The Last Verse
Chapter 10:
Mordred was sitting in his study, going over reports from Camelot and other kingdoms. The study used to be Arthur's. It was where Mordred had accepted Arthur's offer of becoming heir of Camelot and Britain, where the young man had declared his loyalty to the then High King. Now, it was where he planned his war against Arthur.
Mordred sighed as he looked over the reports. It had been three months since Arthur had stormed out of Camelot. Since then, the former High King had declared Mordred a usurper and a traitor. He had gone to the many Kingdoms of Britain, seeking allies in his fight for the throne. Mordred had quickly learnt of his actions, and had retaliated by seeking out his own allies in Britain. It did not take long for the land to erupt into civil war.
This caused great sadness for Mordred. He had wanted to unite Britain, not divide it. But because of Arthur's stubbornness and pride, (Or at least that's what Mordred told himself), brother was fighting brother and kin were slaying kin.
Galahad and his brothers had assisted him greatly in his time of turmoil. They took some of the burden off by organising supplies, troops and messengers. However, they had all been so preoccupied that Mordred had hardly had any time to talk with them concerning anything but the war. This caused Mordred even more pain, as he missed being able to talk to the people he cared for most. Galahad was not even in Britain, as he was seeking allies from the mainland.
But alas, duty must come before pleasure.
He looked over his papers again.
Many Kingdoms had sided with Arthur. However, to Mordred's surprise, many had sided with him. Mordred had a way with people, he knew this. However, he need only look at Arthur to see where he had inherited it from. The man just had a way of inspiring people that Mordred could not compete with.
Thankfully, they seemed to be on par with each other when it came to strategical planning. Arthur may have had decades more experience than Mordred, but the younger was more cunning. These served to balance each other out, for the most part. However, Arthur was beginning to gain the upper hand. At the moment he slightly outnumbered Mordred, and was expected to reach Camelot within a month's time.
Thankfully, his father was due to arrive soon with reinforcements from Orkney.
He was just looking over reports of the food-stores when there was an urgent nocking on his door.
"Yes?" He asked, raising his head.
"Sire," Came the voice of a servant from the other side of the door. "There is... An emissary, here to discus an alliance with you."
Mordred got up from his chair and opened the door to see that the servant was trembling nervously. Mordred gestured for the young man to lead him to the throne-room. The servant quickly complied.
Who could this be?
Mordred thought to himself.
And why is this servant so scared?
His answer was apparent as soon as he stepped into the throne-room. Standing in the large chamber, surrounded by guards and smiling at him nervously, was one of the last people he would have ever expected, or wanted, to see. He could feel both shock and anger running through his veins.
"You." He said, his furry so strong in his voice that his visitor flinched.
"Greetings Sire."
Mordred walked to his throne, trying as hard as he could not to draw his sword and strike his visitor down where they stood. Thankfully, his four brothers were already there, ready to prevent him from doing anything reckless.
"What are you here for, Guinevere?" He said, practically spitting the name of the former Queen.
"I have come on behalf of my father, King Leodagrance of Cameliard. We understand that Arthur's numbers are greater than your own, and wish to offer you aid in the form of reinforcements."
Mordred raised an eyebrow.
"Your father has chosen to side with me over Arthur?"
Guinevere frowned.
"My father is still angered by how Arthur insulted him when he made me an enemy of the crown."
Mordred scoffed.
"For good reason. Tell me, does King Leodegrance know of your affair with Lancelot?"
"Of course not." Guinevere snapped. "I am surprised that you..."
"What, noticed the silent communication between you and Lancelot?" Mordred asked rhetorically. "It honestly did not take me long to figure it out. In fact, everyone in Camelot but Arthur knew of your adultery."
Guinevere cleared her throat.
"Yes, regardless of what had been done in the past, I am here now to offer mine and my father's aid."
"Oh, and why should I accept your offer?" Mordred asked. "My own Father shall be here in a matter of days with reinforcements from Orkney."
Suddenly, he heard a throat clearing from beside him. Mordred turned to see Agravaine wanted to whisper something to him.
"Sire," He said in a hushed tone so that only Mordred could hear him. "While Father may bring reinforcements which may give us an advantage, it would still be wise to accept as many allies as possible."
