Mordred watched the army assembling on the other side of the field. Camlann, this place was called, and it was fine a place to do battle as any. His father was an utter fool to march at him with such a puny force. The battle would be short, Mordred had thought. He would attack Arthur from the center, pinning the King in place while his Saxon mercenaries will turn and envelop the enemy flank.
But things had not gone to plan. Arthur had retreated in an orderly manner and had not been frozen in place by Mordred's attack. The Saxons didn't turn the loyalist flank but were instead lured into marshy ground wear upon they were felled by the hundreds courtesy of Arthur's archers. The King's army had been a tiny host compared to Mordred's own, but Arthur's men were all seasoned veterans of a hundred battles.
The bloodletting at Camlann should have ended there. Mordred learned a valuable lesson, one that had cost his army dearly in blood and bodies. He should have retreated and made to regroup his forces. Arthur, of course, would likely also be able to lick his wounds and gather more men to his side. But that was just the nature of war.
Instead, Mordred had reformed his line and ordered his men forward and back into the blood-soaked field. Instead of the battle ending, the bloodletting got much worse with the second attack, until Mordred's men had eventually been repulsed. Undeterred, Mordred again reformed his line and launched a third attack. The battle, which had begun in the early hours of the day, had now dragged on all the way to sunset.
When the fighting finally ended, it was not because one side had emerged victorious. But because both armies had utterly broken themselves upon the swords of the other.
Mordred soon found himself slain by his own father. But he could not find it within himself to despise the man. He was instead rather furious when he felt a curse cast by his mother activate and Mordred's limp body moved not of its own free will to deliver a final blow to the King.
Now, both King and Usurper would die, and Camelot will fall to turmoil as the result. One last act of spite from his Mother.
It was only at the Throne of Heroes that Mordred could admit to himself that it was his mother who he should have despised. Even if the admission left so much bitterness in his soul. For both his sires.
Mordred unexpectedly opened his eyes, feeling rather out of breath. He couldn't think very well, nor could he even know where he was. His eyes were blurry, and black spots appeared in the corners of his vision.
He felt something around his neck, and reached up to find that it was a rope.
It was hard to think very well but Mordred soon realized that he was hanging, with a cord around his neck, squeezing the life out of him. Mordred reached for a sword to cut the infernal thing but could find nothing on his belt. His body felt pudgy and small, and he was almost too big for it.
Mordered then summoned what small amounts of magic his mother had taught him and cut the blasted thing around his neck. He fell to the ground below, gasping breath loud to his ears as he writhed on the ground.
The room around him was dark except for a single candle burning with flames of different colors.A Mother's candle,his mind quickly supplied,lit near the dead and will burn in brilliant colors for hours, before finally settling on the Stranger's black flame only to them be snuffed out forever.
It was a strange thing for Tyrion's mind to recall…
Mordred froze.
Who the fuck is Tyrion?
The door to the room opened to a rather plump woman, with golden hair and sharp green eyes. She gasped when she saw him there, sprawled out on the ground, gasping and coughing for breath.
"Father's Mercy!" The woman, Aunt Genna, his mind told him, exclaimed out a prayer before closing the door behind her. "What have you done with yourself, child?!"
Bitter and salty tears rolled down his face, and Mordred quickly realized that the hanging and rope had been self-inflicted. The woman, his Aunt – or rather: Tyrion's Aunt, got on her knees before him and collected him into her arms.
"..m s-orr.y."The apology came to -Mordred's?— mouth without much prompting. Even if it had come out as a rasp.
"Hush, child," The woman had begun to weep silently as she held him. "Hush."
Mordred felt so small in her arms, tiny and different. He had not felt such since before his Mother had made him a knight of the Round Table. Mordred had just been a girl then, one living in a simple cottage with her kind and adoring mother. But that girl had been utterly stupid. She had ignored her mother's growing madness and cruelty. Ignored how she grew much faster than all the other children of the village. Mordred the Knight would never be that stupid girl again.
