Chapter 17 - Candid Confessions
The room was dark and quiet, before a low rumble caused Jaune to slowly stirr with a yawn.
As he sat up and stretched, and his mind joined the rest of his body in waking up, he couldn't help but recall the events of the previous night.
Him talking about how great his old friends and old team had been...
Meeting Sir Mordred's mother (and especially the way she'd looked at him, like something she'd found at the bottom of her shoe)...
And Sir Mordred suddenly swinging him around like a ragdoll even as he announced that the King was his father.
That last one was definitely the biggest thing to happen last night, and even now he barely spared anything else a second thought as he looked back at it.
Sure, he'd been initially taken by surprise at the sudden announcement (not to mention the way he'd been picked up and flung around), but once the shock had worn off all he'd been left with was a lot of questions.
Questions like:
"Sir Mordred never even knew who his father was?"
"Why hasn't the King ever mentioned having a son?"
"Aren't your mother and the King happily married to different people?"
In short, a lot of questions, with disturbing implications.
He'd done his best not to even think about them last night, though (let alone voice them out), and had instead chosen to simply congratulate his mentor and be happy for how happy the news obviously made him, rather than ruin the mood with such questions.
Of course, it had definitely helped that the latter hadn't been particularly difficult; to say Sir Mordred had been "ecstatic" about the revelation would have been like saying that Ruby "liked" weapons (or that Blake "liked" tuna, or that Pyrrha was "eye-catching", or that the Schnee Dust Company was "well-off").
Admittedly, though, now that he was thinking about it, he couldn't help but wonder if wishing Sir Mordred "good luck" as he'd charged off to look for the King and deliver the "good news" had really been the right thing to do.
... well, it wasn't like there was anything else he could have done.
Going with him wasn't an option; whatever conversation Sir Mordred and King Arthur had, was meant to be between them (and maybe Queen Guinevere, Mordred's mother, and her husband), and had absolutely nothing to do with an outsider like him.
And there was no way he could have stopped him either; to be blunt, he'd have been more willing to stand between Ruby and cookies, or even Nora and pancakes!
... but, at the same time... the more he tried to think about things, the less sense they made.
Even if he ignored the reputation for justice and fairness King Arthur Pendragon had amongst his subjects and his knights, he just couldn't see the young-looking man who'd accepted him into Camelot, who'd sat and chatted with him for hours about farming and politics, who Sir Mordred clearly thought the world of, also being the kind of man who'd cheat on his wife, before abandoning his own son to what little mercies Mordred's mother possessed.
Then, was Mordred's mother lying?
Sir Mordred clearly didn't think so, and Sir Mordred would know better than him.
Then, had Mordred's mother simply kept him a secret from the King?
That just added the question of "Why?", while not answering the questions of "Did King Arthur cheat on Queen Guinevere and sleep with Mordred's mother?"...
... wait, Gareth was King Arthur's niece, and Sirs Agravain, Gaheris, and Gawain his nephews...
... and Sir Mordred was their brother...
...
Jaune couldn't help but gag at the very disturbing implications, before quickly rushing for the window.
The brisk, fresh air revitalized him, and between that and the view of the sun slowly rising over the villages surrounding Camelot, the unease Jaune had been feeling slowly settled down.
Sure, the situation was... complicated, to put things lightly.
But, no matter what... Sir Mordred was his friend.
And, come to think of it, the King was a friendly-ish acquaintance too, wasn't he?
It wouldn't change everything they'd done for him.
Hopefully the talk had gone well, though...
As another low rumble washed over the castle, Jaune sighed, and pushed himself off of the windowsill, deciding to at least get out and do something, instead of uselessly stewing over a situation that he wasn't even involved in.
Grabbing his usual training gear, Jaune began suiting up even as he considered his options.
The obvious choice was to go looking for his mentor, so that he could ask about how it'd gone, but at the same time he wouldn't want to be a third wheel should Sir Mordred and the King still be together and reconnecting; he'd had quite enough of being a third wheel thanks to having seven sisters, thank you very much.
Alternatively, he could just go and get a quick morning workout done, maybe even see which Knight of the Round Table was causing the castle to shake with their intensive training, and pick up some tips...
Before he could finish weighing them and come to a decision, however, the sound of heavy footfalls rapidly approaching his room caught his attention, and a soft smile crossed his face, figuring that his decision had been made for him.
"Hold on a second, I'm coming," Jaune called out with a chuckle, as the footsteps screeched to a halt outside his door, and an armored gauntlet began impatiently banging against it.
