Everyone had turned in for the night, all wanting to get some rest for Scathach's next bout of training. Mordred for one had retreated to her quarters and laid restlessly on her bed. Today's events still weighed heavily on her mind, preventing her from falling asleep.
The servants' first day with the Shadow had been rough to say the least. Aside from the grueling obstacles they all had to navigate, Mordred recalls the way Scathach had been exercising her authority over her students; namely herself. The Knight had tried to challenge her but found herself helpless against the warrior queen talking down to her. It was as if Scathach could just read her like a book and knew exactly how to make Mordred back down. The red Saber never had been left so vulnerable by anyone in her life... save for one person...
Mordred clutched her arms as she curled up on her bed, feeling a familiar and excruciating sensation whenever she remotely thought of her. She stamped down the urge to claw at them, turning over on her bed again and grunting in frustration.
It seemed Scathach was having a similar affect on her, and Mordred hated it.
Mordred forces herself to stop thinking about it and instead focus on something else. It wasn't long until her thoughts fall on another individual; one that aggravated her in a different way.
{"I don't think you of all people have any right to question someone's loyalty..."}
Arturia's words still stung as badly as they did earlier in the day. Mordred seethes at the memory of her King reminding the Knight of her betrayal to her and all of Camelot. The red Saber was frustrated and angry that her father meant for those words to hurt.
And just as angry at the fact that her words were true...
Yes, she did betray the king...
Yes, she made the rest of Camelot turn against her...
And yes, that singular act destroyed everything; the peace and prosperity she and the Knights fought for, and the faith in honor and chivalry they practiced.
The irony was, Mordred genuinely believed in those same things. It was why she wanted to be a knight...
But alas, Fate had different plans...
---
//Flashback: Cornwall, Early Sixth Century A.D//
The village was bustling with activity as everyone went about finishing their daily routines. The market in particularly was busy as a little girl navigated the crowd. Her hood was hiding her blonde tassels and youthful complexion, wearing decorative red-black coveralls with gold accents concealed beneath her cloak. She carried a basket hung on her arm, one that was full of ingredients that was sent to retrieve as an errand.
-Mother will be happy I got these for her! She will be proud of me!-
The little girl was optimistic that Mother will praise her for completing the task she was carrying out for her. Mother could not get these herself, so the daughter was happy to do so if it meant being in Mother's good graces.
Besides, it gave the little girl an excuse to get out of the manor. It was boring being stuck in there all the time with Mother's insistence.
But the daughter was special. She had grown a lot and learned so much in just a few short years; being tutored by those under Mother's employ. Not only that, but she was strong; able to lift a standard sword and shield with ease.
And coincidentally, she just started learning swordplay too...
As the girl left the market and walked down the main road, she caught a glimpse of three children playing outside of a house, and stopped to see them playing. A girl was dramatically pretending to be a damsel in distress, held captive by her brother, posing as an evil knight in a makeshift mask. She flailed her hands as her brother pretended to threaten her with a fake wooden sword. The sister calls out for a brave, noble knight to save her, and on cue, an elder brother wearing a white cape and holding another fake sword, declaring himself to be one of King Arthur's Knights of the Round Table, and that he will save the noble lady. He and the evil knight mock-battle, and it ends with the elder brother ending the fight with a quick, gentle swing across the younger brother's torso, not even touching him as he grasps his chest and falls on his knees in dramatic fashion; the elder bother holding up his sword in victory.
The cloaked girl smiles under her hood, having enjoyed the show just as the father of the children walks out and calls them to come inside. They put down their props and eagerly come to join her. The parent gives each child a loving smile and then gives the daughter an affectionate pat on the head as they followed him inside the house. Still standing there, the girl in the cloak looks longingly at the family through the open window in the house, watching as they and who she assumed to be the mother gather at a table to indulge in the meal she prepared for all of them. The children bantered and laughed at each other and the parents look on proudly.
The girl could tell that she was looking at a complete, happy family. The amount of warmth and affection that was on display seemed so natural and uplifting. She could not help but feel the slightest tinge of envy.
This was not the same as what she herself was getting at home...
Speaking of which, the girl had to hurry back with the ingredients. She didn't want to be late coming back home. Mother would be very upset at her.
The girl left the family alone and quickened her pace in heading back home. Along the way, she passes a wanted poster that was pinned to the village's welcome sign. It depicted an image of a female figure cloaked in shadow and channeling what appeared like magic between her fingers. It said:
BEWARE THE WITCH: MORGAN LE FAY
WANTED FOR HENIOUS CRIMES AGAINST THE CROWN AND KINGDOM OF CAMELOT, AND FOR THE PRACTICE OF BLACK MAGIC. 2000 GOLD REWARD FOR INFORMATION ON HER WHEARABOUTS. NOTIFY CAMELOT IMMEDIATELY.
CONSIDERED TO BE EXTREMELY DANGEROUS. DO NOT ATTEMPT TO APPREHEND ALONE.
The sun began to set on the horizon as the little girl traveled up a hill well away from the village to the gate of a very secluded castle, surrounded by thick vegetation. She stopped in front and pulled out a charm from beneath her cloak. Holding it up, the doors lit up and parted ways for her to enter. Stepping through the gate, the doors closed behind the girl and she found herself in well-kept, moderately sized courtyard. The castle itself wasn't very big, save for the main tower that offered a view of the whole forest and the nearby village. There was also a basement, which the girl had never seen for she wasn't even allowed in. The little girl made her way inside the building, through the halls past the handful of servants, and into the main study...
Where her Mother was waiting.
The little girl silently moved to put her basket on the table, careful not to make noise as the woman was turned away. She saw a tall, female figure dressed in a black dress with blue accents reading a tome. She had long, silvery-blonde hair that was tied with a bow and braided on the sides of her head; on top of which was an ornate crown that was lined with a black veil that concealed the woman's face. To this day, the daughter had never seen what her Mother looked like behind that cover.
It made reading what her Mother felt towards her difficult... coupled with-
"You're late..."
Mother's cold, authoritative tone briefly made the girl stop in her tracks. Setting aside the basket, the girl lowered her hood and bowed respectful, while feeling shameful.
"My apologies Mother," she said humbly.