Mordred scowled, but knew that Agravaine had a point. Finally, after much thought, he turned back to Guinevere.
"Very well. However, I must know what your Father wants in exchange for his soldiers before I make a decision."
Guinevere's gaze flickered to the side nervously.
"He wishes for us to wed."
"No!" He said instantly, disgusted with the mere thought. "I... I refuse..."
"Sire," Agravaine began. "We need these reinforcements..."
"She is the reason why Nimue is dead." Mordred hissed.
"I agree with Mordred." Gaheris said. "We cannot trust her."
"We do not have much choice." Gareth pointed out.
"She is part of the reason this all began in the first place." Retorted Gawain.
"Enough!" Mordred exclaimed.
He turned back to Guinevere, his brow raised.
"And what does Lancelot think of this arrangement?"
Guinevere scowled.
"He... Has chosen to side with Arthur. He believes that, in the face of your betrayal, all will be forgiven."
Mordred scoffed.
"And how can I trust that you will be faithful?"
Guinevere sighed.
"I admit, what I did was wrong. I knew that if the two of us were ever discovered, there will be a hefty price to pay. However, I did not think that it would lead to this?"
Mordred sighed. He truly did not wish to marry Guinevere. She had been the one to tell Merlin of Nimue's secret practices. She was the reason for Nimue's death. If not for her, Nimue would still be alive, possibly as Mordred's Queen. He would much prefer to have Guinevere frown to the deepest darkest dungeon, or worse, to Arthur's mercy.
However, Mordred knew that sacrifices had to be made in war. His duty to his people must come before all else. He needed reinforcements, and if he needed to wed Guinevere to get them, then so be it.
"Very well." Mordred said finally. "However, if I catch even a whisper of any form of betrayal, I will kill you myself."
Guinevere smiled.
"Oh, thank you, thank you."
"Stop." Mordred said. "I will make this perfectly clear. I am only accepting this arrangement because I need your Father's reinforcements, nothing more."
"Yes, I understand." Guinevere replied.
The next day, the two had a quick and small ceremony. They could not afford the resources or the time needed for a grand wedding, so they had to make do.
After they were officially married and the celebration was finished, Mordred and Guinevere entered the royal bedchamber. Guinevere looked around in amazement.
"I used to share this room with Arthur."
Mordred scowled at the reminder.
"Yes, he was so distraught after your betrayal that he had to move to new sleeping-quarters. These were given to me when he declared me his heir."
Mordred walked to his wardrobe and began to prepare himself for bed. However, he turned when Guinevere cleared her throat.
"Sire, what are you doing?"
"I am preparing to put on my night-clothes. I believe the servants should have moved your clothes..."
"But Sire?" Guinevere interrupted. "There is still the consummation to be done."
Mordred blinked.
"That will not be necessary."
Guinevere's eyes widened.
"But Sire, do you not want me?"
"No." Mordred replied dryly.
"Oh, come now, it is your duty. You must." Guinevere insisted.
Mordred's eyes widened as she walked closer to him. He could feel her pressing against him, her breasts rubbing against his chest. Mordred pushed her away in disgust.
It wasn't that Mordred did not find her attractive. She was most definitely beautiful. She was still young at the age of thirty-two. However, Mordred could not help but remember that a very different woman could be standing in her place if not for her.
"Let me make this perfectly clear." Mordred began, finally finding his night-shirt. "This marriage is purely political. I, in no way desire you. We shall consummate the marriage when I decide we will, and no sooner."
He began to remove his formal clothes and was about to put on his night-clothes, when suddenly Guinevere was upon him again. Before he could stop her, she had put her lips upon his.
Her kisses were nothing like Nimue's. When Nimue and he had kissed, it had been slow, delicate, yet full of so much love. Guinevere, however, was pure passion. She was quick, warm and deep. It was absolutely suffocating.
Then her hands began to wander his body. They were about to reach a particularly intimate area when Mordred finally managed to push her away. The force of his push was so great that Guinevere stumbled backwards until she fell upon the bed. Mordred, clad only in his trousers, stalked towards the fallen queen and loomed over her, a hand on either side of her body and his face mere inches from her own.
At first, Guinevere seemed terrified. Then, a smirk appeared on her lips.
"Oh, isn't this just..."
"Silence." Mordred barked.
