Immortal: Hello to everybody! I sincerely apologize for making all of you who have reviewed, favorited, and followed this story. I try to keep a regular schedule, but my job is very demanding and I sometimes simply have no time to keep writing. However, my passion and love for this has not gone down in the slightest! If anything, this has made me more determined to keep writing and see this through all the way to the end!
So full disclosure, I tried to do as much research as I could considering medieval garments as well as the Arthurian Mythology. I have taken from different pieces, such as from the Vulgate Cycle, The Once and Future King, as well as from the canon Fate universe, also Monty Python. But in any case, this one chapter is my longest yet, and I feel it was very much worth the wait. Because here, King Arthur, Merlin, and the Knights of the Round Table, appear!
Disclaimer: This fanfiction is a fan-baded writing. All characters are owned by Kiniko Nasu, Type-Moon, etc., and they are not owned by me in any way, shape, form, or concept. Please support the official release, but don't go too crazy on spending your money on Fate/Grand Order's Gacha!
Mordred/Morgan
Two weeks later…
The day had finally come. Mother was finally going to take Mordred to Camelot, to get a glimpse of King Arthur for the very first time. Mordred sat on the edge of her bed as she watched the sun peek over and through the trees of the forest. She had been told the previous night that she would not have to take her special bath as she would be needed to be at full strength for the day. Mordred waited impatiently for Mother to awaken so they could get ready to go. Since that awful day and night, Mordred had seen neither sign nor hair of the mysterious Sir Accalon who had hurt her Mother. All she knew was that she would never forgive him and would be mean to him every chance she got if she ever saw him again.
When Mordred had tried to ask her Mother just what it was that happened, Mother had adamantly told her that it was all in her imagination, that nothing had happened. But Mordred was so sure that Mother had been hurt that she persisted, until Mother told her that it was nothing to be concerned with and that she was too young to know anyway and that more importantly their new lessons were to begin; social behaviors.
Mother had spent days tutoring her on how to behave and how to speak around other people in addition to her usual lessons and chores. Mordred had never interacted with other people, but her Mother was still able to help her understand the basics of social behavior amongst people. She was also warned that because she was different, people would treat her differently and therefore there were precautions that needed to be taken.
Amongst the precautions, Mordred was firmly instructed to wear a hooded cloak to keep her face hidden and above all, to pretend she was a boy.
This confused Mordred quite a bit, because she could swear that she had the same parts as her mother when they had taken baths together. She obviously didn't have breasts like her mother, in fact she was as flat-chested as any boy, but Mordred was otherwise certain she was a girl based on the lessons she was taught about her own body. But Mother had simply stated that Mordred was to pretend to be a male, because only in that way would she be safe and beneath notice. She was to stand straight with her shoulders back, walk confidently and if she had to speak, she had to be careful about how she spoke by using a deeper voice.
Most of this went over Mordred's head, but once she was told that it was like an elaborate game of "pretend" like how she pretended to be King Arthur, it made more sense. Although Mordred didn't really mean that she was pretending to BE King Arthur but to be LIKE him, it was hardly the appropriate time or place to say so, for Mother didn't like being corrected at all.
When Mother awoke, once more the child dutifully kissed her cheeks and told her good morning. Mordred was nervous and excited energy, and had to be told more than once to calm down and start acting appropriately. Her mother wore a simpler gown, nearly all black, but less rich and more plain than her other clothes. She was also not wearing her veil with the spiked headdress, which Mordred noted with interest since Mother always wore it whenever she went out. Mordred was wearing her usual garments and they sat down to an unusually special breakfast; porridge with candied apple slices, warm bread, and cool water. Mother's brownie servants had done their job well and the two ate in silence, with Mordred reminded to mind her table manners as the child ate her food with gusto.
Once breakfast was over, the two finished their preparations and donned their hooded cloaks. In addition to the preparations, Mother had given Mordred a small dagger to hook onto her belt. At first, Mordred was nervous, thinking it was the same kind that she had played with, but Mother explained that it was simply for protection if somebody tried to hurt her and Mother was not there. Mordred pulled the dagger out of its sheathe, noticing that the handle and sheathe were the same red-gold colors as her clothes. Ever since that day, Mordred had found that holding the knives she ate with to be something that just seemed to naturally fit for her. Then before they set out, Mother spoke to Mordred again.
"Now listen to me very carefully. If you are asked any questions about who you are, where you come from, you will merely say, "I am from Cornwall. My Aunt is taking me along because I could not be left alone.". Repeat my words."
"I am from… Corn-Cornwall! My Aunt is taking me along because I could not be left alone.", said Mordred after stumbling on the first word, "But can I ask you something Mother?"
"Speak."
"What's an Aunt?"
After a short series of explanations on family and their structures, they set off. Mordred held her Mother's hand as they left the boundaries of their cottage to head to the nearby village. The trees parted as soon as Mother spoke a word and the stones rose from the ground to form a cobbled path. Mordred looked all around in fascination at the magical phenomenon. Mother had often done things like this at her home, but it never ceased to amaze her. The forests had a dark feeling and little Mordred felt as though she were being squeezed into a tight hole. After a long walk, they soon arrived near the edge of the forest.
Mordred gulped nervously, but hid her worries as they waited for a while, but Mother ignored her questions as to why they were waiting. Mordred's questions were answered when she heard voices and saw that there were a group of people walking just out of sight. Mother didn't want them to be discovered it seemed, so they waited a while longer before finally emerging from the woods. After being in so dark a place, the sudden brightness of the sun caused Mordred to shield her eyes a bit before she smiled brightly at the sights that she never got tired of.
The outside world was so… big! There was so much room and space that the long grassy plains and hills were extending as far as the eye could see. The sound of running water, the whisper of the breeze, the smell of spring grass, the open expansion of the sky. Mother had taken her to the local villages to get her used to people, on short errands and never for long, but Mordred had found being outside her cottage to be like breathing fresh air for the first time. The cool air, the scent of grass tickling her nose, and the sheer openness cause Mordred to run out and laugh, holding her arms open as if she were a bird while Mother watched her stoically. Her cloak opened like wings as Mordred leapt and frolicked about, taking in the flowers along the path, the different colored rocks, and the birds that flew in the sky.
Soon however, Mordred saw coming up the road was a horse-drawn carriage like she had seen in her picture books. This too awed Mordred and she felt a little intimidated by the sheer size of the great black horse that drew a strange square-shaped thing with wheels. If Mordred didn't know better, she would have thought it was a very tiny house and the animal pulling it was a horse, as gray as the clouds on a stormy day and it was enormous to the child's eye. But then she noticed that the driver who pulled up on the horse's reins was male and wearing a great grey hooded cloak that completely encompassed him. But under the hood as Mordred and Mother approached, she saw it was a familiar face and she scowled as her mother spoke.
"Thank you Sir Accalon, this is more important than you realize."
