Chapter 19 - Forgiving Friendships
Mordred stirred as the smell of food tickled at her senses, and it was with a groan and an effort that she slowly propped her tired body up.
Then she blinked, as she belatedly registered just how utterly drained and listless she felt.
That... was certainly unusual.
After all, her unique constitution should have ensured that she was above such trivial things like exhaustion (especially considering she was very sure she hadn't spent the past few hours training against Mother's latest experiments).
Was she sick?
Could she even get sick?
More importantly, who even cared?!
Mordred easily banished her physical discomfort (a very useful skill when growing up with Mother), her mind busy focusing on more important things.
Father...
Her father...
Despite everthing had happened, despite everything that she was... he didn't actually hate her!
A wide grin threatened to split her face as she recalled how the conversation with her father had ended, before it immediately disappeared as she recalled all that had led up to it, and she felt the urge to simply smash her head into the wall repeatedly until she forgot all of it...
... no, wait, that wouldn't erase Father's memories of what she'd said and done...
In the end, Mordred instead settled for simply burying her covered face in her hands and groaning loudly in frustration, before a scowl overtook her features.
Sure, she understood now why Father had rejected her as his son, but she didn't think she could ever forget that sensation of grief when she'd first attempted to tell him the good news, and he'd coldly rejected her, refusing to even look at her...
Mordred's fist began to clench up as the memory made her chest feel unbearably tight, but she quickly shook her head, trying to forcibly clear those thoughts.
He had apologized and explained himself.
Why couldn't she just let go of her anger?!
Wasn't forgiveness supposed to come naturally to her?
And yet...
This time, Mordred didn't stop her fist from balling up.
No wonder Father had difficulty accepting her as his child and heir.
How could King Arthur ever accept the failure of a son, a human, and a Knight of the Round Table that she was?!
And that's all she ever was, wasn't it?
She couldn't be the son King Arthur needed or deserved, she couldn't be the tool Mother wanted... for God's sake, she'd even failed to be the mentor Jaune had needed her to be!
Jaune...
As the memories of her encounter with her squire the previous day came to the forefront of her mind, she found herself deeply torn between wishing she could erase the events of the past two days, and simply wishing for a hole to appear in the ground and swallow her up.
God, how was she supposed to face her squire now?!
It'd already been bad enough when she'd almost ruined his chances of becoming a squire in Camelot; she couldn't even begin to fathom how much worse things would be after yesterday!
Why?!
Why did he have to be so damned stubborn?!
"Just get out, and leave me alone!"
"... no."
"Let go of me, squire."
"Then tell me what's wrong."
... why... why did he always have to go so far for someone like her...?
"Look... I know I'm just a squire, and you're a full knight... but... well... something's clearly bothering you, and I'd like to think we're friends, so..."
"Friends, huh..."
Why couldn't he just stop being an insane irrational idiot and just take care of himself for once?!
A familiar hand, grabbing her shoulder, before giving it a reassuring squeeze...
Mordred felt her face loosen up behind her helmet even as she placed a hand over the spot where Jaune had suddenly grabbed her yesterday.
... it had been warm...
...
Mordred furiously shook her head, refusing to acknowledge those thoughts or how warm her face was (yet another point in favor of the "mysterious sickness" theory, she figured, though she resolved not to let anybody find out, especially Mother).
Honestly, there wasn't any reason for her to think about it so much.
It was just a touch, after all; the other knights gave them to each other all the time, and even she wasn't a stranger to the occasional slap on the back.
Hell, she couldn't even be sure that Jaune had meant it as a comforting gesture!
Sure, it was exactly the kind of thing he would do, but at the same time it had happened after she'd threatened his well-being (for a second time, mind you), smashed him into the ground, and then started sobbing and ranting all over him; if anything, it was more likely that he'd grabbed her in a desperate attempt to snap her out of her rage, or to try and stop her from accidentally killing him.
... for some reason, that thought didn't make her feel any better.
Before she could stew on her thoughts any longer, however, there was a knock on the door, causing her to look up with a start.
"Come in!" Mordred called back, after quickly making sure her appearance was presentable, not wanting Agravain to lecture her or to show Father a slovenly appearance. "I'm up!"
(And who else could it have been? The only other person who might have dropped by to check in on her was Jaune, and she highly doubted it was him for obvious reasons.)
"Evening, Sir Mordred," Jaune greeted politely as he carefully entered the room. "It's, uh, good to see that you're awake now..."
Mordred blinked, before her mind finally processed that the person who'd just entered was not Agravain or Arthur.
The small part of her still capable of rational thought considered herself lucky that she'd donned her helmet sometime during her talk with Father the previous night (to hide her tear-stained face), and she hadn't bothered taking it off after they'd reconciled and she'd gone to sleep.
The rest of her simply blinked again.
