Loyalty
Chapter 8:
Harry bolted straight upright. He was drenched in sweat and panting heavily. The sheets of his bed were twisted around his legs.
In the dark he groped around from his glasses. Once he had put them on, he saw the sun was just beginning to rise beyond the horizon.
He turned to see that Ron was still asleep. He was thankful, yet again, for the privacy wards around his bed.
He quickly grabbed is journal and pen. In the light of the rising sun he wrote about his latest dream.
In the past, his dreams had often been filled with joy, sadness, anger, fear, and every emotion in between. Yet this most recent dream... It was truly tragic. The amount of despair that he was currently feeling was just the same as when he was around dementors, possibly even more. And even as the fine details faded from his mind, the definite cause for his grief was clear.
Nimue was dead.
Even the mere thought of those three words caused his eyes to blur with unshed tears. He did not know why a dream of all things would cause him to feel this way. It was only a dream. Nimue wasn't even real. It was all in his head.
So why did Harry feel this way?
Harry sighed. Yet another mystery that has to do with his dreams.
Harry decided to take his mind off of it, by turning to the back pages of the journal. In these pages, he wrote the only other thing from his dreams that seem to remain as clear as it was from the moment Harry woke. The strange song which the mother sang to him. Now, he had yet another verse.
Guileless Son, your spirit will hate her,
The flower who married, my brother the traitor...
It sounded as if she was talking about the Queen. For some reason, the mother did not like the Queen. And frankly, Harry couldn't blame her. Though he couldn't remember exact details from his dreams, many of the people involved still caused him to feel different emotions. And whenever Harry thought about the Queen from his dreams, he felt nothing but distrust for her. However, that has now changed.
Harry could remember that his dream self blamed the Queen for Nimue's death. He did not know exactly why. All he knew was that the Queen had betrayed Nimue's trust, and that she was responsible for her death.
And now, with this song, it sounded as if the mother wanted him to hate the Queen.
Harry rubbed his temples. This was only getting more confusing.
Mordred was hiding in the shadow of the forest just outside the walls of Camelot. He wore a black cloak, so that it would be harder for anyone to see him. He knew that complete secrecy was the only way to ensure his plan's success.
It had been two months. Two months since Guinevere had betrayed Nimue's trust by tell Merlin that the younger woman was practicing forbidden magic. Two months since the only woman he had ever loved was killed because she wanted to be free to practice whatever magic she wished.
The memory of her face, her eyes and how they had stared straight into his own without any fear, still brought tears to his eyes.
The morning after all this had occurred, Mordred had set off with her body to the Lake of Avalon, where she could have a proper burial with her mother. He had half expected Sir Lancelot to accompany him. Technically speaking, he he and Nimue had been foster siblings, even if they were separated by twenty years in age.
However, the knight had opted to stay in Camelot, as apparently he wished to assist Queen Guinevere in grieving for her lost handmaiden.
Mordred scoffed. Guinevere did not deserve to grieve for Nimue. If not for her, then Nimue would still be alive.
Once Mordred had reached the Lake of Avalon and the small cottage that Lady Vivien called home, the old Sorceress was waiting on the doorstep, as if she was expecting him. Without a word, she walked over to Mordred and enveloped him in a tight embrace.
Mordred had feared she be furious, blaming him for not being able to protect her only daughter. But instead, she was embracing him and crying into his shoulder. When he had apologised to her, Lady Vivien had merely told him that he was not a fault, and that Nimue would not want him to blame himself for her death.
Together they had buried Nimue in a field of flours, right near the shore of the lake. The funeral had been quiet, with only the two of them there. It had been done just as the moon this rising. Mordred could still remember the short conversation he had had with Vivien once the funeral was finished.
He had been looking at the moon reflecting off of the lake. It was full and bright. Nimue had always loved the moon. She admired it's subtle beauty when compared to the blinding sun, and how it was going through a constant cycle.
Mordred had been broken from his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder. He had turned to look into the eyes of Vivien. The were exactly like Nimue's. The only difference was that a lifetime of knowledge lay in the older woman's depths.
"Do not worry Mordred." She had said. "Nimue is still with you. She has never left you and never will. Your lives are intertwined. One day, you will see each other again."
Even now, these words still echoed in his head.