"I said explicitly to come back before dusk, Mordred," Mother said without even looking at the girl. "Now I will have to wait for the next cycle to prepare the potion. I hope you were not partaking in any foolery while I allowed you to go out for me."
"I- I had to go to other vendors to find your ingredients," Mordred told her hesitantly, hoping Mother would be at least pleased with her after accomplishing her task. "I got what you wanted."
She showed Mother the basket, and the woman at last turns and walks purposefully towards her. The woman towered above the girl in an almost intimidating way, and Mordred felt a familiar trepidation from being unable to read Mother's face behind her veil. The girl stood nervous as Mother inspected the contents of the basket. She pulled out some herbs and held it up in front of her.
"Hmmm... these were picked prematurely. They're useless..." Mother stated evenly, and Mordred's heart sank as the woman then tossed them to the floor. Mordred's anxiety grew as Mother started walking even closer to her, crushing the herbs beneath her foot with a step. The girl then tried pleading with her.
"It was the best I can find... And no other seller has-"
"I don't want excuses," Mother said, cutting her off, Mordred's innocent face turns hurt and scared as Mother was bearing down at her. "I've allowed you to leave these grounds periodically after that night as a form of leniency. I let you do this for me and you have failed... "
Mordred's shame grew.
"I'm sorry..."
Her apology seemed to go unnoticed or unacknowledged by Mother, who in response simply turned to return to her read.
"I believe it best that you are stay in the confines of the castle from this point on," Mother said to Mordred as she slowly walked away from her. "I shouldn't have you showing your face in public."
"But I kept my hood on like you said!" Mordred insisted, shocked and angry that she was having a freedom taken away from her. She took a hostile step towards Mother's retreating form. "No one has seen my face! Why do I have to-?!"
Mordred's newfound defiance proved foolish as Mother stopped and held up her hand beside her, now arcing with dark magecraft. The girl was startled into silence as tendrils appeared out of thin air to restrain her. Mother then looked over her shoulder at the girl.
"DO NOT question me Mordred," Mother's voice now dripped with subtle malice that now shook Mordred to her core. Mother rarely showed any emotion, but when she did, it was terrifying. It was abundantly clear to Mordred that she had just made Mother angry. "What you need is to focus on your education and training."
Mordred struggles against the bonds as Mother then turns back and walks up to her.
"And besides..."
Mother leans beside Mordred's ear and whispers. Her next words cause Mordred to freeze in fear.
"You remember what happens when you go against my wishes..."
The woman grazes Mordred's sleeved arm with her hand, still radiating with mana. Mordred's expression falters and she shakes from the traumatizing memory. A tear escapes the girl's eye as she stops struggling and caves-in.
"Y- Yes m-m-Mother..." She stutters as Mother continues to hold her. After several agonizing seconds, Mordred is finally released. She gasped and fell on her knees, clutching her arm while whimpering.
"Good," Mother said calmly while continuing to stand over the distressed girl. "Eat and get some rest. Tomorrow, I shall have your instructor keep you trained throughout the next few days. Now go..."
Breathing heavily, Mordred wasted no time and got up on her feet to leave Mother alone in her study. Still holding on to her arm as if wounded, the girl barely got to the door when-
"And Mordred..." Mother added, briefly stopping the girl. "Never answer back at me again..."
Mordred had to bite down the lingering fear and anger she felt towards this woman to properly respond at her. Mother will not tolerate it if Mordred spoke to her disrespectfully.
"Of course not..." the girl forced herself to say, still shaken from Mother's disciplining act and choking back more tears. "G-Goodnight, Mother..."
Mother said nothing and Mordred hurried upstairs to the tower, leaving the woman to continue reading through her tome. On the stairwell, Mordred finally released the tears she had been holding back. For living in this castle her whole life, she would never get used to the treatment she received from Mother. She would keep the girl within her sights, not allowing her to talk with anyone nor show her face to a stranger. When Mordred was able to walk, Mother forbade her from travelling anywhere outside the compound, only engaging her with lessons of swordplay and literature.
And it was not as if Mother was ever lenient if Mordred disobeyed her.
She remembered the last time she received punishment from Mother. It was when she snuck out of the castle periodically to see the world and people beyond the walls of the castle. The nearby village was perfect for Mordred to catch a glimpse, and she saw that same family she saw today, showing her what love and affection looked like.
When Mother learned of this... the punishment was brutal... cruel.
The sad reality was that Mother is the only family Mordred knows. Unlike that of the family from the village, that was so warm and welcoming, Mordred's was unkind to her. Mother would show the girl no measure of love or affection, despite Mordred's futile attempt to offer some form in return to be reciprocated. It seemed that Mordred meant nothing more to Mother than to just project whatever she had on to her, for whatever purpose Mordred was not aware of.
For the awful treatment the vile woman gave to the girl, Mordred could never bring herself to completely hate her, even if that witch who was Mother made her feel vulnerable and unappreciated. It was naïve of Mordred to think Mother would ever love her like she had seen the family from the village do for each other, but she tries because she wants it too.
She would give anything to be a part of a family like that...
---
The scene then changes to a few days later; Mordred was sparring with an instructor out in the courtyard, clashing training swords while the girl wore a protective face mask. They've been at this for several hours, and Mordred had been making significant progress. Learning swordsmanship was one of the things Mordred most enjoyed out of all of Mother's arrangements for her. It was a way for her to vent her pent-up frustrations and build an understanding with her mind and body.
Not only that, but it even made Mordred desire to one day become a knight, like how the boys were playing as back in the village. Of course, when she shared this with the instructor, he laughed at her and said only big boys could become knights.
To which Mordred did NOT take kindly to...
Offended, Mordred began tapping into her unnatural strength and slowly overpowered her instructor during each round, and the lesson ended with the instructor getting a broken wrist. The man bitterly took his payment from one of Mother's servants, and grumbled a few insults at Mordred as he left, to which she lifted her mask and blew a raspberry at him.
She didn't care what other things he called her besides a girl, Mordred got her victory...
Mordred then made her way back inside, expertly flailing her practice sword around in her hand. But it soon became clear to her that the castle felt awfully empty. Mother wasn't anywhere to be seen.
"Mother?"
