Destined Enemies

[Arthur Pendragon]

It was not at all common for the Prince of Camelot to be out riding in the middle of the woods alone. In fact, it was quite a rarity. More so that his manservant, Merlin, was not present with him. Quite frankly, it had not been easy for Arthur to avoid his presence. And more so difficult for the Prince to cope on his own. But his current emotional state required some moments of solitude . . . whatever he could get. Which was precisely why he had told Merlin not to accompany him. With what had just happened with Guinevère . . . yet, Arthur needed time to sort out whatever feelings were developing as well as crumbling within him. What better way to do that than to engage in a hunt; to take out one's aggressions through killing animals for sport. Oddly enough, it was a good stress reliever.

So he rode well into the Forest of Balor, dressed in his regular hunting attire with a crossbow strapped on his back and a sword at his side. He could only pack what he could carry for he did not have his servant stumbling alongside him. Oh well. No matter. The morning crisp air provided a refreshing sensation, and made this ride and isolated hunting endeavor all the more enjoyable. Which only made him even more welcoming of having no company. His father would not approve of such lacking security, but Arthur was fairly certain Merlin would cover for him . . . even if that landed some time in the stocks. He was becoming more and more of a close, trusted friend rather than just an idiotic servant. It seemed that a lot of the Prince's relationships with servants were drastically changing.

Arthur brought his horse to a halt, swiftly dismounting from it and tying the reigns of it to a nearby tree. The trail ahead was heavily covered with trees and bushes, difficult to maneuver a horse through but would lead to the perfect location to hunt prey. Grabbing his bag of arrows, he threw it over his shoulder, patting his horse on the neck a couple of times before walking ahead. He was not sure how long he had been walking for, the thoughts in his mind clouding his judgment. Which again, was not exactly safe under the current situation. Who knows what or who could be lurking around the dangerous forest of Balor, infamous for bandits and various creatures. It was in that moment that Arthur heard a rustle in the leaves and a twig snap. He suddenly became on full alert. It could be an animal, but the steps sounded light. Whatever it was, it was small. He loaded the crossbow with an arrow, trying to be as quiet as he could, planning to sneak up on whatever was wandering out there, hoping to gain the upper hand by having the element of surprise on his side.


_{Setting: The forest of Balor
Time of Day: Very early morning, before sunrise
Timeline: Some time after Lancelot and Guinevère
Tag: Mordred}

[mordred]

Rare enough of an occurrence, Mordred was alone and had wandered into the forest of Balor. The many bushes and trees were a tad tricky to navigate his way through, trying not to snag his traveling cloak on anything made it all the more challenging. With careful hands the boy pushed branches out of his way and lightly stepped through, a few twigs broke as he moved about, but that was inevitable with how dense the forest was in the area. He had heard his elders talk about the forest before. He knew the dangers still and accepted them with open arms so to speak. He was certain that he'd be able to take care of himself as he did have magic at his disposal. It was startling never the less as he heard a light rustle of leaves.

Pausing where he was, Mordred's eyes widened and his lips pursed. If he remained still then there was a possibility he'd find it to be one of the various creatures that lived in the forest, he was certain of it. Aware of just where he was the boy made the decision to turn and take a three-hundred sixty degree view of his surroundings, hoping to find what or whom may have been near him. Spotting nothing immediately the child lowered the hood of his cloak and began on his way again.

He couldn't help but become anxious despite trying to keep a cool head. He knew that something was near him, be it human or not was what he didn't know. Is anyone there? He called out mentally, knowing that if it were a human being with magic, they would be able to hear him clearly, even if no one else would be able to. He waited for a while as he kept climbing over and through the dense vegetation covering, hoping solely to get an answer. Upon getting no answer he figured that either he had imagined it, there was an animal out and prowling about, or the person was not one with magic, which could mean he was in danger if it was some one from Camelot, despite the fact that he was not in the kingdom of Camelot itself, it seemed that king Uther had declared war on all magic, be it in his kingdom or not, or so Mordred believed. Finally he grew frustrated of the surprising quiet.

“Come out, come out where ever you may be...!” He called out with his voice, irked that he had to do such a thing, as it was not his preferred form of communication in the least. All he could do was stop where he was, and wait for an answer.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur froze when he heard a voice cal out to him. It was not so much the words that caused him to stop, but rather, the tone of it. It sounded young, like a child. This only further intrigued the Prince. Why would a child be out here in the middle of the forest? Arthur acknowledged it was a dangerous place for him, and so for a child, it was even more dangerous. There was also a strange sense of familiarity, but perhaps that was just his mind playing tricks on him. He did not know any children, least of all ones who wandered through the forest of Balor. And then of course the mood in which the child spoke that also made Arthur a bit curious. He did not sound frightened, but rather, welcoming of whoever lurked out there. For some unbeknown reason, Arthur felt a strange chill run down his spine. But he was not going to stray from this situation. Perhaps the child needed help, and so for that reason, Arthur felt a sense of natural obligation to help him.