"I can't just be called out every time you and your hom- erm, child want to be taken out someplace.", said Sir Accalon, glancing uncomfortably at Mordred and her mother. Mordred frowned at him and shot him the meanest look she could, prompting him to look away and refocus his attention on Mother. Instantly, Mordred felt a great dislike for the man, almost as much as she hated the special baths, especially since she was absolutely certain that despite being told otherwise that he was the one who hurt her Mother.
He had "Sir" in front of his name, so he must be a knight right? As far as Mordred was concerned, Sir Accalon wasn't a real knight since he was nothing like the knights in the stories or pictures books. She supposed he was not that bad to look at, but he had this perpetual look of… guilt on him, like he had done something wrong and was being punished for it.
Mother however said, "Be assured Sir Accalon, this is to introduce my son to people. He is quite unaccustomed to the people, and it would be important to do so as soon as I can."
"S-son!? You mean-"
"Of course not. Rest assured, he is not born of your seed."
"Yeah!", piped in Mordred as she again shot him her meanest look. Mother sharply told her to be quiet and to get into the carriage, but not before the child stuck out her tongue and pulled an eyelid down.
"Furthermore,", Mother added, "We would be quite conspicuous if we were to use magic, given the nature of our destination."
This was so unlike the other trips Mordred had taken with her Mother to the local village to get her at least accustomed to seeing other people. Those trips were much better, if somewhat mundane. The local villagers seemed to be a bit stand-offish at strangers, but otherwise were pleasant enough if somewhat smelly. There were also children Mordred's age, who always invited Mordred to play with them, but she had to refuse, though her heart longed to run with them and play their games with them. Additionally, they did not often travel by foot, but by her mother's magic, appearing in one place and vanishing in another as instantly as blinking. Mordred preferred to walk, wanting to take in the sights whenever they went out.
Inside the carriage were cushioned seats that made this look quite luxurious and surprisingly sturdy if a bit small. She set the satchel she had carried with them, containing their food and the water-skin with which they would share. There was also a sliding wooden panel that allowed Mordred to look outside of the carriage, and the door closed behind her before she heard the crack of the whip, the whinny of the horse, and the carriage shook as they set off. For the first hour, Mordred was excited and watched everything outside as they went by, but soon the novelty of it wore off and Mordred soon got bored and even seeing the outside was starting to lose its appeal. She let out a groan and laid down on the while her Mother sat as calm and still as a statue, her hands folded into her lap on the opposite. Mordred stared at the wooden ceiling, bored and feeling as though they were stuck there forever when they stopped to eat lunch. Mordred had wanted to go outside, but Mother had forbidden it, so they sat and ate in silence; cheese with bread and whey.
Much later, Mordred found herself laying on the side of her carriage, starring at the ceiling and desperately wanting to go outside. But unlike herself, Mother looked to be asleep and so at ease unlike her restless child, so Mordred watched her for a bit, watching a long strand of her platinum blonde hair wave back and forth like a pendulum. After another hour dragged by, Mother still didn't move and Mordred's neck and back were starting to ache from the long drive and the awkward position of laying down. Then without a prompting, she moved from her seat, over to her Mother and she curled up, a tight fit with the two of them, but she managed to rest her head on her mother's lap.
Her Mother's pale green eyes opened and her face looked down on her, as still as a statue and just as cold, but Mordred wasn't bothered. Mother always had that look anyway and she would tell Mordred if she was being a nuisance. So it was a pleasant surprise when Mordred felt the warm hand of her mother stroking her head, smoothing out her hair. Soon the rocking of the carriage, along with her mother's voice and gentle hand started to lull her to sleep.
"You forgot to brush your hair."
"Yes, Mother."
"Hm."
"Mother?"
"Mordred."
"…I love you, Mother."
"…"
Mother didn't say anything more as she continued to caress her child's head until Mordred finally fell asleep.
/~/
As the homunculus fell asleep, Morgan reflected on the thing in her lap in comparison to her other children. Out of all of them, the only one who she had any prolonged interaction with was Agravain, but even then there was little to no contact between them save for his occasional reports from Camelot. Though it would be perhaps one of her greatest challenges in being actively involved with Mordred, Morgan knew that the child had to be carefully groomed. All her other children were failures at best or traitors for falling in with Artoria, and as far as she was concerned, they were dead to her except Agravain for however long that relationship lasted.
Mordred however was important for her plan and while it was an annoyance to play the mother, Morgan was pleased that she was doing a splendid job of it. She disciplined the child when she misbehaved, tutored her so she wouldn't be a simpleton, and having her do chores kept her occupied and learn the importance of not being afraid to get her hands dirty. Her generosity was further expanded upon by giving the child small gifts such as books and clothes, both useful and practical. Admittedly, it was also a rather nice feeling when the child looked at her with adoration and expressions of love. But those moments were always fleeting and Morgan knew she couldn't afford to grow too attached to Mordred. Still, given that she was her birth mother, it was only right that Mordred give her the respect and love she deserved.
Love… such a fickle thing. Morgan had many lovers, had done quite a bit of lovemaking, but for genuine affection? The closest she came to that feeling was for Sir Accalon. He had captured her heart and loved him madly for he had traces of magical energy in him that helped fuel her power through lovemaking. He was a great deal more handsome and kinder to her than her former legal husband, Urien Rheged of Rheged.
Their marriage had never been a happy one and despite her prowess in the magical arts, Urien was still resentful when King Arthur had defeated him and made him his vassal. Since he didn't dare openly defy King Arthur, he took his frustrations out on the closest thing to King Arthur; Morgan le Fay. In spite of his rule being just and effective, he was not a good husband by any accounts to her. So it was hardly surprising that one day, after his perhaps most brutal claiming of his rights, which left Morgan bruised and nearly unable to move, she had waited until he had slept before she slew him with his own sword.
From then on, Morgan had been on the run until she had completely vanished off the face of the earth. Even the likes of Merlin could not find Morgan if she did not wish to be found. Sir Accalon had helped her all this time, feeling sympathy for her plight and declaring his own courtly love for her when she had saved him after he had gotten lost in a forest after being separated from his hunting party. The problem was that he was already married, with lands and keeps of his own, and he felt perpetually guilty for his unfaithfulness.
Morgan however promised him that if he stood true to her, then perhaps one day he would be able to make it so his misdeed would be forgiven, and perhaps he would be able to stand and defeat the enemies that King Arthur could not. A human king was needed, not somebody who was so utterly detached to humanity. If nothing else, Sir Accalon had a deep love, almost as deep for Morgan, for his homeland. He had fought in wars, lived through terrible battles with the Saxons, and earned a reputation for his valor in battle. Furthermore, he did not see Morgan le Faye as a witch or cruel woman, but a person who was hurt by the injustices she had suffered; theft of a birthright, mother to children who hated her, a battered woman in an unhappy political marriage, and seen as weak purely because of her being a woman. Even Accalon though had his misogyny, though he was at least trying to be kindly when he urged her to let him care for her.
