twitching around him, his fingers following their song on his staff.
Constantine smiled, "I can tell...are you sure we should talk with them?"
"The Father of Dragons made a promise. It is a promise I intend to keep."
Constantine hummed next to him.
As they watched them slowly approach the stronghold Merlin heard the group line up on the deck. They waited long after they stilled before turning.
He watched Constantine inspect them all from top to bottom, from their eyes to their swords. After he was done, he moved to stand in front of them.
"You know what we plan to do," Constantine told his men with the strong voice of his father. "The war might end before it began, but it may not. I don't want a single one of you to let your guard down."
He stared at them all, his eyes as hard and cold as the armor he wore. The men didn't so much as squirm under his gaze. Merlin found his magic shiver with his body.
"I don't trust these men," Constantine told them, "if you see a hint of steel, kill them all."
* ~ " 'Threaten me again and I'll have you thrown into the sea.' 'You might be disappointed in the results. Storms, come and go, the big fish eat the little fish, and I keep on paddling.' " – Game of Thrones [HBO] ~ *
"If you see one draw their weapon slit their throats," Mordred told his men behind him before looking to the small boat as it made its way to Anderitum.
"This isn't our first war," Harold said, low so the men couldn't hear.
"He just wants you to know," John said next to him. "Let's not have a pissing contest with our enemies literally at our gates."
Harold gave a snort.
"How many do you think there are?" Mordred asked after a while, glancing at the crowded horizon.
"I guess hundreds, the men might reach a million."
"Gods, I hope not."
"It all depends," John said with a casual tone.
"On what?" he asked.
"On how much you and your Queen angered the new Emperor of Rome," Harold answered.
"They did make his father a living torch," John commented. "No offense, my Lord."
Mordred waved it off as Harold said, "I'm still debating if us not having the Queen's dragon is helpful."
"If the man is called the Father of Dragons – Gods, what a mouthful – it might be best not to have the dragon with us. Besides," John said with a quivering mouth, "he might have brought a few with him."
Mordred felt his body grow cold as he heard Harold send a pray to his God, "not funny."
"I wasn't trying to be."
"Look, it's time meet them," Harold said suddenly.
Mordred looked down and saw the boat on the shore. He sent one last look at the sea before turning away and following Harold to the meeting spot.
He kept his nerves down as he stood by a chair, not helped when his men stopped as one behind him, their armor singing. He swallowed as he saw the men walked into the open area.
The leader was suppose to be boy of fifteen, but he looked to be thirteen with the armor he wore. His strangely familiar blue eyes seemed to shine with the sun.
A sorcerer walked next to him, an ivory staff in his hands. Mordred saw as they neared that there was a carved dragon on the top. 'The Father of Dragons...'
The boy glanced them over as they stopped at the table before they sat at the same time. The stared for a moment before the boy looked above them.
"A white dragon over a red field," the boy's voice cut through the tense air. "Is this your way of saying you are half a Pendragon? Well, at least the battlefield won't be confusing..."
Mordred found himself glancing at the boy's flag, a red dragon over a gold field. He looked back at the boy, "I'm not a Pendragon."
"You might as well have been."
Mordred felt his heart squeeze at the harden blue eyes, 'if my own son grows up to be this way...' "You weren't there, you didn't know – "
"How about we stick to making a treaty," John interrupted. "We can talk about our bloody hands later."
"Who said anything about a treaty?" the Father of Dragons asked.
Mordred felt his blood chill at the voice, it was familiar but foreign. 'It sounds damaged.' "You said – "
"I promised a talk," he said. "We are talking."
The magic slowed as he felt his men tense.
The boy gave a familiar crooked smile, "I will lay down my terms for a treaty. Though you killed my father and his blood brothers, I will offer you a chance of peace, in honor of the water we share."
He watched the boy place a hand to his heart. "Water?"
"Yes," he answered as he placed his hand back on the table. "Arthur Pendragon was my cousin."
Mordred felt the mood suddenly shift as his mind put the pieces together, 'I knew those eyes were familiar.' He glanced at the sorcerer, whose face was unreadable. "You want the throne of Camelot."
"It is my birthright, and it's payment for my father's life."
Mordred felt his mouth dry, 'Morgana will be thirsty for blood when she finds out.' "Just because you hold Arthur's blood doesn't mean you have a right."
His eyes caught the Father of Dragons smiled before he began to speak, "he has a claim. He is Uther's sister's son. And, since the late King of Camelot never had or announced an heir, by the laws of the Old Religion you hold so dear, he is the rightful heir to the throne."
"Morgana really won't like this," John said to him before he could think it.
"Speaking of those who hold Arthur's blood," Constantine suddenly began, "I've heard that the Queen ordered all those who hold Uther's blood to be slaughtered. Is this true?"
His judgmental blue eyes stared into his. Mordred felt his throat constrict as he kept his face still.
"The Queen ordered those who committed treason to be charged," John said for him. "I could see how the news traveled across the seas..."
The blue eyes stared at John as he talked, his emotions masked. The steel looked back at him, "which spoke treason the most, the pregnant woman and her growing child or the four year old?"