"Uh, before you ask, Arth- I mean, the King wanted me to tell you he's sorry he couldn't greet you when you woke up and made sure that you were okay, but he really did have a few things to take care of," Jaune explained as he took a seat, not wanting his friend to get the wrong idea about why his dad wasn't the one greeting him. As Mordred's silence continued, he quickly added: "He really did wait outside your room this whole time, by the way, until I showed up and convinced him to let me take over... anyway, are... are you feeling any better now?"
Mordred blinked for a third time, before a part of her unconsciously relaxed, relieved to hear that Father truly did care about her.
Just a part of her, though.
Finally, she found her voice, and slowly repeated: "Am... I, feeling better now?"
"Yeah... are you?" Jaune asked again patiently. "The King told me his second talk with you went pretty good, so..."
"It did," Mordred confirmed, before vigorously shaking her head. "No, that's not the issue her! Squire... Jaune... what are you doing here?!"
"Um... I'm here to see if you're feeling any better now?" Jaune cocked his head in confusion, wondering where that question had come from.
"... I should be asking you that!" Mordred pointed out incredulously evem as she looed him over carefully. "After what I did to you yesterday..."
"Oh, that..." Jaune rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, as he finally got what Sir Mordred was referring to. "I mean, it wasn't a big deal or anything..."
"I mercilessly beat you into the ground!" Mordred roared, furious at both herself for losing control that badly and her squire's apparent lack of self-preservation. "I almost killed you! How can you not call that a big deal?!"
"..." Jaune could only look at his mentor as his breastplate visibly heaved with emotion, before quietly pointing out: "But you didn't."
"I could have..." Mordred spat bitterly as she looked away, ashamed by what she'd almost done... what she would have done, if the sight of her squire lying defeated beneath her hadn't cooled her anger enough for other emotions to take over.
"I trusted you," Jaune honestly reassured him with a small smile. As Mordred's helm snapped back up towards him, Jaune reminded his mentor: "I know you, remember, Sir Mordred? You're my friend; I knew what would happen when I chose to stay, but I'd have regretted walking away even more."
"You..." Mordred could only shake her head in disbelief, before her tone shifted. "... you really are an insane, irrational idiot, aren't you?"
"... maybe," Jaune simply shrugged after a moment, more relieved to see that his friend had at least calmed down than actually agreeing with his less-than-complimentary assessment (he wasn't that bad, was he?). Quickly seizing the opportunity, he then explained: "Anyway, I really wasn't joking when I said it wasn't a big deal, Sir Mordred. Remember, worst Huntsman trainee in Beacon? I got beaten up way worse during every training session and class back there by the other students."
"... really?" Mordred leaned forward.
"Yeah... sure, they weren't as strong as you, but I was a lot weaker back then," Jaune explained, privately admitting that that honestly wasn't saying much. "And some of them were actively trying to be... mean, to me."
For example, Cardin wasn't the kind of person who liked to win matches by a ring out, to say nothing of what he and Team CRDL had done to him (and tried to do to his team) outside of Glynda's ring.
He didn't see the need to give his mentor the details, though.
"... I thought you told me Huntsmen were a lot like the Knights of Camelot?" Mordred recalled, and Jaune could almost hear the frown on his mentor's face. "Why would they do such a thing to you?"
"Well, you know how kids can be..." Jaune shrugged and sighed, seeing no reason to go into details. Oh, he knew why the other boy had done it, having talked with Cardin a bit after that incident in Forever Fall, and he'd never forget what Cardin had done, but the two of them had managed to come to an understanding after that, and he was happy to let by-gones be by-gones as long as Cardin never tried any more funny business (and he hadn't, as far as Jaune had known up until he'd died).
Mordred did not, evidently, seeing as how she fumed: "Then it is the responsibility of his mentor to educate him! How could such a disgraceful conduct have been tolerated?"
"Well... it wasn't like the monsters or enemies we fought would've shown us any mercy," Jaune pointed out, remembering how the White Fang had caused the Breach, as well as their attack on Amity and Vale with hacked Atlesian military hardware and Bullheads full of Grimm. At least Sir Mordred seemed to have been sufficiently distracted by the change of topic, though, and so he continued: "I guess our teacher wanted us to at least be able to handle such things."
"That does not excuse allowing your charges to descend to such lows!" Mordred insisted indignantly, wondering why she was even surprised by him any longer. Of course Jaune wouldn't see anything wrong with what she did to him; he didn't even see anything wrong with his brothers-in-arms doing even worse to him! "Knights, Huntsmen... as Champions of the Realm, we're meant to be examples to the people, to be better than our enemies!"
"... well, he was getting better, last I saw him," Jaune finally spoke up, defending Cardin's name (and he'd have given a hundred lien for pictures of the faces of Pyrrha, Ren, Nora, and Ruby if they could see him now). "And most of the trainnes in Beacon weren't like that... I told you about my friends, remember?"