As far as Mordred was concerned, she had not ever seen Mother leave the walls of the castle. It was unlike her to be suspiciously absent like this. She should not care, but Mordred thought something might have happened. Looking around the halls, Mordred saw a door that was strangely left open.
It was the door that led to the basement...
Curiosity getting the better of her, Mordred took a moment to look over her shoulders before carefully going through the door and following the dark staircase down. The air was cold and damp as she eventually found herself in a spacious room, pitch-black with only the charm around Mordred's neck as the sole source of light.
Mordred looked around. She had never been inside this room before, as Mother told her time and time again that she was to never come down here under any circumstances. Mordred walked around this dimly lit chamber full of an assortment of objects; most of them being shelves full of books and potions. On the wall was a tapestry, and it showed a symbol of what Mordred recognized was the Pendragon coat-of-arms, and it was torn all over as if someone took a knife and gouged at it repeatedly in a fit of rage. Below that, there were old notes scattered on the table and Mordred read some; one in particular stood out to her and had a very strange word used that eluded her understanding.
""Day 478: The homunculus has started showing signs of signs of heightened strength thanks to imbued dragon blood. Increased growth rate progressing without side-effects. Will continue to monitor and condition accordingly." Just what on Earth is a... "homunculus"?"
Leaving the notes alone, Mordred carefully walked past a large cauldron in the center of the room and her eyes fell upon a suit of armor that was displayed against the wall. It looked like it was made for a smaller-than-average person, but it had red accents and a helmet sporting horns, giving it an almost demonic appearance.
Mordred found it to be very scary looking, and wondered who it was for…
Not far away from that however was an altar with some kind of crystal, and Mordred found her eyes glued to this mysterious object that looked so out of place in this room. Getting a closer look, Mordred approaches the crystal and stares into the wide, flat surface that seemed as smooth as a mirror. Yet inside, Mordred could see a vast sea of blackness with shining diamond lights like that of stars in the night sky. It was strange, but in this endless, illustrious void, Mordred got the feeling that something was staring back at her. She couldn't see it, but somehow knew it was there. Whatever it was, it was far beyond the young girl's comprehension. Mordred then found herself raising a hand to touch this crystal-
"What are you doing in here?"
Mordred stops and gasps as a stern voice calls out from behind her, along a familiar and overpowering presence. A shiver runs down her spine as Mordred turns to meet her; the imposing figure bearing down on little Mordred as the girl turns fearful and regretful.
"Mother! I was just-!"
The figure raises a hand, interrupting the little girl. Mordred falls silent as the towering woman speaks down to her.
"I told you to never come in here Mordred. Why did you disobey me?"
Mordred struggled to find the words to use to justify herself, and shamefully cast her head down as she tried to explain:
"I was looking for you. I thought something happened to you! Honest, I was worried!"
When her Mother said nothing and started walking towards her, Mordred grew more scared and pleaded.
"Mother, believe me! I didn't mean to intrude! I'm sorry!"
Mordred hears her Mother's footsteps stop in front of her, and the little girl began to cry.
"Of course, you are..." she said calmly, but her tone telegraphed underlying displeasure. "Look at me..."
Mordred hesitantly complies, lifting her head and revealing her tear-stained face. Mother slowly put a hand on Mordred's cheek, wiping a tear away, but the little girl did not find this at all comforting; instead feeling a cold shiver run down her spine the instant Mother's delicate fingers touched her. Mordred was paralyzed with fear as after what felt like an eternity, Mother removed her hand while continuing to stand over the poor girl.
"I cannot overlook this offence child. You know what needs to happen..."
Mordred shivered yet again. There was punishment whenever she disobeyed Mother. Try as Mordred might, she knew that resisting was a futile effort that will only add to whatever pain she was in for. The little girl had no choice but to comply.
"Y- Yes Mother..."
Without any hint of affection, and she slowly reached out her hand to the little girl. "Lend me your arm..."
Mordred stared at the open hand with existential dread. The little girl silently began to cry again as she reluctantly rolled up her sleeve and allowed Mother to grab her arm.
From the halls of the castle, Mordred's screams can be heard...
---
The scene changes: from the shadowed alleyway, a cloaked Mordred watched the crowd of people outside on the main street of Camelot, welcoming the return of their king after a successful military campaign. The people cheered as they and Mordred saw a group of people on horsebacks slowly pass by the crowd.
"Our king, Arthur Pendragon!"
"Our promised king!"
"Bring peace to Britain!"
Mordred can make out the people riding on horses as they came closer. She saw a purple haired knight with silver armor and recognized him as Sir Lancelot: the Knight of the Lake. Beside him was a knight with long red hair with an ornate bow on his back, and Mordred identified him as Sir Tristan: the Lyre-smith. Behind them was the blond-haired Sir Gawain; Arthur's nephew and the people's champion. Ahead of them was a white-haired man wearing a cloak and holding staff, who Mordred assumed must be Merlin, the Mage of Flowers. Near the front was Sir Bedivere, holding a banner and trailing the person who was the center of everyone's attention.
And then she saw him...
Out in front, wearing a crown and armor with the Holy Sword, Excalibur, sheathed on his hip, was the king of Camelot. What was striking to Mordred was how young the king looked, his face bare and flawless as blonde bangs framed his face while tied at the back in an intricate bun. The king was stoic with his eyes hidden beneath his hair as he made way on his stallion; the crowd parting as he approached.
"That is the King of Knights, Arthur?" Mordred spoke out loud, and in response, a pair of hands were placed upon her shoulders.
"Correct," Mordred felt a familiar shiver as Mother leaned beside her ear and spoke calmly to the little girl. "That's also the place you should aim for, and the enemy you must defeat..."
Mordred looks away from her Mother and back at the passing king. This was her first time seeing the King of Britain in person after hearing about him from Mother for years. She always told Mordred that the king was a vile person and a blight upon the country; someone who needed to be eradicated.
But seeing the king now, Mordred was having difficulty believing her Mother's words. The little girl stared upon the majestic king not with malice, but of admiration. The King was loved by everyone; a shining beacon that the people followed and trusted. They would not be singing the King's praises if what he was doing was really destroying Britain.