To his surprise, though, instead of a familiar suit of armor with red accents and a horned helmet standing outside his door, it was the sight of a serious-looking Agravain and a panting Gareth that greeted him.
"Sir Agravain, Gareth," Jaune nodded to the pair confusedly. "Is something the matter?"
"Squire Jaune, I'll be blunt," Agravain began, fixing him with a stern look. "Did anything happen to upset Sir Mordred last night?"
Jaune blinked.
-OUTSIDE THE DOOR TO SIR MORDRED'S (SOON-TO-BE-FORMER) QUARTERS, FIVE MINUTES LATER-
Jaune's jaw hung loosely as he dumbfoundedly stared at the rattling door (and the shuddering wall that it was connected to), and wondered if somebody had released a horde of Boarbatusks into Sir Mordred's room.
Yeah, that had to be it.
A portal to Remnant must have opened, and dumped a bunch of Grimm into the room, who were currently utterly devastating it in their mad scramble to burst free and attack the inhabitants of the castle.
... and the Grimm dragon had been among their number as well, by the sounds of things.
But, as far-fetched as that fantasy was, it was still far more plausible to Jaune than the alternative - that it was Sir Mordred who was shaking the entire castle while in the throes of a destructive rage, all the while furiously and incoherently roaring and cursing.
Well, at least he could see what Sir Agravain and Gareth had meant when they'd said that something had upset Sir Mordred (in what was probably the understatement of the year).
Of course, why they expected him to know the reason by Sir Mordred's anger, and what they expected him to do about it, was utterly beyond him.
After all, at the very least, Sir Agravain knew Sir Mordred was his brother, and even if he'd managed to avoid spilling the beans on the King being Sir Mordred's dad (even if he thought that telling Sir Agravain his mother cheated on his father and slept with her brother would go over well, that secret wasn't his to tell), Sir Agravain should have known his brother better than him, right?
With an resigned sigh, Jaune gave his armor and shield one finaly check, before slowly approaching the shaking door and giving it an apprehensive knock.
"Sir Mordred?" Jaune shouted, fighting to make sure his voice could be heard over the chaos ensuing behind the door. "Are you there? May I enter?"
A howl of fury was his only response.
"..." Jaune took a deep breath to steel himself, before pushing the door open with a quiet; "I'm coming in, Sir Mordred."
The first thing he saw, as he entered the room, was what he could only describe as a scene of utter carnage.
The few walls that still stood all sported countless fist-sized holes in them, the floor had craters and cracks, and most of the wooden furniture in the room had been reduced to kindling and splinters.
And at the center of it all, metal armor covered in dust and debris, stood his mentor, breastplate heaving as he breathed heavily.
"Sir Mordred?" Jaune cautiously asked as he took a tentative step into the room.
Jaune's instincts immediately began screaming at him to run away as Sir Mordred's horned helmet snapped towards his direction from where it'd been glaring at some pile of rubble, but he ignored them as Sir Mordred responded in a hoarse tone: "Squ... ire?"
"Uh, hey?" Jaune awkwardly waved as he took a second step forward, before concern leaked into his voice: "Did... did something happen when you went to talk to the Ki... your father?"
"Father..." Mordred breathed, as the word reminded her of just how things had gone.
The emotions that had overwhelmed her since the previous night were unfamiliar, and she couldn't even begin to identify them, let alone boast any knowledge on how to actually deal with them.
Except for one.
Being raised by Morgan had given her lots of experience with pain, as well as a simple way of dealing with it.
When hurt, destroy.
"Arthur," Mordred snarled, fury entering her voice, and Jaune's eyes widened in surprise as the stone brick in his mentor's hand was reduced into powder as the fist holding it suddenly tightened. The urge to retreat from the room only intensified as Mordred swore with a growl: "Everything he's ever built... everything he's ever loved... everything he represents... I'll destroy all of it!"
Clearly, things had not gone to Sir Mordred's liking.
Jaune didn't make any move to run away, though, but instead spoke up once again as he stepped forward: "Sir Mordred?"
Mordred's head snapped back towards her squire, reminded that he was present, that he was there, facing her.
Unlike another blonde young-looking man that she respected.
Another wave of emotions she couldn't identify surged within her, threatening to overcome what little self-control she had.
Unaware of what Sir Mordred was feeling, only seeing that his mentor was troubled, Jaune continued: "That's it, Sir Mordred... take a deep breath... now, why don't tell me what happened? When I left last night you were overjoyed! You've always been the one telling me how great the King was, and how you always admired him! Why are you suddenly trying to do... this?"