He kept hold of his crossbow -- just in case -- and followed the sound of the voice, still approaching with great caution. Maybe the child was not alone. Maybe his traveling company was what gave him such confidence in his words. Either way, Arthur was going to find him. The stranger seemed to have stopped moving, but his voice calling out had been sufficient enough to follow some sort of trail to him. Hearing a noise, Arthur immediately, reflexively, held up his crossbow, pointing it in the direction he heard the noise. That was when he saw a cloaked figure. A very familiar figure. It answered his question as to why he felt as if he had heard his voice before, and yet, he had only heard the boy speak a single word for the duration he knew him. How one word had stuck in his mind for so long, Arthur did not know. His meeting -- however brief it had been -- had certainly made an impact on the prince. An unforgettable one and he did not feel like that was a good thing, even if he did not regret helping save his life.

Arthur's eyes slightly widened in surprise, never having expected to see this druid child, ever again. When he helped his escaped, he had thought they would have parted ways for good. Only to have seen him again with the druid band who had kidnapped Morgana. He had not know then what to make of the boy, but he did not fail to recognize that he was a child. However . . . there was something about him. Something Arthur could not explain. Something that made him so wary of him. It could be his over active imagination but he usually had fairly good instincts and went along with his gut feeling. As many misgivings as he had when around the boy, he obviously would not -- could not -- kill him. Instead, he just continued to stare, his presence registering in Arthur's mind, which also brought into realization that he was still pointing his crossbow at him. He very slowly lowered it, keeping a keen focus on him. "Mordred." It was a strange greeting for it was not said in an overly friendly tone and was a strange mix of a question as well as recognition. Really, Arthur did not know what to make of him . . . or this present situation.

[mordred]

Perhaps a bit overly confident with his words and his safety Mordred turned his head over his shoulder as his ears picked up the sound of leaves crunching under someones footfalls. His own eyes widened as he saw the crossbow pointed directly at him. Mordred let his eyes settle on Arthur's hands, keeping a cautious eye on the weapon. He was greatly relieved by the fact that the other male had slowly began to lower the crossbow. By the time that the arbalest was lowered Mordred turned around fully so he wouldn't have to crane his neck to look at the man. His eyes were trained on the arbalest for a moment longer before lifting his gaze to look up at the man's face. So, it was some one he knew after all.

Taking the moment to put the voice and face to a name Mordred had a bitter taste in his mouth. It was Prince Arthur of Camelot. It made him worried for one reason. The last time he had seen the blond man, the Druid settlement had been invaded by Arthur's men. That memory was far too fresh in his mind. How he had taken to Aglain, only for the man to be shot by one of the guards. He had ran as fast as he could, only to be encircled by soldiers, where he had a burst of magic in his fear, which had knocked all of the hostile men out, if not worse. Then he had ran again.

Now, here he was. Face to face with the man responsible for it. “...Prince Arthur.” Mordred replied, showing his respect to the older male, despite the fact his tone was bitter. He wanted to narrow his eyes and be a disrespectful child, but he didn't want to face the consequences for such actions. Despite his dislike of the older male, he had helped him escape Camelot, and returned him to his people. For that he owed him something. He felt as such. Arthur had after all risked his life to keep him from being executed.

Still, he was at a loss of words. They were in the forest of Balor, far from Camelot. He had not expected for the blond man to be there, alone none the less. “Should you not be here alone?” The child asked, as he kept his pale blue gaze settled on the other male, watching for any sign of hostility that was bound to follow. In his eyes, Arthur had betrayed him although, he knew that it would be wise simply to keep a low profile and to behave. He'd give the man another chance before he declared his utter discontent, he wanted the other male to know what it was like to loose the people closest to him. It would have only been fair after all. He wanted vengeance no matter the cost it would possibly bring him. Alas, he knew as well that if he needed, the chance would come in the future. There was a time and place for everything, and that was not now.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur did not miss the slight disdain in the boy's voice. While he had addressed him with the proper title, they were in a bit of an awkward situation. The boy was a fugitive in Camelot, associated with druids. While Arthur had believed them to be peaceful people, he could not ignore what he saw. The druid, dragging away Morgana as it looked rather clear that she was trying to struggle away from his grasp. He knew it was not entirely the boys fault, but at the same time, it created a certain mistrust between them . . . of course there was also that question of whether there was any legitimate trust to begin with. Either way, Arthur was not sure what to do in this moment. Killing him was not an option for he posed no immediate threat to him. He was a defenseless little boy, alone in the unsafe woods.

Mordred's next words surprised him a bit, though he showed no evident signs of surprise. It just made him stare at him a bit more intently. Really. The boy was telling him that he should not be alone? Yes, Arthur was the sole heir to Camelot, but still. He was a boy! A child! How could he be so comfortable wandering around the woods. How could he display such . . . confidence. Was that what it was? He could not tell. All he knew was that Arthur believed Mordred should not be concerned about his well being and safety, but rather focus on his own. "I could say the same for you," he told him, softening his tone a bit. Even though the druids had taken Morgana, Arthur took in pleasure in killing people, and he knew that either him or his men had killed Mordred's guardian . . . again. This was the second time. The first had been publicly executed but the other had been shot at point blank, killed instantly. Yes, Arthur felt a degree of responsibility for the boy having to be alone. But surely . . . hopefully, he had managed to find another group of people, druids or not, that he was traveling with.