He looked directly into her eyes.
"Do not be mistaken Guinevere. I may have wed you, but this does not mean I have forgiven you for what you have done."
"Oh?" Guinevere asked. "You still care for Arthur, even when you war with him."
"This is not about Arthur." Mordred spat. "This is about how you betrayed Nimue to Merlin."
Guinevere's eyes widened.
"Mordred, you have to believe me. I did not mean for her to die. She was my friend, and I was truly saddened when she was executed. I was just... Just afraid of what she was doing. But please, I did not wish for Nim..."
Slap.
BOTH Mordred and Guinevere looked at the former's hand in shock. Mordred had never thought he would hit a woman, and yet, his anger at Guinevere had caused him to act out of violence.
"Do not," He spat in rage. "Say her name. You will not disgrace her memory by speaking her name with your unworthy lips."
He could still hear Guinevere whimpering in fear as he put on his night-clothes. He turned to her.
"Go put on your night-clothes and go to bed."
The queen quickly got up to comply.
It was a few days later that Mordred received word of the arrival of the reinforcements from Orkney. He eagerly waited at the gates of Camelot with his brothers. He was looking forward to seeing his Father again.
However, once the soldiers arrived, banners high, he did not see his Father anywhere. He glanced over the front ranks, where he knew his father would be, and saw no sine of him. However, when he saw the state of most of the soldiers, he could feel his heart sink in dread.
Almost every man present was covered in mud and dried blood.
"What is this?" Mordred found himself demanding. "Where is my Father?"
One of his Father's generals, mud-splattered and tired, stepped forward.
"I am truly sorry sire." He began. "As we were travelling, we were attacked by Arthur's forces. We managed to defeat them, however, King Lot did not survive."
Mordred felt his heart clench. He glanced at his brothers to see them all besot by grief and anger.
"What of his body?" Mordred heard himself ask.
"We sent him with a small party to Orkney, where I may be berried with his ancestors."
Mordred sucked in a breath.
"His death shall not be in vein. Arthur shall pay for all that he has done."
He then turned to Gawain.
"Gawain, I know that this is much I ask of you. However, you must..."
"I understand." Gawain interrupted, unusually serious.
He stepped in front of the soldiers from Orkney. The four brothers watched as the eldest among them was made King.
Later, Mordred was in the war room, looking at the large map which was spread upon the large round table.
Arthur was much, much closer than he had suspected. If what the Orkney generals had told him was true, then Arthur would be upon them in a week.
He sighed. This was all happening to fast for him to handle. He had to organise his troops, weapons, armor, check the stores in case of a siege...
"Mordred?"
He looked up to see Gawain, in his new armour and crown befitting his new status as King of Orkney. The new King came into the room, soon followed by Agravaine, Gareth and Gaheris. Mordred gestured for them to take a seat.
"Having trouble?" Gareth asked.
Mordred just sighed and rubbed his temples.
"I can understand." Gawain said sympathetically.
"All of this is happening too fast." Mordred said. "Father dying, Arthur approaching..."
Gaheris put a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"How long do we have?" He asked.
"About a week." Mordred replied. "We suspect that he will approach via the field of Camelinn. Arthur was always fond of the shield-wall."
"Then we shall meet him in open combat." Gawain replied.
"It is not so simple." Mordred retorted. "We will be fighting up hill."
"That does not matter." Gawain growled. "Arthur must pay. He has murdered our Father, insulted our Mother..."
"Yes," Agreed Agravaine. "However, something has bothered me since that day. What did Arthur mean by his insults?"
"Yes," Gareth said, furrowing his brows. "I too have been pondering this. However, we have been so preoccupied that I have not been able to ask."
He turned to Mordred.
"I noticed that you seemed to know of what Arthur was speaking of." Gareth observed.
Mordred could feel four pairs of eyes peering at him curiously. He sighed. Even after all these months, he still had not told them of what he discovered concerning his true lineage. He was still hesitant, as he feared what they would think of him if they knew the truth. But he decided that now was a better time then any, and that this secret had waited long enough.
He sucked in a breath and began.
"Just after Nimue's death, Arthur revealed something to me. Something which I had trouble believing."
He sucked in another breath and told his story. He watched his brothers faces morph from shock, to horror, and back to shock again.