Jaune's words stirred even more memories, even more emotions within Mordred.
Of all the admiration she'd held for the King, from when she could first read to when she'd laid her eyes on the King's dignified figure, to the day she became a Knight of the Round Table.
Of all the praise she'd heaped on the King, to anyone who'd listen (only Jaune).
Of all the excitement and happiness and love she'd felt, when she'd learned that she'd been sired by the King.
And how all of it shattered in an instant, with a cold, simple answer.
The dam burst, and with how overwhelmed, confused, and hurt as Mordred was, she instinctively lashed out at the person who'd caused it.
"Get out," Mordred snarled at Jaune, rounding on him, and Jaune couldn't help but take a step back as she once again demanded: "Get out!"
"D-did I say something wrong?" Jaune stammered, falling back a second step as Mordred took a step towards him (and causing the floor to shudder).
"Just get out, and leave me alone!" Mordred bellowed, grabbing a chunk of rock from the floor and threatening to throw it at her squire.
"..." Jaune stopped, and instead looked at his mentor.
He still couldn't understand what was going on, why Sir Mordred was seemingly having an emotional breakdown...
But he rememebered that day months ago, when Sir Mordred had learned just how poor of a job she'd been doing teaching him, and told him to find a new mentor.
He hadn't regretted refusing him then, and no matter what happened next, he knew he'd regret it more if he just walked away from a friend in need.
"No," Jaune firmly refused, drawing his shield.
Mordred didn't offer him a last chance, but instead launched herself towards him with a shout and a speed that rivalled Ruby's Sembalnce.
Jaune's eyes widened, and he only barely managed to throw himself out of the way as a gauntlet wildly flew towards his head.
Sure, he'd completely expected a fight, but he'd also thought he had a measure of Sir Mordred's abilities.
He'd thought he'd seen Sir Mordred upset.
He'd been wrong.
Before he could get up from the floor, cold metal fingers gripped his top, before he found himself getting thrown into the wall.
Instead of pressing the advantage, however, Mordred took a moment to roar in fury, and Jaune quickly scrambled to his feet, raising his shield with one arm while the other grabbed a sturdy-looking piece of wood that he'd landed within an arm's reach of.
Jaune managed to meet the next punch with his shield, but the sheer force behind it forced him to take a step back lest his stance break, and would have numbed his arm (if not broken the bone) if not for his Aura.
The third blow was successfully deflected by his stick, but it shattered into splinters from the effort.
The fourth blow slammed into his shield from above, and Jaune gritted his teeth and braced it with his now-free sword hand,
Then the fifth, and the sixth, and the seventh, and more, all began raining down upon his shield, hammering him into the ground, and all Jaune could afford to focus on was trying to survive the next strike.
But still, even as Jaune was battered down, even as his Aura drained away, even as his limbs shook from the effort, he fought on.
Eventually, though, he reached his limits, and as his Aura flickered visibly, his legs buckled underneath him from one more of the countless blows he'd forced himself to endure.
As he collapsed, fighting to remain conscious, he saw Mordred standing over him, arms raised for a final blow.
Not even having enough breath to speak, Jaune closed his eyes, and braced himself for it.
Instead of shattering his Aura and his rib cage, however, the two armored fists softly thumped against his chest.
Jaune dared to allow his eyelids to open, just in time to see Sir Mordred fall to his knees over him with a thud, looking down.
A brief silence engulfed the pair, before Mordred took a deep, shuddering breath.
"I hate him," Mordred spat bitterly, breaking the silence. "Hate Father. I hate him, so much!"
Jaune could only lie there wordlessly and motionlessly, watching his mentor rant about how much he hated King Arthur right above him, until he ran out of steam.
"... hate..." Sir Mordred pronounced one last time, a few minutes later, but unlike the others, this one just sounded empty and hollow.
And then Jaune felt something wet hit his cheek.
"Why..." Mordred choked out. "Why... why does Father hate me so much?
"Is it because Mother is a witch?! I never asked had a choice on who my mother was!
"Is it because I'm not human?!
"Why... why wouldn't you acknowledge me as your son, Father?! WHY WOULDN'T YOU EVEN FACE ME?!"
Jaune felt a stinging sensation in his eyes, from the raw grief and heartbreak in his mentor's voice.
He ignored it, though, as well as the tears falling into his face, and instead forced his arm to move.