"Are you here by yourself?" He asked. While Arthur was not one to overly display his emotion, there was indeed an underlying concern in his question. He finally managed to break his gaze from the boy's intense stare, staying in place but scanning the nearby surroundings , as if to add extra emphasis to his question. If there were others close, then they may not take too kindly to the fact that Arthur was talking to Mordred. He did not want to have to deprive the boy yet again, from his traveling companions, but at the same time, would have to defend himself in the event of an ambush, or any sort of attack. Druids were also practitioners of magic, and even Arthur had to admit that sometimes, he was no match for sorcery. He knew better than to underestimate the capabilities of sorcerers. He was not that naive. With that thought in mind though, Arthur did not believe Mordred to be an immediate threat -- a mistake that he may pay for in the future.

[mordred]

Mordred was still oh so sour, and the fact the man before him was the one who had gone after his people was what truly had angered him. He did not know the full situation on regard to that topic, other then it had all been to bring the lady Morgana back to Camelot. Had they thought she had been kidnapped? He didn't know what had given them reason to invade the camp. The Druids were a peaceful lot in general, and helped those with magic. What would have happened if the blond in front of him knew the truth of the topic that had caused such friction between him and those who had once helped him escape from where he was bound to follow the footsteps of his previous mentor and his parents.

Upon noticing the older male's eyes trained to him the corners of the young lad's lips tugged upwards into something akin to a smirk. He was confident with his own actions no matter how mature they were for his age. He knew that he had no reason to be afraid, as he had taken out so many people with just a scream. The older male's words in response had both surprised him and amused him. The other male surely knew he was a Druid, which meant that he practiced magic, and thus couldn't have been harmless, defenseless, too guileless to protect himself with his gift. “I can take care of myself, sire.” His words were true, the last word was tacked on with a somewhat mocking manner. It was a simple task to take care of himself. He thought for a moment over what his answer would be for the next set of words he heard.

“Are you here alone?” Had been the words he had heard. He'd believed that to be an easy enough answer. Mordred was standing alone, was he not? He was in the middle of a dense forest and he was being asked if he was traveling alone? He couldn't believe the naivety of the question asked of him.

“I am alone.” Mordred replied simply after a moment, his gaze still locked onto Arthur as if he were a target. He knew that every one underestimated him for his age, and that was a big mistake that to some would one day prove fatal. Mordred finally decided to move and took a few cautious steps towards Arthur, attention slipping only to keep a branch from scratching against his face as he glanced towards the branch, pushing it aside. He took one more step, there was still quite a distance between the two and his gaze move back keep a close watch on the older male.

[Arthur Pendragon]

The first time Mordred had called him Sire, there was a bit of bitterness. Now, there was . . . sarcasm? However one could describe his tone, he was getting more obvious in his disapproval of the prince. Arthur could not fully blame him, nor show the same bitterness towards the young boy. They were not in Camelot -- which was certainly a good thing for Mordred, as his father had no so readily forgotten about him and his miraculous escape. Arthur was far from his home and he was not about to demand respect from Mordred. Such trivialities need not be brought to attention right now. Plus, what harm could the child do, other than speak disrespectfully. Then again -- as previously acknowledged -- he was a Druid. Perhaps he had some magic in him. Either way, Arthur was not quite afraid of him. Which is why Mordred's boldness was a rather curious thing.

"I'm sure you can," Arthur said, humoring him a little bit. He did not say it in a taunting manner, but more so in a way that he did not wish to offend him, even if Arthur believed Mordred to be vulnerable and susceptible to the danger that lurked the forests. After all, most children liked to act brave, stronger than they actually were, believing that they were invincible. It was just a shame that the poor boy had to be surrounded by so much violence at such a young age. "But these woods are dangerous, especially before the sun is up." Again there was that concern in his voice. While the subtle worry for him was there, so was an attempt to understand why he was not more fearful. Maybe being exposed to such violence had made him a strong individual. But still. He could not be any older than twelve.

Hearing him say he was alone only caused guilt to arise in the prince. Before, it was caution. Now, it was just a sympathy for him. Arthur tried not to let it show. He doubted Mordred would appreciate Arthur's sympathy . . . but that did not mean that he would not at least try to help him. "Where are you headed Mordred?" He asked, leaning towards the possibility of escorting him somewhere, perhaps help him find a place for the night. He knew it was not even close to compensation, but . . . Arthur had done is duty. How could he possibly regret killing someone who had kidnapped Morgana? He had been protecting her. But, either way, it was not Mordred's fault. Had he been older, he would have been more guilty by association, but he was a boy.

[mordred]

Not being patronized for his words, or more so his tone was slightly shocking although he didn't want to admit it. Still gazing up at the other male Mordred scrutinized him, noting every little detail. The older male was certainly one with a good heart, perhaps it wouldn't be too hard for him to forgive Arthur and to actually show him the respect that he deserved. He felt that it was to be needed eventually. He certainly was lucky that it wasn't someone crueler he had run into.