And this was not some half-imagined hallucination where his Mother gave him comfort after a bad nightmare, those only ended with his Mother's madness appearing in the morning and beating him for showing such weakness. The woman holding him was most certainly not his mother, and the dark room around them was almost certainly not the cottage of his birth.
His arms seemed too small, and legs too stubby and strange. His shoulders and hips seemed almost was a dwarf, his mind quickly supplied,a low creature born upon Tywin Lannister as a curse from the Gods.
"Tywin was far too cruel, he should not have gone so far." Genna Lannister said as she held her nephew. Or at least the boy who used to be her nephew.
What happened? Mordred cruelty?
It all returned to him then. Going riding with Jamie, only to come across brigands assaulting a woman on the road. His brother riding down the bandits with mace and sword, while Tyrion had gone to help the woman, who turned out to be a girl his age, to safety.
Tyrion had taken the girl riding through the country, and they had spent a night of passion together in an inn they had drank at. Tysha would say that she loved him, would sing for him and laugh with him. They would marry soon after, and spend the whole of a fortnight staying in a cottage by the sea.
But it all ended when Jamie said the girl was a whore he had hired. Both he and Tysha were then taken to Casterly Rock where Lord Tywin had Tyrion's wife brutalized by the guards. Mordred could only feel all matter of horror and disgust by the memories that had made their way into his mind.
"I am going to kill him!"
It was a cold promise to make, but Mordred could only think of Tysha and Tyrion. Tysha was only fourteen and Tyrion a year younger than that but Lord Tywin had brutalized one and driven the other to suicide. It was not so hard for Mordred to resolve to kill this Lord of Lannister.
Genna Lannister froze at the words. "You can't mean that."
"Can't mean it?"MordredTyrion asked incredulously. "You would have me forgive him?!"
Mordred had memories of Tyrion running through his head. Of the boy sneaking around the halls of the castle, listening to every secret being told when it was thought that no one was there listening. Even so, Tyrion Lannister had not believed a single thing said about his Lord Father.
"You were foolish Tyrion, eloping with a lowborn girl-"
Rage, pure undulated rage cut its way through Tyrion. "You are going to take his side?!"
Genna looked hurt by his anger. "You can't speak of killing your father, child. Not even-"
"He gave her to his guards!" Tyrion could feel tears running down his cheek again.
His aunt flinched back like she had been struck; her eyes went wide. "…what.."
"He gave her to his guards and made me watch," Tyrion told her. "He paid her silver coin for every man. Then he had me…" Tyrion faltered, a sob escaping him. "…and gave her a gold coin for me."
Genna Lannister didn't say anything about that. And Tyrion realized that she had not, in fact, known what had occurred.
"He could have just sent her away!" Mordred yelled. And that had been what resonated with him. Tywin Lannister had been a knight, sworn to oaths, before he had become a Lord. As a Lord with lands and vassals, the man had an even greater obligation to do justice and keep the peace. "He had already annulled the marriage; he did not need to do this-"
Mordred froze as he went through Tyrion's memories again. The boy had been told by his brother Jamie that Tysha had been a whore who had only wanted him for the Lannister name and fortune. But Mordred knew lies, knew how to spot liars too, and he could not find a single lie to when Tysha had confessed to love Tyrion. The only one was from Jamie-
There were sounds around him, and Jamie turned on his side as his sleep became more fitful.
Then there was a sword on his throat.
Jamie startled awake and was wanting to grab the blade; only to then see who wielded it.
"Tyrion?" He asked, his voice sleep addled.
"'She is a whore, Tyrion. You cannotmarrya whore.'" Jamie felt his heart sink as his brother repeated his words at him. "Isn't that what you said?!"
Jamie could not answer as he saw more people enter his chambers from the doors that had been left ajar. His aunt Genna was first through, her face marked by worry and fearfulness. His uncles Tygett and Gerion follow after her.
"Tyrion, child." His aunt's tone is soothing and conciliatory. "That is your brother Tyrion. Your brother, Jamie."
