- Location
- Northern Ireland
Fuck that sounds awesome.
Heh, do it!
I might do one or two with this crossing over to FGO possibly. You've got me thinking.
Dark Prince of Camelot
- Thread starter Gally
- Start date
- Original
Heh, do it!
I might do one or two with this crossing over to FGO possibly. You've got me thinking.
- Location
- Newcastle Upon Tyne
I'd find Mordred's interactions with Saber of Red more interesting and fun.
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- Location
- Northern Ireland
Apo-Mordred: I've found you, faker!
Mordred: Faker? Please, you're the fake Saber. Comparing yourself to me? Hah! You're not worthy enough to be my fake!
- Location
- Newcastle Upon Tyne
Apo-Mordred: Clarent Blood Arthur!
Mordred: ... I take back my previous statement.
Always Late
Lacking in coffee, sleep, and brains
- Location
- Ohio
That's... on the docket under the Fate/Stay night sequel. Arturia'd be summoned as a Lancer.
Considering Mordred chases cats while acting like a cat? Yup.
- Location
- Northern Ireland
FSN sequel? With this Mordred?
- Location
- Newcastle Upon Tyne
I can just see them fighting and then ending up chatting casually about their own experiences in Camelot.
Mordred: Wait, your Mother is Morgan?!!
Apo-Mordred: Yeah, isn't yours?
Mordred: No! And wait, I thought you said you were the d... son of your 'King'.
Apo-Mordred: (Shrugs) So?
Mordred: How?
Apo-Mordred: That Shitty Pervert of a Mage.
Mordred: (Trying to work out who that is) ...
Apo-Mordred: Are you an idiot, I'm talking about Merlin!
Mordred: (Nods in complete understanding) ... Wait a minute! (Realises the potential implications of this for his own parentage)
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Always Late
Lacking in coffee, sleep, and brains
- Location
- Ohio
Mordred survives Fate Zero to mess around with the next Grail War, Shiro summons Arturia as a Lancer, and Mordred goes to Illyasviel as a Saber.
Archer EMIYA is in for a mindfuck of a time.
Not even Arturia's heartlessness of a Lancer will save her from the.... CIVILITY! DUN DUN DUN!
- Location
- Newcastle Upon Tyne
By the way see, the above updated post for how it may go down.
All that Glitters
Gally
Got the whole word talking King Kiba
How do you explain this to someone who has no idea what Camelot was like? "My mother…she never really understood the nobility, I don't think," you start. "She leaned on Gwynn to control them, keep them happy. They liked him, and he had more standing…it's complicated, but Artura's claim to the throne, beyond being the biggest ass-kicker in the land, was iffy. She saw tradition as a tool, I guess. To maintain her grip on the Queendom. And she…she needed that. She was always the Queen. Everything else was…secondary." You lapse into silence, staring down at your shoes.
Piper looks troubled by your words, but she thinks for a while before she speaks. "I don't know," she says. "I guess I just don't really see the need for all the games. If she wanted to be Queen, just…be Queen. Do what you want. What were the nobles really going to do, in the face of all that power?"
"Power alone doesn't run a Queendom."
"No." Piper chews on her nail for a moment, lost in thought. "It just doesn't sit right. Annabelle isn't perfect, but she'd never bow to peer pressure. Especially if it meant hurting someone she loved."
"Annabelle's not my mother."
"She told us that's what you think. No offense, but I don't think you're one hundred percent on that one."
You glance at her. "You think I don't know my mother?"
"Did you?"
You open your mouth, then look hastily away.
"Look, all I can say is…is that I know myself. And I know Percila. Sort of. I have these dreams, and…she's not not me, you know?"
"Not really."
"It's hard to explain…" Piper shakes her head. "I see the things she did, and the way she acted, and even how she thought, and I get it. I see myself in her. Sometimes I do something, or I act a certain way, or I think something, and it's like I see her in myself. Does that make any sense? Annabelle wants to think that Artura was Artura and Annabelle is Annabelle. But I don't think it's that clear cut. It's almost like they're the same painting by different artists. Or maybe…the same painting, by the same artist, at different points in his life. Different expressions of the same idea."
"What does that mean then?" You ask. "What do you think the price was?"
Piper shrugs. "All I know is that it's important to Annabelle that she…be a certain way. I've seen her dedicate herself to being a friend, a girlfriend, a leader. But she doesn't let other people define what it means for her to be those things. It's her way. Always."
You say nothing.
"Look," Piper says, "I've never really met your mom. I've seen her in dreams, but I never really knew her. But…I don't think she ever made a decision for the nobility. I think if she was a certain way, it was because that was the way she needed herself to be."
The floor falls out from under you before you can respond.
Three months into the Civil War finds you and your army stationed at Kettleblack Mine. The largest mine in central England, it was initially held by rebels before the combined armies of Ladies Gawain and Bercila drove them off – now you control the area, holding it against rebel forces that would seek to take it back. The iron mined here can support an entire army, not to mention the rarer metals occasionally found deep underground.
"Scouts report that the rebel army is just a few kilometers away now," Captain Andrea says, waving her arm in the general direction. "Knight Morie kept them at a hard march, but they've set up battlements now and will likely strike within the next few days." Captain Andrea is a short, pretty girl a few years older than you. Though only recently promoted, she's proven herself quick and capable, and has become someone you work closely with the coordinate the logistics of your army.
"We can let them come," you murmur, only half listening. "I'll handle Morie – you just make sure the army is ready to hold the line against mortal assaults."
"Of – of course, sir. I mean, your highness." Andrea fidgets while she speaks, her eyes darting to your face, then away, then back again. She brushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear, then immediately repeats the motion as if she's forgotten she already did it. "I – permission to speak freely?"
Well, Lady Percila had always told you that soldiers respect a commander they can talk to. "Of course."
"I just wanted to say how much of honor it is to serve, your highness," Andrea says. She talks fast, the words practically falling out of her mouth. "My little brothers and sisters, and, and my cousins, too, well, I sent them a letter last night. They'll be so jealous I got to meet you." Suddenly her mouth snaps shut. "Oh, no, you're busy, I'm sorry, I just-"
You hold up a hand to stem the babble. "It's fine," you say, going for your best reassuring smile. It's not an expression you wear often, but it seems to put Andrea at ease. "You have family?"
"Yes, your highness. They're staying near the castle now, but we're from Sweetwater originally. Ah, that's a little-"
"Town south of Westhaven," you finish, remembering the geography lessons tutors had drilled into you when you were younger. "That's rebel territory."
Andrea's eyebrows knit a little closer together. "I'm afraid so, your highness. Our lord, he never had much sense, if you don't mind me saying. My family got out as soon as he declared for the rebels. We take the faith very seriously." She crosses herself with her hands. "How can a young man keep his way pure? By guarding it according to God's word. Your highness, I think about Her word every day. It, it told my family to seek shelter in Her light, and they did, and it told me to dedicate my life the defense of Her Queendom, and I did."
She looks at you like she wants you to say something, but you have no idea what would be appropriate. Does she expect some sort of insight? Is she just hoping you'll praise her devotion? Truth be told, her attitude isn't exactly uncommon amongst your soldiers. Many of them quote the bible and speak of your mother in reverent tones, even when they think you're not listening. Let the people have their faith, you suppose, but every psalm leaves you a little more uneasy. "I…your dedication is…appreciated. My mother has need of every good soldier willing to stand for what's right."
If human beings were capable of spontaneously melting, you're fairly sure Andrea would have done it. "Thank you, your highness," she says, bowing low. "Thank you so much."
"It's nothing," you murmur, drumming your fingers against your thigh. "Look, Andrea, if we're going to be working closely, then there's something I need to warn you about."
"Of course, your highness."
"There's a chance my Aunt Morgana might come pay me a visit," you say, studying Andrea's reaction. The Captain's eyes widen, and she touches her fingers lightly to her lips. "Believe me, I'd rather not have her here if I could. She could cause too much trouble in a war camp. But you can't exactly stop a woman who can wear any face or form she pleases." You shake your head. "With a little luck, she won't show up at all. With any luck she'll speak only to me. But there is a small chance she'll decide to…toy with my officers."
"Me?" Andrea whispers.
"As long as you're carful, you have nothing to worry about," you promise her. "If she wants to mess with you she has to directly offer you a deal. Do not take it. Be polite, excuse yourself, and find me immediately. Do you understand? Immediately."
"Yes, your highness. I just…"
"You have a question?"
"Is it true that she has to give you what she promises?" Andrea asks. "That's what all the stories say."
You sigh and run a hand through your hair. "…Yes. Yes, that's how her magic works. She offers you something you want in exchange for something she wants. Then she has to give you what she's promised before she's allowed to take what she's owed." You hold up a hand. "But she's been making these deals for a very, very long time, and I've never heard of anyone who's ever gotten the better of her. Not a Knight, not Merlin, not even my mother. Do you understand?"
"Perfectly, your highness. You just hear rumors, is all. If anyone approaches me with a bargain, I'll excuse myself and find you immediately."
"Good," you say with a nod. "Now-"
"Your highness! Prince Mordred!" A scout calls to you from several dozen feet behind you, breathing heavily. "A Knight approaches from North!"
You clamp down on Caledfwlch before it can manifest in instinctive panic. No need to go frightening your men before you know what's going on. "Who is it? Friendly?"
"We don't know who exactly, but she hailed us with the correct colors," the scout replies, and you release a breath you didn't know you had been holding. "She'll be on the camp any moment."
"Good man." You clap the scout on the shoulder as you stride past him, and he collapses in an exhausted heap. "Get yourself some water. Captain Andrea, with me."
Andrea joins you as you make your way to the Northern end of the camp, not far from where you were having your conversation. A small crowd of soldiers is huddled near the battlements, peering North, but they make way when they realize you're coming. You crane your neck to get a batter view, and see a cloud of dust moving along the road towards you, far faster than even a horse at full gallop. You recognize the sight – someone with a Heraldry is sprinting very quickly straight at you.
Your heart beats a little faster, but if the scout says the Knight showed the right colors then she's most likely friendly.
"So fast…" Andrea whispers. Her eyes are wide as saucers, drinking the scene in. "It has to be Lady Gawain?"
"No, it's too slow," you say, rubbing at your chin. Besides, when Gawain runs at this speed, her Heraldry transforms her into a literal lightning bolt, a burst of electricity racing effortlessly through the air. It's too fast to be Bercila though, and Percila would fly. Your mother…well, if it was your mother, then the sky would open up and she would descend from the heavens themselves on a beam of sunlight. That leaves only…
Gala skids nearly a hundred feet before she comes to a complete stop, heels digging hard into the dirt as she bleeds her considerable momentum. Her Heraldry vanishes just before she's finished moving, revealing pants and a simple tunic. She shakes beads of sweat from her hair as she approaches, then drops to one knee in front of you. "Prince Mordred."
"Gala, what the hell are you doing here?" You ask. "Are you okay? Did something happen to the castle?" Your mother had appointed Gala as Camelot's steward while the rest of the Knights fought on the front line. Being chosen to defend the seat of the Queen's power was a great honor – and more cynically, it kept Gala on the Northern end of the island, far away from the rebels and Lorelei.
"Camelot is fine," Gala says, rising to her feet. Her face is red from the run, and she's breathing heavily, but other than that she seems normal. "Camelot is always fine. It's over a hundred kilometers from the nearest army. I'm here to warn you."
"Warn me?"
"We got a report from some of our spies in the army you're facing," Gala explains. "They were being led by Lady Morie, like we thought, but a day or two ago she swapped places with my mother."
Lorelei. Your blood runs cold, gears in your head grinding to a halt. You look out across the river, to the rebel army far in the distance. "Where's my mother? Where's the Queen?"
"Preoccupied," Gala says. "The Simian Hordes parked fifty faunacruises a few hundred kilometers out to sea, so she and Merlin are taking care of them."