“Of course I can.” Mordred replied with a faint smile. He was so very certain that albeit Arthur didn't believe him he was at least acting as if he did. He wondered what the older male would do if he gave a little demonstration of what he could actually do. Although that would be a bad idea. Noting the concern in the other male's voice he finally gave in and would play down his secure feelings of his safety. “Well. I suppose that's true but, the sun is up.” Mordred replied, trying to be more friendly with the prince of Camelot.

Where was he headed? Mordred himself didn't really know the answer for that question. “...I wasn't planning on heading anywhere. I was just going to go where my feet lead me.” Mordred admitted, feeling a bit awkward with how the situation had changed. He found his bitterness easing up already. He wanted to ask a few questions, but couldn't bring himself to do it, not knowing how the older male would react if he brought up the person he had grown so close to. “...Where are you headed, Prince Arthur?” He settled on asking, figuring it was an appropriate question to ask of the other male.

Still, he wished that his telepathic abilities worked on those without magic, for he really did not enjoy speaking, and he wished he could have voiced his complaints, but to mention such a thing would have certainly made him seem like he had gone daft and that simply would not do, nor would it be wise. Oh how thankful Mordred was that he was not in Camelot. He could just imagine what would happen if he stepped foot into the citadel again, especially if it were in the middle of the day. Instantly there would be guards upon him, and warning bells would be ringing. It was curious to him of how the blond could act so kind to him, when his kingdom outlawed magic and it's usage. Perhaps that meant there would be a change in the future, and he'd one day be safe to use his magic should the need ever arise. Not to mention, maybe he'd not wind up being hunted down.

[Arthur Pendragon]

He seemed to be softening his own tone, as Arthur noticed him smile and speak a bit less sarcastically towards him. Never the less, Arthur could not fully lower his guard. He still could not explain the strange eeriness he felt around this boy. A boy. He would just have to keep reminding himself of this. Of how a boy posed no threat. From their conversation thus far, he did not seem to seek revenge on the Prince for having killed those he was evidently close to. So why was he still on full alert. Arthur gave a faint smile in return, not often displaying too many emotions, but at the same time, decided that he wanted to help the boy. That he should not have to be alone in the middle of this place. And hearing him have to walk to a destination . . . well that made Arthur feel even worse. He must be tired. Hungry. He was a child, and yet, Arthur could not help but notice the boy's strength for having such resilience.

His destination was as ambiguous as Arthur's, but at least Arthur had a home. "No where specific," he told him, returning the favor of keeping the atmosphere friendly and as least hostile as possible. "I was out here for hunt," he explained to him, certainly not about to go into the reasons as to why he was alone. The reasons were far too personal. He would not have even told Merlin; the man had just noticed on his own. Focusing on the present, rather than drifting off in recent memories, he returned his attention to Mordred. "You should not be alone here," he told him, sort of implying that he would offer his company, until he got him settled somewhere instead of traveling aimlessly. Or at least, temporarily settled since he was probably accustomed to nomadic ways.

"There should be an inn, not too far. If you would like, I can take you there." He had a horse at least, so that Mordred would not have to walk any further. Arthur could not help but think of what his father would say if he were to find out about this. Then again, he had already reached the height of aiding and abetting when he rescued him from the cell, and smuggled him out of the kingdom. All he was doing now was trying to help a poor child, who did not deserve the isolated fate that seemed to befall him. So if Mordred would allow him to, Arthur would aid him in whatever way he could.

[mordred]

Already plotting in his head what he could possibly do to get his vengeance the boy remained quiet for the most part. He nodded slightly and then glanced over to the older male, not quite understanding how he could be so caring about him, and yet he was the reason that he was alone in these hard times. It was so very contradicting how he could be helped out from one place, only to be put in direct danger after and yet, here he was. Talking to him as if he cared about him. This fact confused the boy.

It only vaguely made him curious as to why the older male was out all this way alone. Certainly there had to have been some reason for the heir to the throne to be alone in such a dangerous place. And the aspect of sleeping in a bed did appeal to him. Although, there was one small problem with the plan of going to an inn. “...I have not nearly enough alms for an inn.” He stated quietly, somehow feeling embarrassed to admit such a thing to the older male. He felt like he had to prove himself though. Though it still confused him as to why the blond was taking the time to show kindness to him. He pursed his lips, thinking it through.

On one hand, the prince had proven himself kind enough to sneak him out of his holding cell in the dungeons, risked his own life to sneak him out of the castle, out of the kingdom, and had been his travel companion until he was safe and sound with his people. Then there was the fact that when the Lady Morgana had came to them, Arthur and his men had killed innocent people. The fact that his guardian figure, Aglain had been shot and killed right in front of him. That was the sole factor in determining how he felt. It wasn't like Arthur was all that bad of a man. Some choices just caused trouble for him.

“...How is the lady Morgana?” Mordred finally inquired, all too curious to know how she was. It was an innocent question as it was. Morgana had helped nurse him back to good health when he was last in Camelot and had developed in turn developed a close bond. Mordred just hoped that his question wouldn't be taken the wrong way, after how it must have appeared when Morgana was last with them. He had at least gotten to return the favor and take care of her. “And... We didn't kidnap her, just so you know.” He added in as an after thought.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur had known that Mordred could not afford much, hence the reason he was in the woods. So he felt a bit bad that he had not expressed such understanding before hand, to avoid having Mordred feel forced to explain his inability to pay for the inn. Arthur would not have offered such an obvious solution had he not know that Mordred was at a slight disadvantage when it came to his monetary situation. "You do not have to worry about paying for it." Arthur had enough coins on him for the boy to have a good meal and a restful sleep. He wished he could offer him more, but this was the best he could do. It was not as if he could bring him back to Camelot and help him find more permanent accommodations. It was shocking enough that they crossed paths . . . almost as if fate was telling them that somehow, their paths were destined to intertwine.

