Sword and Spell
Chapter 3:
He was 5, running around the outside of his father's castle. He was holding the hand of his youngest brother, a mere year older than he.
"Come on, come on." Said his brother.
"I'm running as fast as I can Ris." He replied.
"Well run faster." Ris replied.
Both boys were excited. The night before, their [q~"]but declared that he believed they were both ready to begin weapon training with their elder brothers and himself.
Ever since they could remember, they had both longed to step into the training yard and practice fighting with their brothers. They would constantly play fight by finding wooding sticks and pretending they were swords. Sometimes, at night when no one was around, they would sneak into the training yard and grab a couple of the wooden training swords. Once they had even been court by their eldest brother. But he just laughed and winked at them before walking away.
That was what he loved about his brothers. All five of them were close. Even he, the youngest, was close to the eldest, who was 8 years his elder.
They finally reached the training yard. But instead of hearing the clashing of training swords, they heard what sounded like the yelling voice of their mother.
They rounded the corning and indeed, there she was. Their mother was beautiful. Long dark hair flowed down her back in waves. She usually wore dark coloured dresses and robes. And right now, her eyes were full of fury, aimed straight at their father.
There father was a stern man, kind only to his sons and wife, when she wasn't publicly disagreeing with him. Such as was the case now.
"I have made my decision, and that's final." Their father said.
"He's to young! He might hurt himself!" Their mother yelled.
The brothers glanced at each other when they heard their mother say "he" and not "they". They of course knew which of them she was referring to. Their mother had always had a soft spot for her youngest. Thankfully, this did not cause any conflict between the brothers.
"Nonsense. Their brothers were just as young when they began training." Their father disagreed. "I do not recall you complaining about them possibly getting hurt."
"Yes, well, this is different!"
"How so?"
He ducked his head down in embarrassment. He really didn't like it when his mother showed open favouritism. He didn't see any difference in importance between his four brothers and himself.
He spotted his other three brothers standing to one side, watching the argument. Both he and Ris crept to them.
"How long has this been going for?" He asked them.
"For about thirty minutes, give or take." Answered his eldest brother. "I suppose mother cannot stand the thought of little baby Mordred getting hurt."
"Shut up." He snapped, attempting to hit his brother. The older boy merely jumped to one side and laughed.
"Now Gawain," Said his second brother, ever the voice of reason. "It's reasonable to think that mother would be protective over her youngest."
"Don't you mean her favourite?" Gawain quipped.
Mordred winced at the reminder of their mother's blatant favouritism. All three of the middle brothers swiped at Gawain, who was unable to dodge three attacks at once.
"I was only joking." He said, holding his hands up in mock serenader.
All five of them laughed. Then they turned to notice that their parents were still arguing.
His second brother sighed.
"Are we going to stop them? Or is Gawain to lead our youngest brothers' first training session."
They all looked to one another.
"Alright, Mordred, come with me." Said Gawain finally.
"Why? Where are we going?" He asked nervously.
"You're most likely the only one of us mother will listen to." Gawain replied.
They both walked over to a weapon rack which held many swords, sphere, shields and other assorted weapons. Gawain picked up a shield and banged his fist loudly against it. He managed to make quite a large sound. He startled both Mordred and their parents, as well as half of the training yard. Once Gawain had court their parents attention, he pushed Mordred forward. Mordred cleared his throat.
"Mother, I know that you are afraid for my safety. But I... I wish to learn how to fight like my brothers and father, so... So I am able to fight for myself and my home."
His mother looked at him, her expression now gentle.
"But, my son, what if you were to hurt yourself?" She asked, her tone now soft.
"It does not matter mother. I am sure that with your magic, you will be able to heel me." He replied.
"Oh, but why don't you learn some of my magic? You need not risk yourself with such barbaric tools."
Mordred walked over to his mother and tugged on the hem of her dress. Look up, he gave her the expression which always worked to make her agree with him.
"But I want to learn both. I want to be just like you and father. Please mother. If I learn both, then I will be twice as strong. Please."
And just like that, his mother's expression melted.
"Well, fine. But be careful." She said. "Did you hear that boys!" She yelled to her other four sons. Be careful with your brother!"