Once Mordred was finished, he sat back to gage his brothers reactions. They were all completely silent for a long time.
"So... So what you are saying is..." Began Gareth. "Is that... That you are actually the son... The son of..."
Mordred nodded.
"Why did you not tell us sooner?" Gawain asked.
Mordred looked down.
"I was afraid, that you would be disgusted."
"Why would we be disgusted?" Agravaine asked.
"I am nothing more than a bastard born of incest." Mordred argued.
"That is not your fault." Gaheris argued. "It is not your fault that our Mother... Did such things with Arthur."
Mordred looked up to see that his three eldest brothers were nodding in agreement.
"We are mostly horrified that Mother would have done such a thing." Gareth agreed. But then he frowned. "My only concern is what Mother supposedly saw in her vision."
"Yes, that is troubling." Agravaine agreed.
"You do not believe it is true?" Mordred asked incredulously.
"Well, it would explain a lot." Gareth replied. "Why she favoured you, why she insisted you learnt magic..."
"And," Gawain continued. "I do remember, when I was a small boy and she was round with you in her belly, that she had mysteriously left for a long time and returned with a small infant in her arms."
"But still," Mordred argued. "You don't honestly believe that she would have planned for... For me to kill Arthur and for him to kill me at the same time?"
His brothers glanced at each other nervously. Finally, Gaheris sighed and turned to him.
"It does appear that things are falling into place. Soon, you and Arthur will face off against each other in the battle-field."
He glanced at their brothers.
"However, I believe that I speak for all of us when I say that, you will not be alone. We shall fight by your side."
Their brothers nodded in agreement.
"Thank you." Mordred said, tears of gratitude in his eyes. "Thank you, my brothers."
Approximately six days later, Mordred received word that Arthur and his army had set up camp on the far side of Camelinn. Mordred ordered the army to march to Camelinn at once. He ordered a small contingent of soldiers evacuate the village into the castle, just in case the battle was unsuccessful.
The winter sun was high in the sky by the time Mordred's army marched to the field of Camelinn with steeled nervous and determination in their eyes. They met Arthur's army in the centre. Both sides erected a shield wall. Once they were face -to-face, there was only about thirty metres separating them. After a long time of silence, Arthur's shield-wall parted long enough for the man himself to walk forward.
"Mordred!" He yelled. "It does not have to end this way. Surrender now, and no one has to die this day."
Mordred, too, entered the no-man's-land.
"I am afraid it is too late for such words." He replied.
"Please, I do not wish to fight you." Arthur said, pleadingly.
"Nor do I." Mordred replied.
"Then why are you doing this?"
"You have given me no choice." Mordred replied.
"You do have a choice." Arthur retorted. "Give me back more throne."
"Give us back our freedom."
Arthur frowned.
"I cannot do that. You know this. Magic needs to be restricted."
"No, magic needs to be free." Mordred retorted.
He could hear both sides beginning to yell arguments at each other, supporting their respective Kings.
"Why do you not tell them." Mordred said calmly. "Tell them why you have restricted magic so much."
Mordred could have sworn he saw a flicker of fear.
"Mordred, no." Arthur almost begged.
Mordred raised an eyebrow.
"Why not? Are you afraid that your supporters will abandon you once they learn of what you did? Of how you allowed the deaths of innocent infants, all because you feared one..."
"Mordred, please." Arthur repeated, desperation strong in his voice.
Mordred continued.
"What are you more ashamed of, the firty-nine dead infants cast to the ocean in a fishing boat at your order..."
"I did not do such an act." Arthur interrupted, but Mordred continued.
"... Or the son you had begotten by your half-sister."
He could now hear everyone, regardless of side, muttering in shock. Mordred now addressed the crowd as a whole.
"Yes, I admit it. The great Arthur Pendragon is guilty of incest with his half-sister, whom many refer to as Morgana Le Fay. And once Arthur learnt of her pregnancy, the sorcerer Merlin informed him of a vision in which he died at the hands of his son, born of incest. And so, upon the prophesied day of the child's birth, he searched the land for all infants born on this day. He then ordered they be cast out on a fishing boat, left to die..."
"Mordred..."