Which was exactly why Arthur would not let this opportunity pass him by. If it was fate, then he would not deny it. "You should have a place to rest tonight," he added, wanting him to know that he was not doing this for any reason. He did not do it so that Mordred would somehow owe him, and he did not do it because he had some secret plan against the druid. He merely did it because he felt bad; because no child deserved this lifestyle. Arthur was well aware that he could not change the world, molding it into what he believed was fair and just. But helping a single person, was reward in itself.

Mordred's next question was a fair one. He knew that him and Morgana had a strong bond . . . an unusually strong connection. It was strong enough for her to have lied to him and Uther, and even endanger her own life by trying to sneak him out of the castle. Arthur had many questions about what compelled her to do such things, and yet, it seemed so easy to understand the desire and compulsion to protect an innocent child from death . . . guilty of a crime that he had not even committed. Seeing Mordred here now, made him understand why she had done so much to protect him. But before answering his question, he made another statement that greatly surprised Arthur.

He looked at the boy, unsure whether to believe him. He could be lying, for the sole purpose of wanting to protect the Druids, and try to explain that they had not kidnapped her, to prevent future attacks on them. On the other hand, the Druids were already hunted people in Camelot . . . and he was alone, so what possible reason could he have to lie? "I saw her with them," he said, explaining his own perspective of the situation. "She was being dragged away, against her will." Well that was certainly what it looked like. "Why they took her, I have not yet been able to understand." He spoke of them, knowing that it was obviously not Mordred's choice to have kidnapped her. He was just an innocent bystander . . . he was a child.

[mordred]

“...I will not take your money.” Mordred stated, appalled that the older male would even offer to do such a kind thing for him. It wasn't of benefit to him, in fact even the smallest amount of coinage was to be kept in these days. It wasn't all too fair for him to be taken care of by the older male. In fact, it wasn't needed because he had his magic to protect him, and he could catch his meal if he needed. Although he took advantage of his surroundings he figured that because of his young age and his slight appearance that was another reason that Arthur was showing him this gentle caring side. It somehow just unnerved him all the more. He vaguely wondered if it was more of an act. He had been seen with Aglain after all, and Aglain had been killed. Being alone would make it so no one would ever know. And yet... And yet, Mordred knew that wasn't the case.

To hear that the offer was strictly so he would have shelter eased his mind somewhat. Despite his thoughts being doubtful, he figured that he had two choices. Go along with the prince's words and allow himself to be taken care of, or just run to fend for himself. Despite not wanting to cause trouble he reluctantly gave in and then nodded slowly. “...Fine.” He mumbled, feeling more bashful then he should have. “If that's what you really want to do.” The Druid boy added.

Upon not getting an answer to his question about his friend, he felt a bit disappointed. When the next words were spoken he had the chance to explain what he knew, which has the truth. “We did not kidnap her. We do not kidnap people, even if we do seek them out. We offer help. She actually came to us.” Mordred paused for a moment, gazing up at Arthur trying to make eye contact. “She was being dragged away because her leg was injured. She was stung by a Serket. Aglain was helping her get away.” The boy added with a tone that was serious, controlled and confident. “That is what happened. The lady Morgana came to find us.” He stated, not daring to tell why she had come to the Druid camp.

Instead of continuing on to defend the truth of the situation, he decided to change the topic by faking a yawn and lowering his gaze again. He figured that if he acted as if he were tired that the conversation would end and that the awkwardness would leave. He was beginning to get worked up. His people would never to something as heinous as kidnapping someone. It was against their belief system. They helped any who were in need, so long as it didn't endanger the lives of their group. Mordred closed his eyes for a moment, just long enough to sort himself out and loose any anger he had felt raising up. He had no reason to spoil his vengeance just yet.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur knew all too well the notion of pride. It was never easy to accept help from others. Hell, Arthur rarely did so, unless it was more than just his life at stake. If there was more of a risk to other people, he would not be afraid or reluctant to ask for help. But he understood this boy's defensiveness. Yet, it was not enough to discourage Arthur and dismiss the idea of helping him. He would continue to try to convince him, hoping the boy was hungry enough enough to just succumb to his offer. But it seemed that not much convincing was needed after all. He seemed to be accepting it, making it seem like it was something Arthur wanted to do -- which it was. But he would not go on about it was what the boy seemed to need. He would just take it as a favor to himself, if that was the only way to convince Mordred to agree.

"It is. And I would be honored if you allow me to." Sometimes children -- or people in general -- were more likely to do things for others rather than themselves and while Arthur did not know Mordred, he could only try this approach and hope it worked. On the subject of Morgana, his curiosity just grew. It didn't make any sense. Why would she go to them? What possible reason could she have for going to them? How did she even know where to find them? Why would she have wandered around the woods, putting herself in danger just to meet them? So many questions and yet he was not sure how to get all the answers. Would Mordred know? It seemed rather odd to interrogate the child. But at the same time . . . it had to do with Morgana. Someone that Arthur dearly cared for.