The carriage suddenly bumped in the road, prompting Mordred to let out mumbling sounds and shift her head in Morgan's lap. Reflexively, Morgan began to stroke the child's head, prompting her to fall back asleep again, and she idly wondered when Mordred would actually realize her growth was unnatural. As far as the child was concerned, she was simply growing like the apples from the trees surrounding their cottage, and Morgan didn't age physically due to her own mastery over magic. She reflected on the little homunculus in her lap, stroking her head, and smirking as she thought of how not even Merlin could have created a homunculus as perfectly as she had done. Most of them had short life-expectancies from days to months, or in Merlin's case perhaps a few short years. But Morgan had outshone them all by her own magic, her own talents, and her use of Artoria's seed.
As she thought on the last bit, her mind began to reflect again on Mordred. The child had a willfulness that couldn't seem to be fully extinguished and Morgan had to still be careful about just how much fear she put into her child. Too much and the child would grow to hate her, regardless of what Morgan intended for her. Too little and Mordred would be unable to fulfill her destiny as the bane of King Arthur if she were too soft and didn't enforce her will into Mordred. It didn't help that Mordred CRAVED affection and acknowledgement of her achievements, which Morgan had to suffer the annoyance of indulging her with. It would also be annoying to deal with when Mordred would start to develop and by all accounts become a woman despite her mother's intent to raise her as a male.
But still… it was admittedly a nice feeling when the child would hug her with all her might when she came home, greeted her enthusiastically and say, "I missed you Mother!" whenever she came home at night. That too was owed to her, but Mordred probably gave her purer and more honest affection than she had ever received from anyone… ever. Her previous children never hugged her and she never hugged them. She was never greeted with genuine happiness, nor was Morgan ever told, "I love you Mother!", like how Mordred did. When her child performed especially well in lessons, the pride that Mordred surely felt was eclipsed by Morgan's… as an accessory to her.
But in truth, Morgan le Faye was utterly incapable of returning the child's affections. She knew and acknowledge the feelings of love Mordred held for her mother, despite occasionally having to fear her, yet Morgan could not return Mordred's love. Morgan le Faye knew and understood love, like what she had for Sir Accalon, and what she had for her own abilities and talents, but the concept of parental love was utterly alien to her.
It was then that Morgan knew with absolute certainty that Mordred would grow to hate her just like all her other children, because she just couldn't feel the emotions of love and affection that Mordred needed. But that was fine, so long as Mordred fulfilled her destiny, she could go ahead and die afterwards. Morgan acknowledged the sheer cruelty of this thought, wondering if maybe the death of her "beloved" child would finally give her the emotions that she never felt, much like how Artoria cast away her emotions for the sake of ruling the kingdom.
"Hm.", Morgan chuckled softly with a half-smile, her eyes closing, "We are both inhuman aren't we, dear Artoria?"
As she thought of her sister, Morgan mused that her child already had similar eyes and hair-color as Artoria, and with time she would grow to look EXACTLY like her, except perhaps for that ridiculous strand of hair that stood on her sister's head. This was to be expected as part of her design of Mordred, but the timing and place of revealing the truth of who her "father" was would have to be very carefully managed. Because no matter how careful she was, Mordred was expected to slip up and reveal her face to the wrong person. Even if this managed to be avoided, Mordred herself would suddenly start demanding to know why her face was an exact replica of King Arthur. Although the gender part would be a problem, it would be easier to deal with since Mordred could now comprehend that she would have to pretend to be male for her own protection.
But even if the homunculus somehow managed to live that long, Mordred would die shortly after. As a homunculus, she had a far shorter lifespan than humans did, and if Mordred were to ever find out the truth of her origins and of her life expectancy it would lead to problems. But she knew that Mordred would sooner or later raise questions when she would have the appearance of a sixteen-year old when she was in fact barely ten in human years with at most five or so years left. Morgan felt the smallest feelings of dismay at this. It would be a pity for Mordred to have so short a lifespan in order to fulfill her destiny. But the blame for that would be laid at the feet of Artoria as well, for forcing Morgan to take such drastic measures that an innocent life was doomed from the moments of her birth. Hours ticked by and Mordred continued to sleep, so Morgan decided to let her child enjoy the few moments of peace she could have undisturbed and in her magnanimity, she even would continue to play the role of a doting Mother for the duration of the trip.
Hours passed by until the soon was at noon and Mordred felt her shoulder being shaken.
"Awaken Mordred. We have arrived."
/~/
Mordred yawned as she sat up and stretched, remembering to cover her mouth this time as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Her vision cleared as Sir Accalon opened the carriage door and light poured in.
"Hey, you're finally awake.", he said giving Mordred an attempt at a friendly smile and tone. He held out his hand and Morgan took it daintily, stepping out of the carriage gracefully. Mordred however ignored the proffered hand and instead leapt out of the carriage, somewhat underestimating the height of it and nearly stumbling.
"Cheeky brat.", grumbled the knight and Mordred turned to give him a piece of her mind, but a firm hand on her shoulder and a glare from her Mother told her to keep quiet, so she did albeit reluctantly, only to fully lose interest in Sir Accalon as she beheld a great throng of people walking along, paying them little to no attention. One of the horses had a stone stuck in its hoof, so they had to temporarily stop in order for the knight to resolve the problem.
While her mother was talking with Sir Accalon as he attended the horse, Mordred followed the line of people as they walked to the top of a small ridge nearby where their carriage had stopped. Nobody paid her any attention, which suited Mordred just fine The wind blew behind her as if pushing her to quicken ahead to see what everybody seemed to be so happy and excited about. Thankfully her hood still obscured her face as she reached the top, her cloak fluttering as she let out a soft gasp as she took in the sight of a castle that she had only read of in books.
Mordred took in the backdrop of a blue sky, with a range of mountains that gleamed like polished silver, pure white snow coating their tips, yet the castle seemed to stand taller, its walls stronger and more impenetrable than the very mountains themselves. The trees at the base were green like the ones Mordred saw at home, yet instead of being like a prison, they only enhanced the beauty of the castle as if they were decorations to give a more secure and welcoming path to a beautiful dream. All sound had become muted except the beating of Mordred's heart, and the joy of seeing the world outside of her cottage in the forest suddenly lost all meaning and significance. The vast land stretched before her, yet even so she still KNEW that were she ever to see things from the other side, she would still be looking down at the hill from the towers of the great castle.
Everything she had ever witnessed, beautiful and ugly alike were rendered meaningless and poor as she beheld the fortress capital, the very home to King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table; Camelot.
Though it was a way off still, Mordred saw that the lands surrounding Camelot was fertile with golden wheat, acres of beautifully red apple orchards, lush green fields where cattle and horses grazed, and that was just the outskirts. Further beyond the farmer fields were large homes, bigger than Mordred's all made of wood and stone, and so many of them that Mordred wasn't sure how they could stand it. But being so close to Camelot, Mordred would have traded her home in an instant just to be as close as they were.