-It's impossible,- Mordred thought. -The king is beautiful and perfect.-
The king, oh so stoic with his head up high, passed the alleyway where Mordred was watching him. There was a moment when the girl caught a glimpse of Arthur's eyes that were hidden from everybody else. Mordred felt her heart skip a beat the moment their eyes meet, and she could tell what the King's eyes were hiding.
Pain... Loneliness...
Mordred was fixated as her Mother spoke in her ear again.
"One day, you will be a knight, and when the time comes, you will destroy him."
Mordred however was hardly listening. She watched as the King moved away from where she was and further through the crowd. She couldn't explain it, but after seeing the King's face that close, Mordred could feel an unseen connection between them. Mordred was compelled to go against her Mother's wishes to destroy the king.
She would instead wish to serve as a loyal knight, share the dream of a prosperous Britain with her King as the people believe he can deliver to them...
---
(Flash forward)
It was finally happening... the day she worked so hard to see...
Clad in heavy armor and carrying a horned helm under her arm, Mordred walked through the hall of Camelot's grand castle. She struggled to contain her excitement as she walked ever closer to the large set of double doors that led into the main chamber where the King sits on his throne. Taking a deep breath through her enclosed helmet, she stops in front to don her helmet before entering, taking a moment to look over the intimidating helm. Mordred was not enthusiastic about wearing this armor, especially with a helmet that was made to instill fear in others, but she then remembered her Mother's words:
{"Wear this whenever you are around Arthur and his knights, and do not remove it in front of them. Never show your face to them, ever..."}
Mordred's hands shook as she grasped the helmet. She reluctantly turns it and slips it over her messy, braided blonde hair, lowering it on to her head. Securing it, Mordred then pushed the doors wide open and stepped through.
The chamber was full of people; nobles, politicians, soldiers, and some of the higher-middle class populace of Camelot all in chatter before falling silent at the newcomer's entry. Before Mordred was a long carpet that separated the 2 crowds of spectators, yet they were of no concern to her. Her attention was on the other people waiting for her on the other end; The Knights of the Round Table, Merlin the court mage, Queen Guinevere, and most importantly, King Arthur standing in the center.
They were all here for Mordred.
For today is the day she was going to be knighted...
Mordred began to walk towards the end of the room. The people watched, and Mordred could see through the slits of her helmet that some looked scared by her fearsome-looking armor, and it made her dislike it even more. She took a brief glance towards the Queen standing nearby, who in turn was taking occasional glances towards one Sir Lancelot, who was discreetly returning the attention...
Ignoring them, Mordred walked on, this time with undivided attention to the King. It felt like an eternity until Mordred was even close to the throne where Arthur stood waiting for her. Mordred takes a few steps up towards the throne and stands before the King. She remains calm despite her heart racing as the King gazes upon her. This is the closest Mordred has ever yet been to the King she had come to admire and can't help but take in the complexion of the shining beacon of a person before her. His face was as young as ever and without a single mar, his eyes wide with a brilliant emerald color and his hair the same shade of blonde tied in an elegant, braided bun. What was most curious to Mordred was the height difference between them, or rather the lack thereof; their height matched the other. And the facial features the King possessed were distinctly like her own, and dare she think... feminine. Mordred was sure that if she wasn't in her armor right now, it would be like standing in front of a mirror.
!
There it is again... that feeling... the connection...
Why was it whenever Mordred faced the King that she felt such a bond? It felt like she had found a part of herself that she never knew was even missing...
-What is it?-
And then, the King spoke...
"Kneel..."
Snapping herself back to reality, Mordred obeyed her King's command and knelt on one knee, and she keeps her eyes fixed on him.
"Mordred," Arthur speaks again, his voice carrying his authority while sounding young, yet strangely feminine to Mordred's ears. "Do you swear fealty to your king; Arthur Pendragon?"
Mordred steels herself and answers resolutely:
"I do."
Without missing a beat, the King then asks her:
"Do you swear to of service to the kingdom of Camelot, in times of peace and in times of war?"
"I will," Mordred answers without hesitation, and the Kings asks again:
"And do you swear to uphold the code of honor and chivalry befit as a Knight of the Round Table?"
Mordred's answer would be absolute and final.
"I shall."
The King nods his head slowly and then he draws Excalibur from the sheath on his hip. Mordred could feel the presence of the Holy Sword with its blade exposed for everyone to see, and the authority that the sacred weapon carried.
"Bow..."
Mordred complies and tilts her head down. Her excitement grew as she felt the blade of Excalibur gently touch the pauldron on her shoulder.
This was it...
"I, King Arthur Pendragon of Camelot... grant thee the title of knighthood," the King announced to everyone as he then placed Excalibur briefly on Mordred's opposite shoulder. When he was finished, Mordred could hear Excalibur being sheathed back into its scabbard. "Arise, Sir Mordred..."
Mordred obeyed and stood back on her feet, straight and true as she saw Sir Bedivere hand the King an object wrapped in fine cloth. The King unwrapped it and to Mordred's quiet amazement, saw it was a sword; broad with a pommel, curved cross-guard, and decorated with red accents.
"This is Clarent," the King said as he then presented it before Mordred. "A catalyst for peace with every righteous swing of the blade, and I shall bestow upon you to wield. May thee use it wisely."
Slowly, Mordred held out a hand and grasped the ornate sword, picking it up. She couldn't believe that this was her sword, trusted to her by the King she naively came to admire. Even more so that she was wielding this in his name. As Mordred inverted the blade into the sign of the cross and took her final vow, it all dawned on her...
"King Arthur... my blade is yours; my heart is yours, and my life is yours. It would be my honor to serve..."
She was now a Knight.
---
In the months that followed, Mordred made a name for herself among the Knights of the Round. Keeping her appearance secret, she served the will of King Arthur to the letter, liberating regions, and repelling invasions from the Saxons; all with a degree of efficiency not even the more well-known of the Knights could match. Her dedication surpassed them all, and as her standing grew, so did her reputation.
While unwavering and dedicated, Mordred was notoriously ill-tempered among the other Knights; especially if one made a specific and careless remark in her direction. Those like Sir Dinadan found out the hard way after he joked (obliviously...) that the short-statured knight carried herself like a damsel.
To which Mordred took personally... and no one joked about ever again...