His attention would not so easily be shifted. The child was tired, which would make Arthur feel a bit bad for beginning to ask questions. Perhaps he should wait. Yet, could he control his curiosity for the duration of the time it took to get to the inn. Probably not. Especially of the druid that had been killed by his men, had in somehow helped Morgana. Still, Arthur was not sure he was so ready to believe Mordred, for the sole purpose of it not making sense. "Why would she come to your people?" He asked, unable to comprehend Morgana's actions if Mordred was right. No. It could not be possible. She would not be so reckless. She would not have lied to him and his father. He broke his gaze, looking off to the side in a thoughtful manner, as if trying to determine himself the reasons that Mordred would say something like this. "It does not make any sense," he added, expressing his confusing . . . hoping that somehow, this boy had the answers.

[mordred]

Embarrassed that he was to be aided, be it against his better judgment or not. Even so, he was not dense. He knew when he needed help and when he didn't. It would be foolish of him to spend a night in the forest, especially with the offer of shelter from animals, human or not and the weather. He'd also get good food, as he himself had no skill when it came to cooking. He silently took another step closer to Arthur and glanced over to him once more. “I am willing to allow your assistance.” Grudgingly willing, at that but still willing.

“Why else do people come to the Druids? Why would she keep something from you and your father?” Mordred replied simply upon being questioned once more. He hesitantly took steps closer, then decided to change the topic, if Arthur didn't know he'd have to think of something. “She wanted to come see me. But, she knew if she was caught that she'd be in trouble. So, we were helping her escape, but her leg injury was making it hard for her to walk.” He lied, not wanting to give away the fact that Morgana had magic.

“So, it was all a misunderstanding. She cares about me, so she came to see how I was. She got attacked by a Serket and we saved her. Serkets are like... Giant scorpions if you've never heard of them. We healed her as much as we could, but it still must have hurt her to walk.” He continued on, some words of truth mixed into the lies that so easily rolled off his lips.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur felt a bit relieved that Mordred willingly accepted his offer. While Arthur would have tried to continue to persuade him, it was good that neither of them had to waste time arguing with one another. He gave a bit of a nod of acknowledgment, not about to make a big deal about this gesture. He did not do this so that Mordred would one day feel obligated to return the favor. Arthur did it because . . . because he was just a boy. And he needed help. And it was because of him that he had no companions. Well, to some extent for Arthur could not exactly regret doing what he could to protect Morgana. But as the boy continued to speak of her reason for going to visit Mordred, doubt became to enter his mind. Even though it was a difficult concept to wrap his head around.

What had been the desperation to see Mordred? Surely she knew what Uther would have thought if she ran away in the middle of the night. So many people had almost died in order to find Morgana. No. She would not do something so reckless. Then again, she had lied to him in order to protect the boy . . . Arthur would never had expected that from her either. This was all just so strange. Arthur trusted Morgana more than this boy, but he had to ask himself . . . what motives did Mordred have to lie? "Why did she take such a great risk? What was the dire need, for she did risk quite a bit to see you." He did not mean to minimize the peculiar bond that he and Morgana seemed to share. His question stemmed from sheer curiosity. And it seemed that Mordred's answers only confused Arthur further. Yet, hopefully at some point . . . all of this would make sense.

"I knew her leg was injured but . . . " Arthur's voice trailed off a bit. Gaius had checked her leg, saying that she had been poisoned, which severely weakened her. But Arthur did not know that it was the druids who had initially helped her. No. Wait. Is that what truly happened? Perhaps Mordred's motives for lying were that so Arthur would no longer hunt his people. That he would no longer blame them. "I do not understand why she would run away in the middle of the night to meet you." Arthur could not believe that she would risk her own life, and the lives of other people . . . for that. He did not blame her for the deaths that came out of this, or all the arrests that occurred because of her unexplained absence . . . but had anyone died because of that, he knew Morgana would feel guilty. For she knew the repercussions; the consequences of what Uther would do if there was even the remote possibility that she had been kidnapped.

[mordred]

Mordred didn't really understand why he had conflicting emotions towards Arthur. He was fine to be around, and yet something just told him not to trust the blonde haired man that was to be in his company for the time being. There was the fact that he was alone to contribute to that, although he didn't want to really dwell on that. He knew that with the many things that had happened, it had in the end not fallen upon Arthur's hands, but his father's. Uther Pendragon made civil hands tainted with civil blood, even the hands of his own son. It was a tad annoying however, that he had to explain himself and the reasoning on the one person he'd grown the closest to in just a short while. To have to speak constantly about the reasoning was slow and it was as if he were talking to a statue at times.