"It's really something isn't it?", said the voice of very wrinkly and very old-looking man as he hobbled forward on his walking stick, his back bent over from a rucksack on his back. Mordred flinched a bit at his sudden appearance and he said apologetically, "Oh, pardon a foolish old man 'is need for chatter. I'm all alone y'know so I am glad ye're 'ere lad, because I at least got somebody to share this sight with. My eyes are old and dim y'see and the wars 'ave took me family, 'course I know that King Arthur'll put things to right again, but eh I've always wanted to visit Camelot at least once y'see. Before it was all this, it used to be nothin' 'cept just a bunch o' rocks and ruins.", he waved his walking stick to survey the whole of Camelot and its surrounding lands.
"But once King Arthur came, 'e put it all to right. 'Course eh, he had them Knights of the Round Table and uh, Merlin the wizard, y'see and all them men who served under him. My sons were under 'is, that is to say, Sir Lancelot du Lac's direct command during a battle against the Saxons! Not bad for a man what came from the borders between Gaul and Britain. 'Course the only ones I ever met were the sort who said your father smelt of elderberries.".
His old face beamed with such pride at the talk of his sons that Mordred felt prompted to ask, deepening her voice as instructed, "They won right?". The old man regarded her, but Mordred was careful to keep her face concealed.
"Oh uh, yes they were victorious but eh…," the old man's face suddenly became saddened even as he still beamed with pride, "Well… they died during the battle m'boy. But eh, I 'ave no regrets about that. They were me sons yes, but King Arthur will make their deaths mean something, just you see boy!".
Mordred stared at the man, not quite sure what to say, but one thing she knew was that the man had absolute faith in King Arthur, as unshakeable and as strong as the walls of Camelot. She glanced behind the old man and saw that Sir Accalon was waving impatiently at her to return to the carriage, having taken the stone out of the horse's hoof.
"I uh… gotta go now."
"Of course, of course.", said the old man, his cheerfulness back in full swing, "I thank ye again lad, for being 'ere with me when I first saw Camelot with me own eyes.". Then he smiled at her and Mordred noticed that he had quite a few teeth missing. This made her feel uncomfortable so she hurried back to the carriage. Sir Accalon cracked the reins again and they were soon off again. But as they went one, Mordred realized that the old man had kept calling her, "lad" or "boy". He never suspected a thing otherwise.
/~/
Mordred was oddly subdued and seemed to be in a contemplative mood as they got closer to Camelot, passing through the wheat fields and outlying farmsteads.
"What did you think of Camelot Mordred?", Morgan asked her.
The child seemed at a loss for words, not really know just how to put what she felt into proper words. Her eyebrows furrowed as she tried to convey the feelings of awe at the sheer majesty of Camelot in all its beauty and glory.
"I think... it is the most perfect and beautiful place I've ever seen."
"I see. Mordred, do you know why we have come all the way to Camelot?"
Mordred frowned again as she looked down to try to think of a reason just why they had come.
"The answer is not on your tips of your boots child."
After a longer pause, Mordred looked up at her Mother before she remembered, "You said that I needed to see King Arthur… but, why?".
"For you to understand for yourself that he is your enemy."
That simple and straightforward sentence at first did not seem to register to Mordred.
"My… enemy?"
The child grew pale with shock and horror, but Morgan felt annoyed that she had to repeat herself, "Yes child. You have to see King Arthur for yourself because he is the enemy that you were born to defeat. He is a liar and a fraud. Behind all the pretty tales and stories, it is full of lies and bloodshed. On the day you were born, as prophesized by that hack wizard Merlin, the true savior of this realm would be born. But King Arthur in his paranoia ordered that all children on the day of your birth were to be put in boats and sent out to sea to perish. It is only because I managed to hide from him and his murderous knights that I was able to save you from being killed out at sea.".
Mordred went silent and Morgan wondered if perhaps she went too far by revealing her intentions for Mordred so early. She allowed Mordred her silence, to let the revelation fully sink in before Mordred spoke.
"Mother?", her voice was frightened and yet there was more curiosity and confusion than anything else.
"What is it Mordred?", asked Morgan, taking on the soothing tones she used to comfort her. Mordred looked lost and she surely needed her mother's wisdom.
"What is a "sea"?"
'Oh bloody hell…', cursed Morgan le Faye, almost wanting to throttle Mordred right then and there, especially because the child was being absolutely sincere in her questioning. Morgan waved the question away and leaned forward to hold Mordred firmly by the arms, "Child! You were in grave danger of dying because of King Arthur. You are what he fears, so you must see him for yourself, so that you will know just why he is your enemy!".
Mordred still didn't look like she got it and she had that look of fright as she usually got when Morgan got severe with her, but it was soon replaced by a furrowing of her brows as the child suddenly spat out, "Is it because I'm a humonkculuus?!".
Mordred had only twice been deliberately defiant in the past, but that willfulness of hers was coming back, despite the fear in her voice that she couldn't shut out as she said, "I heard what you called me!"
The word was hard to pronounce and this caused Morgan to loosen her grip as she again inwardly cursed herself for letting it slip that night to Sir Accalon. Mordred was more hurt than angry, clearly refusing to believe her mother's words about how King Arthur, the figure she admired so deeply was really a murderer of children, whose deeds were soaked in the blood of his enemies and people, and who was the child's supposed archenemy. A different tactic was required, so Morgan loosened her grip, gave a sorrowful sigh and adopted that anguish look when she coaxed Mordred into her alchemical bath. She then drew Mordred into her arms again, prompting the child to hug her back after an awkward pause. But there was still some fear of her mother that hadn't gone fully away, but Mordred still wanted to cherish these moments of physical affection for however short a time it would be.
"You aren't old enough to understand but… yes, you are different. I wanted to keep you safe and to make you strong, because you are not like other people. This was one of the reasons that King Arthur wanted to eliminate you, because you are not human like others."
Mordred could not seem to fully process this, her young mind incapable of comprehending that she was different and therefore subject to cruelty and hatred. The child looked up at her and asked softly, "Mother, does this make me… bad?".
"No child,", said Morgan after she pulled away, yet kept Mordred close so she could look the child in the eye, "The world is bad, for making you this way, and for its cruelty to those who are different. It is King Arthur's fault for being so paranoid and insecure about his rule that he felt the need to order the massacre of innocent lives just to ensure his throne remained uncontested by a worthier heir. Why do you think we lived so far away and so secretly from other people? It is because if King Arthur ever discovered us, we would never again be safe."
/~/
This confused Mordred and troubled her in a way she couldn't understand. Why would King Arthur have anything to do with her? In what way would he even be responsible for Mordred being the way she was? He was so far away and he was ruling the kingdom. Not even in her wildest fantasies and dreams of knights could she imagine having anything to do with the King of Knights. So Mordred stood silent, not knowing what to make of this.