Her relationship with her fellow knights notwithstanding, it was a different matter when it came to King Arthur. Mordred would rarely see him outside of times when they and the other Knights would deliberate on military or political matters, and never even leave the confines of Camelot's grand castle except in times of war.
Mordred thought nothing of it... until one day she confronted a crazed peasant who dared to disrespect the King. She and the infidel had exchanged words, and she cut down the scoundrel for spouting that the perfect King was inhuman. Such words were heresy to Mordred...
Yet afterwards, the more time Mordred spent in the rare company of her King, the more she became aware...
They would all come back to Camelot after a successful campaign, and while everybody gathered in the Great Hall in celebration, the King was nowhere to be seen. During council with all the Knights of the Round Table, the King would state his business, and take his leave. At no other time would he converse with any of the Knights. It was as if the King only cared when the next fight for Britain would be.
Mordred could tell something was wrong. As much as she shared the King's holy mission for a unified Britain, what disturbed her was how the King never seemed to indulge in the joys of his subjects or in his kingdom in general. Nothing angered him... Nothing saddened him...
Nothing made him smile...
Seemingly as the only one aware of this, Mordred would look around to her fellow Knights as the King would take his leave. No one questioned it... No one said a word...
It would perplex her to no end...
The connection she had with her King was telling her that for all the time his majesty stood tall with a brave face of perfect stoicism, Mordred just knew it hid something...
She could feel it...
Pain... Loneliness...
Burden...
Mordred saw what no one else did... Her King was suffering...
One evening, Mordred found herself in the courtyard of the Grand Castle. She and the army have returned that morning after another successful campaign spearheaded by her, and she was casually wandering with her helmet off for a change. The castle was mostly deserted at this time, with everybody celebrating Camelot's victory outside in the streets, so Mordred felt safe walking around like this. It annoyed her that she still has to hide herself as per Mother's wishes, but now that she was secure in Arthur's court, Mordred was sure that she was free of Mother's influence. From where she was, the Knight would glance up at the Tower where Arthur was residing. The King had secluded hidden himself in his quarters since their return and had not joined in the festivities.
Mordred's heart ached once again. No longer was she in any doubt of her feelings towards her King and can just sense that the King's burden weighed on him more than ever.
She wished there was something she could do to help him...
Just then, Mordred felt a familiar presence, out of the dark corner behind her, which made her freeze on the spot. She felt a shiver as a voice spoke to her from the darkness.
"How long are you going to continue pretending to be a knight?"
Fear threatening to overwhelm her, Mordred fights the urge to claw at her arms as she turns around and sees her Mother coming out of the darkness, seemingly materializing out of thin air. She wore her usual dress with the veil covering her face. Mordred feared no man, but Mother's cold presence always weighed negatively on her, evaporating her resolve.
It seemed even in Arthur's castle, Mordred wasn't safe from her...
"Mother..." she barely managed to say. Mother walks up to Mordred and said to her:
"You've been making me impatient, my child. Have you forgotten why you are here? You are supposed to be killing Arthur... remember? Not be his lapdog..."
Mordred stood frozen as Mother stops in front of the Knight and puts a hand on her face. Cold sweat comes over Mordred as her Mother seemed to survey her as if she was an exquisite piece of art that had an ugly flaw...
"Such a shame... Have you perhaps become entangled in the folly of Arthur's court and his silly ideals? Oh, how I have raised a disappointing child. So pathetically naïve..."
"No Mother!" Mordred struggles to speak, feeling so small before the one person she fears most. "It's just... Arthur is righteous. He's making a better life for everyone, and I want that too..."
Mordred gasps as Mother then gripped her bottom jaw firmly. With her unable to read Mother's face behind her veil, Mordred was scared that she was about to punish her. There was nothing Mordred could do against her. She felt like crying, but she relented.
After all, Knights don't cry...
They stay like this for a while until Mother leans in beside Mordred's ear and whispered:
"Allow me to share a secret with you, Mordred. You are here to take Arthur's place on the throne. Camelot is rightfully yours..."
Fear was visibly replaced by confusion as Mordred forces herself to look at her Mother.
"What? How?"
"Simple," Mother says as she releases Mordred and walks slowly around her. "You are Arthur's child; his heir..."
Mordred stood up straighter, staring back at Mother with disbelief and wonder. Mother had never even mentioned Mordred having a father before...
"Me? His son?"
"Yes," Mother calmly answers, stopping by a column and putting her hand on it. Her form was half in light, and half in shadow as she continued. "That's why I've given you your armor. Your face is the same as his, and everyone in his court would know instantly if you didn't keep it hidden. It would have made you a target..."
Mordred was shocked. She instinctively put a hand on her smooth face as the revelation sunk in. It explained everything... how the King looked remarkably like herself, how she was able to feel some invisible connection to him... it all made sense, and Mordred couldn't believe she did not see this earlier. She looked back at the Tower as her face morphs to that resembling joy.
"I- I'm Arthur's child!"
Mordred's newfound elation was short-lived as she now felt Mother's hands on her shoulders, reminding the Knight that she was still here.
"Yes, you are..." Mother whispered in Mordred's ear. The Knight gasps and shuts her eyes as Mother starts slowly tracing Mordred's face from her cheek to her chin with a finger. She winces as she feels Mother's fingernail across her skin. "And what is his... is yours."
Mordred felt Mother's hands pull away, and when she opened her eyes...
She found her Mother was gone... vanished like she was never there...
---
Mordred knew what she had to do.
Just minutes after her Mother's revelation about her lineage, Mordred walked purposefully through the halls of Camelot's castle towards the Throne Room. She had sent a messenger asking for an audience with King Arthur alone, and with her helmet donned, she headed there to wait for him.
Mordred's thoughts began to race the closer she got to the Throne Room; light of the setting sun passed through the endless windows she walked quickly past.
-King Arthur, I am your- Nope. My king, you and I are share the same bl- That's no good!-
She learned that she was Arthur's child, and she had no idea how she was going to get that across to him. This felt like the hardest thing she has ever done, and on top of that, she didn't know what happen if by some miracle she managed to explain that to him. How would he react?
Mordred was the most nervous she has ever been, but she was committed to breaking this news to her King.