You slam a fist into the waist high stone wall next to you, showering your feet with chunks of limestone. "Then we have to retreat." Such was the nature war you fought – the last few months had resembled a shell game more than a traditional campaign. A Knight with a Heraldry could, if unopposed by another Knight, cut through an entire army by themselves. But armies were still necessary to hold territories, procure supplies, and maintain order amongst the peasantry. Both the loyalists and the rebels had quickly realized that asymmetry in your favor became victory, and thus each side had begun shuffling their available Knights between armies, trying to catch the other off guard by bringing more Heraldic force to bear. The trick was to shuffle without giving your enemies the chance to prey on your weaker or unprotected armies. Morie, though powerful, was someone you could fight on relatively even terms. Lorelei was another matter entirely – without your mother on the field to even the odds, she would cut through you and then make short work of your army. Retreat was the only option available to you.
"No!" Gala says, shaking you from your thoughts. "I mean, just wait. That's why I came here – that's what I wanted to talk to you about."
"What's there to talk about? I can't fight Lorelei."
"No, but maybe we can," Gala says. "The two of us, working together, we could do it."
"That's insane."
"I think it's a great idea!" Andrea says, eyes alight. "And I saw an Angel coming down out of heaven, having the key to the Abyss, and in her hand a great chain!" She claps her hands together. "It's practically prophecy!"
You shoot the Captain an annoyed look – you had honestly forgotten she was even here. "If I want your opinion, Captain, I'll ask for it," you say. "You're dismissed."
Andrea's face wilts, her fervor melting into a barely hidden dejection. "Yes, your highness," she says, snapping a quick salute. "Right away." She gives Gala one last, reverent look, and then scampers off to return to her duties.
Gala runs a hand through her hair, watching the Captain go. "You didn't have to be so hard on her. Enthusiasm isn't a crime."
"I know, but sometimes it seems like they only listen when I get angry," you say, shaking your head. "I didn't think being Knight-Captain would be this exhausting."
"Well if it's any consolation, everyone back at the castle is very impressed," Gala says. White teeth peek out from behind pink lips in the barest hint of a smile. "And you look like you're doing pretty well for yourself."
"Oh yeah? Do you think my uniform makes me look dashing?" You ask, striking a pose.
Gala snorts. "So handsome. No wonder the Captain was enamored with you."
"Please," you mutter, making a pained face. "You heard the stuff she was saying."
"I guess. It's just…it's good to see you, Mordred." Gala reaches up and ruffles your hair, the way she did before you went through puberty and started towering over her rather than the other way around. "We haven't really talked since the tournament…I spent half the run worried you were still mad at me."
"Mad at you? I was going to apologize on your birthday, but..." You trail off. "I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry too. I should've visited you when you were…sick."
You shake your head. "No, I'm glad you didn't. I can't imagine that would've gone well."
"Oh," Gala says. The conversation lapses into a long, not entirely comfortable silence, Gala staring out over the camp. You try to follow her gaze, but she doesn't seem to be looking at anything in particular – just staring out into the horizon, eyes unfocused.
"Anyway, you're…you're a Knight of the Round Table," you say finally, desperate for words to fill the silence. "And the steward of Camelot. That has to be great."
Gala shrugs. "I'm happy to get out of there, for a little," she says. "It's infuriating, getting all the reports from the front lines and then just sitting on my ass…and people aren't exactly thrilled to be taking orders from the daughter of Camelot's number one villain."
"Don't let Morgana hear you say that," you offer, but Gala doesn't so much as crack a smile. You put a hand on her shoulder and squeeze as reassuringly as you can manage. "Hey. You're not your mother. You're still here, with us. People will see that eventually. They'll come around."
Gala nods, more to herself than you. "I know. I know, I just wish Queen Artura would."
"Well, good luck convincing my Mother of anything," you murmur. You turn the situation over in your head, examining it from every different angle you can think of. "Maybe…hearing about how we kicked Lorelei's ass will help her."
Gala perks up, glancing over at you with an expression caught halfway between excitement and doubt. "Seriously?" She asks. "We're going to do it?"
"Yeah," you say, the reasoning coming together. "I don't want to lose this mine. And Lorelei will never expect you. We don't even have to beat her, we just have to bloody her nose a little. I can distract her while you cut down her army. If she loses too many men she won't be able to hold the mine, and she'll have to retreat to lick her wounds."
"Yes. Yes!" Gala says, bouncing up and down with unadulterated excitement. "I can't believe it! I thought for sure you'd tell me to go back to Camelot!"
"What, and miss an opportunity to show you how a real Knight-Captain fights a war?"
Gala throws back her head and laughs, shoulder length hair billowing in the light breeze. "You're such an ass. Are we going to come up with a plan, or are you just going to charge in and hit things with your sword like usual?"
"No," you say, shaking your head. "I have a plan this time. See, we don't really have to even fight Lorelei…"
Gemma joins you in front of the battlements, and on an unspoken signal you both manifest your Heraldries.
From obsidian clutch I draw my blade. Caledfwlch, Caledfwlch, CALEDFWLCH.
My strength will hold the foe at bay. Shackle, Shackle, SHACKLE.
For a moment the two of you are nothing more than glowing silhouettes, and then your Heraldries manifest in surges of light and power. Caledfwlch's obsidian light wraps you in its familiar embrace, the surface of it rippling in time with your heartbeat. Shackle manifests as a thousand thousand glowing chains sprouting from Gala's back, merging together to form solid plate as it engulfs her body.
Caledfwlch is considered medium armor, by Heraldic standards, though it sits on the heavier side of that distinction. It permits plenty of speed and maneuverability, but additional plating allows a hand, foot or shoulder to be as much a weapon as your sword. Gala's armor, by contrast, is a true "all-rounder" – not as heavy as Bercila's or Artura's, but not as light as Gawain's or Lorelei's. A dull, matte steel with light bronze trim, Shackle's armor looks fairly standard at first glance. Upon closer inspection, however, one can still seen the chains that appear during manifestation, welded so closely together than they form a single slab of metal. The plate shifts to mail around the joints, but you know from experience that the protection offered there is no less sturdy than the plate. Gala's helm is the last piece of armor manifest, the visor a flat piece of steel that stretches from her forehead to her chin. A solemn face is carved into it, so lifelike that when it catches the light of the sun just right you'd swear it was the real thing.
You manifest your own helmet, an unadorned slab of metal that completely obscures your features. Encased fully within Caledfwlch, you feel…complete. Invincible. You raise a hand, signaling the army behind you that you're preparing to move out, and then nod to Gala.
She nods in return, knocking her armored knuckles lightly against your breastplate before jogging off to the East. Her job is to take the long way around, staying hidden, suppressing her power to avoid being spotted by rebel scouts.
Your chosen path is a little more direct. Caledfwlch's power drives you forward as you charge headlong towards the enemy camp, tearing apart the countryside with each stride. Your speed increases as you build momentum until the world is a blur around you – but your goal, the rebel battlements, stay clear and fixed in your mind. You can practically see the whites of the rebels' eyes before Lorelei's power slams into you, reducing your speed to a crawl.
You flare darkness around you, and the pressure fades. Lorelei's Heraldry, Riptide, is one of the more esoteric Knightly powers you've seen, and its one that's both powerful and versatile. Essentially, Riptide allows Lorelei to fill a large spherical area around her with her power, which she can make more or less solid and control at will. You've found it's easiest to imagine her affected area as a giant lake that she can control completely.
You look up and catch sight of Lorelei right as she reaches the apex of a massive leap, hanging briefly in the air before descending. You scramble backwards, Riptide slowing you down but unable to lock you in place. Lorelei extends her free hand and then yanks it back, and you feel a sudden pressure around you, pulling you up off your feet and towards Lorelei.
You kick your legs, resisting the pressure. If Lorelei wants to make her "water" solid enough to push you around, it's also solid enough for you to push off of yourself. You had seen your mother pull similar maneuvers on the day of Gwynn's trial, using Lorelei's power against her in subtle but impactful ways, and now you take the strategy for yourself.
Lorelei slows before she hits the ground, landing lightly on her feet. She levels her silver rapier at you, and you take a few hesitant steps back before raising your own sword in return. "Is this a trick?" You shout, Caledfwlch giving your words an oddly hollow inflection. "Where's Morie?"
"Your information is out of date," Lorelei says, blurring towards you. Rather than try to meet her head on, you skip backwards and knock her sword aside. You raise both arms and smoky darkness pours from your hands, obscuring the battlefield.
Lorelei waves her own arm, and the darkness is washed away into nothingness. She shoots forward again, her Heraldry powering the charge as much as her legs, and though you dash back as quickly as you can, you're unable from landing a long strike along your side. The blow doesn't pierce your armor, but Caledfwlch cringes from the contact.
Lorelei raises her sword again, and you lower your shoulder as if to charge. She charges to meet you, and so you move further back instead, trying to maximize the time you have to react to her strike. You manage to parry her cut, sparks flying where your swords connect. Your counter, however is avoided effortlessly – Lorelei spins under the blade with one leg out for balance, a pirouette which would look more at home at the ballet than on the battlefield. You skip back further, and she pursues.
This continues on for a few more minutes – Lorelei pressing forward, you barely managing to fend off her attacks while retreating backwards. You've angled your withdrawal to take you well clear of the mine, and at this point you're several kilometers from both it and the rebel encampment. Suddenly, Lorelei slows unnaturally quickly, feet only barely skimming the ground. She tilts her head and narrows her eyes a fraction of an inch, evaluating you.
"What's going on?" She asks, the point of her rapier dipping ever so slightly. "Why aren't you charging in like an idiot?"
You shuffle forwards, blade flashing out once, twice, three times. Lorelei parries each of your cuts with liquid grace, her face never losing its pensive expression. "I can learn from my past mistakes!" You shout, swinging your sword low. Lorelei twitches her heel, and sudden push with her power threatens to wrench your sword from your hands.
"Hm," Lorelei says, quietly considering your words. Then, "No. You're up to something."
This time when you drop your shoulder you really do charge, forcing Lorelei to take her first step backwards all duel. She flares her power, and though it's like pushing your legs through heavy mud you press on. You swing your sword with a wild shout, and Lorelei drifts sideways. She glances back towards the rebel encampment, and though it's too far for her to see directly, you can practically see the gears in her head spinning. Then her eyes widen, and in a flash she's gone, racing back towards where your battle began.
"Hey!" You shout, breaking into your own run. You gather darkness around your palm, and it coalesces into a javelin about the length of your arm. You skip without quite breaking stride as you bring your arm back, and hurl the javelin at the retreating Lorelei.
Lorelei jerks her head to the side at the last moment, and the tip of the javelin catches only a few strands of red hair. Before it can hit the ground in front of her Lorelei catches it, hops into the air, spinning to face you, and hurls it sidearm back at you all in one smooth motion. You dismiss the javelin with an effort of will and it bursts into black smoke mid-air, but the focus needed costs you time and distance – Lorelei pulls even further ahead.
Dammit, you haven't delayed her long enough. "Why are you always running from me?" You roar, redoubling your efforts. Condensed darkness explodes from your back, the recoil throwing you forward and into the air. In a half a heartbeat you're flying just over Lorelei's head, and though she manages to parry your blows as your soar past her, you're rewarded by a flash of surprise in her eyes. You flip before landing, skidding to a stop in front of Lorelei, and baseball swing your sword with both hands, but Lorelei merely drops to her knees and leans back, sliding cleanly under the blade.
You let loose a frustrated shout, but she's past you now. Lorelei has made it back to the rebel camp.
Just a few minutes ago it was untouched, peaceful – as peaceful as any war camp could be, anyway. Now it's a mess of broken battlements and mangled bodies, the erratic crackle of burning wood mixing with the moans of the not quite dead. Blood soaks the ground, turning the grass and dirt a sickly red. You can hear the sounds of battle from not far off, and Lorelei races towards the source of the commotion.
The two of you finally come upon Gala, in the middle of her work. She stands above a mortal soldier – a bowman, by the looks of him – Heraldry resplendent. Her head, still covered by her helmet, turns to look at you, and as the light of the fire bounces off her false face you swear you can see it smiling cruelly.
Then the helmet bursts into a thousand thousand links of chain, exposing Gala's face to the world. "Hello mother," she says, so quietly that you would not hear were it not for your Heraldry. She flicks her wrist and the tip of her sword slides neatly through the throat of the bowman, killing him instantly.