When Mordred had returned to Camelot, the first thing he did was find his brothers and apologise for him snapping at them. He was most apologetic to Gaheris, as he deeply regretted punching him. Now that Mordred was thinking rationally, he knew that his brothers' were only trying to protect him, as they had always done for each other.
Mordred could understand this, and forgave them. In turn, all four of his brothers forgave him for how he had reacted towards them. They knew that he had been blinded by grief at the time, and so was acting irrationally.
He was thankful that he and is brothers could forgive each other so easily. He could even forgive Arthur for having such strict rules on magic, especially after what he had learnt from the High King.
Mordred was still skeptical about the story. More specifically, the part concerning his heritage.
He found it hard to believe that King Lot was not his father. It was just unimaginable. He knew that, while his father was stern, he still loved him just as much as the rest of his brothers.
But then again, this could explain a lot of things. Why he looked so different to his brothers. Why he preferred a different form of combat to his brothers. Why his mother fathered him over the rest of his brothers.
It was still all confusing.
Regardless of this, he could still forgive Arthur for the small part he played in Nimue's death. After all, how was he to know that this would happen? Mordred knew that Arthur was only doing what he thought was best for Britain.
However, there were some he could not forgive.
Merlin Emrys was one of them. This sorcerer had done so much, hurt so many people. Yet, he had yet to face justice for his crimes. He knew that Merlin was too powerful and too influential. The sorcerer was virtually untouchable.
However, their was someone at fault who could be touched. Queen Guinevere. And Mordred knew exactly how to make the Queen fall.
Guinevere had revealed Nimue's secret. So it was only fare that she too, has a secret revealed. Mordred was going to expose Guinevere's affair with Lancelot.
He was at first hesitant to do so. He knew that, if Arthur were to learn that his closest friend and his beloved wife were having an affair behind his back, the knowledge would destroy him. Mordred did not wish to hurt Arthur. He still cared for and respected the High King, despite his floors. He also knew that, if something were to happen to Arthur, then all of Britain could very well be facing catastrophe.
The memory of Nimue and how Guinevere had betrayed her strengthened his resolve. This had to be done, for Nimue.
So Mordred had waited. He knew that Guinevere and Lancelot were most active when Arthur was away. So Mordred had wait until Arthur was called away. Finally, only a week before, Arthur had been called away to settle a border dispute between two lesser Kings.
The first night after Arthur's departure, Mordred was hiding in an alcove just outside of Arthur and Guinevere's bed chambers. He had not expected Lancelot to pay the Queen a visit on the very first night. He had expected to have to wait a few nights. But it appeared that, as soon as Arthur had left Camelot, Guinevere and Lancelot were ready to fall into each other's arms.
Mordred had instantly ran to his chambers for a quill and parchment. He quickly wrote a letter, telling Arthur that he needed to return to Camelot at once. He had given the letter to a messenger and waited for Arthur's return.
So now here he was, waiting for Arthur to return. He wanted to intercept The High King before he reached Camelot, as he didn't want Guinevere and Lancelot to hear of Arthur's return.
Finally, he heard the approach of hooves. Through the trees he could see a lantern bobbing in the distance. It was being held by a lone figure on horseback. He could see by the flickering light that it was Arthur.
Mordred stepped out of the shadows and lowered his hood. Instantly, Arthur pulled on the reins of his horse, startled by Mordred's sudden appearance.
"Mordred!" Arthur said in shock. "What are you doing? I could have very well trampled you!"
"My apologies Sire." Mordred replied. "However, secrecy was needed."
"Yes, well..." Arthur dismounted his horse. "What is this urgent problem that I needed to see."
Mordred steeled his nerve. He knew that after this, there was no going back.
"I am afraid that, in your absence, there has been a Haynes crime."
"Oh," Arthur replied. "And what is this Haynes crime?"
Mordred sucked in a breath. This was it.
"Treason, Sire."
"Treason?" Arthur asked. "Surely Guinevere, or Sir Lancelot could deal with someone who has committed treason."
"That would be difficult Sire." Mordred replied. "For you see, Guinevere and Lancelot are the ones guilty of treason."
For a long time, Arthur was completely silent.
"This... This cannot be true." Arthur said finally, his voice laced with anger. "You are mistaken."
"I am afraid it is true Sire." Mordred replied.
"But they would never..."
"If you wish for proof, then follow me."
So, after tying the reins of Arthur's horse to a tree, Mordred led the High King through Camelot in silence. They walked through darkened passageways until they reached the royal bedchamber. Even with the closed doors, both could hear the sounds emanating from the room.
