step in the lonely road with me , [ ARTHUR ]

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I WANNA HEAR YOU SING THE PRAISE

How long did he have to keep up like this? Like daggers stuck already in his back, and an X right across his face the game of survival hadn't been so easy on Mordred lately. How could it be anyway? A wanted face, painted all over the Kingdom's walls and a ' danger ' sign all on every Druid's alike, he had missed the quiet days where he at least could pose a smile in his cheeks. The days and nights where he not to worry, which way he run nor wonders he had faced, the life that the druid boy lived had became more fragile, for he was just a boy after all, and a boy now he'll stay to be.

But yet the boy's heart could of iced ages of his generation, and each morning that brought daylight had he felt more colder and colder. While the soft breezes pursued to pass his gentle skin, there was still coarse touch inside of him that was impossible not to feel. As the hatred of the King expanded and expanded each day, there was something even more worse that could almost tear both his flesh in his soul and complete body apart. Morgana.

Yes. How can the boy feel anything when his emotions are so far away? He didn't know how long had he not seen her face. The beautiful jewel that actually gave a spark in his heart and strength in his bones. Ever since that day he lay eyes and mind on the woman his thoughts were pre-occupied with missing affection and love, as ever since the day his only one died another one had become reborn. And there wasn't a night the darkness engulfed him, had he not think of her. When the silence brings everyone to sleep, his thought of Morgana put him to rest and for some reason nightmares are afraid of his thoughts, in which Morgana lets him have a peaceful sleep even when she's not there, but a thought can only soothe his worries for so long.... For in reality he is alone, and even if alive he is still afraid.

And now while he strode passing the various trees and rocks before him he stepped a lonely road by himself. Mordred didn't have friends, and he knew that he wouldn't have any. Only guidances, and guards that carry him life, but not love. And at least if he could have a Mother in his world, he would be pleased with his living because at least there was someone out there he could care for. But even if Mordred was a afraid boy, he was a patient one. He'll survive being alone, running, as he'd survive any day before he met the lot because he knows that one day it will be rewarded.

So as he passed each path, and streaming rivers he didn't mind anymore to look behind his back, and make himself smaller. And though, he was still scared and did not understand his worries, there was always some type of voice telling him what to do, and when to do it. While Mordred isn't the one to listen, the voice was soothing and every time he heard it he follows giving the sound, it's utmost loyalty. Yet, he still does not know who it is.

But then before he could finish, it started to yell; And Mordred swiftly turned with his hood on to see what it was bellowing it.

And even though the druid boy was frightened, he stared his sky-blue eyes forcefully at the empty grass and trees spotted in front of him filled with running footsteps. There was something about this encounter that made Mordred not run letting his feet plant firmly on the grassy terrain, and the voice in his head more angry, but he did not dare to look himself what it was.

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WE GOT INNOCENCE FOR DAYS .

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TAG: Arthur !
TIMELINE: LABYRINTH OF GEDREF .
NOTES: Hope it's ok! I know it's a bit weird but this post was seriously based on Mordred's Lullaby by Harper Dale I don't know why but I felt necessary to do it because it's Arthur, lol! Sorry it's long I love that song XD

LYRICS: house of wolves- my chemical romance
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[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur was worried for the fate of the kingdom. With the food running out in the city, and the crops having unusually died, Arthur was unsure as to what to do. His father believed it to be magic and Arthur was inclined to agree with him. This was far too sudden for it to have been due to natural causes . . . and that was what added to he young Prince’s fear. It was very preliminary though. People still had food, so long as they rationed them properly, but Arthur was not naïve enough to believe that this would last them. They could not live like this for very long. The fact that his father refused to ask for foreign aid was not helping matters either. He was far too afraid that others would regard this as a weakness . . . but what was the harm in asking their allies for help? Just for a little while until they remedied this unfortunate and bizarre occurrence. Was that not what allying kingdoms were for? Was that not how they showed their support for those they were friends with? Arthur could not think of his pride when his people were suffering. Those in the outlying villages would not have a proper source of food . . . how could they allow this to continue?

It was why he was out here now, riding through the woods and countryside on the outskirts of the city to see if he could discover the source of all this. To see if there was a sorcerer lurking about so that he could confront them, even kill them if that was what it took to reverse this spell. Whatever their grievance was with the kingdom, surely no one was cruel enough to just stand by and witness hundreds of thousands of people suffer. Then again, he had seen the cruelty of magic and what those who used it was capable of. But . . . he had also seen it used for . . . dare he say, good? Just not half as frequently as the first use of it. Regardless, Arthur was not just going to stand by doing nothing while the people grew hungrier. It would only be a matter of time before the people rebelled, causing riots, and if they did so . . . then Arthur could not blame them. The people looked to him for security, stability and protection and he was failing them miserably.

He pulled his horse to halt, hearing the rustling of leaves in the distance. Swiftly dismounting, he quickly tied his horse to a nearby tree and pulled out his sword, holding it up in a defensive manner. He was dressed in his chainmail and armor, prepared for any danger that may befall him in this moment. The person -- or persons -- in the distance could be innocent travelers, nomads, it could even just be an animal . . . but there was also the possibility that it could be someone who was directly related to this curse. And it was that possibility, however slim it may be, that Arthur was stopped his horse, and was slowly approaching whoever it was who was there. He took a few cautious steps forward . . . until a cloaked figure came into view. Arthur’s eyes slightly widened with surprise, able to recognize even just the back of the this familiar figure. He slowly lowered his sword in shock. Even though it had been months, he still remembered his name for it had been the only word he spoke to him. "Mordred," he said in greeting, acknowledgment and partially a question, as if he was just being entirely sure that it was in fact him and he was not mistaken.