"Gala," Lorelei says, sighing heavily. "I should've known. A true Knight would have remained at her post, no matter how patronizing it might be."
"Don't you dare lecture me," Gala growls, marching forward. She flicks her sword, throwing the blood that coats the blade off to the side. "You're a traitor, and a rebel, and a coward."
Lorelei takes a deep breath in through her nose, then huffs it out the same way. "You were raised in Camelot," she says. "I don't expect you to understand."
"I understand everything I need to."
"You're fourteen," Lorelei says, as if that resolved the matter. "Go back to Camelot, Gala. Take Mordred and his army with you. I didn't intend to shed blood today."
Gala levels her sword at her mother with one hand, the flat of the blade facing up at the clouded sky. "Lorelei Lake, you are an enemy of the Crown," she says, taking slow, steady steps towards her mother. "As a Knight of the Round Table, I am charged and authorized to carry out the Queen's will."
"Oh for God's sake," Lorelei murmurs.
"You will dismiss your Heraldry!" Gala shouts, taking another step forward. "You will surrender yourself to my custody! You will be taken to Camelot for trial and execution! Do you understand?"
"I understand," Lorelei says, raising her own sword.
For several long, long moments there is no sound but the crackle of fire and Gala's heavy breathing.
"Well?" Lorelei asks. "Get on with it."
Gala screams, shrill and savage, and the ground beneath her explodes as she pushes off. The screech of steel on steel rings through the war camp, nearby fires instantly snuffed out from the force of the blow.
"Foot back," Lorelei says. Her right foot glides across the grass, nudging Gala's back foot into a better position. "You're holding your sword too tightly. And remember to breathe, please."
Chains burst from the ground around Lorelei, spiraling together in a tight cocoon. You feel Lorelei flare her power and the chains are knocked back, waving aimlessly like seaweed in still water. Gala leaps through the chains and swings her sword in a wild X, but Lorelei drifts backwards and avoids every strike.
You charge forward, sword in both hands, and try to cut off her retreat. But Lorelei leaps above you, turning a flip before landing daintily on the tips of her toes. "Telegraphed," she says, looking right past you to Gala. "Think about your cuts before you make them. Instinct always follows the path of least resistance."
"Mordred," Gala says, "I need cover."
"Got it." You slam the blade of your sword into the ground, darkness billowing out across the battlefield. You continue to pump darkness out, ready in case Lorelei tries to disperse it like she did earlier – but she seems content to wait and see where your strategy is going. You can feel Gala building power behind you, but you're not sure exactly what your plan is. You keep a careful eye on Lorelei – though your darkness obscures the vision of others, it is no impediment to yours.
Suddenly Gala lays an arm across your shoulder, pointer and middle fingers extended. "Aim me," she whispers, and you grab her wrist, pointing it towards her mother. You give her arm a squeeze and it suddenly jerks skyward, recoil sending it up and back.
A link of chain the size of a horse rockets through the darkness towards Lorelei, who is a hair too slow to realize it. "Oh," she mouths, an instant before the link catches her in the face and carries her into the distance.
"Run!" Gala shouts. "We have the finish off the army!" The two of you move in tandem, sprinting back towards Lorelei's retreating mortal forces, but before you can make it more than a dozen steps you feel a surge of power hit you in the shins. You shout in surprise and topple, rolling haphazardly across the ground, and when you look up you see nothing but Lorelei's blade heading for your face.
You jerk your head to the side and kick, but your foot looses momentum pushing through Lorelei's power and the blow barely seems to faze her. She pulls her sword back again but a glowing chain catches her wrist, and then another wraps around her neck. Her fingers scrabble at the metal and you hear Gala shout, and suddenly Lorelei is yanked off balance.
You leap to your feet, obsidian light swirling to your hand as you summon your blade. Gripping the handle with both hands you rain savage overhand blows down on Lorelei while she struggles with the chains Gala has wrapped around various parts of her body. Despite her predicament Lorelei manages to fend off all your blows, rapier always in motion, always exactly where it needs to be. There's not a drop of wasted effort in her movements – every step, every flick of the wrist is perfectly planned, timed, and executed. She swings her blade through Gala's chains and bisects them in one smooth arc, then draws a giant circle above her head with a free hand. Her power surges around you, swirling like a whirlpool, and you're yanked up off your feet and into the air.
Instead of fighting it you fire darkness from your feet and back, working with Lorelei to propel yourself further into the air. You rocket through the grey sky, up and up and up, until you burst through the outer limits of Riptide and cut the flow of darkness.
"Ah! Fuck!" You shout, sheer momentum carrying you higher. You burst through one of the heavy rainclouds and out the other side, treating you to the briefest moment of calm sunshine before gravity regains its hold and sends you plunging back down. "Fuck!"
Emerging again from the raincloud, you push the condensation clinging to Caledfwlch away with an effort of will. Far below you can see Lorelei and Gala continuing the fight, their duel a dance of steel and footwork. They flow gracefully from one position to the next, twirling and sweeping their blades in wide, graceful arcs. Lorelei is faster, her form better, but she seems unwilling to use her Heraldry it its fullest extent, a limitation her daughter in no way shares. Neither of them is looking up – neither of them sees you plummeting down to earth.
You hadn't had a plan when you sent yourself up, but coming back down an idea springs to mind. By pushing darkness out of your hands you're able to angle yourself until you're directly above Lorelei, and then you fire off darkness to increase your speed. Gravity presses hard against you but Caledfwlch shields you from the brunt of the danger as you cock your fist back and roar.
It's then Lorelei notices you. You're not sure if she heard you above the din of battle, or if Riptide lets her feel disturbances in her power, but she looks skyward and locks eyes with you through your helmet. Gala sees you too, following her mother's gaze – and when Lorelei makes to run, chains spring from the ground to bind her in place. Lorelei struggles against their grip, sword flashing out in wild frenzy, but she's not quite fast enough.
You hit Lorelei squarely the jaw the tiniest fraction of a moment before you hit the ground, pain flashing through every inch of your body. You don't actually hear most of your bones shatter, but you sure as hell feel them. Caledfwlch shrieks but doesn't break, holding firm, and you groan as it shifts your limbs back into place so that you can start healing. Through the dust and dirt thrown into the air by the force of your impact you see Lorelei on her hands and knees, coughing wetly. She struggles to her feet and you notice with a start that her head is twisted nearly 180 degrees on her body, and that most of her jaw is simply…gone.
She grabs her neck with one hand and gives a shaky, stuttering twist, clicking it back into place. Her jaw begins to regrow itself from nothing, first the bone and teeth, then muscle and sinew and finally the skin, until there's no evidence you ever even hit her at all. Breathing heavily, she looks at you with flat, emotionless eyes.
Gala screams and pinwheels her arm like she's throwing a javelin, a chain bursting from her hand and tearing through the air towards her mother. Lorelei takes a step back, bending her knees ever so slightly, and knocks the chain aside with a sweep of her rapier, twirling it in her hand before batting away the next chain, and the next. Gala keeps up the assault, screaming her throat ragged, but Lorelei advances implacably until the two are nearly face-to-face.
Gala pulls her sword from the ground next to her and stabs, but Lorelei pushes her wrist to the side and the thrust goes wide. Gala screams again, and Lorelei puts one of her feet behind her daughter's heel and shoves her in the chest, sending her tumbling to the ground. Before Gala can regain her feet Lorelei's sword flashes out, cutting straight through the back of Gala's greaves and deep into her hamstrings.
Gala tries to stand, but her still-healing legs refuse to support her. You try to stand, but your still healing everything laughs at the attempt. Lorelei takes a moment to steady herself, then begins trudging back towards you. The tip of her rapier drags as she walks, cutting through the ground as easily as it might water.
"Stop it!" Gala shouts, fingers clawing at the ground in front of her, trying to drag herself towards her mother. "Stop! Come back!"
Lorelei pays her daughter no heed. She kneels down in front of you and makes a move to grab your helmet, but before she can Caledfwlch shrinks from her touch, exposing you to real world. You feel it slither back into the deepest recesses of your heart and curl up like a wounded animal, alert for any further danger.
"Mother!" Gala screams. "Mother!"
Lorelei touches a single finger to your chin and forces you to meet her eyes. She stares at you for a long, long time, drinking in every square inch of your features. "You look nothing like him," she says finally, quietly. "Just her."
You want to say something clever, and defiant, but you find nothing. You swallow instead, the motion doing nothing to ease the feeling of something being caught in your throat. Lorelei stands and cracks her back, raising her sword high above her head.
"Mother!" Gala screams again. Her voice is raw, thick with fear. "Please."
Lorelei's sword pauses as it points to the sky, and you see her thoughts flicker across her face.
"You'll get over it," she says, and then she swings her arm down. You close your eyes, cowardice conquering you at the very end.
And then the sky opens up.
There is a flash of light and your mother is there, standing above you. Excalibur shines with the fury of the sun itself, sweeping away Riptide's pressure. The woman that stands above is you regal – she is power and primacy incarnate, an angel in white and gold. She reaches out with one hand and grabs Lorelei's collar, smoke rising from where her hand makes contact with armor, and then she slams her forehead into Lorelei's nose. The meaty crunch of cartilage and bone echoes across the battlefield, signaling to the world that the real fight is only just beginning.
Lorelei's power swirls around you, a tsunami that threatens to rend the very earth asunder. Your mother, unimpressed, pushes her backwards and summons her sword to her hand. It gleams golden in the sunlight, heat rolling off it.
Lorelei snarls, defiant, and steps forward. Her rapier flashes back and forth, back and forth, a silver blur against the air. Your mother's blade is no less quick, however, and it parries each thrust with a cool precision. When the two finally lock blades properly, the force of the blow tears chunks of dirt and rock free from the ground.
Lorelei blurs backwards, moving too quickly for even you to follow properly, and your mother pursues. Their blades clash a dozen times a second, the ring of steel on steel never fading. Lorelei shoves one hand forward and her power bursts from it, pushing your mother back. In response Artura spreads her arms wide, and the ground beneath her feet roils, dirt and stone turned liquid by the heat. Lorelei's power crashes against your mother's again and again, but each new wave evaporates from the intensity of Excalibur.
Your mother sweeps her sword in front of her and Lorelei is forced to leap backwards, to give ground against the assault. Her power swirls around her feet, strengthening her footing, and she meets Artura's next strike head on. For several long moments they push against each other, teeth bared, the air around them singing with power.
This time it's Artura who is forced back. Lorelei surges forward, silver rapier flashing unnaturally in your mother's light. It is there and not and there and not, probing your mother's defenses. Many of her blows are turned aside, but plenty more slip through Artura's guard, silver tip briefly tapping Excalibur's heavy plate. The white-gold Heraldry ripples eagerly at the touch, as if desperate to test itself against Riptide. Finally Lorelei swings her blade in a high, overhead arc, the full force of her Heraldry surging behind it.
Your mother raises her hand, and for a moment everything is still. Then heat and light and fire erupt from her palm, a conflagration so massive that it smothers the world around it in dancing red and orange. Artura's hair streams out behind her, fluttering wildly in the wind, as more and more fire pours across the land in front of her.
Suddenly Lorelei's hand bursts from the flames and grabs Artura's, palm-to-palm, fingers interlaced. The fire vanishes, extinguished at the source, and Lorelei uses her grip on your mother to pull her forward, and then slams a knee into Artura's stomach. Your mother responds by punching Lorelei in the face, then again and again and again. Each blow is a thunderclap, a violent percussion. Finally Lorelei relents under the assault and rips her hand free, rapier shimmering to existence within it. Excalibur lashes out and separates Lorelei's sword arm at the shoulder, crimson blood spraying high into the air.
Lorelei leaps high into the air, Riptide swirling around her to keep her aloft. Her arm is already regrowing itself, piecing together from nothing, and she draws a quick diagram in the air with her still attached fingers. A swarm of blue and white stars appear in front of her, each no bigger than your fingernail. Then in a single moment they burst into unified movement, shrieking through the air towards your mother. They leave gently arcing trails behind them like tiny comets, and they thrum with destructive energy. Your mother slides on foot back, steadying herself, and her body glows with a harsh white light.