"No." Arthur muttered. "This cannot be."
Mordred put a comforting hand on Arthur's shoulder.
"See for yourself Sire."
With shaking hands, King Arthur opened the door.
Mordred looked down. He did not wish to see the look that was surely on Arthur's face.
Suddenly, he could hear the clashing of swords. Mordred looked up to see that Arthur and Lancelot were engaged in a fierce duel, while Guinevere was huddled in a corner, tears streaming down her face. Mordred could only watch as the two mighty warriors clashed. They were equals in combat. If not for the circumstance, Mordred would have admired both of their fighting prowess.
Finally, the duel ended when Arthur slipped on the bedsheets, which was half trailing along the floor. Lancelot slashed at his face, causing a deep cut. Then the fallen night crabbed Guinevere and quickly helped her put on her sleeping robe.
Mordred was about to stop them, but then he noticed that Arthur was bleeding heavily on the floor. He could choose to either run after the lovers or tend to Arthur. On one hand, if he didn't go after Guinevere and Lancelot, then they would most likely escape. On the other hand, if Arthur was just left there, it would be unlikely a healer would get to him in time. This would mean that Arthur would die.
Without hesitation, Mordred ran to where Arthur lay on the floor. As he knelt by the High King's side, he could hear Lancelot and Guinevere running through the corridor behind him, but he did not care.
He knew that what he was about to do would reveal that he knew magic. He knew that this could likely lead to his death. But Mordred was willing to take the risk. He had not intended for Arthur to die. He had only wanted to make Guinevere pay for betraying Nimue. This was not mean! to happen.
Mordred looked at Arthur, blood coating both his face and the floor. Salty tears mingled with the coppery blood. Mordred could feels tears of his own in his eyes.
"I am sorry." He muttered. "I had not intended for this to happen."
"You did... What was right." Arthur said weakly. Mordred could hear that utter despair in the High King's voice.
With shaking hands, Mordred placed his palm against Arthur's wound. Taking a deep breath, he muttered a spell for healing. While healing spells were not his speciality, he was still proficient enough in them.
Mordred saw the wound partially mend itself. Now it looked like a mere shallow cut. Mordred then proceeded to use his magic to clean the majority of the blood from Arthur's face. Finally, the High King was healed enough to be taken to the castle healers.
Arthur stared at him in shock.
"You... You are a..."
"Yes." Mordred replied. "Now come Sire. We need to get you to the healers."
Mordred help Arthur to his feet and allowed the older man to sling an arm across his shoulders, using the younger man as a support. Together, they walked to the healers' quarters.
"I assume your mother taught you." Arthur said.
Mordred sucked in a breath.
"Perhaps."
"Why did you keep this so secret?" Arthur continued.
Mordred sighed.
"Before I first came to Camelot, my elder brothers informed me of Merlin's hatred for our mother and how it was he who decided what kind of magic could and could not be practiced. We were afraid that, due to his hatred of our mother, if he were to learn of my talents then Merlin would be quick to condemn me."
There was a long silence. Finally, Arthur sighed.
"I can understand. I am sorry you had to hide such gifts."
"It is alright, Sire." Mordred replied.
The rest of the journey was in silence. They both had had an emotional night.
Two weeks had pasted since Lancelot and Guinevere had fled Camelot. Since then, Arthur had been searching tirelessly for the lovers who'd betrayed him.
In had not taken long for the rest of Camelot to discover that it was Mordred who had revealed the secret that they had all been hiding from Arthur for years. Many hated him, as they were strong supporters of Lancelot. Others however, congratulated Mordred on having the bravery to do what they had been afraid to. Mordred remembered being approach by Sir Kai, Arthur's Forster brother. The man had shaken his hand and thanked him, saying that he had never trusted Lancelot and "That Harlot Guinevere", and that neither were worthy of his Forster brother affection. He had said that he had done the right thing.
Another surprise supporter had been Galahad, Lancelot's own son who was the same age as Mordred himself. Mordred had only ever spoken to him in passing. However, he knew that there was no love lost between Galahad and his father. Still, it had been a surprise when the young man had approach Mordred and thanked him for revealing Lancelot's shameful acts. He could still remember it.
Mordred had been walking through the corridors, on his way to one of the training yards, when he was approach by Galahad.