"Oi! We're almost there!", called Sir Accalon as they approached Camelot's great walls. They were approached by guards, dressed in shining plate armor with the blue and silver heraldry of King Arthur. Their faces were covered by great helms and Mordred went right back to being awed again. THESE were definitely knights just like in the stories. Forget Sir Accalon! Camelot was where REAL knights were found. Mordred heard hushed voices and soon they were off again, the carriage darkening as they passed through archway and into Camelot itself. Their carriage rocked on the cobbled stone a bit and Mordred's excitement began to grow again, thrilled at being inside Camelot itself. Mother lowered her head and Mordred could see her lips move, but there was no sound made. As soon as she stopped moving her lips, the carriage stopped.
Mordred moved to exit the carriage, but she barely placed her right hand on the door when Mother's hand touched her own.
"Mordred, you will be on your own as you explore Camelot. I must remain here, hidden lest King Arthur, Merlin, or somebody else discovers me.", she said and Mordred hesitated, less eager to get out and explore if her mother was afraid of being discovered. Despite the uncertainty and confusion, Mordred didn't want anything bad to happen to her mother. But Morgan took Mordred's hand and held her hand open. Then she placed inside her hand what Mordred thought at first was a flower. She held it up to observe the green plant with what looked like a small cluster of white berries.
"That is mistletoe child. It will allow me to sense your presence so that I may be able to find you.", explained Mother as she held Mordred's smaller hands inside her own. Mother and daughter, well, "son", Mordred supposed, stared at each other before Morgan cupped her child's cheek and she said, "Be brave, my Mordred. King Arthur has many spies and tools at his disposal. You MUST be on your guard. Go forth and explore Camelot. I am never far from you so long as you have that mistletoe. King Arthur will depart from Camelot soon on another campaign, so wait and when people gather, that's when you will know.".
Mordred looked at the mistletoe in her hand and she pocketed it before nodding at her mother. She had always in the past spoken with disdain about King Arthur, implying that he wasn't really as good as she thought he was, but today marked the first time where Mother had put it plainly that King Arthur was her enemy. The thought of facing such a figure was something Mordred couldn't wrap her head around, so she decided she would see him for herself, regardless of what her Mother was telling her.
With that, Mordred opened the carriage door and once more she leapt out, but this time she landed more easily. She looked around and saw that they were actually INSIDE the walls of Camelot, but the area they were in was a back-alley that was strangely dark and empty. Sir Accalon ignored her entirely as he lashed the reins and made the horse start walking away. Mordred watched as it rounded a corner and out of sight, the horse's hooves making, clop-clop sounds as it was led away.
Mordred drew her hooded cloak closer around herself and began to move through the dark alleyways, very carefully and quietly like a ghost. The alleyways were damp and felt narrow even for a child of a similar size to Mordred, but she continued to walk until she came upon the main street leading up to the great gates of the castle. People were walking about on business of their own, going to the marketplace, visiting family or friends, or visiting their loved ones on guard duty. But Mordred noticed that all these people had smiles on their faces and she could hear them talking about King Arthur and his Round Table. But there were so many voices that Mordred felt overwhelmed as she suddenly found herself in the middle of a crowd. She turned and turned as people occasionally bumped into her, yet there didn't seem to be any kind of escape until she found a narrow gap and slipped through it.
Mordred ran back to the alleyways, panting as she felt her heart hammer in her chest, a bead of sweat dripping down her cheek. How could normal people stand to be in so close quarters with so many around!? But then she reminded herself, somewhat bitterly, that Mother had said she wasn't like these people, and that if they knew the truth it would mean deep trouble. But still, as she gathered herself and walked out to look at the crowd, she saw they still had their smiles and lively attitudes. It was a little overwhelming, but Mordred knew that if she really tried, she could go back out. She would just have to be more careful about where she went. So instead of going up the main street, she went back to the alley's and walked the long way around to try to get a closer glimpse of the gates.
But then she found herself in a new place where many more people were gathered around. There were lots of little stalls, filled with people trading with each other for food, items, or trinkets. Mordred's eyes widened in awe as she poked her head around the corner before she walked out, more cautiously this time. She was much more attentive as she walked up the cobbled street, stepping around people as she walked up and looked at the different stalls. Some sold foods she had never seen before and as she gazed at the many fruits in one particular stall, the man who was selling his wares spoke to her.
"Hello there!", he said in a friendly tone as he leaned forward to get a better look at Mordred. Thankfully she covered her face up in time before she said, "H-hello.".
The man looked curious and asked, "Why are you hiding your face boy? There's no need to be so guarded around a food seller like me.". But this got no response as Mordred suddenly turned to leave, feeling embarrassed somehow and ashamed to be speaking with a person.
"Oh wait boy!", said the man and something in his voice gave Mordred pause. He sounded… concerned somehow and he carefully went on, "Did you just arrive here? Do you have any family or friends?".
Mordred opened her mouth to speak, keeping her head down with her hood covering her eyes and shading her face as she realized she had forgotten a lot of what her Mother had told her to say if she was asked questions, "I… I came from Cornwall.".
The man nodded and said in sympathy, "Oh… I see. You came all alone did you, boy? Not what I'd approve of, a young lad such as yourself going off alone, but I suppose it would make sense to you young ones to try to come to the safest place you know of. It must be lonely being all by yourself.".
He seemed to think that Mordred was all alone, that she had nobody. It wasn't strictly true, but Mordred said nothing.
The man clicked his tongue and then he gave her three of his best apples along with a skin filled with water. Mordred was shocked at the man's kindness and he cut her off with a good-natured grin as he crossed his brawny arms before she could say anything.
"Not a word lad! This is something that King Arthur would expect from his subjects, simply be good to each other! He's perfect in every way and we ain't ever going to match him, but maybe even a lowly peasant like me can try! I hope the best for you, boy! If you ever need a stable to sleep in, just come to the farm outside of Camelot, the one with the red chimney!".
Mordred stared at the food and water before she said with a smile, "Thank you!". Then she took off back to the alleys in wonder. Mother had said that King Arthur was her enemy and that all he stood for was based on lies. But Mordred was starting to think that for once, Mother may be wrong.
For a while longer, she wandered the streets of Camelot, taking in the sights of the people, other children her age, the guards and knights patrolling in groups or on their horses. She had finished her apple and was starting on her second before she caught the sight of two children staring at her with wide and hungry eyes. They looked like they two had traveled a long way given their stained white cotton tunics, black breeches, and worn shoes. In fact, Mordred noted that despite one being a girl and the other being a boy, they looked very similar to each other. Perhaps they were "brother" and "sister", like Mother had said two people closely related to each other were. The boy had short, shaggy black hair that stuck up like a thorn bush, while the girl had dark-orange hair with a curious strand of hair standing up. Mordred looked back at her apples and then back at them.
They stared at her and she stared back at them. For a long while they said nothing and Mordred recalled the food vendor's words, ' "This is something King Arthur expects from his subjects, simply be good to each other!" '.