"... Forty were cast out onto the boat. However, only thirty-nine died. One boy lived. His Mother found him and reunited him with his family. And now, this child, the last surviver, stands before you."
Gasps echoed across the battle-field.
"Yes, I am not ashamed to admit that I was born of Arthur's seed."
"That is enough!" Arthur yelled. "You will not surrender? Very well then. You will get your battle."
Mordred smirked.
"Come Father, let us embrace at last."
And so, Father and Son turned to reenter the ranks of their armies. Once they took their places, the horn blew and the battle began.
The battle lasted for hours on end. Mordred lost track of time in the fray. All that existed were crashing swords and the screams of the injured and dying. Both shield-walls had broken long ago. The world was now chaos. The only indication that time had passed was the slowly descending sun and the lengthening shadows.
Mordred had lost sight of his brothers long ago. He knew only the anarchy of the world around him. All he could focus on were the enemies in his immediate view.
Suddenly, he heard a familiar yell.
"Mordred!"
He turned to see Gaheris, a grin on his face and blood on his blade.
"Ris!" Mordred replied. "Do you know where our brothers are?"
"No!" Gaheris replied. "However, I do know that Arthur is trying to regroup on the far side. Many of his soldiers are..."
Suddenly, Gaheris was cut off. Mordred watched in horror as his brother made a gargling sound. Then, blood began to appear from his still open mouth.
"Ris!" Mordred yelled as he ran to his brother.
Mordred caught him in his arms to see a large stab wound on his fourth brother's back. Tears began to pool in his eyes.
"Ris? Ris!" He yelled frantically.
He looked into his brother's eyes. All of the life had left them.
"No!" Mordred yelled, falling to his knees.
He could not believe this. His brother was dead. They had been raised together. They had played together, they had thought together...
And now he was gone.
Mordred got up furiously, only to come face-to-face with Lancelot.
"You." Mordred growled. The man continued to smirk.
"Oh, do not worry. You shall soon be reunited with him."
Mordred plastered a fake smirk on his own face.
"Oh no. It is you, who shall be dead. And once I win this battle, I shall return to my Kingdom... And the warm arms of Guinevere."
Lancelot's expression quickly melted.
"I know not what you speak of, boy."
"Oh, don't you?" Mordred asked, raising an eyebrow. "Did you not know that Guinevere is now my Queen. I suppose she tired of both you and Arthur and decided a younger man was more preferable. And I must admit, I can see why you betrayed Arthur for her. She is quite... Passionate. The things she has shown me..."
It was a lie, but Lancelot did not have to know that. He of course, had never bedded Guinevere. However, he knew that if Lancelot were to think he did, he would become angered. This would cause him to be more reckless in his attack.
And so it did. Lancelot attacked Mordred furiously. Their swords clashed loudly, both wishing badly to kill the other. Lancelot was a mighty warrior, Mordred would give him that. However, he did not have magic.
Mordred cast a spell on the ground, causing the trampled grass to grow rapidly, tangling itself around Lancelot's legs. The older man tried to fight it, but the magically enhanced plants were too strong for him.
But that did not stop him from trying to cut at them with his sword, which was all Mordred needed.
With a mighty yell, Mordred plunged Caliburn's blade into Lancelot's chest.
"That was for Gaheris." Mordred said, as the fallen knight fell from the blade, the plants now falling away with the death of their captive and the spell.
Mordred panted for a few seconds. Then he focused back on the battle. He needed to end this, now.
"Arthur!" He yelled out. "Come and face me, you cowered!"
He continued to wander the battle field, in search of Arthur. Finally, they met in what Mordred believed to be the centre of the field. It seemed as if Arthur had been in search of him, too.
"Mordred!" He yelled. "Look at this, look around you!"
He gestured at the chaos around them. "Do you think this madness will end with your rule?"
"It's too late!" Mordred replied. "Let's end this, my King, my uncle... My Father."
Excalibur and Caliburn met with a loud clang of metal against metal. The two Kings fought in a deadly dance. Mordred thought that he could see the rest of the fighter stop and form a ring around them. However, he was not sure. The world around him disappeared and all that mattered was Arthur and himself.
Suddenly, Arthur fault. Mordred took this advantage to disarm his opponent. Excalibur flew from Arthur's hand, landing far off in the distance.
"It ends now." Mordred panted.