Needle thin beams of light appear from nearly every inch of her skin, spinning across her body while strobing wildly. When they touch your skin you feel a tingle, a shiver on your spine, but there is no pain. When they intersect with one of Lorelei's stars there is a flash of light and an explosion – within seconds your entire field of vision is filled with fire and light and concussive force. Static electricity dances in the air – every hair on your body strands up straight, and space itself warps from the sheer volume of power of display.
Your mother moves. The explosions hang in the air in front of her, inching outwards a glacial pace. Artura takes to the air, holographic wings sprouting from her shoulders, and Excalibur glows with a hungry light. As she comes close to the explosions they twist in on themselves, spiraling inwards. She swipes her sword through them and they swirl to meet her blade, vanishing within it, its glow increasing tenfold for every speck of energy it takes. You know, rationally, that she is moving too quickly for you to see. She and Lorelei had been moving quickly before, but the speed she displays now is on another level, as far from her earlier display as you are from a mortal man. You know, rationally, that there is no way you could even physically perceive this – that your mother is moving faster than light itself, and that this display of power would be over before the visual information could even reach you. And yet, you see it. You feel Excalibur's power reaching into the fundamental order of reality, reordering the universe itself according to your mother's whims. Allowing you to see. Forcing you bear witness.
When every last bit of power is packed tightly into your mother's blade she moves towards Lorelei, still hanging in the air. The traitor Knight's arm is nearly healed now, the last strips of skin winding themselves like yarn across red muscle. She reaches out with her power, Riptide whirling protectively around her, but it is not enough to stop Artura from lightly touching her sword to the side of Lorelei's head.
You have never seen the birth of a star – but you have read about them, and you imagine that it is not entirely unlike what you are witnessing now. For a fraction of a heartbeat space contracts, as if the universe is taking a breath – and then light explodes out into the world, searing away everything it touches. Caledfwlch sings within you, harmonizing with a melody you cannot hear. Your skin is alight with the radiance of your mother, awe and pain in equal measure dominating your thoughts.
And then, as suddenly as it came, it is gone. You collapse to the ground, spots dancing in front of your vision, Caledfwlch still singing in your veins. You see your mother land, the weight of her presence leaving deep cracks on the ground around her. Lorelei is nowhere to be seen.
"Mordred?" Gala's voice reaches your ears as if from very far away. You blink once, then twice, trying to shake the cobwebs from your mind and only partially succeeding. You struggle to your knees and look around you, trying to regain your bearings.
Gala's arms wrap around you from behind, and she buries her face into the back of your neck. Blood or tears or some combination of both runs down your skin as she holds you tightly against her, shaking with exhaustion.
"What…what happened?" You ask, your senses painfully slow in returning. "Is Lorelei…is she…" you cannot imagine anyone could have survived your mother's onslaught.
"Teleported," Artura says. She has released Excalibur, revealing pants and a white tunic stained with blood. "She…" she touches a hand to her side, pain flickering across her face. "She was too fast."
You find yourself unable to look straight at your mother, so you cast your eyes across the battlefield instead. There is nothing but desolation for miles – what was once peaceful countryside is now blackened and torn, forever warped by the power expressed over the last few minutes.
"Stand," you mother says quietly. "Both of you."
You and Gala work laboriously to your feet, supporting each other the whole way. When you are both sufficiently vertical your mother turns away, surveying the destruction she has wrought.
"What is wrong with you?" She asks finally.
You and Gala share a long look.
"What is wrong with you?" Your mother asks again. "Both of you?" She doesn't turn around, but you can see her fist clench, knuckles white against her thigh. "I made you a Knight, Gala."
Gala winds her fingers through yours, squeezing desperately, seeking strength. "I-"
"I gave you Camelot because I thought you were worthy of it."
"I am!"
"I gave you the Siege Perilous. My right hand. Because I thought you were worthy of it."
"I wanted to help the war, I-"
"I told you to stay at the castle!" Your mother roars, the volume of her voice shaking the earth around you. "I gave you orders to stay and protect the heart of this country!"
"I thought...I thought if I stopped my mother-"
"You abandoned your duty to chase your mother halfway across the country. You put the lives of everyone in the castle in jeopardy, you put the lives of everyone in Mordred's army in jeopardy, you put the entire war effort in jeopardy to satiate a childish grudge!" Your mother sweeps her arm out and her rage manifests itself physically, gouging deep cracks into the stone beneath her. Her arm shakes with a sudden spasm, and she grabs her bicep with her other hand. "You are a child. I…should never have trusted you with command."
Gala's hand slips from yours.
"Mother…" the words are slow to come, but your mother's tirade has given you time to regain your composure. "I'm the one who made the plan. I'm the one who gave the order to engage."
Your mother turns to face you, the deep blue fire burning in her eyes a sharp contrast to her blank face. "Were those your orders?" She asks.
"No, but-"
"What were your orders?"
You swallow. "To call for your reinforcement. If that wasn't available, then I was to retreat."
Your mother turns away again.
"But mother, the mine-"
"The mine?" Your mother asks. "The mine? Children playing in dirt!" Light flares around her and heat washes over you, the sudden change in temperature enough to make you dizzy. She stalks up to you and jabs a finger into your chest, just above your heart. "This is what matters," she says, her voice dangerously quiet. "This is all that matters. And you nearly threw it away! For a pile of rocks you would've lost anyway once you were dead!" She shoves you, hard, sending you stumbling back. It takes all you have just to keep your feet. "You are a soldier!" She shouts. "You are a Knight-Captain! You have to think! Beyond! Yourself!" She punctuates each word by poking your chest again and again, until you fall on your ass. "If you can't do that, if I can't trust you…" You look up at her, face obscured by the sun behind it, unable to bring a single word in your defense.
Your mother shakes her head. "Someone is needed back at the castle," she says. "Gala, can you run?"
"I…yes, your highness." Gala closes her eyes and flares Shackle, power coalescing around her.
My strength will hold the foe-
My strength-
My-
"Enough," Your mother says, waving her hand. Gala collapses onto the ground next to you, sweat pouring down her face. "I am sick of being lied to. Stay here and rest until you're strong enough to return to your post."
The ray of dawn that slays the night. Excalibur, Excalibur, EXCALIBUR.
There is a flash of light and your mother is gone, leaving you alone with Gala. You turn to face your friend, still sitting on the ruined ground – her hair is torn and knotted, her face covered with ash and blood and bruises.
"I'm sorry," you tell her.
Gala places her forehead on your shoulder and says nothing. For what seems like an hour the two of you sit in the dirt, not speaking, not moving. The sun, slowly edging towards the horizon, is the only sign that time passes at all.
You gasp as you awaken in the inbetween place, scrambling to your feet. You are by far the quickest to react – the rest of the Breakfast Club seems much more groggy coming out of this memory, taking a moment to reacclimatize themselves to their surroundings. Annabelle is particularly slow to get up – watching her, you find yourself battling the insane urge to go and talk to her, to ask her of what you had just witnessed. Piper's words echo in your mind.
Before you can decide however, Ginny's fingers wrap firmly around your arm and drag you away from the rest of the group. You cast one last glance at Annabelle, but she doesn't notice you looking before you're pulled out of sight.
Ginny shoves you against one of the trees that dot the inbetween place, her arms crossed over her chest. You notice suddenly that it's much easier to see now than it had been the last two times you were here – the expanded field of view doesn't give you much, since it's trees all the way round, but it does help calm your nerves a bit.
"I don't like you," Ginny says. "Never did."
You rub the back of your neck. "I, uh, noticed."
"Well I wasn't exactly being subtle about it. Do you know why I didn't like you?"
"I figured it had something to do with Gemma," you say. No point in beating around the bush – you're not sure how long you have before the next memory, and you're genuinely curious as to what Ginny is going to say. You spent nearly two months in high school together, running in the same circles, but this is the first time she's expressed any interest in actually talking to you.
Luckily, Ginny seems satisfied with that answer. "I just…I knew it," she said. "I knew you were hiding something. They always are."
"They?"
"Gemma's boys," Ginny says. "The ones she gets a crush on. They're always hiding something. Usually it's just the fact that they're douchebags but you…you were a doozy."
The edges of your mouth twitch downwards. "Look, this is…kind of a bad time for me," you admit, looking away. "I just got my ass chewed out, so if you could skip the part where you berate me…"
"You loved her."
It takes you a second to process that statement. "What?"
"You loved Gala," Ginny says. "You probably still do. I'm an asshole, I'm not retarded."
You shake your head. "I didn't think you were."
"Does Gemma know?" She asks.
"Yeah. I…" you trail off, "I don't know if I ever really told her, in so many words. But she knows. It was part of the whole…clusterfuck at the club."
Ginny nods, considering your words. "That's good, I guess. She doesn't deserve that kind of bullshit."
"I know. I…I never wanted to hurt her. I never meant to."
Ginny regards you carefully for a moment. "Maybe not," she concedes. "But you still did. The road to hell is paved with good intentions, dude."
"I know," you say. "I just want to help her."
"I don't know if you can," Ginny says. "But you can stop yourself from making it worse."
"How?"
"Stay away from her."
Her words feel like a slap. "I-"
Ginny holds up a hand. "Listen to me. I knew something was up with you when Gemma started liking you because Gemma has terrible taste in guys. Just – fucking awful. And that isn't going to be over when she wakes up. If you're still alive when she comes to, she's going to do something stupid."
You think back to the last words Gemma had shared with you. "I think Gemma's pretty much done with me."
"That's because you don't actually know her," Ginny says. "She was bad with guys even when she was stable, and now that she's spiraling like she is it's only going to get worse. You…you have power over her. Not just as Morgan, but as Mordred. You have power over her and she's not healthy. It won't be a day from now, or a week, or a month, but she'll crawl back to you. I've seen her do it before. It's part of how she copes."
"So you want me to stay away from her."
"I think it's the only way for you to avoid doing any more damage," Ginny says, nodding. "Her issues, your issues, Gala, our lives as Knights…any one of those things could completely fuck a relationship all on their own. Together, they're radioactive. Nothing good can come from it. You of all people should know how terrible it can get, right? Two people forcing it when they know it won't work."
[] Write In
Piper looks troubled by your words, but she thinks for a while before she speaks. "I don't know," she says. "I guess I just don't really see the need for all the games. If she wanted to be Queen, just…be Queen. Do what you want. What were the nobles really going to do, in the face of all that power?"
"Power alone doesn't run a Queendom."
"No." Piper chews on her nail for a moment, lost in thought. "It just doesn't sit right. Annabelle isn't perfect, but she'd never bow to peer pressure. Especially if it meant hurting someone she loved."
"Annabelle's not my mother."
"She told us that's what you think. No offense, but I don't think you're one hundred percent on that one."
You glance at her. "You think I don't know my mother?"
"Did you?"
You open your mouth, then look hastily away.
"Look, all I can say is…is that I know myself. And I know Percila. Sort of. I have these dreams, and…she's not not me, you know?"
"Not really."
"It's hard to explain…" Piper shakes her head. "I see the things she did, and the way she acted, and even how she thought, and I get it. I see myself in her. Sometimes I do something, or I act a certain way, or I think something, and it's like I see her in myself. Does that make any sense? Annabelle wants to think that Artura was Artura and Annabelle is Annabelle. But I don't think it's that clear cut. It's almost like they're the same painting by different artists. Or maybe…the same painting, by the same artist, at different points in his life. Different expressions of the same idea."
"What does that mean then?" You ask. "What do you think the price was?"
Piper shrugs. "All I know is that it's important to Annabelle that she…be a certain way. I've seen her dedicate herself to being a friend, a girlfriend, a leader. But she doesn't let other people define what it means for her to be those things. It's her way. Always."
You say nothing.
"Look," Piper says, "I've never really met your mom. I've seen her in dreams, but I never really knew her. But…I don't think she ever made a decision for the nobility. I think if she was a certain way, it was because that was the way she needed herself to be."