"Why did she take such a great risk? What was the dire need, for she did risk quite a bit to see you." Arthur had inquired, and yet he couldn't really say what it was that Morgana had come to him and the Druids for. He'd felt as if telling someone about her reasoning would be flagged as betrayal, and he wouldn't stand for it. Pursing his lips for a moment, he tried to think of something to say that wouldn't give any information away. He knew that to explain the true reasoning would not only betray the lady Morgana's trust, but also would endanger her life and would probably wind up burning at the stake. That was not something he'd ever wish upon her. "Well... We bonded when I was in Camelot. She came to seek me out, I suppose. I wasn't with the others when she was talking about her reasoning though." He said with a small shrug.

"But what?" Mordred raised an eyebrow towards the other's statement, and wondered what had caused the Camelotian to trail off in the middle of his sentence. "I don't fully understand either, but she must have come for some reason. As I said, we found her being attacked by Serkets. Big scorpions. And that's why we were helping her walk. She probably left in the middle of the night so she wouldn't be stopped. If you were running away to seek out the Druids, wouldn't you leave at night because of the fact it's against your father's laws to even communicate with us?" Mordred asked. He felt a bit bitter, and it had quite possibly shown in his tone of voice.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur had suspected as much. But when Mordred reminded him of the strong bond he and Morgana had shared . . . it once again brought back to the Prince's mind how he had caught Morgana, trying to help the boy escape. She had risked so much then. She had lied to both his and the king's face. Something that had not been easy for Arthur to accept but knowing where she stood when it came to punishing innocent people -- especially a child -- Arthur could not say he was entirely surprised. In the end, he had helped her anyway. But recalling that guilty look on her face when she had been caught showing no remorse for acting out against the king's laws and direct orders . . . made Arthur realize that perhaps, she truly had just been seeking out the druid. At the same time, it was difficult to understand her full reasoning for he still thought she risked too much to do so.

"I may not have taken such a great risk, knowing the magintude of the consequences." That was at least true, in response to Mordred's question about whether he would sneak out in the middle of the night. Morgana needed to tread carefully, as Arthur had told her before, because while he knew his father loved her . . . she had also been punished for her acts of defiance against him. And Arthur never wanted to see her thrown in the dungeons, chained up, ever again. It had been such a disturbing sight and only re-enforced how strongly his father felt against magic and any of its accomplices.

While Arthur still had not fully determined whether to believe the boy or not. But if everything he was saying was true . . . then that meant . . . he had made a dreadful mistake. Did he regret it? Again, he did not know if he trusted the boy but the mere possibility that he had killed people who were actually helping Morgana, gave the Prince a bit of a nauseated feeling. "If what you say is true . . . then that means that the druids were innocent." He knew that such words would have been obvious to Mordred, but they had not been obvious to Arthur. It took a lot of explanation and even still . . . . . his emotions to believe the boy were conflicting. Either way, he was slowly beginning to regret his actions of possibly killing those who had saved Morgana, rather than kidnapped her.

[mordred]

Mordred kept his gaze on the older male, the contrasting matter of opinion was something that made him a tad unnerved. He knew that his words were all true, save for the fact that he hadn't given Arthur the real reason for Morgana sneaking out. He knew as well that it wasn't his place to say something like that. How could he? It would be complete and utter betrayal if he did so, and all he could do was listen. To hear that Arthur wouldn't have made such a great risk, it made him wonder if he was perhaps a coward.

"I see that you wouldn't... But, does that make you a coward then? If it was something that needed to be done, would you not do what needed to be done?" The child retorted, speaking his mind. When Arthur had spoken about it meaning the Druids were innocent, that was something that he already knew. To hear that Arthur was clearly taking it all into consideration the Druid boy was feeling rather proud of the fact that it had been brought to the light.

"That's right. We are innocent. You're probably not interested in knowing what our principles are, but they're that magic is never to be used without reason, and to be respectful to the nature around us. We only use magic for good, we never use it for selfish reasons." He stated, and hoped, just hoped that it would get through to the older male and make him realise that the Druids really were peaceful people, and the only thing they did that was remotely dangerous with Magic was control the Serkets, but that was simply like having guard dogs with a bit of a more deadly bite.

"I wasn't born into the Druids... They found me when I was little... Well, littler. I do remember wanting to be a knight when I was older, but now I don't really know if that's something I'd want to do, even if I wasn't a Druid. I don't think it's right for me." He mused, deciding to change the subject.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Well, wasn't this child bold. While Arthur tolerated being called very little, the one thing he could not stand was being called a coward. He did not believe he was one. That did not mean he wished he had done things differently . . . but he refused to call himself a coward. He would do anything and everything to prove otherwise. In the midst of a battle, he would be the first to step out on the field. During an attack in Camelot, he would be in the front line. So he did not take well to Mordred calling him a coward, or well suggesting that he was one. Of course, he was just a bow. So Arthur could not quite react as angrily as he would with an adult. He may not know a great deal about children, but he knew that it was inappropriate to yell at them about something . . . about the fact that they had insulted him. Instead, he would choose to explain his words, and only hope that the boy understood. Why he hoped for this? Arthur was not sure. Perhaps to explain himself better.