"Yes Mother!" They all replied.
His mother walked away as graceful as ever.
Mordred's brother approached him.
"That actually worked." His third brother said in disbelief.
"Of course it work Gareth." Gawain said. "It was my plan after all."
"And of course, the mighty Gawain's ideas always go to play." His second brother said sarcastically.
"Shut up Agravaine." Gawain retorted.
The clearing of a throat drew the five brothers' attention. Their father stood there, a scale on his face and a blunted sword in his hand.
"If the five of you are done, I believe we have waisted enough time."
Harry jerked awake. Tiredly he put on his glasses and looked at his digital clock to see it was only 6:00 a.m.
He sighed and decided to get up and dressed. Maybe a walk would clear his mind.
Quietly, he excited the house. He somehow managed to pick the lock of the back door without waking the Dursleys. Thank God for the Weasley twins. After the incident before second year, they had taught him the technique of lock picking. This had become exceedingly valuable for when he wanted to access his belonging during the summer when Uncle Vernon locked them in the cupboard under the stairs.
At this moment, he only had his wand and invisibility cloak. All summer he has kept these two items on him at all times, just in case Voldemort decided to make his move.
As he walked through the streets, he thought of his latest dream.
For the past couple of weeks his dreams had not exactly been replaying the same exact scenes, but were rather more of a story. This story mostly featured a young boy with his four brothers and parents. The mother of the family was the same he had seen in his first dream. The beautiful yet dark woman. If her name had ever been mentioned, he could not remember. In fact, he could not remember any of the people's names. Not even the name of the boy who's life he seemed to be living during his dreams.
But he did remember the four brothers. For some reason they reminded him of something he could not quiet remember.
He rarely saw the father. But this time he reminded Harry of someone, he just couldn't put his finger on it.
Nothing made sense. What was going on? Was he making stuff up in his head to avoid thinking about that night in the graveyard?
He walked into the park and sat on one of the only swings which had not been broken by Dudley and his gang. Gently, swung it make and forth as he thought more about his dream.
He remembered that he and the fourth brother were excited because their father were going to teach them how to fight with a sword. He remembered that their parents were arguing. He chuckled as he thought of his solution to calming the woman down. It turns out, even the scariest of witches could be persuaded by puppy-dog eyes.
He frowned. That was another thing. The mother was a witch. In many of the dreams he had seen her use her magic. This wouldn't have bothered him, only it did not appear that anyone else in the dreams possessed magic. Not the father, not any of the brothers. He possibly had magic, but that was it.
Harry noticed a large stick on the ground. In a few of the dreams he and his brothers had been play fighting with sticks. The mother would always get angry at the brothers because he would end up covered in bruisers. They all ended up pretty bruised, but the mother only seemed to care about him.
He got off the swing and walked over to pick the stick up. He twirled it a few times before jabbing and swinging it as if it were an actual sword. As he did, he closed his eyes and remembered the only time he had ever held an actual sword.
He remembered reaching into the sorting hat and pulling out the sword of Gryfindor. As he swung that beautiful sword, he remembered it felt natural, as if he had held a blade before, when he knew he had never done any such thing in his life.
Harry shook his head and dropped the stick. He walked over to a bench and sat down.
What did these dreams mean? And why were they only happening now?
Unbidden, Harry felt his eyelids getting heavier.
He was standing with his brothers near the gate of the castle. He, his family and all of the castle staff were expecting a very important visitor. Only two weeks ago, their father informed him that the High King was coming all the way from Camelot. Mordred had never met the High King, and Ris had only been a new born babe when their family had last been in Camelot. Mordred was excited, not only because he was going to meet the High King, but because the High King was also his Uncle, his mother's brother.
His mother was quick to remind anyone who mentioned her relation to the High King that he was only her half-brother, as they did not share the same father. Mordred had the feeling that his mother did not like the High King much. But he couldn't understand this. Why wouldn't she? If he was her brother, then why wouldn't she like him? Mordred loved his brothers, even if they sometimes annoyed him.
Soon, he heard the sound of approaching horse hooves. The gates opened to reveal the High King, Arthur Pendragon, accompanied by knights wearing glittering armour.