So without saying a word, she held out her apples to both of them, one for each other to take. They gasped softly and approached her before taking an apple each and hungrily devouring them. Feeding and helping two children who were hungry felt… really nice actually. Mordred looked at her skin of water and decided to give that away to them too. The girl smiled brightly at the offering and she took it before thanking Mordred for her kindness and running off with her brother. Mordred watched them run off before she felt confused and wondered if Mother wasn't the one who was lying about King Arthur and his people. This was so confusing and so different from what she was told that Mordred wasn't sure what to believe.
So she wandered around again, this time just letting her feet take her in any direction as she tried to untangle the confusion in her mind. She had wandered back into the alleyways when suddenly the blasts of horns burst through the air in loud, musical tones. The people were suddenly much more excited than before and began to run to the center streets.
"King Arthur! King Arthur!"
"He's coming out! Quick! Let's go see King Arthur!"
"Have you heard? The king is heading out on campaign!"
"His knights of the round table are coming!"
"Merlin mommy! I hope I get to see Merlin!"
"I hope to see Sir Lancelot! I want to be a knight like him Father!"
This and many more voices of excitement was infectious and Mordred knew she simply HAD to witness what was going on for herself. But when she tried to follow, the crowd was simply too much and she couldn't get through to see. So she ran back down the alleys again, her voice coming out in pants as she hurried as fast as she could to try to find the least amount of people as possible so she could witness the departure of the king. The horns blew again and people cheered as Mordred tried to push through to see what was going on. But again, it was so tightly packed that she couldn't force her way through.
"The gates are open! Make way for the king! Make way for the king!"
Guards began to order people to clear a path for King Arthur and his knights to pass through, so Mordred ran further and further from the gate, almost to the entrance of Camelot. Fortunately, there was yet another back alley that allowed her to have a clear and unobstructed view, while still keeping her hidden. She heard in the distance the cheers of the people, calling excitedly out to the king. Mordred waited anxiously, yet resolutely as more cheers began to get closer, signaling to her that the king was approaching. She clenched her hands, feeling them start to sweat and become a little clammy as she felt her anticipation grow and grow until she heard the people nearest to her clearly. The clouds from the sky seemed to dissipate and illuminate as if the very heavens were parting a path for the upcoming retinue.
That's when she saw King Arthur and The Knights of The Round Table.
Even as sheltered as she was, Mordred knew each and every one of them by the description Mother had told her, including the picture books she was given so she could memorize their faces. But they all fell utterly short of the reality.
There was Sir Agravain, also known as "Iron Agravain" or "Agravain who Knew No Wounds". He looked as upright and strong as the iron that was associated with him. His plate armor was as black as pitch, with a white-furred pelt on his deep-blue cape. His face was stern and hard, with steel-gray eyes so dark they almost looked black, and his hair was as black as his armor, slicked back in such a way that Mordred was reminded of an eagle.
On Sir Agravain's left was Sir Tristan, the Knight of Lamentation. He had long red hair that hung loosely and seemed to shine when the light of the sun reflected on him. He also wore a fur-collared cape, with this one being white with golden fleur-de-lis symbols near the hem. But what really caught the eye was the his legendary greatbow Failnaught, but it looked strange to Mordred's eyes, because she saw he had no arrows and there were too many strings on the bow. Sir Tristan's eyes were closed and his face was still and calm, so Mordred was not sure whether or not he was asleep.
Her eyes then went from Sir Tristan to Sir Bedivere, who was said to be King Arthur's steward and his caretaker. Despite not being rumored to not be as gifted as say Sir Lancelot, Sir Gawain, or the other knights who were mighty warriors, Sir Bedivere was known to have been one of the most senior knights of the Round Table. Despite his seniority, he looked almost to be the youngest of the Round Table Knights, with his hair almost looking as silver as his right arm, but still blonde if only barely. His sea-green gambeson was trimmed with gold at the edge, yet h his small half-cape and silver plate armor, fauld, greaves, and sabatons looked quite humble in design compared to the other knights. His eyes were locked forward, as the retinue moved forward, yet Mordred could tell he was directly watching the king.
Sir Gawain was the next person to catch Mordred's eye. He was a tall man in the prime of his youth, with wavy blond hair and aqua-blue eyes. He looked every bit the gallant knight he was made out to be in the stories that spoke of the Knight of The Sun. He wore no armor except for his greaves, gauntlets, and faulds, all a brilliant silver-white color. But even without these pieces, he still cut a powerful figure thanks to his own cape, which was perhaps the biggest and most elaborate of the knights, with its high-collared fur trimming, fur-lined shoulders, golden trimmings and designs, all making the blue-green stand out. But he did not seem even remotely bothered by the heat at all, as expected of one who was said to be the sun to King Arthur's moon. Additionally, his sword was said to be a sister blade to King Arthur's own legendary weapon, Excalibur.
In front of Sir Gawain was none other than Sir Lancelot du Lac, the Knight of The Lake. Even compared to the other knights, Sir Lancelot was said to be the greatest of them all, "First Among Equals". He was bedecked in full plate armor of glittering white with gold trimmings and studs. He had six white tassels ending with crosses attached at the end, but they were nearly covered by the blue cape he wore, tripped with gold and somehow despite being less flashy and great in size as the others, it just highlighted him as a man not taken to vice or self-aggrandizement. His hair was purple oddly enough, incredibly spiky and parted over to the left, framing his face. Mordred knew that THIS was the epitome of a true knight. He was everything that Accalon wasn't; Tall, robust, handsome, unbowed by sin, vice, or the evils of the world.
Then there a figure wearing a white cloak with his hood up, and long silver-blue hair that seemed to shine different colors of light from the sun, whose horse was just in front of Sir Bedivere; Merlin the Mage. He looked nothing like the old wizard with the great, long white beard in the picture books. He looked to be a young, handsome, even beautiful man. His white cloak looked to be woven in the finest fabrics, with dark breeches and black buckled boots. He seemed perfectly at ease without a single care in the world as he rode alongside Sir Lancelot, but Mother had warned Mordred that aside from King Arthur, he was one to be especially wary of.
But none of them… not a single one them held a candle to the glorious light that was King Arthur himself. Even witnessing Camelot, which captured Mordred's heart so firmly compared to seeing the glory and sheer majesty of the King of Knights himself; King Arthur Pendragon.
He rode ahead of the column, sitting straight and tall, yet Mordred was surprised at how much shorter King Arthur actually was in person. But even so, this did not detract from his appearance in the slightest. His blonde hair was just a lighter shade of gold than the beautiful and somehow humble crown that sat atop his head, and Mordred found herself smiling as she caught the funny strand of hair that stuck out on his head as it peeked through the crown like a blade of grass. It drew the eye and it Mordred noticed that the king wore his hair in a tight bun at the back of his head, held by a simple silk-blue ribbon. His hair framed around his face and shaded his eyes, preventing Mordred from seeing him. He wore a blue fur-trimmed cape as well, and while not quite so humble as Sir Bedivere's garments, King Arthur himself just naturally seemed to make it all so… perfect. Even his plated armor with its elongated faulds seemed to chime like beautiful bells to her ears.