The floor falls out from under you before you can respond.
Three months into the Civil War finds you and your army stationed at Kettleblack Mine. The largest mine in central England, it was initially held by rebels before the combined armies of Ladies Gawain and Bercila drove them off – now you control the area, holding it against rebel forces that would seek to take it back. The iron mined here can support an entire army, not to mention the rarer metals occasionally found deep underground.
"Scouts report that the rebel army is just a few kilometers away now," Captain Andrea says, waving her arm in the general direction. "Knight Morie kept them at a hard march, but they've set up battlements now and will likely strike within the next few days." Captain Andrea is a short, pretty girl a few years older than you. Though only recently promoted, she's proven herself quick and capable, and has become someone you work closely with the coordinate the logistics of your army.
"We can let them come," you murmur, only half listening. "I'll handle Morie – you just make sure the army is ready to hold the line against mortal assaults."
"Of – of course, sir. I mean, your highness." Andrea fidgets while she speaks, her eyes darting to your face, then away, then back again. She brushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear, then immediately repeats the motion as if she's forgotten she already did it. "I – permission to speak freely?"
Well, Lady Percila had always told you that soldiers respect a commander they can talk to. "Of course."
"I just wanted to say how much of honor it is to serve, your highness," Andrea says. She talks fast, the words practically falling out of her mouth. "My little brothers and sisters, and, and my cousins, too, well, I sent them a letter last night. They'll be so jealous I got to meet you." Suddenly her mouth snaps shut. "Oh, no, you're busy, I'm sorry, I just-"
You hold up a hand to stem the babble. "It's fine," you say, going for your best reassuring smile. It's not an expression you wear often, but it seems to put Andrea at ease. "You have family?"
"Yes, your highness. They're staying near the castle now, but we're from Sweetwater originally. Ah, that's a little-"
"Town south of Westhaven," you finish, remembering the geography lessons tutors had drilled into you when you were younger. "That's rebel territory."
Andrea's eyebrows knit a little closer together. "I'm afraid so, your highness. Our lord, he never had much sense, if you don't mind me saying. My family got out as soon as he declared for the rebels. We take the faith very seriously." She crosses herself with her hands. "How can a young man keep his way pure? By guarding it according to God's word. Your highness, I think about Her word every day. It, it told my family to seek shelter in Her light, and they did, and it told me to dedicate my life the defense of Her Queendom, and I did."
She looks at you like she wants you to say something, but you have no idea what would be appropriate. Does she expect some sort of insight? Is she just hoping you'll praise her devotion? Truth be told, her attitude isn't exactly uncommon amongst your soldiers. Many of them quote the bible and speak of your mother in reverent tones, even when they think you're not listening. Let the people have their faith, you suppose, but every psalm leaves you a little more uneasy. "I…your dedication is…appreciated. My mother has need of every good soldier willing to stand for what's right."
If human beings were capable of spontaneously melting, you're fairly sure Andrea would have done it. "Thank you, your highness," she says, bowing low. "Thank you so much."
"It's nothing," you murmur, drumming your fingers against your thigh. "Look, Andrea, if we're going to be working closely, then there's something I need to warn you about."
"Of course, your highness."
"There's a chance my Aunt Morgana might come pay me a visit," you say, studying Andrea's reaction. The Captain's eyes widen, and she touches her fingers lightly to her lips. "Believe me, I'd rather not have her here if I could. She could cause too much trouble in a war camp. But you can't exactly stop a woman who can wear any face or form she pleases." You shake your head. "With a little luck, she won't show up at all. With any luck she'll speak only to me. But there is a small chance she'll decide to…toy with my officers."
"Me?" Andrea whispers.
"As long as you're carful, you have nothing to worry about," you promise her. "If she wants to mess with you she has to directly offer you a deal. Do not take it. Be polite, excuse yourself, and find me immediately. Do you understand? Immediately."
"Yes, your highness. I just…"
"You have a question?"
"Is it true that she has to give you what she promises?" Andrea asks. "That's what all the stories say."
You sigh and run a hand through your hair. "…Yes. Yes, that's how her magic works. She offers you something you want in exchange for something she wants. Then she has to give you what she's promised before she's allowed to take what she's owed." You hold up a hand. "But she's been making these deals for a very, very long time, and I've never heard of anyone who's ever gotten the better of her. Not a Knight, not Merlin, not even my mother. Do you understand?"
"Perfectly, your highness. You just hear rumors, is all. If anyone approaches me with a bargain, I'll excuse myself and find you immediately."
"Good," you say with a nod. "Now-"
"Your highness! Prince Mordred!" A scout calls to you from several dozen feet behind you, breathing heavily. "A Knight approaches from North!"
You clamp down on Caledfwlch before it can manifest in instinctive panic. No need to go frightening your men before you know what's going on. "Who is it? Friendly?"
"We don't know who exactly, but she hailed us with the correct colors," the scout replies, and you release a breath you didn't know you had been holding. "She'll be on the camp any moment."
"Good man." You clap the scout on the shoulder as you stride past him, and he collapses in an exhausted heap. "Get yourself some water. Captain Andrea, with me."
Andrea joins you as you make your way to the Northern end of the camp, not far from where you were having your conversation. A small crowd of soldiers is huddled near the battlements, peering North, but they make way when they realize you're coming. You crane your neck to get a batter view, and see a cloud of dust moving along the road towards you, far faster than even a horse at full gallop. You recognize the sight – someone with a Heraldry is sprinting very quickly straight at you.
Your heart beats a little faster, but if the scout says the Knight showed the right colors then she's most likely friendly.
"So fast…" Andrea whispers. Her eyes are wide as saucers, drinking the scene in. "It has to be Lady Gawain?"
"No, it's too slow," you say, rubbing at your chin. Besides, when Gawain runs at this speed, her Heraldry transforms her into a literal lightning bolt, a burst of electricity racing effortlessly through the air. It's too fast to be Bercila though, and Percila would fly. Your mother…well, if it was your mother, then the sky would open up and she would descend from the heavens themselves on a beam of sunlight. That leaves only…
Gala skids nearly a hundred feet before she comes to a complete stop, heels digging hard into the dirt as she bleeds her considerable momentum. Her Heraldry vanishes just before she's finished moving, revealing pants and a simple tunic. She shakes beads of sweat from her hair as she approaches, then drops to one knee in front of you. "Prince Mordred."
"Gala, what the hell are you doing here?" You ask. "Are you okay? Did something happen to the castle?" Your mother had appointed Gala as Camelot's steward while the rest of the Knights fought on the front line. Being chosen to defend the seat of the Queen's power was a great honor – and more cynically, it kept Gala on the Northern end of the island, far away from the rebels and Lorelei.
"Camelot is fine," Gala says, rising to her feet. Her face is red from the run, and she's breathing heavily, but other than that she seems normal. "Camelot is always fine. It's over a hundred kilometers from the nearest army. I'm here to warn you."
"Warn me?"
"We got a report from some of our spies in the army you're facing," Gala explains. "They were being led by Lady Morie, like we thought, but a day or two ago she swapped places with my mother."
Lorelei. Your blood runs cold, gears in your head grinding to a halt. You look out across the river, to the rebel army far in the distance. "Where's my mother? Where's the Queen?"
"Preoccupied," Gala says. "The Simian Hordes parked fifty faunacruises a few hundred kilometers out to sea, so she and Merlin are taking care of them."
You slam a fist into the waist high stone wall next to you, showering your feet with chunks of limestone. "Then we have to retreat." Such was the nature war you fought – the last few months had resembled a shell game more than a traditional campaign. A Knight with a Heraldry could, if unopposed by another Knight, cut through an entire army by themselves. But armies were still necessary to hold territories, procure supplies, and maintain order amongst the peasantry. Both the loyalists and the rebels had quickly realized that asymmetry in your favor became victory, and thus each side had begun shuffling their available Knights between armies, trying to catch the other off guard by bringing more Heraldic force to bear. The trick was to shuffle without giving your enemies the chance to prey on your weaker or unprotected armies. Morie, though powerful, was someone you could fight on relatively even terms. Lorelei was another matter entirely – without your mother on the field to even the odds, she would cut through you and then make short work of your army. Retreat was the only option available to you.
"No!" Gala says, shaking you from your thoughts. "I mean, just wait. That's why I came here – that's what I wanted to talk to you about."
"What's there to talk about? I can't fight Lorelei."
"No, but maybe we can," Gala says. "The two of us, working together, we could do it."
"That's insane."
"I think it's a great idea!" Andrea says, eyes alight. "And I saw an Angel coming down out of heaven, having the key to the Abyss, and in her hand a great chain!" She claps her hands together. "It's practically prophecy!"
You shoot the Captain an annoyed look – you had honestly forgotten she was even here. "If I want your opinion, Captain, I'll ask for it," you say. "You're dismissed."
Andrea's face wilts, her fervor melting into a barely hidden dejection. "Yes, your highness," she says, snapping a quick salute. "Right away." She gives Gala one last, reverent look, and then scampers off to return to her duties.
Gala runs a hand through her hair, watching the Captain go. "You didn't have to be so hard on her. Enthusiasm isn't a crime."
"I know, but sometimes it seems like they only listen when I get angry," you say, shaking your head. "I didn't think being Knight-Captain would be this exhausting."
"Well if it's any consolation, everyone back at the castle is very impressed," Gala says. White teeth peek out from behind pink lips in the barest hint of a smile. "And you look like you're doing pretty well for yourself."
"Oh yeah? Do you think my uniform makes me look dashing?" You ask, striking a pose.
Gala snorts. "So handsome. No wonder the Captain was enamored with you."
"Please," you mutter, making a pained face. "You heard the stuff she was saying."
"I guess. It's just…it's good to see you, Mordred." Gala reaches up and ruffles your hair, the way she did before you went through puberty and started towering over her rather than the other way around. "We haven't really talked since the tournament…I spent half the run worried you were still mad at me."
"Mad at you? I was going to apologize on your birthday, but..." You trail off. "I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry too. I should've visited you when you were…sick."
You shake your head. "No, I'm glad you didn't. I can't imagine that would've gone well."
"Oh," Gala says. The conversation lapses into a long, not entirely comfortable silence, Gala staring out over the camp. You try to follow her gaze, but she doesn't seem to be looking at anything in particular – just staring out into the horizon, eyes unfocused.
"Anyway, you're…you're a Knight of the Round Table," you say finally, desperate for words to fill the silence. "And the steward of Camelot. That has to be great."
Gala shrugs. "I'm happy to get out of there, for a little," she says. "It's infuriating, getting all the reports from the front lines and then just sitting on my ass…and people aren't exactly thrilled to be taking orders from the daughter of Camelot's number one villain."
"Don't let Morgana hear you say that," you offer, but Gala doesn't so much as crack a smile. You put a hand on her shoulder and squeeze as reassuringly as you can manage. "Hey. You're not your mother. You're still here, with us. People will see that eventually. They'll come around."
Gala nods, more to herself than you. "I know. I know, I just wish Queen Artura would."
"Well, good luck convincing my Mother of anything," you murmur. You turn the situation over in your head, examining it from every different angle you can think of. "Maybe…hearing about how we kicked Lorelei's ass will help her."
Gala perks up, glancing over at you with an expression caught halfway between excitement and doubt. "Seriously?" She asks. "We're going to do it?"
"Yeah," you say, the reasoning coming together. "I don't want to lose this mine. And Lorelei will never expect you. We don't even have to beat her, we just have to bloody her nose a little. I can distract her while you cut down her army. If she loses too many men she won't be able to hold the mine, and she'll have to retreat to lick her wounds."
"Yes. Yes!" Gala says, bouncing up and down with unadulterated excitement. "I can't believe it! I thought for sure you'd tell me to go back to Camelot!"
"What, and miss an opportunity to show you how a real Knight-Captain fights a war?"
Gala throws back her head and laughs, shoulder length hair billowing in the light breeze. "You're such an ass. Are we going to come up with a plan, or are you just going to charge in and hit things with your sword like usual?"