"Mordred, wait!" The young man had yelled, running up to him.
Mordred had turned.
"Galahad?" He had asked. "Did you want something?"
"Only to thank you." Galahad replied.
Mordred blinked.
"Thank me?"
"For revealing Sir Lancelot's affair with Queen Guinevere." Galahad elaborated.
Mordred had been shocked.
"Is he not your father? Why would you be thanking me for making your father a wanted man?"
Galahad looked down.
"Though he is my father, he is my source of shame." He had muttered. "I am thankful for what you did. What he was doing was not right. I am glad you had the courage to do what many, including myself, could not."
Mordred looked down.
"That is what I keep telling myself. And yet, I feel guilt, for I no it has hurt our King."
Galahad had put a hand on Mordred's shoulder.
"You are not at fault for how King Arthur feels. The pain that our King feels was caused by Lancelot and Guinevere."
Mordred smiled. He had always thought that Galahad seemed a bit self righteous. Now however, he was actually beginning to like this man.
"Well, thank you for your kind words. I was headed to the training yards. Would you like to come spar with me?"
Galahad smiled.
"It would be my pleasure."
This had been the beginning of a strange and unexpected friendship. Mordred only wished that his relationship with his brothers was going as smoothly.
Gawain refused to talk to him. His eldest brother still admired Lancelot, even after all that he had done. Gaheris had been angry at him, as they had all promised each other that they would not reveal the Affair. Gareth had told him that, while he had done the right thing, there would still be many negative consequences from this reveal.
The only brother that did not seem upset with him was Agravaine, who had told him that he himself had been close to revealing the truth to Arthur, but was afraid of the consequences.
Mordred missed his brothers. They used to be so close. And now they were torn apart, and Mordred could not help but feel it was all his fault.
Now, he was walking to King Arthur's private study. He did not know why he had been summand by the High King, only that it seemed urgent. Hence why he did not hesitate in walking to meet with him. Mordred knew that it would not be wise to leave the High King wait. Especially considering the mood that he had been in since he had discover the betrayal.
Nervously, Mordred nocked on the door.
"Sire?" He asked.
"Enter." Came the voice of Arthur.
Hesitantly, Mordred opened the door. Arthur sat behind his desk, going through some documents.
"Mordred, please, come sit."
Mordred walked over to the desk and sat in the chair opposite of Arthur's.
"You summoned me Sire?" He asked.
"Yes." Arthur replied. "I require something, very important of you Mordred."
Mordred blinked.
"What is it, that you ask of me Sire."
Arthur sighed and laid down the documents.
"My spies have found Lancelot and Guinevere."
Mordred could hear the grief that was still dominate in Arthur's voice.
"I with a select band of knights and solders will depart for Francia in a week's time." He continued.
"Do you wish for me to accompany you?" Mordred asked.
Arthur shook his head.
"Nay. I shall be gone for a long time, for the trek is long. In the past, whenever I have gone on a long journey, I could always trust that my Kingdom was safe under the careful rule of either Guinevere or Lancelot. Now however, I have neither. Someone must rule in my stead."
"I am afraid I do not understand Sire." Mordred said nervously.
"What I am saying," Arthur replied. "Is that I wish for you to rule Camelot while I seek out Guinevere and Lancelot in Francia."
Mordred blinked, stunned.
"Surely there is someone else, who is far more qualified to rule Camelot in your absence."
Arthur shook his head.
"I have no heirs, as of yet. Camelot has no proper line of succession."
"What of Gawain?" Mordred asked. "As he is the eldest son of your sister, surely he would be next in line?"
Arthur sighed.
"While Gawain is popular among the people, and a mighty warrior, he is still a strong supporter of Lancelot. I would not trust him with the throne of Camelot."
"Then what of Agravaine? Gareth? Gaheris? They would be in the line of succession before me."
Arthur shook his head.
"While they may be my sisters sons, they are not my son."
Mordred blinked. It was finally dawning on him what Arthur was implying.
"You don't even know if I was conceived from that one night with my mother. Speculation is hardly a basis for declaring heirships."
"It is more than speculation." Arthur retorted. "While you are as Raven haired as your mother, everything else about you resembles myself at your age. And it is more than that. I can feel in my heart that you are my son Mordred. While I am disgusted by what your mother tricked me into doing, I am not ashamed to admit that I am proud of what resulted from that night. It is you, who I wish to rule in my absence. And it is you, who I wish to make my heir."