Perfect, so blindingly perfect.
Even from as far away as she was, Mordred knew that that was the sole word she could think of for him. No, there was so many other words that she could think of, yet all of them fell utterly short of the reality. All her mother's words came back to her, but Mordred found that in her heart, she KNEW Mother was wrong. She found at that moment, that she adored King Arthur and knew if he asked her anything, she would do all she could in her own power.
King Arthur was King Arthur, and that would encompass enough, yet… Mordred couldn't help but notice that the other knights, even Merlin didn't ride at his side, that they all kept their distance. The king had all the love and adoration of the people, more than any one person save a god could have. Yet the knights and the people were still distanced from him, and he from them. All these people, all the knights, all the guards, and King Arthur had nobody around him.
It looked… lonely to her.
Mordred recalled how she pretended to be like King Arthur and remembered how she imagined herself standing at his side, but looking at him now, she realized she couldn't hope to stand by his side let alone against him. Still, there had to be SOMETHING she could do for him, if only a little. She glanced back at the space between the knights and the king and then the answer came to her as she saw King Arthur's back, open and vulnerable to her. It was so obvious that there just seemed no other answer.
Mordred would NOT, COULD NOT, allow any harm to come to King Arthur, not even his own knights. She would become a knight as well. People already seemed to believe she was a boy anyway, so she would become a knight and prepare herself until she found a way to become a Knight of The Round Table just like Sir Gawain, Sir Lancelot, Sir Tristain, Sir Bedivere, Sir Agravain, and all the others.
"I will become a knight. I will happily stand in your shadow. I will protect everything you represent…. Arthur.", promise Mordred to both the king and herself.
But as the column began to move past her and the slightest shift in Arthur's head in her direction caused Mordred to gasp softly. Did he somehow hear her?! No… of course that was impossible, he was merely acknowledging his subjects as he reached the gate, assuring them silently with a nod that he would return.
Everybody was calling out to him, praising him, cheering his name, thanking him, and Mordred frowned at the people. They were calling out to him to save them, to keep fighting their enemies. Want, want, want, want, need, need, need… They seemed only concerned for themselves, yet not one of them thought of the king and his royal burdens. But King Arthur bore this with his natural regal majesty and seemed wholly untroubled, yet it was clear to Mordred that he heard them and would do all in his power to save them.
Mordred hands brushed against the mistletoe in her belt as King Arthur and his retinue fully departed Camelot, watching as they left and speaking aloud to herself as if to confirm that was what she really saw.
"So that was Arthur, the King of Knights."
"Indeed."
Mordred gasped and flinched in surprise at the sudden appearance of Mother, appearing out of a black mist as she set her hands on her shoulders. She was wearing her hooded cloak as well, and Mordred noticed that it shaded her eyes in the same way as King Arthur, almost making them similar in appearance, but that was probably coincidence. Mother held onto Mordred's shoulders more firmly to convey the absolute seriousness of what her purpose was, "That is the one you must set your sights on, the enemy you must defeat.".
The child frowned slightly and turned her attention back to the column of soldiers and the rest of the retinue.
"That's impossible.", she thought. The idea would have become laughable if Mordred had dared to do so. The idea of King Arthur being her enemy was so utterly incomprehensible that Mordred knew with all her being that it simply wasn't true.
"After all, the king is perfect. So blindingly perfect… even more than the sun!", she added privately to herself.
"So what will you do? How will you defeat him?", asked Mother. But Mordred knew that she would never seek to harm the king. She would protect Arthur and defend him from all his enemies, even if it set her at odds with her Mother. Though she had barely seen him, she admired him and knew that she would never betray that love and admiration for him. But Mother was still expecting an answer, so she thought it over and decided to speak the truth... from a certain point of view. Hers.
"I will become a knight. Not just any knight, but a Knight of The Round Table, and I will join King Arthur's court.".
Mother was silent and then she turned to have Mordred face her. There was a smile on her face, one of pride, of triumph, and though it was still small, it showed some of Mother's teeth, and Mordred realized she had never seen Mother so happy in her life. Mother cupped Mordred's face in her hands and she tenderly kissed both her cheeks before finally kissing her forehead.
"Yes my child. You will become a knight and you WILL join King Arthur's court. I am proud of this decision my dear Mordred."
Then she released Mordred and suddenly stood up tall and sharp, like a deer that caught the scent of a predator. She looked down the alleyway and said, "I must depart. Return to the gates of Camelot and we will begin.".
Before Mordred could gain an explanation, Mother had already disappeared in her black mist again. She was a little worried, especially if there was something that could cause Mother to be unusually wary like this. Confused and concerned, Mordred began to move back to the alleyways when she suddenly bumped into a stranger so suddenly she fell backwards on her butt. It was like she ran smack into a wall.
"Hey, what's the rush kid?"
Mordred looked up and saw the tallest man she had ever seen before standing there in front of her. The man was wearing a black tunic with rich green breeches and brown buckled boots. There was a thick His hair was blonde, but a shade lighter and less golden in color than King Arthur. He had a hooded cloak as well, but his was finely woven white cloth, and the sheer size and robustness of him showed that he wasn't some peasant. He was a man of means and with the prowess to back it up. His voice was something that seemed hypnotic in a way that demanded you listen to him.
"What's the matter brat?", said the man when Mordred didn't answer, "You a mute or something?".
Mordred frowned and despite her sheltered life, knew an insult when she heard one, "I'm not a brat! I was just watching King Arthur and his knights!". She stood up and pulled her hood to shade her face, which the man seemed to take note of.
"Really?", he said with a rueful smirk, "So what did you think of King Arthur? I bet you think he's really something huh?"
"He's more than just something!", said Mordred, clenching her fists as the man raised his hands in a faux-defense.
"Alright, so he's more than just "something", so what do YOU think. And please-", he cut Mordred off before she could speak further, "Say something else aside from "perfect", "handsome", "beautiful", or anything like that. I've heard that so many times that it's starting to lose meaning to me. So tell me what YOU think."
Mordred found herself at a loss for words. She didn't even know why she was indulging the man at all, yet the way he spoke demanded that she say SOMETHING. What was it that she had thought earlier aside from perfect?
"Lonely."
The word escaped her mouth before she could stop it and the man's smirk grew wider as he actually laughed a bit before he said, "Well that's definitely a new one! The King of Knights, lonely. I think you might have gotten it right more than anybody else girl!"
Mordred wanted to ask what he meant, but then she realized what he called her, "Girl?! I'm not a girl!"