"No," you say, shaking your head. "I have a plan this time. See, we don't really have to even fight Lorelei…"
**
By the time the two of you are done going over strategy and have organized the army into a defensive position, the sun is covered by heavy clouds. Laden with rain but not quite ready to release, they cast a quiet, anticipatory ambiance across the countryside.
Gemma joins you in front of the battlements, and on an unspoken signal you both manifest your Heraldries.
From obsidian clutch I draw my blade. Caledfwlch, Caledfwlch, CALEDFWLCH.
My strength will hold the foe at bay. Shackle, Shackle, SHACKLE.
For a moment the two of you are nothing more than glowing silhouettes, and then your Heraldries manifest in surges of light and power. Caledfwlch's obsidian light wraps you in its familiar embrace, the surface of it rippling in time with your heartbeat. Shackle manifests as a thousand thousand glowing chains sprouting from Gala's back, merging together to form solid plate as it engulfs her body.
Caledfwlch is considered medium armor, by Heraldic standards, though it sits on the heavier side of that distinction. It permits plenty of speed and maneuverability, but additional plating allows a hand, foot or shoulder to be as much a weapon as your sword. Gala's armor, by contrast, is a true "all-rounder" – not as heavy as Bercila's or Artura's, but not as light as Gawain's or Lorelei's. A dull, matte steel with light bronze trim, Shackle's armor looks fairly standard at first glance. Upon closer inspection, however, one can still seen the chains that appear during manifestation, welded so closely together than they form a single slab of metal. The plate shifts to mail around the joints, but you know from experience that the protection offered there is no less sturdy than the plate. Gala's helm is the last piece of armor manifest, the visor a flat piece of steel that stretches from her forehead to her chin. A solemn face is carved into it, so lifelike that when it catches the light of the sun just right you'd swear it was the real thing.
You manifest your own helmet, an unadorned slab of metal that completely obscures your features. Encased fully within Caledfwlch, you feel…complete. Invincible. You raise a hand, signaling the army behind you that you're preparing to move out, and then nod to Gala.
She nods in return, knocking her armored knuckles lightly against your breastplate before jogging off to the East. Her job is to take the long way around, staying hidden, suppressing her power to avoid being spotted by rebel scouts.
Your chosen path is a little more direct. Caledfwlch's power drives you forward as you charge headlong towards the enemy camp, tearing apart the countryside with each stride. Your speed increases as you build momentum until the world is a blur around you – but your goal, the rebel battlements, stay clear and fixed in your mind. You can practically see the whites of the rebels' eyes before Lorelei's power slams into you, reducing your speed to a crawl.
You flare darkness around you, and the pressure fades. Lorelei's Heraldry, Riptide, is one of the more esoteric Knightly powers you've seen, and its one that's both powerful and versatile. Essentially, Riptide allows Lorelei to fill a large spherical area around her with her power, which she can make more or less solid and control at will. You've found it's easiest to imagine her affected area as a giant lake that she can control completely.
You look up and catch sight of Lorelei right as she reaches the apex of a massive leap, hanging briefly in the air before descending. You scramble backwards, Riptide slowing you down but unable to lock you in place. Lorelei extends her free hand and then yanks it back, and you feel a sudden pressure around you, pulling you up off your feet and towards Lorelei.
You kick your legs, resisting the pressure. If Lorelei wants to make her "water" solid enough to push you around, it's also solid enough for you to push off of yourself. You had seen your mother pull similar maneuvers on the day of Gwynn's trial, using Lorelei's power against her in subtle but impactful ways, and now you take the strategy for yourself.
Lorelei slows before she hits the ground, landing lightly on her feet. She levels her silver rapier at you, and you take a few hesitant steps back before raising your own sword in return. "Is this a trick?" You shout, Caledfwlch giving your words an oddly hollow inflection. "Where's Morie?"
"Your information is out of date," Lorelei says, blurring towards you. Rather than try to meet her head on, you skip backwards and knock her sword aside. You raise both arms and smoky darkness pours from your hands, obscuring the battlefield.
Lorelei waves her own arm, and the darkness is washed away into nothingness. She shoots forward again, her Heraldry powering the charge as much as her legs, and though you dash back as quickly as you can, you're unable from landing a long strike along your side. The blow doesn't pierce your armor, but Caledfwlch cringes from the contact.
Lorelei raises her sword again, and you lower your shoulder as if to charge. She charges to meet you, and so you move further back instead, trying to maximize the time you have to react to her strike. You manage to parry her cut, sparks flying where your swords connect. Your counter, however is avoided effortlessly – Lorelei spins under the blade with one leg out for balance, a pirouette which would look more at home at the ballet than on the battlefield. You skip back further, and she pursues.
This continues on for a few more minutes – Lorelei pressing forward, you barely managing to fend off her attacks while retreating backwards. You've angled your withdrawal to take you well clear of the mine, and at this point you're several kilometers from both it and the rebel encampment. Suddenly, Lorelei slows unnaturally quickly, feet only barely skimming the ground. She tilts her head and narrows her eyes a fraction of an inch, evaluating you.
"What's going on?" She asks, the point of her rapier dipping ever so slightly. "Why aren't you charging in like an idiot?"
You shuffle forwards, blade flashing out once, twice, three times. Lorelei parries each of your cuts with liquid grace, her face never losing its pensive expression. "I can learn from my past mistakes!" You shout, swinging your sword low. Lorelei twitches her heel, and sudden push with her power threatens to wrench your sword from your hands.
"Hm," Lorelei says, quietly considering your words. Then, "No. You're up to something."
This time when you drop your shoulder you really do charge, forcing Lorelei to take her first step backwards all duel. She flares her power, and though it's like pushing your legs through heavy mud you press on. You swing your sword with a wild shout, and Lorelei drifts sideways. She glances back towards the rebel encampment, and though it's too far for her to see directly, you can practically see the gears in her head spinning. Then her eyes widen, and in a flash she's gone, racing back towards where your battle began.
"Hey!" You shout, breaking into your own run. You gather darkness around your palm, and it coalesces into a javelin about the length of your arm. You skip without quite breaking stride as you bring your arm back, and hurl the javelin at the retreating Lorelei.
Lorelei jerks her head to the side at the last moment, and the tip of the javelin catches only a few strands of red hair. Before it can hit the ground in front of her Lorelei catches it, hops into the air, spinning to face you, and hurls it sidearm back at you all in one smooth motion. You dismiss the javelin with an effort of will and it bursts into black smoke mid-air, but the focus needed costs you time and distance – Lorelei pulls even further ahead.
Dammit, you haven't delayed her long enough. "Why are you always running from me?" You roar, redoubling your efforts. Condensed darkness explodes from your back, the recoil throwing you forward and into the air. In a half a heartbeat you're flying just over Lorelei's head, and though she manages to parry your blows as your soar past her, you're rewarded by a flash of surprise in her eyes. You flip before landing, skidding to a stop in front of Lorelei, and baseball swing your sword with both hands, but Lorelei merely drops to her knees and leans back, sliding cleanly under the blade.
You let loose a frustrated shout, but she's past you now. Lorelei has made it back to the rebel camp.
Just a few minutes ago it was untouched, peaceful – as peaceful as any war camp could be, anyway. Now it's a mess of broken battlements and mangled bodies, the erratic crackle of burning wood mixing with the moans of the not quite dead. Blood soaks the ground, turning the grass and dirt a sickly red. You can hear the sounds of battle from not far off, and Lorelei races towards the source of the commotion.
The two of you finally come upon Gala, in the middle of her work. She stands above a mortal soldier – a bowman, by the looks of him – Heraldry resplendent. Her head, still covered by her helmet, turns to look at you, and as the light of the fire bounces off her false face you swear you can see it smiling cruelly.
Then the helmet bursts into a thousand thousand links of chain, exposing Gala's face to the world. "Hello mother," she says, so quietly that you would not hear were it not for your Heraldry. She flicks her wrist and the tip of her sword slides neatly through the throat of the bowman, killing him instantly.
"Gala," Lorelei says, sighing heavily. "I should've known. A true Knight would have remained at her post, no matter how patronizing it might be."
"Don't you dare lecture me," Gala growls, marching forward. She flicks her sword, throwing the blood that coats the blade off to the side. "You're a traitor, and a rebel, and a coward."
Lorelei takes a deep breath in through her nose, then huffs it out the same way. "You were raised in Camelot," she says. "I don't expect you to understand."
"I understand everything I need to."
"You're fourteen," Lorelei says, as if that resolved the matter. "Go back to Camelot, Gala. Take Mordred and his army with you. I didn't intend to shed blood today."
Gala levels her sword at her mother with one hand, the flat of the blade facing up at the clouded sky. "Lorelei Lake, you are an enemy of the Crown," she says, taking slow, steady steps towards her mother. "As a Knight of the Round Table, I am charged and authorized to carry out the Queen's will."
"Oh for God's sake," Lorelei murmurs.
"You will dismiss your Heraldry!" Gala shouts, taking another step forward. "You will surrender yourself to my custody! You will be taken to Camelot for trial and execution! Do you understand?"
"I understand," Lorelei says, raising her own sword.
For several long, long moments there is no sound but the crackle of fire and Gala's heavy breathing.
"Well?" Lorelei asks. "Get on with it."
Gala screams, shrill and savage, and the ground beneath her explodes as she pushes off. The screech of steel on steel rings through the war camp, nearby fires instantly snuffed out from the force of the blow.
"Foot back," Lorelei says. Her right foot glides across the grass, nudging Gala's back foot into a better position. "You're holding your sword too tightly. And remember to breathe, please."
Chains burst from the ground around Lorelei, spiraling together in a tight cocoon. You feel Lorelei flare her power and the chains are knocked back, waving aimlessly like seaweed in still water. Gala leaps through the chains and swings her sword in a wild X, but Lorelei drifts backwards and avoids every strike.
You charge forward, sword in both hands, and try to cut off her retreat. But Lorelei leaps above you, turning a flip before landing daintily on the tips of her toes. "Telegraphed," she says, looking right past you to Gala. "Think about your cuts before you make them. Instinct always follows the path of least resistance."
"Mordred," Gala says, "I need cover."
"Got it." You slam the blade of your sword into the ground, darkness billowing out across the battlefield. You continue to pump darkness out, ready in case Lorelei tries to disperse it like she did earlier – but she seems content to wait and see where your strategy is going. You can feel Gala building power behind you, but you're not sure exactly what your plan is. You keep a careful eye on Lorelei – though your darkness obscures the vision of others, it is no impediment to yours.
Suddenly Gala lays an arm across your shoulder, pointer and middle fingers extended. "Aim me," she whispers, and you grab her wrist, pointing it towards her mother. You give her arm a squeeze and it suddenly jerks skyward, recoil sending it up and back.
A link of chain the size of a horse rockets through the darkness towards Lorelei, who is a hair too slow to realize it. "Oh," she mouths, an instant before the link catches her in the face and carries her into the distance.
"Run!" Gala shouts. "We have the finish off the army!" The two of you move in tandem, sprinting back towards Lorelei's retreating mortal forces, but before you can make it more than a dozen steps you feel a surge of power hit you in the shins. You shout in surprise and topple, rolling haphazardly across the ground, and when you look up you see nothing but Lorelei's blade heading for your face.
You jerk your head to the side and kick, but your foot looses momentum pushing through Lorelei's power and the blow barely seems to faze her. She pulls her sword back again but a glowing chain catches her wrist, and then another wraps around her neck. Her fingers scrabble at the metal and you hear Gala shout, and suddenly Lorelei is yanked off balance.
You leap to your feet, obsidian light swirling to your hand as you summon your blade. Gripping the handle with both hands you rain savage overhand blows down on Lorelei while she struggles with the chains Gala has wrapped around various parts of her body. Despite her predicament Lorelei manages to fend off all your blows, rapier always in motion, always exactly where it needs to be. There's not a drop of wasted effort in her movements – every step, every flick of the wrist is perfectly planned, timed, and executed. She swings her blade through Gala's chains and bisects them in one smooth arc, then draws a giant circle above her head with a free hand. Her power surges around you, swirling like a whirlpool, and you're yanked up off your feet and into the air.