Mordred shook his head.
"You may be willing to accept it, but you do not speak for the rest for Camelot, or the rest of Britain. If we were to reveal the supposed truth of my heritage, then they would only see me as your bastard son, born of incest."
"I did not say that I would reveal your true heritage." Arthur retorted. "Only that I wish to make you my heir."
"And how will you explain that you are declaring your sister's fifth son your heir, as apposed to her first or even second son?"
Arthur sighed.
"The affair between Lancelot and Guinevere, it was truly a horrifying discovery. After further thought, I realised that this must have been occurring for quite some time."
Mordred looked down.
"By revealing the truth to me," Arthur continued. "You have done both myself and the Kingdom a great favour. Therefore, to return the favour I shall be rewarding you by declaring you my official heir."
Mordred shook his head again.
"There are still many who will not accept this."
"And I do not care." Arthur retorted.
Arthur suddenly learnt forward and grasped Mordred's hand. Their eyes met and Mordred could see the seriousness in Arthur's blue depths.
"I loved Guinevere, with all of my heart. Lancelot had been my truest friend. After their betrayal, I do not know who to trust. I feel as if you are the only one I can trust."
Mordred had to blink to stop the tears.
"I know that I ask much from someone so young."
"Were you not my age when you drew Caliburn from the stone?" Mordred suddenly asked.
"Yes, that reminds me."
Arthur suddenly let go of Mordred's had and got up from the desk. The High King walked over to a cabinet which held something wrapped in a thine cloth. Arthur opened the cabinet and retrieved the object. He walked back to where Mordred still sat and placed the object on the desk. Carefully, he unwrapped the cloth to reveal a gleaming sword.
Mordred blinked. This couldn't be. This couldn't be The Sword.
"Is... Is this...?"
Arthur nodded.
"This, is Caliburn. After Lady Vivien gifted me with Excalibur, I had planned to keep this safe until my heir was ready to wild it. Now I give it to you. That is, if you accept the position as my heir."
Mordred looked down at the sword.
"I... I am deeply honored Sire. But I... I couldn't. I do not feel worthy of being the he heir to such a great King."
Arthur put a hand on his shoulder.
"I believe you worthy." He said gently. "I have watched you grow from a kind boy to a strong and loyal man. There is no one I would rather be my heir."
Mordred had to yet again blink away tears. After a long time, he finally made a decision.
With trembling hands, he reached over and grasped Caliburn. He stood and held the sword in his hand for a long time. Arthur handed him it's scabbard. He then buckled the scabbard to his belt and sheathed the legendary sword.
"May this sword serve you well, Sir Mordred."
Mordred bent to one knee.
"I swear, I will do my best to serve you and all of Camelot and Britain, my King, my Uncle... My Father."
Arthur grasped his shoulder.
"I know you will."
Just the next day, Mordred was officially declared Arthur's legitimate heir. Though this should have been a momentous occasion, the celebration was short. Many congratulated him, while others, primarily the Lancelot supporters, glared at him hatefully.
Whenever Mordred tried to look at Gawain, his eldest brother averted his eyes. This caused Mordred's heart to ache.
A few days later, Arthur had departed to Francia, leaving Mordred to rule Camelot.
Mordred stood, staring at the throne. He did not know if he should sit in it or not. On one hand, him sitting in the throne may make the courtiers take him more seriously. On the other hand, it may also make him seem like a usurper.
Mordred was just contemplating this, when he heard someone approach him. He turned around to see Gawain walking towards him.
"Gawain." He greeted. He did not honestly expect an answer. After all, his eldest brother had not spoken a word to him since Lancelot and Guinevere's affair was revealed.
"So, should I start calling you high Prince?" Gawain said, grinning.
Mordred blinked.
"Almost two weeks of silence, and that is what you say to me?" Mordred asked, incredulously.
Gawain shrugged.
"It was an honest question."
Mordred sighed.
"Gawain, I do not even think there is such a thing as high prince. And even if there were, you would still be my brother as you always have been and as you will always be, so there is no need for you to address me as anything besides my name."
Gawain chuckled. Then, all humor left his face.
"We need to talk."
Mordred raised an eyebrow.
"Yes, I do believe that we need to talk."
For a long time, the two brothers merely looked at each other. Then, finally, Gawain broke the silence.