Mordred jumped at the sudden contact, and she looked to find her squire holding her shoulder, before he gave it a reassuring squeeze.
The small comforting gesture held more warmth and affection within it than she'd ever received from either of her parents.
The fight completely drained from her, Mordred couldn't help herself.
She broke.
Jaune had no idea what to do when his mentor suddenly slumped over, burying his face in his tunic, and began to sob uncontrollably, and so he simply lay there awkwardly, his hand gently patting Mordred's back, and tried to figure just what in Oum's name had just happened.
-LATER THAT NIGHT-
It was with a tired groan that Jaune pushed the door to his room open, before slowly shuffling towards his bed and collapsing on it with a hiss of pain and relief.
The good news was that Sir Mordred had finally managed to cry himself to sleep, and with Sir Agravain's and Gareth's help they'd brought him to Sir Agravain's room (since he no longer had a bed to speak of... or a room...), that he'd actually been allowed to leave without further interrogation (he could guess that Sir Agravain and Gareth had really wanted to ask a lot of questions, but looking like he'd picked a fist fight with an Ursa Major without being Yang Xiao-Long or Nora Valkyrie had earned him a reprieve), and that, amazingly enough, nobody had overheard Sir Mordred's screams about how much he'd hated the King and wanted to rebel against him (presumably Sir Agravain had managed to cordon off the whole wing).
Oh, and he was finally back in his bed, and able to rest his sore and aching body.
Unfortunately, that was pretty much it for the good news.
Oh, sure, Sir Mordred had said a lot of things in his rant and breakdown, but even if Jaune had understood more than half of it (he had no idea what he'd meant by "not human", and he sincerely hoped he was having a massive misunderstanding about acknowledging him as his son and not even facing him), well... what could he even do for his mentor?
If King Arthur had truly rejected Sir Mordred as his son, and even if he was such a scumbag of a father that he hadn't had an actual excuse for it, it wasn't like Jaune could change the King's mind.
But what was the alternative? Telling Sir Mordred that his father was wrong, and that he should just stop caring about what the King had said because he wasn't worth it?
Somehow, he doubted saying stuff like that in Camelot would go well for either of them, even if he thought Sir Mordred was likely to follow said advice.
Then, could they somehow keep Sir Mordred calm until he'd had time to come to terms with the rejection?
... considering both the damage done to the castle and to him, as well as how passionate Sir Mordred was as a person, Jaune very much doubted it, even if any future episodes were unlikely to be as violent as that day's had been.
... but then again, it wasn't that bad of an idea...
Sure, this world didn't exactly have the concept of "time off" or "leave" or "labor laws" (to be fair, though, it was completely understandable considering the state of things throughout England, and even back in Remnant such things like that had really only been implimented in big cities like Atlas and Vale (the city, not the Kingdom)), but he was pretty sure nobody would complain if he and Sir Mordred went on another journey, which would of course coincidentally take them as far away from Camelot as they could get, coincidentally until Sir Mordred no longer flew into a murderous rage at the mere mention of his father.
Better yet, since they'd only just returned to Camelot the previous day, it wouldn't take him too long to repack their kits.
All he'd need to do was get Sir Agravain's permission (easy enough), and then get Sir Agravain to help him convince his mentor (slightly less easy)-
"Could I perhaps trouble you for a moment of your time, Squire Jaune?"
Jaune couldn't help but jump at the sudden voice, despite how comfortable his battered body found the bed to be, and he turned towards its direction just to see King Arthur tucking something under his cloak as he walked in.
"Forgive the intrusion; I knocked, but you seemed too lost in thought to answer," Artoria quickly explained as she made sure Carnwennan was secure in its sheath, technically telling the truth; she had indeed lightly rapped the door with her knuckles, knowing full well that the enchanted dagger would cloak her presence.
But maintaining the secrecy of the topic she wished to discuss with... with Mordred's squire was as important as the topic itself, and so she chose to overlook such petty details.
Jaune didn't even bother second-guessing King Arthur's statement, not wanting to look this gift horse in the mouth: "No, sure, it's no problem, I've got time."
"You have my thanks," Artoria nodded gratefully to him as she pulled a chair up to his bedside, before looking him over quickly as she sat down in it. "I would ask if the day has treated you well, but..."
"Yeah, don't worry, it looks worse than it is," Jaune quickly waved away his concerns. "My Aura stopped the worst of it, and it's already healing up the rest."
"I see, that is good to hear..." Artoria murmured, already steeling herself for what they both knew she'd really come here to discuss: "And how is Sir Mordred?"