"Tch," Mordred clicked her tongue, feeling her irritation unconsciously surge at the memory of her squire happily telling her all about his friends (the one that sounded like Gareth especially rubbed her the wrong way). "Still..."
Seeing his mentor's mood begin to fall, Jaune clapped Mordred's shoulder (or pauldron) as he sincerely reassured him: "Hey, it's okay. I've got a better teacher now."
Under her armor, Mordred stiffened at the sudden and familiar contact, her mind immediately going back to that moment, that day.
This time, however, there were no tears to cloud her vision, no anger or sorrow clouding her judgement.
She could feel the comfort behind the gesture, like the warmth of a hearth.
She could see the earnest smile on his face, and the kindness in his eyes.
She could hear the honesty in his voice.
And she could feel something squeezing her chest.
He really did mean it as a comforting gesture, didn't he?
Even after everything she'd done to him?
... god, she truly didn't deserve a friend like him.
"... I'm sorry," Mordred finally forced out, unable to meet his eyes any longer. "If I really were a better mentor... I shouldn't have lost control like that..."
"Sir Mordred..." Jaune could only sigh, disappointed that his attempts at cheering his mentor up had failed yet again.
"I just..." Mordred couldn't help but continue to honestly spill her heart out, however. "It's just... when I heard that the King was my father... and then, when he..."
"I know, I know..." Jaune said soothingly, continue to pat his mentor's pauldron. "Your dad told me everything..."
"He did?" Mordred blinked, blindsided by the news.
"He went to see me last night, to ask how you were doing," Jaune explained. "So... yeah, look... I know how much you love him, and I can't even begin to how you must have felt when he rejected you... what I'm trying to say is, I understand why you lost control like you did, alright?"
This time, Mordred didn't even bother to search his face for any signs of deception.
Instead, after taking a moment to collect herself, she promised: "It won't happen again."
"I'm sure it won't," Jaune didn't doubt it for a moment. "I mean, after all, you and the King have already come to an understanding, right?"
"We did," Mordred nodded, before a frown formed on her face. "Jaune... can I ask you a question?"
"Sure?"
"You said that you understand how I'm feeling, right?" Mordred confirmed, before uneasily admitting: "Then... is it weird that I'm having difficulty forgiving Father? I know why he did it, but..."
Jaune took a moment to look his mentor in the eye (or at least, try to; his helmet made it rather difficult), before finally saying: "It's not weird."
"Really?"
"I mean, forgiving him is the right thing to do," Jaune quickly clarified, "but that doesn't make it easy; you're only human, Sir Mordred. You looked up to him and cared about him even before you knew he was your father; even if you know why he hurt you, that doesn't change the fact that you were hurt, and it takes time for you to heal."
Mordred released a breath she didn't even know she was holding, before she replied: "Thanks, Jaune."
"Hey, what are friends for?" Jaune smiled gently, before he remembered his earlier conversation with Arthur and added: "If it helps... just remember that the King's only human too, alright? He may have done what he believed was right at the time, but he's not perfect.
"In the end, what matters is that you care about him, Sir Mordred, and that King Arthur cares about you," Jaune ended off by reminding him. "Just... just keep that in mind, alright?"
Mordred could feel her lips curling upwards as she nodded; if there was one thing Father had emphasized to her yesterday, it was that he truly, genuinely, cared for his son.
And while she may not have deserved Father's love, by God would she earn it.
Just as she would Jaune's forgiveness and friendship.
Jaune quietly breathed a sigh of relief that his pep-talk seemed to have finally worked, and forcibly changed the subject before things could relapse again: "Anyway, I don't know about you, but I haven't really eaten for a few days, so..."
At the mention of food, Mordred's stomach rumbled, reminding her that she also hadn't eaten in almost two days, and that she'd been originally woken up by the smell of food.
As her face burned behind her helmet, Jaune chuckled and got up, before grabbing the pot of hot stew they'd brought from the kitchens: "Here, Gareth and I got this for you."
Mordred had been about to thank him again, before the mention of her elder sister made her pause.
Jaune could only sigh, well-aware of Sir Mordred's inexplicable and unrelenting hostility towards Gareth, and as he handed the large pot and a spoon over to him, he wondered if he should seize the opportuntiy to try and mend their relationship once again.
-CORRIDOR LEADING TO THE ROYAL BEDCHAMBERS, AROUND THE SAME TIME-
Artoria took a moment to ensure that the hallway was completely devoid of life, before she finally allowed herself a moment to relax (though she did make sure Carnwennan's magics were still active around her; the perfect King always had to always be perfect, after all, and it wouldn't do to be spotted in such a state by a passer-by).
Sure, she'd been awake for longer stretches while on campaign, and her scabbard kept her physical health perfect, but it had been quite a while since she'd been so mentally and emotionally drained.