Mordred felt his jaw snap shut as his gaze locked. He managed to blink once, 'it wasn't...' "You want the throne. What are your other terms?"
Cold blue eyes stared into his as he was silent for a moment, "you and your mother killed the rightful King and Queen. By law you should pay with your lives...However, I will offer you this."
Constantine reached into his pouch, seeming to ignore the sudden drop of temperature, and pulled out a scroll. He unrolled it and spread the map of Britannia in front of them. He pointed to the Northwest territory, "the king of that land was under attack a few years past and called for help. We were the only ones who answered, and his family is indebted to us.
If you want peace, then you, your family, and the Queen will be exiled to this land, stripped of your titles and gold. And, to ensure you stay in line, I will keep one of your sons in my custody.
He will be treated well, and, if he behaves, I will allow any sons or daughters of his to hold property and titles. I might even train your son to be a knight, if he wishes."
Mordred searched his eyes, looking for any hint of him being false. When he saw none, he had to stop himself from agreeing. "I will need time to think..."
"I will give you the night," Constantine said. "Draw a white flag before dawn and we will speak of peace. But by the dawn, if your dragon remains, you will perish in our flames."
Mordred stared at his face, noticing the flicker of well guarded dread pass the familiar eyes. 'Has he killed a man before now?'
"Come the dawn," Constantine said almost like a hymn as they stood.
The Father of Dragons glanced at him as they turned, his deep eyes betraying nothing. Mordred watched them walk away, the carved dragon on the his staff seemed to scream at him in anger.
* ~ " 'And the fever began to spread, from my heart down to my legs. But the room was so quiet...And although I wasn't losing my mind, it was a chorus so sublime. But the room is too quiet...' " – Florence: Breath of life ~ *
"You should have rested before the battle."
Mordred looked up at John, the sea air filling his lungs. "I tried and failed."
"So I see..."
Mordred stared, "what do you want?"
John glanced at the soldiers around them before leaning towards him, "we both love our families, more than anything."
"...You want me to take his treaty? Morgana – "
"Would rather tear out her own eyes. But I rather Morgana not know."
Mordred looked sharply at the soldiers before moving closer, "careful, you're speaking with the voice of a traitor – "
"I'm speaking with the voice of a father, as you should be." Mordred stayed silent as he spoke, "the boy king wants his throne, I say we let him have it."
"Camelot is leagues away – "
"Which is not far for a raven. Give me the word, and my wife will bind the Queen from her magic and take Thea to safety. You go to Queen Annis and get my daughter and Melain, I'll go to King Lot to get my son and Melehan."
Mordred glanced at the sky, watching as it darkened. "Even if I agreed we don't have time."
"We'll leave in the confusion. No one will know until we're halfway to the other kingdoms."
"And how do I know I can trust you?"
"You shouldn't," John answered honestly.
Mordred stared over the sea as he tried to work out his thoughts. He closed his eyes for a moment before looking at John, "I made a vow to the Queen, I can't break it."
"...You picked a fine time to be honorable – "
"I'm always honorable."
"We both know that isn't true." Mordred looked away from him as his stomach revolted. "Don't play honored saint with me, not now."
He said nothing as the sky suddenly lightened. He watched as the sun started to rise, and the black line on the horizon grew. "Go to your post."
He didn't look at John as he felt him slowly leave, taking a deep breath as the bells rang. He looked over to the priest and sorceress on the roof of the tower, then to the soldiers who were lining up on the walls.
The beating of drums brought his gaze back to the sea. The two fleets made their way towards each other, both using spells to make the wind favor them. Mordred felt his fingers twitch as he saw only a few of Constantine's ships meet theirs.
"Did the boy lose his nerve?" a knight asked mockingly.
Mordred looked down at them, "I don't think – "
His voice stopped as fire caught his eye. He watched the fireball being flung to the side and dying in the waters.
"What are our sorcerer's doing?" he heard a knight ask. "Don't they know that fire can't kill a dragon?"
"We're fighting men," Mordred told the knight, loud enough for them all to hear. "Not dragons."
The knight opened his mouth to retort as he heard screams and shrieks.
Mordred felt his breath leave him as he turned to find the sea on fire, watching it spread across the waters. He looked to find the unnatural fire coming from the boats, being shot at their fleet from both sides by a strange instrument.
He couldn't help but stare as the violet fire grew tall and blocked their view, seeming to stop before it touched the sand. He blinked his eyes as he thought he saw dragons in the flickering flames. 'Father of Dragons, indeed.' "Come, they'll be at our shore soon."
"But the fire – "
"Has destroyed our fleet and blocked one of our escapes, nothing more." He looked away from the knight as he walked down the steps, "the Romans will meet us in combat."
He heard the knight start to talk, then the haunting shriek of the fire. He turned and saw the knight burn to ash, armor and all.
"Cover!"
Mordred put his back to the wall as jars came over, hitting the ground and seeming to melt the stone as well as anything metal it latched upon. He looked up at the tower as he felt a sharp tug on his mind. He watched the priest fall into the flames below.