Gawain looked excited, barely able to stand still. He adored the tales he heard of Arthur and his knights. Agravaine looked calmer, yet still excited for the visitors. Gareth, always the introvert, nervously glanced around. And as for himself and Ris, they were both attempted to examine every part of their vissitors. When Arthur reached his parents, he dismounted his horse and bowed to them.
"My lord, my Lady, I thank you for your warm welcome." He said.
"It is a pleasure to have you Sire." His father replied.
"The pleasure is all mine." The High King replied.
Arthur glanced at his mother.
"Morgana, my dear sister. I hope you are well?"
"Well enough, brother." His mother replied.
Mordred could sense the tension in his mother's voice. He glanced between the two siblings. They truly looked as different as night and day. Where his mother was dark, Arthur was fair haired.
Mordred glanced down and saw the legendary sword, Excalibur, shining at the king's hip. Legend has it that the sword had been a gift to him from The Lady of the Lake, a powerful sorceress whom even his mother respected.
"Come," Arthur said. "Let me see my Nephews. It has been quiet a long time since I've seen them."
One by one, the High King examined his brothers.
"Gawain, is that truly you? I barely recognised you." He said when he saw Gawain.
"It has been a long time Uncle." Gawain replied.
"I trust your training is going on well." Said Arthur.
"Indeed." His father boasted. "He is a bold and mighty warrior."
Nodded and moved on to the others. Eventually, he reached Mordred.
"And who might this young one be?" He asked.
Mordred could not quiet read the expression on Arthur's face. Was that shock, horror, fear, maybe even guilt?
"I am Mordred Sire." He replied respectfully.
"Mordred." Arthur muttered.
His father cleared his throat.
"Perhaps we should go inside. You and your party are tired, no doubt."
Arthur hummed in agreement.
And with that, they all went inside.
The King stayed for two weeks. In those two weeks, he had many discussions with his father. He also seemed to be observing Mordred and his brothers, Gawain especially. This them much displeased his mother.
A few nights before the King and his party were to leave, Gawain gathered the five of them together. Apparently, he had something he would like to share with them. His eldest brother was grinning from ear to ear and could not seem to stand still for very long.
"Today I was called into a meeting with Father, Mother and King Arthur. You will never guess what was discussed."
The four of them glanced at their eldest brother in curiosity.
"I am to accompany Arthur to Camelot. I am going to being training to become an actual knight."
They were all shock. Then Agravaine clapped him on the back.
"Congratulations brother."
"Well done." Gareth smiled timidly.
"Are you going to bring back stories of your adventures?" Ris asked.
"Can I come too?" Mordred asked. He had always wanted to go on adventures, and now his brother was to be a knight of Camelot.
Gawain laughed.
"You'll have to get a bit better with the sword before you can accompany me to Camelot." He said, grinning.
They all laughed. Then, Agravaine frowned thoughtfully.
"I bet Father and Mother did not react well to this."
Gawain sighed.
"Father seemed accepting. Mother, on the other hand..." He trailed off.
They all sat in silence for a long time. Then Mordred sighed.
"I better go talk to her."
He was the only one who could calm his mother down when she was in one of her moods.
He stood up, bid farewell to his brothers, and went to where he knew his mother would be. When she was upset, she would always go into her study, full of magic books and enchanted artifacts.
Mordred found his mother sitting on a chair near the window, glancing out at the world beyond.
"Mother?" He said timidly.
She glanced over at him. Instantly a smile drew across her face.
"Mordred. Come, sit."
Mordred walked over to her. She gently picked him up and cradled him in her lap. Gently she stroked her fingers through his hair.
"He thinks to take him away from me." His mother muttered. "He would dare insist upon my son joining him. He would take yet another person a love from me."
He knew that she was talking about how Arthur was taking Gawain to Camelot with him. Mordred knew that, despite her favouritism, his mother still in some way loved all of her children.
"Well do not worry little Mordred. He will pay. One day, he will pay."
And then she began to sing the lullaby she always sang to him as a small infant.
Guileless son,
I'll shape your belief,
And you'll always know that your Father's a thief,
And you won't understand the cause of your grief,
But you'll always follow the voices beneath...