My Own Saviour (OPEN)

[mordred]

Set: In the Great Hall

Open: to All.

There was nothing left to be said. Nothing left to be done. As Mordred, Knight of Camelot and betrayer of the druids looked upon his sword for the last time, he barely bit back a tremble of fear at the thought of what he was about to do. To die this way was considered a sin by some... and yet... it miht proove to be the saving of someone else.

The King and his Knights were due back any moment from a hunting trip that he, Mordred, had not been invited on. Since being accepted into the Knighthood, the druid had felt like a spare part. Though Arthur spoke to him kindly and treated him well, he seemed not to want Mordred among his knights, he seemed to want to keep him in the castle - locked away and safe. Perhaps, after all, his Knighting had been trickery... a way to keep Mordred from those he might somehow cause harm.

Well, now he would give them their wish. With this last act, he could set a thrust against his destiny - he could rewrite the future and expell the past. He could finally repay Arthur the lifedebt he had owed the man for so long. With this last act, Mordred might finally be free. As he heard the clash of amoury, Mordred swallowed, knowing he had little time left. He took up his sword in his trembling hands, took a deep breath, and plunged the blade into his lowr stomach, feeling the steel thrust through his body, up into his chest as he spluttered for breath, the world finally, slowly, fading out of consciousness and thought.

Note: This popped into my head and wouldn't leave me alone... anyone is welcome to join!

[Brynn Reade]

Today was a very unusual day for Brynn, and she had yet to deem how she felt about it. Her mother had had a hard time talking her into it, but in the end she had consented. Previous to this day, Brynn’s little sister Elinor had been begging and begging to be given her first chance with the geese, since she wanted so desperately to follow in her big sister’s footsteps. Brynn loved her sister, make no mistake, but in her eyes little Elinor, scarcely more than eleven year, was simply too young to try her luck with the moody geese alone. “You were not a day older when you first set out”, her mother had reminded her gently. “And I remember how you’ve been insistent to go for weeks before that. Maybe not in that extroverted manner of your sister, but you were adamant and convincing in your own calm way.”

There was not much Brynn could have said against that and she also didn’t want to give the impression she wasn’t granting Elinor the responsibility and the challenge. Much more than with Gyrth, it seemed so incredibly hard to not see Elinor for that little sunshine she had been – and still was, only older with her own rights now. Not anymore the child, forever six years old and more stumbling than running through the meadows, a flower wreath by Brynn’s very own hands in her hair.Five years had passed since then, time for Elinor to take up her own responsibilities. So in the end, Brynn had of course said yes, and had told her to take out the geese alone today, take them to the meadow below the city walls and stay there as long as she felt them to need it, but not after sundown.

While she had told herself nothing could possibly go wrong, Brynn’s mind was returning again and again to her little sister and the herd, while she went about busying herself with other sevant chores she usually didn’t do. It felt peculiar to be inside the castle all morning and see everyone going about their own business, being one of the many busy figures walking to and fro. But this also had a very welcome side effect. Thrice this day, Brynn had already walked past her father, who was on guard duty in one of the main hallways. Normally, she didn’t see hide nor hair from him until he was off for the day, and then it was almost bedtime. Now she was carrying a basket full of eggs through the corridors towards the kitchen, when he way led her past the Great Hall. Brynn would have passed it by without a thought, hadn’t she seen the door was only ajar, just a crack open. This was unusual to say the least, and also while she was stopping, she thought to hear the tiniest noise from within, it almost sounded like something thudding to the ground.

Casting a curious glance about, Brynn then peeked through the crack – and what she saw made the blood freeze in her veins. There, right in front of the steps leading up the thrones lay a figure in a red cloak, a sword protruding from his body. Without any conscious thought, like she was in trance, Brynn pushed against the large door and rushed through, losing the basket with eggs on her way. She didn’t even notice them plummeting to the ground and cracking, spilling their contents all over the floor as she went down to both knees beside the body, taking up the man’s head in her hands. “Spirits help!” she muttered, completely at loss for what to do for now. She was no healer… all she knew was that this man was an inch away from dying. Numbly, she recognized him as Sir Mordred, the same Sir Mordred who had… no, no time for that! He had to be awake, right? That was what her mother had told her once, always try to wake the people up! Gently at first, then harder, Brynn’s hand stroke Sir Mordred’s cheek, calling out: “Sir Mordred! Sir Mordred! You must listen! Open your eyes!”