She needed to do this... to get away from Mother... and to help her King...
If Arthur was indeed suffering from the weight of his burden as king, Mordred wanted nothing more than to share it, so he didn't have to wallow alone in it anymore...
Mordred finally stopped in front of the double-doors leading into the Throne Room. She took a deep breath and pushed the doors open. Stepping inside the large, empty chamber, it became apparent to Mordred that King Arthur had not arrived yet.
-Probably still held up in his quarters I bet. He should be getting my message soon...-
Mordred stood in the middle of the room, staring at the other set of doors on the other side, near where the King would sit. At any moment, the King will enter through those doors. But Mordred will have to wait...
And wait she did...
It was only a few minutes, but the wait felt like an eternity as Mordred's heart pounded beneath her armor; her nerves still have not calmed down. She took a fleeting glance at the empty Throne, imagining that if this goes well, she may find herself sitting there one day and ruling Britain-
No. That wasn't why she was doing this... she didn't desire Arthur's acknowledgement just so she could gain power. What Mordred really wanted was to share Arthur's dream of a united Britain; one that would thrive on the passion and talents of its people and stand the test of time.
And more importantly, Mordred would be part of a real family... one that her Mother denied her time and time again...
The sun kept setting through the windows, eventually filling the room with orange light. Mordred did her best to stay patient, but with the gravity and suspense of the scenario weighing on her, it was wearing away like water against rock, eaten away bit by bit...
And then the doors opened... snapping Mordred's attention...
There was the King, with his crown, his girdle, dress and armor, walking towards Mordred calmly while remaining as stoic as ever. Mordred's eyes were glued to him as he came closer and closer, stopping at the top of the stair, looking upon the Knight. Mordred bows to greet him.
"Thank you for meeting me at this late hour, my liege."
"Sir Mordred," The King acknowledges in his usual stoic tone. "I have answered your summons. What is it that you wish to speak to me about?"
"My king," Mordred started, internally growing more nervous; to the point that she was trailing off. "I want to tell you- a- about..."
"Yes?" Arthur asked evenly. Mordred couldn't tell if he was being patient or not, and it only added to her hesitation.
"You see..." Mordred considers her next words carefully. "S-something has recently come to my attention. And I feel that... it concerns both of us..."
"Is there something wrong?"
"No!" Mordred said in a panic before quickly collecting herself. "I mean- not- exactly..."
"Please speak, Mordred," Arthur calmly urges her. "I'm afraid time is not a luxury I can spare..."
"Yes Highness," The Knight bows again. Mordred was still internally kicking herself for stumbling over like this, in front of her King no less.
-Why is this so damn hard?!-
She gathered the courage to stop dancing around the issue and tell him everything. "What I am trying to say is... you and I are-"
Stopping herself, Mordred decided that the best course of action was not with words, but simply...
"I think it will make more sense if I..."
Arthur stared silently as Mordred took a deep breath, preparing to do something she had never done before in front of anyone. She undid the fasteners keeping her helmet in place, and with both hands, she slowly slipped it off her head. The moment the helmet went past her face and showed her blonde tassels-
"(Gasp)"
The noise she heard was barely a whisper, but Mordred knew Arthur had been watching. And from the sound of it...
Her King understood immediately.
By this point, Mordred's helmet was completely off, and the two of them were staring back at each other. Mordred could see Arthur's eyes, no longer shrouded beneath his hair, wide and emerald... just like her own. So were their faces, young and feminine, with their hair the exact shade of blonde; albeit Arthur's was in a braided bun and Mordred's in a messy ponytail.
They stare at each other for what felt like all eternity. The silence was becoming too deafening for Mordred as with both of them being open to the other like this, the Knight could feel their undeniable connection more than ever.
Mordred wondered if her King could now feel it too, as she could swear their thundering heartbeats were perfectly synced, and their souls have formed a bridge.
Every emotion, every thought: every hope and fear were laid bare for the other to see. Mordred felt like crying because the event was momentous for both of them.
For Mordred, it was like she had found the missing part of herself at last...
"King Arthur Pendragon," she eventually said, her voice cracking from choking back joyful tears as she bowed again in respect. "I, Sir Mordred, child of Morgan le Fay... am your son!"
She nervously waited for a response from her King, who seemed to still be silent with shock. But-
"Mordred..."
Upon hearing that, Mordred's heart soared. That one word, that one name... The King had spoken with more emotion than Mordred had ever heard from him. This was his actual voice... HER voice. Completely gone was the stoic king who never seemed to be troubled by anything. She was getting through!
Mordred acted quickly, now completely confident in herself.
"I apologize for not telling you sooner," she said before raising her head to face her King again. "But not even I knew of this until earlier today. I have not told anyone else."
Mordred watched as her King looked lost for words. She didn't seem to know what to do...
-This is it... I can't lose her!-
"King Arthur," she calmly pleaded, taking a pledge hoping that her King will understand her. "I don't want to associate myself with my witch of a mother. I only ask that you recognize me as heir to your kingdom, and when your time comes, you will entrust all of Camelot and Britain to me. This I vow... I will ensure it remains in good hands!"
The King's expression seemed to soften, if only just a tiny bit. Mordred stared directly into her King's eyes; her own silently sending a message.
-Please... you don't have to be alone anymore... don't have to suffer! Let me in! Let me relieve your burden!-
The King's head lowered, and from her barely audible, yet conflicted tone, Mordred thought she might be on the verge of tears.
"Sir Mordred... I..."
Mordred watched as the King raised her hand from her side, almost as if to reach out to Mordred herself. The action was agonizingly slow as Arthur opened her hand; Mordred felt a modicum of hope...
It was barely elevated past her hip when her hand suddenly closed and returned to her side. And with a tone completely devoid of emotion... or humanity...
"I cannot..."
Those words tear into Mordred's gut like a knife. The Knight stood shocked as the King she had opened her heart and soul to was gone in nearly an instant, replaced with a being who didn't seem at all human.
"I will not give you Camelot," Arthur's answer was resolute. "Nor will I grant you status as my heir..."
With that, Arthur curtly turned to depart, leaving behind Mordred, who felt like she just had her heart ripped from her chest.