"It is not an act of cowardice to think of how other citizens' lives would be endangered by one late night endeavor." He was not calling Morgana selfish or a coward herself, she was anything but. Arthur knew that if she had known what had happened to the people . . . that so many had been lined up to be executed, then she would not have left. Surely. Though he hoped by his words, the boy would comprehend what Arthur had meant by his words. "I do not believe Morgana knew the repercussions of her actions," he added, so that it did not sound like he was insulting his adoptive sister. He would never insult her to anyone. Only tease her in her presence, but never would he speak ill of her to other people . . . especially those he did not know well at all like Mordred.

Arthur had always suspected that the druids were peaceful . . . but for it to be suggested that they had not actually kidnapped her, was difficult notion to wrap his head around; because some of them had died during that raid. Including the man who he had seen 'dragging' Morgana away. Even if it was not by Arthur's hand, it may as well have been. For given the chance, who's to say he would not have done the exact same thing. Magic, nor its beings , was ever something that Arthur would fully understand. Having such conflicting emotions about it . . . it was difficult to reach a proper conclusion. No; it was impossible to reach a proper conclusion. He did not know what to say. He was not sure if he even believed him. But the scenario Mordred presented could not be fully ignored . . . for it had its logic. And that was what disturbed Arthur.

"If that is true," Arthur began, unsure himself where he was going with this. "Then we had made a terrible mistake." He knew that was an understatement but he didn't know how else to put it. As he previously established he did not know whether to believe him or not. So this was the best way he could express his doubt; that there was perhaps a chance they had been wrong. The subject of Mordred speaking of his dream to be a knight was a lighter, less intense subject. Arthur even gave a slight smile hearing him say that. It was often every young boy's dream to be a knight. Knights were often idolized in that way, meant to be role models. Of course, there was the rule that only men of nobility could be knights . . . something Arthur upheld as he had no choice, though he was not particularly fond of this idea.

For he had met men who were still honorable even though they had no noble blood. Lancelot being one of them; one that Arthur had fought for. "You must go where you feel you belong." Whether it was a knight, or a druid. Arthur would not discourage or encourage either. He was not the best at giving out any sort of advice or inspirational words. But to keep the conversation light, certainly could help alleviate some of the tension. "Where were you born?" He asked, feeling rather sympathetic towards the boy for having no mother or father to raise him. But rather, were left with an unrelated group . . . many of which he has lost.

[mordred]

Mordred had not meant to be as rude as he was. It had been bold of him to have made such an accusation. For, he had thought it to be cowardly to not take part in a service that needed to have been done. He had far from meant insult, he had just simply been speaking his mind. It was part of still being young and inexperienced, he had not the knowledge to know when it was proper to speak and when it was not. Still, Mordred was far from dense, and it was with his actions that he'd try to pardon his rudeness. Taking another step closer to Arthur, then craning his head to look up at him, the blue eyed child tried to figure out how to express his own words, and his views. To be told it wasn't cowardice due to the fact that citizen's lives would be endangered made sense to him, although he still kept by his own views.

"I did not mean it in that way. But, in fear of consequences...To not partake in something that you know must happen, would that not be cowardly? If it were something of utter importance. Not just some wish, wouldn't you follow your heart in what it was telling you to do, and not your head?" He added on, but then thought as Arthur continued on. He didn't even know how to respond on the topic of which they had stumbled into for the time being, as he would sooner cut his tongue out then betray Morgana by speaking of why she had left Camelot in the first place. His thoughts continued back to his people, and the fact that now he was alone.

Perhaps not lost, but alone and possibly in harm's way as he could at times be too trusting. With the very simple fact that he had his work cut out for him, he felt almost as if he had to continue on with the facts of what had happened and carry on with his eyes set forward, and never look back. He had one final statement on the subject that had been at hand. "A terrible mistake... I find that to be putting it lightly. The times that I have seen you, and your men one of my own has been killed. Cerdan. I bet you didn't even know his name. Cerdan was the one killed when I was in Camelot... Why was it so? I really don't understand what we did. We needed supplies. Why must it be crime just to be a Druid? I am certain if I ever stepped foot into Camelotian territory, I'd be executed on sight..." He admitted, although his change of topic to having wanted to be a knight was relieving, and he hoped it wouldn't return to their previous topic.

"Where was I born? I don't really remember where... I think it was somewhere near Orkney... Or perhaps it was Cornwall. I haven't lived where ever I was born for as long as I can remember..." Mordred stated, and smiled ever so slightly. He recalled the games he used to play before he'd been recruited into the Druids, although he remembered very little. "I used to play a game... In the game I was always a knight." He stated as his smile grew. "T'was with sticks that we would use as swords...!" He rejoiced in the memories of juvenile games. It made him grin just to be able to act like a child of his age.

"As for going where I feel that I belong... Isn't that what I am doing? I have no way of finding my people... What's it like to be a knight?" He asked, realising that he hadn't asked that question before. It had once been an occupation he hoped to have and yet he had given up on that dream. He hoped however to see what it would be like, and to know that it wasn't just slaughtering people, as the men of Camelot had done. He knew that every coin had two sides, as did every story. He had one side of it, and he wanted to know what the other side read like. To him, Knights had been his role models as a young lad, and yet his thoughts had changed when he'd least expected them to. It also vaguely unnerved him to realise that he had been opening up so much to the blonde haired man. He was normally rather reserved, and spoke little, and yet at the moment he was speaking like an old gossiping woman.