"..." Jaune's pointed look at that was more than enough of an answer, and he instead seized the chance to instead ask a few questions of his own: "Your Majesty... may I ask... is it true? Did you really refuse to accept Sir Mordred as your son?"
Up until that point, a part of him had still held on to the hope that it was all just one big misunderstanding, that Sir Mordred had simply misinterpreted the King's words, and that there could be a simple and peaceful resolution to everything where everyone could be happy.
"I did."
The King's simple answer, and its level, matter-of-fact tone, all but dashed that last hope.
"... I see," Jaune tried to sound like he wasn't feeling like he'd just been punched in the gut by Sir Mordred again. Taking a deep breath, he took a moment to steady himself, before asking: "And, may I ask why? Sir Mordred really is your son, right?"
"..." Artoria's face remained as stoic as ever, even as she remembered Sir Mordred suddenly barging into her study, and dimissing that distinctive horned helmet to reveal a the same face of blonde hair and green eyes that she saw in the mirror every morning, before it proudly told her the news.
Despite everything, she still confirmed it: "He is."
"Then... why?" Jaune couldn't forget the sheer grief and pain that had been in Sir Mordred's voice as he'd pummelled him into the ground, and now that he had a chance for answers he wasn't going to waste it. "If he really is your son... then why did you refuse to accept him?"
"..." Artoria's irritation, having been building ever since the feast, ever since she'd found herself slowly growing isolated in her own castle by her own knights, by even trusted members of her court like Queen Guinevere and Sir Lancelot, only grew at the presumptuousness of the figure before her. It wasn't nearly enough to cause her to lash out, of course (her composure had been built on having Merlin as a godfather and Kay as a stepbrother, and tempered by years of dealings with doubtful and difficult nobles and Kings during the decade between the drawing of Caliburn and the Founding of Camelot), but her patience still waned, and her tone grew frosty as she warned: "Are you questioning your King, Squire?"
"Yes," Jaune refused to back down, and he pushed himself into a sitting position and locked eyes with the King defiantly, barely able to the person he'd sympathized with at the feast, the person who'd welcomed him into Camelot, the person who'd all but picked his brains out over everything related to agriculture and economics and politics in Remnant.
But still, he could see that same person in those green eyes, and his voice softened as he pleaded: "Your Majesty, I don't care what happens to me, but your son truly believes that you hate him! So, as his friend... please... at least, why..."
The news hit her like cold water, and any pent-up frustrations vanished in an instant as Artoria blinked in shock.
Mordred, believed she hated her?
Her own child?
Sure, she knew Mordred had been deeply upset by her rejection (there was a reason she'd gone to seek out Mordred's only companion in Camelot this late at night, after all), but she'd never thought she'd hurt Mordred that badly.
"... I harbor no hatred for Mordred..." Artoria answered, once she'd finished processing that statement. "My rejection of Mordred is solely for the sake of the Kingdom, and had nothing to do with my personal feelings whatsoever."
"The Kingdom?" Jaune echoed in confusion.
"Yes, the Kingdom," Artoria nodded. "Were I to accept Mordred as my child, that would also mean recognizing him as my heir. And that is something the Kingdom cannot afford."
"... because of his... parentage?" Jaune made a guess.
"..." Artoria closed her eyes for a moment, and fought the urge to shudder at the notion that she had been apparently violated by Morgan of all people. Then, she answered: "I will admit, Mordred's status as a bastard child does not help matters. Besides the... unpleasantness, of learning that I had unknowingly lain with my own sister and sired a child without any knowledge all this time, such a revelation would also shake the faiths and loyalties of our pious and God-fearing people. But I would have been willing to overlook such issues, had but Mordred possessed the capacity of a King."
"The capacity of a King?"
"Yes, the capacity of a King," Artoria closed her eyes again, remembering all that she'd seen, done, and ordered, in the past two decades. "To order a village to give up all of its supplies so that the army may march for but one more week and win a decisive victory for the Kingdom, to order the deaths of hundreds to save thousands more... to set aside your emotions and humanity for the sake of the Kingdom, and to bear the burdens and complaints of those who cannot bear the weight of their instructions, of those who are still human."
"..." Jaune found himself at a lost for words, as he tried to both imagine himself in such a situation, and Sir Mordred in such a situation.
Meanwhile, the mention of those who could not bear it reminded Artoria of the most recent example, of Sir Tristan and the feast once again, before she looked at Jaune, and remembered his words to Mordred that night that she'd happened to overhear.
