Interlude
While on her walk, Artoria saw a shocking sight: Mordred, the Knight of Treachery, her daughter, walking beside a young man. Talking about nothing particular, just making small talk as they carried on with the day.
They were at a distance that it would be impossible for them to notice her.
The sight of Mordred instantly brought Artoria back to those moments of her life in Camelot—the battle of Camlann, using the holy lance, the despair she felt at the sight of her dead comrades, and how she wondered where things went so wrong.
From there her mind went to another memory, the conversation where Mordred revealed she was her child. The coldness of her words haunted Artoria, as much as the words Mordred made in her following declaration.
"I was happy just being in your shadow. Yet you never turned to face me. King! Then I will…! I will destroy everything you represent! Arthur!"
The memory of Mordred's words suddenly came back to Artoria and she was filled with nothing but self-loathing for her foolishness. For not being able to recognize why her daughter was so angry. For her inability to see Mordred's actions for what they truly were—a child who wanted to be accepted.
Even to her final moments it was all Mordred wanted. But Artoria did nothing but walk away, leaving Mordred to die.
Artoria's eyes forlorn and could not bear to look at Mordred any further.
I was an appalling father.
Mordred's actions were not just, but looking back Artoria wondered how she would have felt in her daughter's position.
A shadow loomed over Artoria from behind, and a hand touched her on the shoulder as it said with a malevolent tone "Quite the odd pair. Would you not agree, Sister?"
"Morgan." Artoria hissed.
"Our little girl is all grown up, and even procured for herself a friend. Shame the aforementioned friend is such a cur."
Artoria ignored her sister—recognizing the obvious attempt to goad her. As she had done in the past months since Lord Rheon stole Shirou's command spells and forced her and Archer into a new pact. She just forced herself to look back to Mordred and the man as they were provided appetizers by a waiter.
She watched as Mordred conversed with the man Morgan was calling her friend. She seemed happy as they made small talk.
It made Artoria smile bitterly as she watched her progeny talk with the man.
The King of Knights could not recall ever seeing that expression—only anger, shock, and pain—and it almost pained her to look upon it. She felt joy at seeing Mordred's expression, but also guilt.
Morgan Le Fay relished the despair on her sister's face.
"Oh! What is this? Remorse? Or self-pity?"
"Silence."
"But what do you have to feel remorse for? All you did was merely run your own child through with a lance."
Artoria felt herself grow sullen as the memory of Calmann hill returned to her—her coldness towards Mordred, the indifference to her child's final words—it stung still, four years later..
"Quiet, Sister."
She did not wish to hear any condemnation—especially from her sister Morgan Le Fay. Any other may condemn her actions and perhaps not receive such resistance from Artoria, but Morgan had not even the lightest room to talk when it came to treating Mordred. She conditioned Mordred—her own daughter—from childhood to be the way she was in life and did so without hesitation. As far as Artoria was concerned, her sister's actions against Mordred were just as deplorable and appalling as her own.
"Oh, but how can I when you make such exquisite expressions, dear sister."
"You dare judge me? After all you have done."
"I merely showed Mordred her true calling. She nearly rejected my plans. If not for you, who knows the course her brief lifespan would have taken."
Artoria clenched her fists. Trying to restrain herself from allowing her anger to pour out and cause an unnecessary scene.
She watched Mordred's continued smile, and it helped to endure her sister's heckles. She could not even see many similarities between the young woman so far away and the Knight of Treachery which she barely tried to know.
Artoria wondered—had she been better able to understand others in life—what form of relationship she and Mordred could have had. It tore at her emotions just to fathom the possibilities. Made her want to work up the courage to approach them. But she could not...not yet. But in time, maybe.