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I WANNA HEAR YOU SING THE PRAISE

Mordred's breathe became un-even. And each sound, and amount of oxygen he took in, unnerved him even more. Why did the human-ish noise in his brain get louder? His mind, heart, and even body was full of rage yet he, himself was full of fear. The days had been better for the boy lately. As long as he ran, as long as he had the ability to hide he was safe even if he was alone most of the mornings and nights; so why was he cowering now?

Moving his head variously from left to right, cursing as his feet made baby steps backwards creating more vibration on the ground, Mordred still kept up with a calm face. It was coming, and whatever it was the boy could almost feel it's heart beat next to his. And in some cases, a bit of abnormal beat that went through his ears.

But who he saw, was more unimaginable then the thoughts he was thinking of who it was.

Arthur Pendragon. Prince of Camelot, son of Uther, and savior of his life. Mordred didn't know how to respond as he watched the blonde older being walk towards him. He wasn't scared, nor was he amused but he was definitely not in his calm habits. How long had it been ago, did the man help to escape the boy with his almost execution and trembling emotion? Hours, days, even months? Mordred had never had time to capture time itself, so he didn't know--but he did know it was ages of forever ago did he not see the stern and valuable face.


The one that was created by the man who used to, and still wanted him destroyed. Mordred still did never understand why he saved him, but still he was thankful all these days and hours he's been in the forest that he could breathe peaceful again. Yet, his heart still raged of fire that he was here so their visit to Mordred, was no less content. He wasn't the average ' little boy ' who would be excite over his ' hero ' and ' savior '. Nor was he the one to make a special greeting; but even if he wanted to it seemed he was already beaten.

"Mordred,"

The armored one spoke, causing the smaller figure to step back a bit. He already said he wasn't afraid, but he was.... Unsure how to respond. Only wanting a bit of time to himself, and to reflect alone from the small place he slept, this was something he never expected. A bit worried that Arthur had sword up the boy became at eased (as if he was the one to show though) , and now only bored his eyes into the other's sky-colored blue ones. This.... wasn't much of a ' reunion ' party really....And Mordred never wanted it to be like that. Beginning to open is mouth he quickly and surely replied before the other could say anything else, "What are you doing here?" With a bit of force, and lowly sound. The voice was still yelling in his mind.

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WE GOT INNOCENCE FOR DAYS .

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TAG: Arthur !
TIMELINE: LABYRINTH OF GEDREF .
NOTES: i'm usually not a banner whore. XD sorry, it's so hard to have to use low quality screencaps so i'm experimenting!

anyway hope it's good. kind had to leave half way the post and come back so sorry if it's messy!

MUSE: knives and pens - black veil brides

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[Arthur Pendragon]

Upon seeing Mordred, a great deal many thoughts flooded the young prince's mind. He had helped him escape . . . he had directly defied his father, just as Morgana had at the time. He knew she did not like seeing anyone executed for practicing magic, for the violent act unnerved her. Yet, there had been something different about this boy. She had lied to him; directly lied to him when he had come in her chamber that day to search it for the fugitive. She had then even proceeded to attempt to sneak out of the castle, getting caught. Arthur could not verbally explain what he felt in that moment of seeing that she had been the one to help him. The so called 'traitor' who was hiding the boy. He also knew that had it been anyone else, the king would have executed them for their treason. But because it was Morgana . . . well, no matter what she did, Uther would never kill her. But that incident had certainly caused tension in their relationship.

All for a boy. Arthur could only relate to a certain extent. His relationship with the boy had not been as strong at Morgana's had, but Arthur did not wish to see an innocent child, killed. Whether he used magic or not, he was still a child. Yet, there was something about him that Arthur could not define. Something that . . . almost caused a chill in the prince's spine when he saw him. Something about his presence. It had not been enough to not want to help him. And quite frankly, he was glad to see him alive -- and somewhat well. Morgana would be happy to hear such a thing as well. "What are you doing here?" Mordred's question pulled Arthur out of his thoughts. He had not been expecting such words, almost harshly spoken, from the young boy. What was he doing here. "I could ask you the same thing," Arthur said. His tone was voice of any harshness, but it was formal and . . . there was an underlying concern in it.

Mordred was a fugitive. Anyone could recognize him, any knight could stumble upon him and try to drag him back to the king -- or even kill him on sight. Arthur had thought the boy would have been long out of Camelot by now. Arthur did not answer his question, for the prince had more cause for being here than Mordred did. Did he have anywhere to go? The prince felt sympathetic towards him, for having lost his friend -- perhaps even relative -- when he entered the city, as he had been publicly executed. Why had he come to the city to begin with? Why was it that practitioners of magic were drawn to the heart of Camelot when they knew of the severe punishments they'd be faced with if caught? "You are not safe here," he added, this time the concern being a bit more evident in his voice, as well as a tone of warning. Warning Mordred that he should have left the kingdom weeks -- months -- ago. Unless of course, there was something keeping him here.

[[ No worries!!! It was a GREAT post!! I have a few sites I use for caps, they aren't HQ but they're pretty good quality! Just let me know and I can send you the links! ]]