"The throne is as much a great burden and responsibility as it is an honor," Artoria took a chance, hoping the young man before her from another land could understand. "One that I do not believe Mordred can bear. Mordred is passionate, headstrong, resilient, one of the greatest swordsmen in the Kingdom... but those are not qualities required to be King. Mordred would not be able to make the same decisions that I did, though he would nonetheless try I have no doubt, and both he and the Kingdom would suffer for such efforts."
As Jaune processed the King's words, he found that he couldn't help but agree with him.
He still remembered the King's face, as Sir Tristan had had his breakdown all those months ago.
Sir Mordred would've probably just tried arguing back, before giving up, chucking something at Sir Tristan's head, and then kicking him in the nuts.
But, even so...
"Then... why couldn't you have just told all of this to him last night" Jaune reached desperately, not wanting things to end like that, not when it was becoming increasingly clear to him that Arthur and Mordred both did genuinely care for each other.
"..." Artoria looked away, recalling the sheer joy on Mordred's face the previous night, and the sudden surge of parental instincts she'd felt in that moment... before she'd done with it what she had all of her other emotions, for the sake of the Kingdom.
Softly, she countered: "Do you think I could even bear to look Mordred in the face, just after rejecting him as my son, let alone explain to him just why he was inadequate to be my heir?"
The room once again fell silent, and Jaune mentally kicked himself for once again putting his foot in his mouth.
Finally, Jaune quietly suggested: "Then, Your Majesty... how about now?"
"Now?" Artoria looked back up at Jaune in confusion.
"Yeah, now," Jaune nodded. "Look, Your Majesty... I think Sir Mordred deserves to at least know that you don't hate him, as well as why you rejected him."
Artoria thought about it for a moment, before conceding: "He does... but I doubt he would wish to see my face, after everything that's happened. Perhaps, you could assist me in conveying the details to him?"
Jaune didn't even hesitate: "Your Majesty, it's especially because of everything that's happened, that I think it'd be more meaningful if he hears it from you."
Sure, when he'd first questioned King Arthur he'd fully intended to relay everything he'd learned back to his mentor, but now that he knew what the King truly felt...
Well, Sir Mordred's friend as he may have been, but he was also ultimately an outsider in this family feud.
And if there was one thing he did know, it was family feuds.
"Trust me, I grew up with seven sisters."
Author's Notes: Sorry that this chapter took so long; I was busy celebrating the Lunar New Year with my extended family, and then when I looked at both this chapter and my plans for what was supposed to have been the next one... well, to put a long story short, Jaune's talk with Artoria was meant to have been its own separate chapter, but I felt both were too short and instead decided to instead add it in after the Mordred segment.
Hope you enjoyed the emotional whiplash.
Anyway, regarding the story... yeah, this chapter was not easy, especially when it came to the Mordred segment. That shit got rewritten... I think I lost count after two dozen times, but trying to convey the hurt Mordred was in, Jaune's attempts to comfort her, and so on...
... why do I do this to myself...
And regarding Jaune... once again, he's not a trained therapist. His experience from trying to calm down distraught people would've most likely come from his seven sisters, considering Team JNPR didn't really have many obvious issues (especially after Jaunedice), and I'm pretty sure he never really got involved in all the drama around Team RWBY until after they'd been resolved.
And hell, the one time he tries to cheer up his partner... well, he pretty much screwed it up.
My point is, he's trying to help, but he is in no way qualified to deal with the can of worms that is Mordred, Artoria, and Morgan.
Also, as I've mentioned before, I'm really not that well-versed in the FATE lore, nor am I a writer capable of devoting 5,000 words to showing the sheer depths of tragedy and heartbreak a character goes through (there's kind of a point where it starts to feel like torture porn...)
So, all I can say is I hope I at least managed to convey a bit of aftermath of Artoria's talk with Mordred (and the latter's absoltue grief and heartbreak), without veering too far from canon regarding why Artoria did what she did (seriously, is it ever addressed why she never just talked to Mordred right there and then (and yes, I know she was planning on doing so before Lancelot rebelled), or why she just let her walk out after Mordred basically swore vengeance on her for refusing to acknowledge her as her son), and keep Jaune from acting too OOC while showing both his experience in dealing with Mordred (i.e. being a punching bag) and how his exhaustion and empathy for his friend are affecting him when Artoria comes to talk (and she comes to talk to Jaune here as opposed to never discussing Mordred with anyone in canon because, here, Mordred actually has a friend, and better yet it's someone she does talk to).