"Well I don't know and I don't particularly care why you're trying to pass yourself off as a boy, but you are without a doubt a girl. What, you think just because you change your clothes and try to deepen your voice you can fool people? Well, most people probably, but not a Knight of The Round Table.", said the man as if Mordred was making a stupidly obvious mistake. Mordred wanted to protest, but again the man somehow managed to surprise her again with his statement. But why would he say something like that? Unless…
"Are you… a knight of The Round Table? Truly?", asked Mordred, still trying to disguise her voice.
"Truly.", said the man as he had that smirk return to his face, "I am Sir Kay. Sometimes called Kay the Tall. Though to a girl like you, I imagine I look like a giant.".
Mordred looked up and down from him and it was true, this WAS Sir Kay! THE Sir Kay, who was said to be the most senior of the Round Table Knights, even more senior than Sir Bedivere! He was also without a doubt the tallest man Mordred had ever seen. She wasn't sure if even three of her stacked on each other would match him in height. But once more, the easy way he saw through her disguise came to the front of her mind annoyed and irritated Mordred.
"I'm not a girl!", she said more angrily this time, "I'm a boy! And I'm going to prove it by becoming a knight!".
The smirk vanished from the man's face and his face darkened. He looked deadly serious now and Mordred couldn't help but feel fear as he leaned closer to her. She saw that on his belt was a sword and a dagger and for a moment she wondered if he would draw it. But Sir Kay didn't look like he would even need it. If he wanted to he probably could easily stomp Mordred to death like she was a bug.
"Give it up, girl.", he said, with no trace of his humor or ease from before, "Women cannot be knights. It is a world not meant for the fairer sex. You think it's all a game don't you? That you can just BE a knight? That's a world you aren't ready to handle. You see King Arthur and those pompous knights of his and think they are some noble fools? Knighthood isn't some title. It's a calling, to kill and destroy.".
"That's not true!", said Mordred desperately, hating the anger and feelings of powerlessness that was filling her. Yet the way Sir Kay was speaking seemed both impossible and yet there seemed to be no real way for her to argue back, "King Arthur would accept girls if they proved themselves! He wouldn't just throw them aside just because they are girls! He-"
"So why are there none?", asked Sir Kay.
This simple question brought to mind that of all the guards, knights, and followers in King Arthur's retinue, there was not one woman. None. Plus, Sir Kay was a Knight of The Round Table, so surely he would know.
"You're… you're lying!", she said desperately, not knowing what else to say.
Sir Kay shook his head with sympathetic contempt and though Mordred wanted to believe that he was lying, she knew that if he served as a Knight of The Round Table, then surely King Arthur wouldn't approve of liars in his court. Sir Kay then he squatted down to try to look Mordred in the eye, but she refused to let him. The knight sighed and though he could have looked if he really wanted to, he seemed to not care anymore.
"Get it in your head that this is a foolish dream and abandon the idea. Women DO NOT belong in the world of knights. If you really want to serve King Arthur, then become a beauty and live your life quietly in obscurity. But don't even THINK a stupid, weak, girl like you could-"
"SHUT UP!"
Mordred screamed the word and before she knew what she was doing, she swiftly kicked at Sir Kay, wanting to silence him in a furious lashing out. Sir Kay let out a pained grunt as Mordred's kick, aimed nowhere in mind, but with surprising strength and her foot struck him in the fork of his legs.
"Ooogh…!", he groaned as he collapsed on his side and his hands went to the affected area.
Mordred sprinted away as fast as she could, the knight's pained curses fading away as she made her escape. She ran and ran, going through alley's and backways, nearly bowling over people that couldn't move out of her way fast enough. Then she turned sharply and nearly fell before she spotted Sir Accalon's carriage waiting for her. Mordred put on a final burst of speed and reached the carriage, practically flying inside and ignoring Sir Accalon's questions and shock at why she was running for dear life. Mother told him that they had to depart and to not ask another question as it must be important for Mordred to have fled to them. Grumbling, Sir Accalon lashed the reins and they were off, going through the gates of Camelot.
Mordred's clothes stuck to her skin as she panted and tried to gain her breath while Mother waited patiently for her to get her bearings.
"Knight… stopped me…", she panted, sweat dripping down her face, but not so much from exertion, but the raw terror and guilt that crept in her as what she did fully hit her. She had struck one of King Arthur's knights. Sir Kay could have them killed for it and King Arthur's mercy would be the only thing that could save them if they were caught. But when she confessed this, Mother seemed more amused than upset, though she admonished that Mordred needed to train her body better if this run tired her out so. Mordred also added that Sir Kay had told her that girls couldn't be knights, to which Mother reminded her that she was to pretend she was a boy. If Sir Kay found out, that meant she hadn't done a good enough job of it, which she will have to work on considering what they would be doing soon.
"We will be leaving our home in the forest child,", said Mother before Mordred could ask what she meant, "We will leave it behind forever. There is nothing there for us anymore. You will not need your baths anymore either.".
This was all happening much too fast for Mordred to wrap her head around. So much had happened and such a whirlwind of emotions were in her that all she could ask was, "Where… where will we go now? Why leave now?".
"I am going to have your wish fulfilled my child.", said Mother as she leaned forward and placed her hands on her shoulders, "You wish to become a knight serving in King Arthur's court. So we will have to go to the one place I know of where you will be trained in the ways of knighthood. You will learn to ride a horse, wield a sword, wear armor, learn to have your own keep, and all that encompasses the duties of a knight."
"But where we will go? Who will teach me?", said Mordred, now reeling and feeling almost as though she were going to be sick. So much had occurred and now this! The child was feeling uncertain, but then she recalled Sir Kay's cruel words and how a weak girl could never be a knight. Then she remembered King Arthur, alone and perfect amongst the people.
'I will protect everything you represent… Arthur.'
Her promise to the King of Knights and to herself. Steely determination now drove away the fear and uncertainty as she nodded to her Mother. Then she asked again where they will be going for her to learn how to be a knight. Mother's smile returned, her pale-green eyes almost glowing as she brushed a hair out of Mordred's face and she said just one word.
"Cornwall.".
Immortal: So for those of you who know anything about Arthurian Mythology, I hope you get an idea of what's in store for Mordred! Since I am interested in fully exploring Mordred's backstory, I will give you all a couple of hints of how Cornwall is related to Mordred.
1. This is where she gained her knowledge and skills in becoming a knight.
2. This is where she got her foul mouth and brazen attitude.
3. This is where ghythgnjbyuugtffhvybghytghyftb
Gudako: Sorry folks. I had to intervene before this dummy spoke too much. It's amazing how good Alienware laptops can stand blunt-forced trauma to the head! Anyway, from now on, The Master of Chaldea is gonna be here to make sure that Immortal here keeps a better schedule and doesn't leave you hanging for as long!
So do me a favor and leave a review, favorite and follow this Mordred simping story. I STILL haven't gotten her from the gacha dammit! Also... this chapter has been updated as there had been some minor plot issues. Please do carry on.