Then again, it wasn't as if finding out she had a bastard child was a common occurence to her, so she felt that her current state could be forgiven (not that she'd ever allow another to see it, of course).
At least that situation was over now; she'd made up with Mordred, come to an understanding with her, and with her squire's help Artoria felt confident that Mordred wasn't going to destroy Camelot in a fit of rage.
All that was left now was to deal with the aftermath.
Why Mordred was kept a secret from her, how on Earth Morgan had raised Mordred, how on Earth Mordred could appear as an adult despite definitely being less than a decade old, whether anybody else knew of Mordred's identity, the fact that Mordred's squire knew of her true identity, the fact that he'd actually been able to see her as human and willing to stand up to her, the consequences of Mordred's rampage and Agravain's attempts to contain it...
Artoria shook her head in dismay, barely suppressing a groan.
For a moment, she briefly wondered whether she could simply take a break first, and sort it all out once she was well-rested; she didn't seem to be pressed for time, after all, and making plans while having been awake for two days straight seemed like a horrible idea.
But at the same time, as King, she had her duties...
Artoria sighed, before her instincts and experience helped her come up with the ideal course of action.
A hot bath and a short nap would suffice at revitalizing her, and with Guinivere's help she should have been able to handle it all by tonight.
Of course, that also raised the issue of how Guinivere would react upon learning that Artoria had lain with another (even if it had been unknowingly), but it wasn't like she'd been planning on hiding it anyway; even if their marriage was a sham, Guinivere was her wife, and she wouldn't keep secrets from her.
Artoria sighed again, before deciding to simply get it over with as quickly as possible, if only so that she could finally get some well-deserved rest.
That happy thought lasted right up until the moment she opened the door to find Sir Lancelot fornicating with Lady Guinivere on her bed.
Author's Notes: Something something I'm finally back something something drowning in work something something hate dialogue something something loathe dialogue.
For real, though, why do I keep doing dialogue-heavy scenes like these...
Remember how I said the previous chapter was originally meant to be longer? That's because this chapter was originally how the previous one ended. But, after writing the Gareth and Artoria sections, I looked at my plans for the Mordred section, and decided that it deserved it's own chapter (also because it'd take me a very long time to write, which it did).
And speaking of the Mordred section... good god, was this not easy either. To put it succinctly, Mordred's emotions are complicated.
Firstly, she's overjoyed (that Artoria's given her a chance, because of course she thinks she needs to earn Artoria's love)... but she's also still deeply heartbroken (by Artoria's prior rejection of her two chapters and two in-universe days ago), while also feeling guilt and self-loathing about the fact that she can't just forgive Artoria (almost beating Jaune into unconsciousness doesn't help in that regard either), while also still being extremely emotionally drained (from having vented her anger and frustrations on Jaune and Artoria the previous in-universe day), while also still reeling from all the revelations Morgan and Artoria have basically given her in the past three chapters (and three in-universe days)...
And that's not even getting into the fact that she still loves and cares deeply for her Father, the person she'd always looked up to (if she didn't, she wouldn't be taking things so badly), but she can't forget the grief or hurt, and the pedestal she once held Artoria up to has basically been shattered by the events of the past few days. And, of course, all of this is topped off by the emotional whiplash she's undergoing from all of these simultaneous conflicting emotions, which is confusing her because she lacks the experience or maturity to even understand what she's feeling, let alone how to handle it...
In short, it's complicated, and I hope I managed to actually convey most of it in the chapter even as a part of me regrets ever even attempting to deal with this.
And before anyone asks, yes, I know Mordred is described in Apocrypha as basically fighting like a Berserker, deliberately using unfair tactics and her instincts to fight with the most efficiency over using the elegance of a knight or the beauty of swordsmanship.
This... isn't that Mordred.
This is still the Mordred of the last days of the Golden Age of Camelot, who earned her place amongst the Knights of the Round Table through a demonstration of her superb swordsmanship to the King who she worshipped as perfect (though that's clearly in decline now), who naively follows the path of knighthood as shown in children's picture books because she doesn't know any better (though with the help of Jaune and Agravain she's getting better), and who proudly declares that as Champions of the Realm they're meant to be better examples than their enemies (despite the Perfect King very much being a person who would (and did) stoop to such lows).
As for Artoria, Lancelot, and Guinivere... meh, I'm sure absolutely nothing of importance will arise from there.
Anyway, as we come to the end of this act, I suppose now is the traditional time for me to remind people I have a ko-fi (and that donations get you nothing and do nothing to make chapters come out faster).
And on that note... I finally checked my account for the first time in over a year, and... well... long story short, the proceeds from that are going into comissioning an actual piece of cover art for this story (yes, the cancer albino monkey that currently doubles as both my profile pic and this story's cover may finally be banished).
Here's hoping things work out on that front.