"You-" she struggles to form words; her pain overtaking her. "You won't recognize me... as your child? That is your answer, King of Knights?"
Arthur said nothing as she walked away, leaving Mordred with no reason as to why things turned out this way. She had come so close... to leaving Mother behind, being part of a legacy, and perhaps most of all, having a family.
That chance was gone now...
Mordred cast her head down as the void that was once her heart was slowing becoming filled with something else.
"I was fine being in your shadow..." she starts, sounding heartbroken, but anger threatened to consume her in the aftermath Arthur's rejection. "But you never once turned around to look at me in the eye!"
She then proceeded to yell at her departing King, willing to say anything to get her to even turn around and look at her. Every step Arthur took away from her made Mordred furious.
"Why won't you acknowledge me?! I'm going to destroy everything you've worked for! Do you hear me?!"
Arthur was almost out of the room, ignoring Mordred's threat, which made her yell at the top her lungs:
"ARTHUR!"
(SLAM)
The doors closed shut behind the King, leaving a seething Mordred alone inside the Throne Room. In frustration, she picked up her helmet and threw it at Arthur's throne with an anguished yell. Mordred had thrown it with such force that the throne shattered into splinters on impact. That heinous act however did not satiate her fury.
It was one that wouldn't be calmed until she got what she wanted.
-If Arthur would not give me the crown, then I will take it by force! I will not be denied my birthright! Camelot... Britain... It will all be mine!-
---
The next morning following Arthur's rejection, Mordred made good on her threat. She conspired to expose Sir Lancelot's affair with Arthur's wife and Queen, Guinevere. The scandal shook Camelot to its core and devastated the King's credibility, along with the rest of the Knights of the Round Table. Amidst the accusations and rumors of Arthur forced to now have Guinevere executed, Lancelot took matters into his own hands and abducted the Queen, killing a few of his fellow knights in the process of saving her from a potentially grim fate. In rage, Gawain pleaded to the King that they should chase Lancelot to Gaul and bring him back to Camelot to face justice. The King reluctantly agreed and took Camelot's army with her.
It was the opening Mordred needed...
She rallied a militia of Arthur's critics and stirred up their ire towards the King. They marched on the Grand Castle, and after a two-day siege, it was now in Mordred's hands.
As was the Throne...
However, news of Mordred's rebellion reached King Arthur's attention just as he was about to depart for Gaul. His forces swiftly returned to oppose Mordred and wrestle control of Camelot away from her.
So here they were...
The forces of Arthur and Mordred's clashing on the hills of Camlann...
Despite Mordred's forces outnumbering Arthur's two-to-one, the army of hers were of fighters who were not on par with the King's veteran, battle-hardened soldiers. The armies dwindled in tandem as the fighting got bloodier; the sky turning red, corpses littering the ground, and the air having a thick aroma of death. Despite the intense conflict, Mordred had a single-minded determination to confront Arthur, cutting down every knight and soldier who stood between them. After killing Gawain, she continued slicing down soldiers left and right, not caring if her own forces were dwindling from the carnage. Eventually, the number of fighters on both sides fell to only a few still standing, with no sign of Arthur anywhere...
"Is King Arthur here?!" Mordred yelled as she ran her sword through the abdomen of one of Arthur's remaining soldiers. He was alive long enough for her to question him, gripping him by his neck. "Where is the King of Knights?!"
The soldier was in agonizing pain, but when he refused to answer, Mordred angrily tossed him aside to bleed out and die. Her armor was stained with blood from countless combatants, yet she still couldn't find the person she wanted to fight the most. She looked around, swallowing the bitter sight of fire and death everywhere for any sign of Arthur. There was no one else alive, no one to shield the King from her anymore.
-Where is she?!-
Then she felt it...
That unmistakable presence.
Mordred slowly turned around and saw King Arthur standing on top of a hill looking down at her.
"Well?" Mordred gestures around her. "What now, King Arthur?! This is the end of your kingdom!"
Mordred brandishes Clarent and begins walking up the hill to confront the King. Arthur readies Excalibur, which was stained red from the blood of Mordred's peasant army. Mordred then dashes at her in a strong burst of speed, closing the distance to strike Arthur down with her sword.
(CLANG!)
Arthur raises Excalibur to immediately block Mordred's attack, and their clash becomes a deadly dance of swords. The King repels Mordred's fierce assault, parrying each swipe of Mordred's sword before countering with attacks of her own. Mordred would not be felled so easily as she counters with parries and counterattacks of her own until the two found themselves in a sword-lock.
"Face the consequences of not recognizing me as king!"
Mordred overpowers Arthur and sends her tumbling backwards. The King gets back on her feet as Mordred presses the advantage, rage fueling every swing of her blade as Arthur futilely blocks each with Excalibur.
"Is it hate? Do you hate me?!"
Eventually and with a forceful swing of Clarent, Mordred knocks Excalibur out of Arthur's hands and then swipes at her abdomen. Arthur turns and backs away just as Clarent strikes her armor, cracking it and tearing open a gash in her side. Arthur kneels in pain, wincing as she puts her left hand over her wound to slow the bleeding. Mordred stands over the King and holds her at blade-point.
She'd be sneering in victory if her heart wasn't in turmoil right now.
"You hate me because I was born to a witch?! Answer me, Arthur!"
In response, a flash of light appears in Arthur's free hand, and she knocks aside Mordred's sword with the newly materializing object. Mordred instinctively jumps back as Arthur then gets back on her feet with great effort.
Then the King said to her:
"I have not once hated you..."
Mordred stiffens as Arthur stands and the new weapon appears in her hand. It was a lance that radiated spiraling light from the handle to the tip, appearing as ribbons weaving together.
Arthur had unleashed Rhongomyniad…
"If you want to know why I didn't give you the throne," the King said as she readied the sacred lance, still clutching her wound with her other hand. Mordred was no longer sure of victory as she listened to Arthur.
"It's because you aren't worthy to be king."