"No." Arthur replied, before kicking at Mordred's legs.
The younger man was momentarily unbalanced. He fell to the ground. By the time Mordred got to his feet, Arthur had run to one of his observing soldiers and gotten a spear.
Mordred attempted to fight against the new weapon. However, Arthur was too fast and the spear provided him with too much range. Mordred was knocked to the ground.
He rolled onto his back, only for the tip of the spear to meet his stomach. It had not gone in deep. Only enough to draw blood. Mordred's mind was suddenly cast back to the memory of his first duel with Arthur.
"The only way you will be able to strike me down now..." Arthur began.
"Is if I were to further skewer myself upon your spear." Mordred finished.
His hand tightened on his sword. Ignoring the pain, he got back to his feet. The spear dug deeper into his stomach, but he continued. He pushed through the pain until Arthur was within his reach. He could feel the tip of the spear poke through his back, but he did not care. All that mattered was taking Arthur down.
"For the freedom of magic." He said, before swinging Caliburn.
Mordred embedded his sword into the chest of his Father. The older man's eyes were wide. Both fell to the ground.
Mordred watched as the light left Arthur's eyes.
"Mordred..." Arthur gasped. "I... I am... Sorry... I was not... Able to... To save you... From... From your Mother..."
Tears were in the former King's eyes.
"I... I love you..."
Tears were appearing in Mordred's eyes.
"I... Never... Wished... For this." He gasped. "I only wanted to be free."
"I know... I know..."
And those were the last words spoken by Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot, High King of Britain, and one of the greatest men to ever live.
Somehow, Mordred was still alive. He lay there, looking at the carnage around him.
Bodies lay everywhere. The two sides had seemingly stopped fighting, now that they had both lost their kings. They were now gathering their dead for burials and wounded for healing. Mordred tried to find his three remaining brothers, to see if they were still alive. However, only one figure court his attention. An old man, walking towards him in the twilight.
"Merlin:" Mordred said, coughing up a mouthful of blood.
"You." The sorcerer growled as he reached the fallen Kings. "You have ruined everything."
Mordred laughed bitterly.
"And so the coward shows his face once it is all over. I shouldn't be surprised."
Merlin spat at him.
"I should have strangled you myself when I laid you with the rest of the infants in that boat and ordered you all out to sea."
Mordred's eyes widened.
"You... You were the one..."
"Yes." Merlin replied. "I was the one whom ordered you and those firty-nine infants dead."
"Why?" Mordred gasped.
"I could not let Arthur die." Merlin replied. "That would interfere with my plans for Britain. You must understand, all that I did was for the greater good."
Mordred spat out another mouthful of blood.
"You... You only wanted to dominate the sorcerers of Britain."
"Perhaps." Merlin replied. "But my intentions were for the greater good. You and your hoar of a Mother..."
"And Nimue? Why did you... Kill her...?"
Merlin sighed.
"She was a brilliant young girl. However, I could tell you had corrupted her with... Unacceptable practices."
Mordred drew upon the little strength he had left to cast one final spell. It was one of the spells which he and Nimue had created. The original intent was to give someone who was beyond healing a quick and painless death. However, now Mordred used it to take down the sorcerer who had done so much harm to so many.
"For igraine, for Gorlois, for my Mother, for both my Fathers, for my brothers, for the thirty-nine infants, for Britain... And for Nimue...."
And with his last breath, he lifted his hand and pointed it towards Merlin, calling upon his magic for one final spell.
"Avada Kedavra."
A green light left his hand. It hit Merlin and the old sorcerer fell to the ground instantly dead.
Mordred smiled. If nothing else, at least he had avenged the many who had been hurt from Merlin's schemes.
As he felt his life leaving him, he looked to the horizon to see that the moon was rising. It was full. The mere sight of it made him think of Nimue.
Mordred blinked. There appeared to be someone approaching him. The strangest part about it was that Mordred could have sworn the figure had appeared straight out of the moon.
As the figure drew nearer, Mordred gasped as he recognised her.
"Nimue." He breathed.
"Shhhh." Nimue hushed him.
She put a hand on his stomach, where Arthur had stabbed him.
"Nimue, I'm sorry." He said. "I... I have brought ruin to Britain. Arthur was right, I am only a foolish boy..."