"I am sorry." He blurted out.
"I beg your pardon?"
"For almost two weeks, I have not been acting as a brother should. I let my feelings of idealisation towards Lancelot turn me against you. Though, I do not believe that you revealed Lancelot's affair with Guinevere for the noble reasons that Arthur and the rest of Camelot seem to think. And I believe it has something to do with Guinevere."
"Oh?" Mordred said, raising an eyebrow.
He could feel his palms begin to sweat. He had not told his brothers of how Guinevere was involved in Nimue's death. He knew that if they did, then they would try to keep him as far away from the then Queen as possible. That would greatly hinder him in his vengeance.
So how could have Gawain found out that it was to make Guinevere pay for her betrayal of Nimue?
"It is mother's influence."
Mordred blinked.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Mother. She hates Guinevere, and she has influenced you into hating her too." Gawain elaborated.
"You truly think that?" Mordred asked, shock.
His brother merely nodded.
"Do not worry, I shall not tell anyone. But brother, I beg of you, do not let mother influence any more of your decisions."
"I won't." Mordred replied. "I assure you brother, I am perfectly capable of making more own decisions, without anyone else's influence."
"We shall see." Gawain replied. "We shall see."
Three weeks after Arthur's departure, a company bearing the banner of Orkney arrived in Camelot.
Mordred stood just outside of the gates to great the party, flanked by his brothers. Over the past few weeks, they had been slowly coming back together. While things were still tense, Mordred thought it was a great improve.
As the lead carriage stopped a few metres away from where they stood, Mordred saw their father exit, supporting the flail figure of a woman.
Wait... This could not be...
"Mother?" Mordred breathed in shock.
His mother seemed to gain some energy.
"Let me go, I can walk."
She pushed away from from their father and attempted to walk over to him. However, she could barely get a few step; before she stumbled. Mordred instantly ran to catch her.
"Ahh, Guileless Son." She said, smiling.
Mordred helped walk his mother over to his brothers.
"My sons." She said, still smiling. "Oh, it is good to see you once again."
The four brothers exchanged looks. Their mother had hardly ever shown this much affection for any of her sons, excluding Mordred. Gareth was the first to act.
"Mother, what is wrong with you?"
They looked to their father.
"Father?" Gawain asked.
Their father sighed.
"Your mother is ill. We do not know how..."
"Is there anything we can do?" Mordred asked desperately.
"I am afraid not." Their father replied.
"Come mother." Mordred said. "You must rest."
Mordred ordered a servant rush to arrange a room for his mother. Slowly, he helped his mother into Camelot.
It was strange, Mordred thought, to see his mother so fragile, so vulnerable. He had always seen her so strong, so powerful. Only to be reduced to this.
His mother was pale, gaunt, sickly, as if a single gust of wind could bow her over. It caused Mordred's heart to ache.
He and the rest of his brothers were sitting around her bed. She had been strangely loving to all of them. She congratulated Gawain on how strong he had become. She complimented Agravaine on his intelligence. She smiled when she spoke of how Gareth had truly come out of his shell. She proudly boasted of Gaheris's loyalty to his family.
It was strange, as she had never shown this much affection for anyone save Mordred.
Finally, she made the request that they knew was coming.
"Please, leave me. I wish to speak to Mordred in private."
All five brothers exchanged looks before all but Mordred got up and left the room. Once they were alone, his mother smiled at him.
"Guileless Son, how you have grown."
Mordred grasped his mother's flail hand in his own.
"Mother, please." Mordred said desperately. "Is there anything I can do? Any way to help you?"
His mother smiled.
"It is my time Mordred. No spell can stop it now."
With a shaking hand, she stroked his hair.
"While it is sooner than I would have liked, I am wise enough to know that once I am gone, the plans I have set in motion shall continue."
Mordred was concerned. What plans could she be speaking of?
"What do you mean, Mother?"
"Hah... Oh, nothing that you need concern yourself over, Guileless Son."
Mordred shook his head. Even when she was dying, his mother still spoke in riddles. Mordred decided to change the subject.
"Mother, a few months ago... Arthur told me of something... Something which I am having trouble believing..."
His mother raised an inquisitive eyebrow. Mordred decided to push on.
"I need to know, who... Who is my father?"
His mother chuckled.
"So, you finally know that truth."