Those words tear into Mordred's heart and make her charge at Arthur with reckless abandon. Arthur follows, her expression stoic in contrast to Mordred's frenzied rage. Mordred raises her sword to strike down the king…
But Arthur beats her to it…
Mordred felt Rhongomyniad tear through her armor like paper and pierce her flesh; all the way from her stomach to her spine. She stands frozen as the blade of the lance is embedded in her and blood starts flowing out of her wound. Her helmet splits open, revealing her shocked face. Arthur removes the lance and watches as Mordred collapses backwards into a puddle of her own blood. The Knight's vision becomes blurry from blood loss and she hyperventilates, only delaying her inevitable death by seconds. She musters all her remaining strength only to watch Arthur looking down at her with no hint of emotion. Mordred struggles, clinging to life as she then watches the king turn and limp away down the hill, clutching the wound Mordred inflicted on her.
Seeing this made something inside her snap. A tear escapes Mordred's eye as she feebly reached out at Arthur's retreating form.
"Fa...ther..."
It seemed that even with all of her perceived hatred towards her king, Mordred still wished to be with Arthur in her final moments. Her soul still called to her King...
It was a desire that was alas not granted to her... Not after everything she did...
Knights aren't supposed to cry, but Mordred just could not help it in her final moments. All she wanted was to be family to Arthur, and when she didn't get it, she ruined everything they worked so hard for...
Camelot was gone... Britain was once again in chaos...
All because of her...
Mordred laid there gazing up at the blood-red sky, regretting everything she had done since revealing herself to Arthur. All she felt in her final moments was despair, having never gotten the acknowledgement from Arthur nor the feeling of belonging to a real family...
As her vision goes dark and she draws one final breath, Mordred wished for nothing but one more chance to prove herself to her King...
---
//Modern Day//
First came the idea of her, then that idea became her body, and then came her thoughts...
Energy swirled around and electricity crackled in the air as miraculously, Mordred's form materialized. There she stood, donned in her armor and holding her sword. When the air settled, her helmet folded away to reveal her face, and the knight opened her eyes to meet the strangers before her, taking her first breath of life in centuries.
She would have questioned the sheer impossibility of being alive having being killed what felt like mere moments ago, but the Throne of Heroes had already imbued her with all the knowledge she needed to know.
She was here... and she was someone's Servant.
"Mordred Pendragon," she announces. "Servant class Saber, and one true heir to King Arthur... has answered your summons."
Her gaze narrows to the 3 people before her. Two mages, one male with black hair, and one female with orange hair, both similarly dressed. The other, a lavender-haired female in a bodysuit and holding a large shield. All three of them greeted the Saber with welcoming expressions. A cocky smile grows on Mordred's face.
"So I ask of you... which of you should I call my Master?"
"Actually, both of us," the orange-haired girl answered. "Gudao here may be the one who summoned you, but we can share your seals between us."
Mordred was visibly confused, so the boy continued where the girl left off, introducing himself and the others.
"It's nice to meet you Mordred. I'm Gudao, and this is my sister Gabrielle, and this is Mashu. Welcome to Chaldea!"
The Saber's gaze travels to the girl holding the shield. The vibes Mordred was getting from her told her that she could be another servant, and possibly therefore hostile. Mashu noticed this and alleviated her concern.
"You need not worry about the other servants here. In fact, you'll be working with them..."
"Wait... OTHER servants?" Mordred questioned. ""Working" with them?!"
She was supposed to have been summoned to a Holy Grail War, where she'd fight other servants for a chance to have her wish granted. Just what was going on?
"Roman and Da Vinci will bring you up to speed on everything," Gabrielle kindly told her before gesturing Mordred to the exit doors of the chamber. "The operations room is right this way. And we shall show you the rest of Chaldea and your living quarters after."
Mordred smiled and barely took a step towards the door when it suddenly slid open.
"Masters," a blonde-haired girl in a white blouse and blue-skirt appeared in the doorway and spoke to the siblings.
"Arturia," Gudao greeted as the girl began walking up to them.
"Shirou wanted me to let you know that dinner is rea-"
The girl stopped dead in her tracks the moment her attention falls on Mordred. The red Saber also stood there shocked and speechless at the sight of this person. She may have been wearing modern clothes, but her face, her hair, and her regal presence was unmistakable.
King Arthur was here... she was a servant too.
-Father...!-
Mordred's thoughts raced from the time she first time she laid eyes on her king to their fateful duel at Camlann. Mordred did not know what to feel in this moment. Happy? Sad? Angry? Only everything in between...
What stunned her even more was the state in which she found her king in. Mordred had never seen her in such feminine attire, nor greet anyone so warmly like she did the Masters. What's more is Arturia seemed genuinely shocked to see her; it was more emotion than Mordred had seen from her yet...
For a fleeting moment, Mordred thought that perhaps her king was not the same as she was back then, but with the deafening silence filling the chamber, she couldn't know if that was the case. She agonizingly waited for Arturia to say something... ANYTHING to her...
But no words came... Instead, Arturia quickly turned to leave; walking with a quickened pace towards the chamber's exit. Mordred was briefly astonished, until it became clear to her exactly what she should be feeling by the king's rash action.
Resentment...
Arturia remembered everything that happened between them, and her leaving sent a message to Mordred that the king apparently wanted nothing to do with her. Mordred's face morphs into a scowl as she felt angry and hurt by the blue Saber's act, fighting back the urge to shed even a single tear.
And to think that she and her King will be forced to work together...
-So... THAT'S how it's going to be...-
Mordred's gaze never left Arturia's retreating form, which only broke when the doors closed behind her, separating them...
---
//Flashback End//
Mordred seethed at that final memory, yet she can't help also feeling the sorrow that came with seeing Arturia again after her summoning. Whatever guilt about she had about betraying her king was melted away the moment the blue Saber turned her back on her, just like she did when Mordred revealed herself to her.
If her king wasn't sorry about what happened, then Mordred wasn't either. She meant what she said to her king; how she failed the people of Camelot who were so eager to turn on her.
If she had no regrets about their argument earlier... then why the hell does she feel guilty for doing so? Mordred grunts in frustration at being unable to decide how she should feel towards Arturia.
She wanted so much to hate her... yet her heart won't allow her! Mordred curls up in her bed and sobs.
"Damn it!"
At this rate, she'll never have the chance to redeem herself to Arturia. Her king would never allow for that opportunity.
As Mordred tried in vain to sleep, little did she know that in the room beside hers, the subject of her grief was also having difficulty doing so...