Instead of fighting it you fire darkness from your feet and back, working with Lorelei to propel yourself further into the air. You rocket through the grey sky, up and up and up, until you burst through the outer limits of Riptide and cut the flow of darkness.
"Ah! Fuck!" You shout, sheer momentum carrying you higher. You burst through one of the heavy rainclouds and out the other side, treating you to the briefest moment of calm sunshine before gravity regains its hold and sends you plunging back down. "Fuck!"
Emerging again from the raincloud, you push the condensation clinging to Caledfwlch away with an effort of will. Far below you can see Lorelei and Gala continuing the fight, their duel a dance of steel and footwork. They flow gracefully from one position to the next, twirling and sweeping their blades in wide, graceful arcs. Lorelei is faster, her form better, but she seems unwilling to use her Heraldry it its fullest extent, a limitation her daughter in no way shares. Neither of them is looking up – neither of them sees you plummeting down to earth.
You hadn't had a plan when you sent yourself up, but coming back down an idea springs to mind. By pushing darkness out of your hands you're able to angle yourself until you're directly above Lorelei, and then you fire off darkness to increase your speed. Gravity presses hard against you but Caledfwlch shields you from the brunt of the danger as you cock your fist back and roar.
It's then Lorelei notices you. You're not sure if she heard you above the din of battle, or if Riptide lets her feel disturbances in her power, but she looks skyward and locks eyes with you through your helmet. Gala sees you too, following her mother's gaze – and when Lorelei makes to run, chains spring from the ground to bind her in place. Lorelei struggles against their grip, sword flashing out in wild frenzy, but she's not quite fast enough.
You hit Lorelei squarely the jaw the tiniest fraction of a moment before you hit the ground, pain flashing through every inch of your body. You don't actually hear most of your bones shatter, but you sure as hell feel them. Caledfwlch shrieks but doesn't break, holding firm, and you groan as it shifts your limbs back into place so that you can start healing. Through the dust and dirt thrown into the air by the force of your impact you see Lorelei on her hands and knees, coughing wetly. She struggles to her feet and you notice with a start that her head is twisted nearly 180 degrees on her body, and that most of her jaw is simply…gone.
She grabs her neck with one hand and gives a shaky, stuttering twist, clicking it back into place. Her jaw begins to regrow itself from nothing, first the bone and teeth, then muscle and sinew and finally the skin, until there's no evidence you ever even hit her at all. Breathing heavily, she looks at you with flat, emotionless eyes.
Gala screams and pinwheels her arm like she's throwing a javelin, a chain bursting from her hand and tearing through the air towards her mother. Lorelei takes a step back, bending her knees ever so slightly, and knocks the chain aside with a sweep of her rapier, twirling it in her hand before batting away the next chain, and the next. Gala keeps up the assault, screaming her throat ragged, but Lorelei advances implacably until the two are nearly face-to-face.
Gala pulls her sword from the ground next to her and stabs, but Lorelei pushes her wrist to the side and the thrust goes wide. Gala screams again, and Lorelei puts one of her feet behind her daughter's heel and shoves her in the chest, sending her tumbling to the ground. Before Gala can regain her feet Lorelei's sword flashes out, cutting straight through the back of Gala's greaves and deep into her hamstrings.
Gala tries to stand, but her still-healing legs refuse to support her. You try to stand, but your still healing everything laughs at the attempt. Lorelei takes a moment to steady herself, then begins trudging back towards you. The tip of her rapier drags as she walks, cutting through the ground as easily as it might water.
"Stop it!" Gala shouts, fingers clawing at the ground in front of her, trying to drag herself towards her mother. "Stop! Come back!"
Lorelei pays her daughter no heed. She kneels down in front of you and makes a move to grab your helmet, but before she can Caledfwlch shrinks from her touch, exposing you to real world. You feel it slither back into the deepest recesses of your heart and curl up like a wounded animal, alert for any further danger.
"Mother!" Gala screams. "Mother!"
Lorelei touches a single finger to your chin and forces you to meet her eyes. She stares at you for a long, long time, drinking in every square inch of your features. "You look nothing like him," she says finally, quietly. "Just her."
You want to say something clever, and defiant, but you find nothing. You swallow instead, the motion doing nothing to ease the feeling of something being caught in your throat. Lorelei stands and cracks her back, raising her sword high above her head.
"Mother!" Gala screams again. Her voice is raw, thick with fear. "Please."
Lorelei's sword pauses as it points to the sky, and you see her thoughts flicker across her face.
"You'll get over it," she says, and then she swings her arm down. You close your eyes, cowardice conquering you at the very end.
And then the sky opens up.
There is a flash of light and your mother is there, standing above you. Excalibur shines with the fury of the sun itself, sweeping away Riptide's pressure. The woman that stands above is you regal – she is power and primacy incarnate, an angel in white and gold. She reaches out with one hand and grabs Lorelei's collar, smoke rising from where her hand makes contact with armor, and then she slams her forehead into Lorelei's nose. The meaty crunch of cartilage and bone echoes across the battlefield, signaling to the world that the real fight is only just beginning.
Lorelei's power swirls around you, a tsunami that threatens to rend the very earth asunder. Your mother, unimpressed, pushes her backwards and summons her sword to her hand. It gleams golden in the sunlight, heat rolling off it.
Lorelei snarls, defiant, and steps forward. Her rapier flashes back and forth, back and forth, a silver blur against the air. Your mother's blade is no less quick, however, and it parries each thrust with a cool precision. When the two finally lock blades properly, the force of the blow tears chunks of dirt and rock free from the ground.
Lorelei blurs backwards, moving too quickly for even you to follow properly, and your mother pursues. Their blades clash a dozen times a second, the ring of steel on steel never fading. Lorelei shoves one hand forward and her power bursts from it, pushing your mother back. In response Artura spreads her arms wide, and the ground beneath her feet roils, dirt and stone turned liquid by the heat. Lorelei's power crashes against your mother's again and again, but each new wave evaporates from the intensity of Excalibur.
Your mother sweeps her sword in front of her and Lorelei is forced to leap backwards, to give ground against the assault. Her power swirls around her feet, strengthening her footing, and she meets Artura's next strike head on. For several long moments they push against each other, teeth bared, the air around them singing with power.
This time it's Artura who is forced back. Lorelei surges forward, silver rapier flashing unnaturally in your mother's light. It is there and not and there and not, probing your mother's defenses. Many of her blows are turned aside, but plenty more slip through Artura's guard, silver tip briefly tapping Excalibur's heavy plate. The white-gold Heraldry ripples eagerly at the touch, as if desperate to test itself against Riptide. Finally Lorelei swings her blade in a high, overhead arc, the full force of her Heraldry surging behind it.
Your mother raises her hand, and for a moment everything is still. Then heat and light and fire erupt from her palm, a conflagration so massive that it smothers the world around it in dancing red and orange. Artura's hair streams out behind her, fluttering wildly in the wind, as more and more fire pours across the land in front of her.
Suddenly Lorelei's hand bursts from the flames and grabs Artura's, palm-to-palm, fingers interlaced. The fire vanishes, extinguished at the source, and Lorelei uses her grip on your mother to pull her forward, and then slams a knee into Artura's stomach. Your mother responds by punching Lorelei in the face, then again and again and again. Each blow is a thunderclap, a violent percussion. Finally Lorelei relents under the assault and rips her hand free, rapier shimmering to existence within it. Excalibur lashes out and separates Lorelei's sword arm at the shoulder, crimson blood spraying high into the air.
Lorelei leaps high into the air, Riptide swirling around her to keep her aloft. Her arm is already regrowing itself, piecing together from nothing, and she draws a quick diagram in the air with her still attached fingers. A swarm of blue and white stars appear in front of her, each no bigger than your fingernail. Then in a single moment they burst into unified movement, shrieking through the air towards your mother. They leave gently arcing trails behind them like tiny comets, and they thrum with destructive energy. Your mother slides on foot back, steadying herself, and her body glows with a harsh white light.
Needle thin beams of light appear from nearly every inch of her skin, spinning across her body while strobing wildly. When they touch your skin you feel a tingle, a shiver on your spine, but there is no pain. When they intersect with one of Lorelei's stars there is a flash of light and an explosion – within seconds your entire field of vision is filled with fire and light and concussive force. Static electricity dances in the air – every hair on your body strands up straight, and space itself warps from the sheer volume of power of display.
Your mother moves. The explosions hang in the air in front of her, inching outwards a glacial pace. Artura takes to the air, holographic wings sprouting from her shoulders, and Excalibur glows with a hungry light. As she comes close to the explosions they twist in on themselves, spiraling inwards. She swipes her sword through them and they swirl to meet her blade, vanishing within it, its glow increasing tenfold for every speck of energy it takes. You know, rationally, that she is moving too quickly for you to see. She and Lorelei had been moving quickly before, but the speed she displays now is on another level, as far from her earlier display as you are from a mortal man. You know, rationally, that there is no way you could even physically perceive this – that your mother is moving faster than light itself, and that this display of power would be over before the visual information could even reach you. And yet, you see it. You feel Excalibur's power reaching into the fundamental order of reality, reordering the universe itself according to your mother's whims. Allowing you to see. Forcing you bear witness.
When every last bit of power is packed tightly into your mother's blade she moves towards Lorelei, still hanging in the air. The traitor Knight's arm is nearly healed now, the last strips of skin winding themselves like yarn across red muscle. She reaches out with her power, Riptide whirling protectively around her, but it is not enough to stop Artura from lightly touching her sword to the side of Lorelei's head.
You have never seen the birth of a star – but you have read about them, and you imagine that it is not entirely unlike what you are witnessing now. For a fraction of a heartbeat space contracts, as if the universe is taking a breath – and then light explodes out into the world, searing away everything it touches. Caledfwlch sings within you, harmonizing with a melody you cannot hear. Your skin is alight with the radiance of your mother, awe and pain in equal measure dominating your thoughts.
And then, as suddenly as it came, it is gone. You collapse to the ground, spots dancing in front of your vision, Caledfwlch still singing in your veins. You see your mother land, the weight of her presence leaving deep cracks on the ground around her. Lorelei is nowhere to be seen.
"Mordred?" Gala's voice reaches your ears as if from very far away. You blink once, then twice, trying to shake the cobwebs from your mind and only partially succeeding. You struggle to your knees and look around you, trying to regain your bearings.
Gala's arms wrap around you from behind, and she buries her face into the back of your neck. Blood or tears or some combination of both runs down your skin as she holds you tightly against her, shaking with exhaustion.
"What…what happened?" You ask, your senses painfully slow in returning. "Is Lorelei…is she…" you cannot imagine anyone could have survived your mother's onslaught.
"Teleported," Artura says. She has released Excalibur, revealing pants and a white tunic stained with blood. "She…" she touches a hand to her side, pain flickering across her face. "She was too fast."
You find yourself unable to look straight at your mother, so you cast your eyes across the battlefield instead. There is nothing but desolation for miles – what was once peaceful countryside is now blackened and torn, forever warped by the power expressed over the last few minutes.
"Stand," you mother says quietly. "Both of you."
You and Gala work laboriously to your feet, supporting each other the whole way. When you are both sufficiently vertical your mother turns away, surveying the destruction she has wrought.
"What is wrong with you?" She asks finally.
You and Gala share a long look.
"What is wrong with you?" Your mother asks again. "Both of you?" She doesn't turn around, but you can see her fist clench, knuckles white against her thigh. "I made you a Knight, Gala."
Gala winds her fingers through yours, squeezing desperately, seeking strength. "I-"
"I gave you Camelot because I thought you were worthy of it."
"I am!"
"I gave you the Siege Perilous. My right hand. Because I thought you were worthy of it."
"I wanted to help the war, I-"
"I told you to stay at the castle!" Your mother roars, the volume of her voice shaking the earth around you. "I gave you orders to stay and protect the heart of this country!"