Mordred sucked in a breath. He need to know for sure. He felt as if his mother could be the only one to confirm it in his mind. While at the same time, he was afraid that, by hearing it from his mother's lips, it would all be true.
"Am I... Am I truly the son of Arthur?"
The smile and the stroke of his hair were the only things needed to confirm Mordred's fears. The tears which had been holding back ever since he first saw how weak and fragile his mother had become suddenly came flooding out.
"So it is true." He breathed out. "I am nothing more than a bastard, born of incest."
His mother hushed him.
"Oh, no. Guileless Son, you are so much more. You will be the one to correct the injustices committed by the Pendragon line."
"Mother," Mordred said. "Please, do not ask me to go against Arthur. He... He is not Uther. He holds no guilt for his father's crimes."
His mother smiled bitterly.
"And what of his crimes?"
Mordred sucked in a breath.
"I did not ask for your mother to die in childbirth."
His mother shook her head weakly.
"I do not speak of that, Guileless Son. I speak of the crime he committed, just after your birth."
Mordred furrowed his eyebrows.
"What do you mean?"
"Just before your birth, I had to hide far away from Orkney. I was constantly pursued by Arthur's solders. Finally, just after your birth, they caught up to me. I was still weak from childbirth. I attempted to hide you within the roots of a tree. However, just in case they found you, I cast a spell so that I could find you."
"And so you obviously did find me."
His mother shook her head.
"And so I did. However, you were in a fishing boat, surrounded by the corpses of firty-nine dead infants, all born on the same day as yourself."
Mordred blinked.
"If you are saying that Arthur is at fault..."
"Oh, he is at fault." His mother retorted.
MORDRED shook his head.
"He told me..."
"He obviously lied to you." His mother replied.
Mordred could not believe what he was hearing. Could Arthur truly be capable of this?
"I know that it is hard, Guileless Son." His mother said comfortingly. "But do not worry. You shall correct the wrongs committed by Arthur Pendragon and his father before him."
Mordred blinked.
"How?"
A smile stead his mother's face.
"Arthur has given you the power. He has made you his legal heir. You can now take the throne and set Britain free from the claws of the Pendragon."
Mordred shook his head.
"I cannot betray my King."
His mother smiled and grasped his hand.
"Oh, Guileless Son. Ever so loyal."
Her expression turned dark.
"But tell me, do you not think that there is something about Arthur's rule which is unjust."
Mordred thought for a second. There was really only one thing he disagreed with.
"He is too strict with laws concerning magic." He said.
His mother smiled.
"Yes. He and that sorcerer Merlin have a choke hold on the magic of Britain. Magic was not made to be held in chains. It was made to be as free as the wind."
She grasped his hand tightly.
"That is the only thing which I approved of concerning that girl, Nimue. She too, could see the truth. I thought she was brave, learning illegal magic right under Merlin's noise."
Mordred blinked. His mother had never complimented Nimue before. She had always shown nothing but distrust for her.
"Think about Nimue." She said weakly. "She is only one of many who have lost their lives, all because they wanted to be free."
Mordred blinked away the tears in his eyes.
"What will you have me do?" He asked weakly.
His mother smiled.
"Set our people free... Set magic free..."
And they were the final words he ever heard from his mother.
Later, Mordred was passing in the throne room, his mind a well-wind of thoughts and emotions. All that had been said between himself and his mother echoed through his mind. He had no idea what to do. Should he do as his mother asked, and betray his King? Or should he remain loyal to Arthur, whom he had sworn his life to.
Loyalty, loyalty...
He thought of Nimue, of the image of thirty-nine dead infants. How many more had been the victims of Arthur's rule, inadvertantly or not?
Loyalty, Loyalty, loyalty...
He looked at where Caliburn hung at his hip. Arthur had said he trusted Mordred before all others. The poor man had suffered enough betrayal. Mordred knew that Arthur was a great King, who only wanted what was best for all of Britain. Though some actions could be questionable, Mordred knew that Arthur had a good heart.
Loyalty, loyalty, loyalty...
He sat on the throne. He too, only wanted what was best for Britain. But perhaps what was best for Britain was not what Arthur thought. Perhaps, his mother was right and magic needed to be set free.
Only to me...
Mordred made his decision. He would fulfill his mother's dying wish. He shall set free the magic of Britain from the chains placed upon it by Merlin Emrys and Arthur Pendragon. For Britain. For Nimue. For his mother.