And what a wretched brother I have been. Jamie thought as Tyrion kept the sword steady to his neck, his brother's mismatched eyes glaring at him with all the hatred in the world.
"Would you kill your own brother in his bed?" His aunt asked, and Jamie thought it was a poor thing to ask a boy with a sword at his brother's neck. It was Jamie's blade, and he had been sharpening it that morning. It would slice through his throat with a simple jerk of the hand. "No man is as cursed as a kinslayer."
His uncles said nothing but made small steps forward, silently reaching out for his brother.
Then Tyrion snorted, and suddenly Jamie could breathe as the sword left his neck. "Not in his bed, then. Should I kill him on his feet?" Tyrion asked as he threw Jamie's sword to the ground. It clattered and rang with the fall.
Jamie stood up then, and silently watched as his brother crossed the room to the opened doors of his apartments. They were soon closed and locked as his brother turned back to them.
"Child, you-" His aunt tried to sooth, but was interrupted.
"Stand up!" Tyrion yelled at him. "Stand and pick up your sword!"
Tyrion went to their Uncle Gerion and drew the sword at his belt. It was a long thin blade, not as heavy or cumbersome as a true longsword, as their uncle preferred a swift sword.
Jamie stood, but did not reach for the blade at his feet. "Tyrion-"
"Pick it up!" Jamie flinched as his brother screamed at him.
He would try to reason. "Tyrion, I-"
"Pick it up Ser," Tyrion said. "You are a knight, what have you to fear from a boy?"
Tyrion got into a stance, blade held out in front of him and steady. Jamie blinked, it had been thought that his brother would never become a knight and so he had not been seriously trained. But the stance he was in was half solid, though it looked like Tyrion was replicating it after seeing it be done, as his brother had not adjusted the stance to his too small height.
"Tyrion, that's enough." Gerion said, a pained expression on his face. "We should all keep our tempers-"
"Pick it up!" Tyrion demanded again. "Or are you a coward, too? Along with all else they say about you."
Jamie picked up his sword, despite himself.
Then Tyrion charged at him, thrusting their uncle's blade straight for his heart. Jamie only stepped aside, and his younger brother fell sprawling on the floor, carried forth by his own momentum.
Tyrion had gotten back up in an instant. "Kingslayer!" His brother yelled at him. "Oathbreaker!"
Tyrion thrust forward again, and Jamie deftly stepped aside.
"Every time I heard them say it, I would scream at them." His brother said as he swung at him. Jamie parried and stepped aside again, letting the blade slide harmlessly off his own.
"You lie!" Tyrion yelled as he thrust out his sword again. Jamie ducked the blow and again parried. "You are all liars, I told them, my brother is the greatest knight in the world!"
Another swing, Jamie blocked it.
"Tyrion," Jamie choked out. "Tyrion, please-"
"Tell them the lie," Tyrion demanded, panting, sweating and glaring up at him. "Tell them the lie you said to me!"
Jamie's eyes darted around the room, his aunt and uncles stood there watching the fight. Tygett was grim faced and silent, watching Jamie with a gleam in his eyes. Gerion and his aunt both had hands out, wanting to plead with a word and stop the fight.
"Tell them!" Tyrion's voice broke from all the yelling.
Jamie looked down in shame. "I said she was a whore."
"You lied!" Tyrion stepped forward and swung at him. Jamie blocked and took a step back.
"Say it again!" Tyrion demanded.
"She was a whore, Tyrion-"
Tyrion was charged at him with a bellow, far faster than he had been before. Uncle Gerion's blade blurred, and its sound whipped in the air as Tyrion swung it at him. Jamie blocked and stepped back. Tyrion was exhausted, he could see that. His brother's arms were shaking with every effort he made, breaths uneven and face red with exertion. Despite this, his brother did not stop swinging.
Jamie could have easily disarmed him before this, he was taller than Tyrion and had the advantage in reach and positioning. But then Tyrion moved as if he was a whirlwind, and Jamie could only block the attacks and retreat.