"Shhhh." Nimue repeated, putting a hand on his forehead. "It is alright my love."
Mordred could feel tears prickling his eyes again.
"No, it is not. I... I have failed you. I failed all of you..."
Nimue shook her head.
"Yes, you have made mistakes. But you only had Britain's best interests at heart. I do not fault you for this."
Mordred shook his head. "So many have died. I have done things which cannot be undone."
"Shhhh." She hushed again. "Do not worry, my tarnished silver. We shall rise again. We shall have another chance to rewrite the stars."
"No one can rewrite the stars." Mordred said bitterly. "My Mother foresaw that Arthur and I would kill each other, and that is exactly what happened."
"And you know better now." Nimue replied. "Once we rise again, you shall know better, no not to listen to the manipulations of others."
She bent down and brushed her lips against his.
"And when we rise, you and I will meet again. And I will still love you, as I always have."
And with that, his vision faded. The last thing he saw was the smiling face of the woman he loved the most.
Harry sat up, gasping. Countless images flickered through his head. It was as if the dreams that he had had every night for almost two months were coming all at once. He could hardly think strate in the confusion.
Deliriously, he fell out of his bed. He could feel his stomach turning. He could feel his head spinning.
He was suddenly violently sick, all over the floor.
"What the... Harry...? Oh, bloody hell..."
With trembling legs, Harry got to his feet and groped around the bed-side table for his glasses. Once he had found them and put them on, he quickly searched the draws for his journal and pen.
"Harry?"
He knew that Ron had gotten out of bed and was concerned for him. However, Harry could not bring himself to look at him. So he simply grabbed his journal and pen, and went to leave the room.
"I need to go." He said quickly, still not turning to Ron. "I just... Need to go clear my mind. Don't worry, I won't leave the house."
And without another word, he quickly walked out of the door and attempted to find somewhere, anywhere, where he could sit and focus without interruption.
His thoughts were a jumble of emotion and memory. He could hardly think of who he was.
He was Harry.
He was Mordred.
His Mother was Lily Potter.
His Mother was Morgana Le Fay.
His Father was James Potter.
His Fathers were King Lot of Orkney and Arthur Pendragon, the King of Camelot and high King of Britain.
He was an only child.
He was the youngest of five brothers.
He was a wizard.
He was a king.
Finally, he reached the room where Sirius was keeping Buckbeak. He opened the door, startling the hipogriff. He hurriedly bowed and waited until Buckbeak bowed to him in exchange.
Once that was done, he closed the door and sat with his back against the wall. He opened his journal and, his pen at the read, began to write down everything.
Now that he could write everything now, his thoughts began to clear.
His dreams were infact memories of a past life. In this past life, he had been Mordred. He now remembered everyone who had been in his dreams.
The mother had been Morgana. The father had been Lot. The brothers had been Gawain, Agravaine, Gareth and Gaheris. The king had been Arthur. The queen had been Guinevere.
Everything now made sense to him. And part of him wished that it didn't.
He blinked away tears as he turned to the last pages, where he had written the song which the Mother, his Mother, had sung to him. The lyrics now made sense to him. They were all describing her plans to manipulate him, her Guileless Son.
I'll shape your belief,
And you'll always know that your father's a fief...
She was trying to manipulate how he thought, so that he would hate Arthur.
You'll always follow the voices beneath...
Even when she was dead, Mordred would listen to her teachings.
Your spirit will hate her,
The flower who married, my brother the traitor...
Telling him to hate Guinevere. Well, Morgana did not need to do much manipulation in that area.
Even the constant chanting of "loyalty" was a manipulation. She was ensuring that he would be loyal, only to her.
However, the part which hurt him the most was the last verse, which was now all to clear to him.
It was in these words that Harry realised, he had failed. He had failed his brothers, he had failed both his Fathers. He had told them all that he would not give into his Mother's manipulations. And yet, like the fool he was, he had fallen strate into her trap. For the last verse described what fate she planned for her Guileless Son.
Guileless Son, each day you grow older,
Each moment I'm watching, my vengeance unfold,
For the child of my body, the flesh of my soul,
Shall die in returning, the birthright he stole...
And Harry wept in the realisation that he had been nothing more than a pawn in his Mother's schemes.