He almost sighed in relief as the jars seemed to cease flying over the wall, but the fire was spreading.
"You know this battle is lost," Harold said suddenly in his ear, making him twitch. "What will you do?"
Mordred didn't look at him as he took a few breaths before giving the order, "warn Camelot."
He gazed at his frightened men as Harold talked to his own in their language.
'They want encouragement,' he thought as they gazed up at him, seeming to wince as one when the fire popped.
He took a breath as his brain stopped, leading the men away from the fire.
He said the first thing that came to mind when they reached a safe place, "I won't lie to you. Many of us won't get to see our families ever again. But lets give them a chance to run by killing as many of these sons of bitches as we can!"
Their cries were deafening as they blended with Harold's men. He looked at Harold and the other captains before the ones that were staying on the unburnt wall turned. He led the others through the opening gates.
The large mass of flames was beyond frightening up close, the smell and heat almost pushing him back. He watched as what men were still alive above shot arrows into the fire, no doubt hoping it would make it though and kill whoever lied beyond it.
Mordred felt his body shiver as the fire suddenly disappeared and the boats landed on their shore. He saw Constantine instantly, his blue eyes seeming to capture the fires of the sun.
He didn't miss the fact that Constantine was the first to set foot on the sand, or how the arrows seem to miss him entirely while he gave a short command in his language before they charged.
"For Thea!" he heard himself shouting as they charged.
He met Constantine halfway and wasn't surprised that the boy blocked his attack. He pushed forward as he tried to make the boy fall back. But the soldiers from both sides kept their blades locked close together as they tried to kill the other.
Mordred felt his grip slip as something was plunged into his side. He managed to evade Constantine's downward swipe as he moved to the side. A Roman quickly took Constantine's place and began to attack him. Mordred found himself backing up as he tried to find an opening from the Roman's attacks.
He felt himself bump into another person as he finally killed the Roman in front of him. He glanced and blocked the sudden attack from the enemy. He could feel the wound on his side tearing wider as he thrust his blade into the enemy's unguarded face.
He put a hand on his wound and started to speak a healing spell, his magic straining to complete the task.
He instincts made him dodge and he looked up to block as he felt his thigh bleed. He used the last of his energy to disarm the enemy and chopped off his head.
He brought his hand back to his wound and made sure to stop any internal bleeding. The five enemies in front of him made sure he didn't close the wound.
He evaded their spears and swords, his instincts keeping him from falling over the still or moaning bodies.
He managed to slit one's throat before another got him on the other side of his stomach. He returned the favor and only had three to deal with.
He was dimly aware of the men beginning to panic on the wall as he drove his sword through one's heart. The two made to charge him but noticed something behind him and backed away.
Mordred turned and noticed Constantine through his shaking vision, bloody and wounded as well. They stared at the other for a moment, almost silently asking the other if they were ready, before connecting blades.
Mordred stumbled as he was pushed back before slicing Constantine's attack away, suddenly aware of how tired he was. The young man tried to attach his weak sides, or swipe at his wounded leg. Mordred tried to do the same, but when he swiped at his foot he was blocked. He grunted as he was given a kick at his wounded thigh.
He found himself suddenly staring up at Constantine, the sword coming down. Mordred felt that his sword was gone and reached to his side for something. He felt his fingers curl around something wooden. He brought it forward and felt his sword narrowly miss his heart as the spear went through Constantine.
Mordred felt the cold iron in his chest as the young man doubled over with a gasp of surprise and pain. He saw how young the boy was then as he knelt over him, almost falling to the side. He felt the pressure of the jutting spear near his wound as he watched familiar blue eyes dull with life, the youthful face blended with another from the past.
He felt life leave him as well as he whispered his name, "Arthur..."
Arthur's blue eyes flickered with conciousness before they focused on him, his haunting look on his face.
Vengeful anger melted the face away and Constantine stood, pulling the spear out of his stomach with a short wounded gasp.
Mordred watched his bloody hand reach up as he spoke his peace, "I wanted to stop them all, I swear I tried..."
The fire dimmed. Confusion filled his gleaming eyes before it burned away, "did you? You failed."
He watched the bloody spear come towards his head as his ears shrilled.
* ~ "Do you hear them screaming? Crying for their gods?" – Game of Thrones [HBO] ~ *
Oh, the dreaded cliffhanger. I have half a mind to end it right here and let people make up their own ending...hmm, could I be so forgiving?
Facts – It was once practice that the sister of a king birthed heirs, not the king himself.
I looked up Greek fire (may or may not be real) and how to make colored fire and saw that they had a similar ingredient (well, people guesses of what Greek Fire was made of), Saltpeter (so I didn't make up the color on a whim).
Also, Anderitum is a real place (called Pevensey castle now) and I took Harold's name from a real person (called Harold II). Just thought I'd let you know.
Curious – If I do continue, will y'all have a fit if I killed the twins. Texts say that Mordred's sons died, but I haven't been following history so far. Really haven't this chapter...