"I thought...I thought if I stopped my mother-"
"You abandoned your duty to chase your mother halfway across the country. You put the lives of everyone in the castle in jeopardy, you put the lives of everyone in Mordred's army in jeopardy, you put the entire war effort in jeopardy to satiate a childish grudge!" Your mother sweeps her arm out and her rage manifests itself physically, gouging deep cracks into the stone beneath her. Her arm shakes with a sudden spasm, and she grabs her bicep with her other hand. "You are a child. I…should never have trusted you with command."
Gala's hand slips from yours.
"Mother…" the words are slow to come, but your mother's tirade has given you time to regain your composure. "I'm the one who made the plan. I'm the one who gave the order to engage."
Your mother turns to face you, the deep blue fire burning in her eyes a sharp contrast to her blank face. "Were those your orders?" She asks.
"No, but-"
"What were your orders?"
You swallow. "To call for your reinforcement. If that wasn't available, then I was to retreat."
Your mother turns away again.
"But mother, the mine-"
"The mine?" Your mother asks. "The mine? Children playing in dirt!" Light flares around her and heat washes over you, the sudden change in temperature enough to make you dizzy. She stalks up to you and jabs a finger into your chest, just above your heart. "This is what matters," she says, her voice dangerously quiet. "This is all that matters. And you nearly threw it away! For a pile of rocks you would've lost anyway once you were dead!" She shoves you, hard, sending you stumbling back. It takes all you have just to keep your feet. "You are a soldier!" She shouts. "You are a Knight-Captain! You have to think! Beyond! Yourself!" She punctuates each word by poking your chest again and again, until you fall on your ass. "If you can't do that, if I can't trust you…" You look up at her, face obscured by the sun behind it, unable to bring a single word in your defense.
Your mother shakes her head. "Someone is needed back at the castle," she says. "Gala, can you run?"
"I…yes, your highness." Gala closes her eyes and flares Shackle, power coalescing around her.
My strength will hold the foe-
My strength-
My-
"Enough," Your mother says, waving her hand. Gala collapses onto the ground next to you, sweat pouring down her face. "I am sick of being lied to. Stay here and rest until you're strong enough to return to your post."
The ray of dawn that slays the night. Excalibur, Excalibur, EXCALIBUR.
There is a flash of light and your mother is gone, leaving you alone with Gala. You turn to face your friend, still sitting on the ruined ground – her hair is torn and knotted, her face covered with ash and blood and bruises.
"I'm sorry," you tell her.
Gala places her forehead on your shoulder and says nothing. For what seems like an hour the two of you sit in the dirt, not speaking, not moving. The sun, slowly edging towards the horizon, is the only sign that time passes at all.
You gasp as you awaken in the inbetween place, scrambling to your feet. You are by far the quickest to react – the rest of the Breakfast Club seems much more groggy coming out of this memory, taking a moment to reacclimatize themselves to their surroundings. Annabelle is particularly slow to get up – watching her, you find yourself battling the insane urge to go and talk to her, to ask her of what you had just witnessed. Piper's words echo in your mind.
Before you can decide however, Ginny's fingers wrap firmly around your arm and drag you away from the rest of the group. You cast one last glance at Annabelle, but she doesn't notice you looking before you're pulled out of sight.
Ginny shoves you against one of the trees that dot the inbetween place, her arms crossed over her chest. You notice suddenly that it's much easier to see now than it had been the last two times you were here – the expanded field of view doesn't give you much, since it's trees all the way round, but it does help calm your nerves a bit.
"I don't like you," Ginny says. "Never did."
You rub the back of your neck. "I, uh, noticed."
"Well I wasn't exactly being subtle about it. Do you know why I didn't like you?"
"I figured it had something to do with Gemma," you say. No point in beating around the bush – you're not sure how long you have before the next memory, and you're genuinely curious as to what Ginny is going to say. You spent nearly two months in high school together, running in the same circles, but this is the first time she's expressed any interest in actually talking to you.
Luckily, Ginny seems satisfied with that answer. "I just…I knew it," she said. "I knew you were hiding something. They always are."
"They?"
"Gemma's boys," Ginny says. "The ones she gets a crush on. They're always hiding something. Usually it's just the fact that they're douchebags but you…you were a doozy."
The edges of your mouth twitch downwards. "Look, this is…kind of a bad time for me," you admit, looking away. "I just got my ass chewed out, so if you could skip the part where you berate me…"
"You loved her."
It takes you a second to process that statement. "What?"
"You loved Gala," Ginny says. "You probably still do. I'm an asshole, I'm not retarded."
You shake your head. "I didn't think you were."
"Does Gemma know?" She asks.
"Yeah. I…" you trail off, "I don't know if I ever really told her, in so many words. But she knows. It was part of the whole…clusterfuck at the club."
Ginny nods, considering your words. "That's good, I guess. She doesn't deserve that kind of bullshit."
"I know. I…I never wanted to hurt her. I never meant to."
Ginny regards you carefully for a moment. "Maybe not," she concedes. "But you still did. The road to hell is paved with good intentions, dude."
"I know," you say. "I just want to help her."
"I don't know if you can," Ginny says. "But you can stop yourself from making it worse."
"How?"
"Stay away from her."
Her words feel like a slap. "I-"
Ginny holds up a hand. "Listen to me. I knew something was up with you when Gemma started liking you because Gemma has terrible taste in guys. Just – fucking awful. And that isn't going to be over when she wakes up. If you're still alive when she comes to, she's going to do something stupid."
You think back to the last words Gemma had shared with you. "I think Gemma's pretty much done with me."
"That's because you don't actually know her," Ginny says. "She was bad with guys even when she was stable, and now that she's spiraling like she is it's only going to get worse. You…you have power over her. Not just as Morgan, but as Mordred. You have power over her and she's not healthy. It won't be a day from now, or a week, or a month, but she'll crawl back to you. I've seen her do it before. It's part of how she copes."
"So you want me to stay away from her."
"I think it's the only way for you to avoid doing any more damage," Ginny says, nodding. "Her issues, your issues, Gala, our lives as Knights…any one of those things could completely fuck a relationship all on their own. Together, they're radioactive. Nothing good can come from it. You of all people should know how terrible it can get, right? Two people forcing it when they know it won't work."
[] Write In
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I really want to say something about how we're probably going to die which makes the whole thing moot. I really really want to say that.
But it probably won't help.
Aagh, relationships are hard. I have to think about this some more.
But it probably won't help.
Aagh, relationships are hard. I have to think about this some more.
Frakir's brother
Goodbye.
- Location
- The Sea of Trees
[X] When has running away from your problems ever helped? That is what you are suggesting Gemma do you know. Gemma needs to identify what her problems are, then work through them. Her identity as a Knight, the reincarnation, all of it it something she needs to face head on and while willing to change. My presence might hurt that effort, it might help, but it isn't for you to decide.
-[X] Also, my parents? Never really tried to fix their relationship, Mother was never going to address the problem, what with the host of others, and Father wouldn't stand up to her and insist that it needed to be worked out.
I am completely willing to edit this, but it seems like a good start.
-[X] Also, my parents? Never really tried to fix their relationship, Mother was never going to address the problem, what with the host of others, and Father wouldn't stand up to her and insist that it needed to be worked out.
I am completely willing to edit this, but it seems like a good start.
Problem is if it isn't us then Gala Gemma, sorry (Names are too similar, probably on purpose), has already shown that she can and will go elsewhere.
*Shrug* It's a lose/lose. At the very least we're already familiar with a lot more of her issues than anyone else would be.
*Shrug* It's a lose/lose. At the very least we're already familiar with a lot more of her issues than anyone else would be.
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Hoshu
(Verified Cynic)
- Location
- Multiverse
Man this is so conflicting on one hand Ginny saying stay away from her might be an indication that she is gonna vote to let us live do to finally understanding us but us not staying away would mean that the better alternative to her is to just execute us.
On the relationship side its unhealthy i can see that but just leaving her like its was all a lie just make it worse and feed her inferiority to the point of "unpleasant" mind set that involves leaving like forever. We really need an Adult right now.
On the relationship side its unhealthy i can see that but just leaving her like its was all a lie just make it worse and feed her inferiority to the point of "unpleasant" mind set that involves leaving like forever. We really need an Adult right now.
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Strange9
hdellaverson@gmail.com
- Location
- Los Angeles, CA
I don't disagree that staying away from Gemma romantically is a really good idea -- frankly speaking, I don't think any of the Knights are gonna manage a healthy relationship where they are now -- but I would honestly be surprised if the Mordred and Gemma won't need to develop some sort of working relationship. Every past iteration, the Knights have failed and died -- a thousand thousand years of bloodshed. Mordred is the fulcrum upon which this balance could change. If the choice is 'Gemma and all of her friends die' or 'Gemma and Morgan have a talk about boundaries, and learn that courteous distance is possible', I'd say the latter is preferable, after all!
(Also holy heck that was a rad scene)
(Also holy heck that was a rad scene)
- Location
- United States
[X]Ask Ginny if we can go to her for advice in the future so we don't do anything stupid. She cares about Gemma and her friends and can offer another point of view. We don't really have anyone we can talk to about stuff like this to point out if we're making a mistake, and asking Ginny to make sure we act sensibly might convince her to let us live.
- Location
- My mom's basement
[X] Agree, you have no idea how you can help, but you are pretty sure you ARE making things worse. Until you have a better plan than digging deeper faster than ever, you'd stay away from her. But you can't and won't make her stay away from you.
Which would be a damned good reason to agree meta wise.
Holy shit, that was an impressive series of fight scenes.
Good job showing the difference between Gala and Mordred vs a professional like Lorelei. They were making way to much noise and telegraphing their attacks all the time. Compared to Lorelei's calm, measured use of power and generally pulling her blows.
Anyway, Ginny is correct in a sense. Gemma can only have a toxic relationship with Mordred as things stand. Ideally setting up professional boundaries might help...in a sense. Or it could push her deeper into despair. And it also relies on Mordred to keep those boundaries up and Gemma at arms-length....and I'm not sure he can manage that.
Still, Ginny is definitely continuing to be a jerk.
Good job showing the difference between Gala and Mordred vs a professional like Lorelei. They were making way to much noise and telegraphing their attacks all the time. Compared to Lorelei's calm, measured use of power and generally pulling her blows.
Anyway, Ginny is correct in a sense. Gemma can only have a toxic relationship with Mordred as things stand. Ideally setting up professional boundaries might help...in a sense. Or it could push her deeper into despair. And it also relies on Mordred to keep those boundaries up and Gemma at arms-length....and I'm not sure he can manage that.
Still, Ginny is definitely continuing to be a jerk.
- Location
- USA
Wasn't she already in the kill us camp? So it doesn't really matter too much there. We're probably gonna die as things stand.
[X] Agree, you have no idea how you can help, but you are pretty sure you ARE making things worse. Until you have a better plan than digging deeper faster than ever, you'd stay away from her. But you can't and won't make her stay away from you.
That's not what she wants, but out right avoiding Gemma doesn't really help things, and at least we're a known problem.
[X] We don't have many, if any, options. She has already shown that she can and will leave the city with ease in order to find somewhere or someone to cope with. Don't say you can keep her from doing that either, you'll just end up stifling her if you somehow do watch her that much somehow and/or she'll successfully slip away somewhen.
-[X] So it's also lose/lose from where I'm looking at this from. If I push her away and keep her away then she'll go elsewhere and be hurting from me pushing her away on top of that. If I don't then I'll likely end up... poisoning her even when I'm doing everything I can not to.
--[X] So tell me, since I definitely appear to be my mother's son with all these good intentions I have, what do we do? Because I can tell you now, unless it's Gemma who chooses to not see me, then this conversation is pointless. She'll find a way to self-destruct with or without me until she makes the choice to stop.
-[X] So it's also lose/lose from where I'm looking at this from. If I push her away and keep her away then she'll go elsewhere and be hurting from me pushing her away on top of that. If I don't then I'll likely end up... poisoning her even when I'm doing everything I can not to.
--[X] So tell me, since I definitely appear to be my mother's son with all these good intentions I have, what do we do? Because I can tell you now, unless it's Gemma who chooses to not see me, then this conversation is pointless. She'll find a way to self-destruct with or without me until she makes the choice to stop.
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