Suddenly, his back hit a wall, and all he could hear was a sword clattering loudly on the stone floor.
Jamie was dumbstruck as his brother now held a blade to his neck again. He had been disarmed by a boy of three and ten, who had barely received any training at all. Any other day, and he would have been praising his brother, but now all he could do was stare at Tyrion's hate filled eyes.
"Say it!" His brother demanded.
Jamie let out a breath and closed his eyes. "She was not a whore." He confessed.
He thought Tyrion would cut him down in the next moment, but the blade did not move from his neck. Jamie opened his eyes to find his younger brother crying, silent tears rolling down his malformed cheeks.
"You are no brother of mine." Tyrion spoke quietly. And the soft words cut and hurt more than any blade.
Jamie thought of apologizing, thought to beg his brother's forgiveness but Tyrion looked away from him. The blade in the boy's hand was discarded and Jamie could only watch as his brother fled the room.
"I'll go after him," Gerion murmured. His uncle gave him a long look, he had mismatched eyes the same way Tyrion did, but there was no hatred in the man's like there had been in Tyrion. Instead, there was pity in those eyes. Gerion turned and followed Tyrion out of the room.
His aunt Genna looked at him with furious green eyes. "How could you tell such a lie?"
Jamie did not have much of an answer. "Father ordered me, said it will bring shame to have Tyrion elope with a common girl."
Genna Lannister stared at him with judging eyes, and Jamie could feel some resentment stirring in his chest. He had followed his father's orders, his aunt should know that Tyrion couldn't just run off-
"Your father took the girl to his guard's barracks."
Jamie's breath caught in his throat.
"He paid the girl a silver coin for every man that took her and made Tyrion watch."
Jamie shook his head in denial, his knees felt about to buckle.
"Then he had your brother have her last, and gave her a gold coin." Genna Lannister said. "A lesson, my brother wanted to teach." She shook her head. "Lannisters are worth more."
His aunt's eyes looked haunted and red from crying. "I did not think him capable of this, not when I have loved him ever since I had been a girl. Not my valiant elder brother, who stood up in protest for me at the day of my betrothal. Not Tywin, who would do anything for his family."
"I should have known." Genna choked out. "The day I heard he sent brutes to savage a Princess of the Realm and her children. I should have known when he had the Tarbecks slaughtered to the last suckling babe over insults and pride. I should have known when I heard the Rains of Castemere, hundreds killed even after asking for terms."
His aunt looked at him. "I found your brother in the night, with rope around his neck-"
Jamie was alarmed. "Who would-"
"The boy did it to himself."
Jamie's knees finally buckled.
"That is the worth of your lie, your brother attempting to take his own life, and his wife raped a dozen times over."
Jamie felt numb, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest. His aunt shook her head and left the room.
Only Tygett Lannister remained. His elder uncle had not said a word the whole time, simply standing there and listening. Jamie wondered what recriminations he would get from the man. Not that he did not deserve them.
"Your actions are yours and your father's his," Ser Tygett finally spoke. "The Gods will judge you for your lie, as they will your father for his cruelty."
Jamie said nothing, his hands had started to shake.
"I will be resigning my post as Master-at-Arms," His uncle said. "Ride off to that ruined hall of the Tarbecks your father oh so generously granted me. Your brother asked me to take his wife with me."
Jamie looked up at his uncle. "Father told me he would have the marriage annulled."
Tygett snorted. "Your father did far mor than that." The man shook his head. "But your brother was adamite that she remains his wife. And not even the High Septon could annul the thing if your brother refuses."
"And the girl?" Jamie asked softly.
"Your brother went riding in the night, Genna bid me follow after him. I found him visiting the girl." Tygett replied. "She had been begging him to believe her, that she was not a whore."
"She's a crofter's daughter," Jamie confessed. "An orphaned one."
"And the boy I trained and raised on my lap would not have lied about that," His uncle's eyes were sad.
"You best ride back to King's Landing, this morning." Tygett said. "Return to your post."
Then Jaime was left alone, and for the first time since his mother died, he wept.