Confrontation

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur wasn't sure how long he had been walking for. It could have been days, it could have been months. The more likely answer was days. Yet without food and water, he felt himself weakening at an alarming rate. He had emerged from the water, confused and disoriented, and was now forcing one leg in front of the other, eager and desperate to return to Camelot. Why had he been in the water? How long had he been there for? So many unanswered questions raced through his mind, and the hope of answers as well as the need for the comfort of his home, was all that kept him moving. His memory returned to him in flashes, recalling the battle, and Merlin's reveal, as well as Morgana's death -- which brought some ease of mind knowing that her great threat was eliminated. And that perhaps Camelot could rest in peace once more.

He just didn't understand what happened from the time he slipped into darkness, to when he rose from below the lake. His unwillingness to stop only caused his energy to decline at a rapid pace. Until he reached the peak of physical exhaustion and his body no longer held the same determination as his mind. He collapsed to the ground, struggling to keep his eyes open, for he feared that if he closed them . . . he would either wake up at the bottom of the lake, or never open them again. His vision blurred as he slipped further from consciousness, but he heard voices in the distance. Was it his mind concocting these hallucinations? Or was there really someone near? What if it was a threat? Arthur tried to reach for the hilt of his sword -- the first thing he noticed when coming out of the water -- but he couldn't. His arm would not move no matter how hard he willed it too. These voices, if they were indeed created by his mind, suddenly became more severe as an image of a man loomed over him. Arthur could barley see him, and yet there was a strange familiarity about him . . . something about his presence.

He was an elder man, clad in a robe with a hood and . . . that was all Arthur could remember, for once again, he slipped into an unconscious state, despite his efforts not to which yet again, proved to be futile.Once again, the passage of time in which Arthur was unconscious was not known to him. This time, when he opened his eyes, he was not gasping for breath. Instead, he saw the roof of a cave. A cave? Or some sort of cave like dwelling? Arthur attempted to sit up but his body protested as he felt every limb ache in pain. Still, he could not just lie here. His confusion made him restless and he felt the need to gain answers. He sat up, moving a little bit at a time, and it wasn't until then that he noticed how he was dressed. His chain mail had been removed, leaving him in his shirt and trousers. His boots were on the side, and his sword was . . . no where in site. He felt a slight panic, being without a weapon. A weapon that marked him as the king of Camelot.

Although, if they wanted to kill him, then he would be dead already. If it was a ransom, then his hands would be tied. Instead, he was in a place of comfort, with sheets under him, pillows under his head, a blanket draped over him and a small fire to keep him warm. This was not how a hostile group treated a prisoner. So, where exactly was he and who exactly was he with. Finding the curiosity too great to bare, he reached over for his boots and slipped them on. Then, he forced himself to his feet, groaning at the pain this action caused, but fought through it, has he reached for the wall of . . . wherever they were, needing it for support and balance. Though had to pause before he moved any further. He needed to make sure he would not appear weak in front of the others, even if they had seen him at his weakest state. He had to show that he was strong and stable, even if he didn't feel like either right now.

_{Setting: Somewhere in the woods, at a druid camp
Time of Day: Late Afternoon
Timeline: A few years after The Diamond Of The Day II
What If: Mordred and Arthur met again after their presumed deaths
Tag: Mordred}

[mordred]

The world had slowly slipped back into focus, as Mordred felt breath stir in his chest once again. Again and again, in that place where some dreamed of deserving rewards, and others dreamed of darkness, there had only been the past... relived and revealed tauntingly through Mordred's mind as the young man lamented over the mistakes of all he had done. Morgana had been so very wrong from the start... and yet... Arthur had not been the most noblest of souls as the druid had once hoped he would be.

But then, Mordred had begun to understand that he had been far too naive. Arthur was human, after all. He was not a God, not an unsurpler... simply a King attempting to right the wrongs of those before him. He had given Cara a chance for life, and she had been her own end... the druid boy could see that now. But at the time, he had been so blinded by grief... he had been blind to the truth. To have Arthur's blood on his hands, to realise what he had done as he had awoken had almost broken the young man - after all he had attempted to be, Merlin had been right. Mordred was the betrayer, and he had murdered the Greatest King of Camelot.

And then, luck had finally chanced upon him. Mordred's eyes slid over to the form of Arthur, and he breathed a soft sigh. The finding of Arthur had seemed like a miracle, and it had not taken much to convince the druids to help him give the King protection. No doubt, if Morgana had found the blonde, then Arthur would have been dead again by now. That was, of course, if Morgana was still alive. Mordred shook the thoughts away as Arthur seemed to stir, and watched silently as the King managed to grasp his bearings, taking a moment before he spoke out loud. "You are protected here, Arthur," he said quietly. "You can rest without fear of being attacked."

[Arthur Pendragon]

As Arthur focused so intently on gaining his strength, enough to walk, and maintaining his balance, the voice that filled the otherwise somewhat silent air slightly startled him. He turned his head to see who had spoke and if he thought the unexpected words startled him . . . shock consumed him when his eyes lay on the source. Mordred. Arthur's hand reflexively went to his belt, only reminded of how he had no weapon, yet felt the need to defend himself. A reflex of a trained warrior and . . . Mordred was a threat to him. Surely. After all he had killed him, or nearly killed him or . . . Arthur wasn't sure what was happening. He just knew that Mordred had chosen to side with Morgana. And that was enough of a betrayal to deem Mordred a threat and enemy. Yet, seeing him now . . . there was an undeniable calmness in his voice. But perhaps this was Arthur's problem. His naivety, to not see an enemy when one was there. He had done it with Morgana, he had done it with Agravaine . . . and Mordred.

While Mordred had fled from Camelot rather than pretend to be a friend, he still managed to turn the young former knight against him. So why now, did he sound so . . . calm. And it was not just his tone, but his words of reassurance that greatly confused Arthur. His eyes had slightly widened at the shock of seeing Mordred alive, having truly believed that he'd killed him. "You . . . " Died. "I . . . " Killed you. This was too much; too many unanswered questions and it was making Arthur's head spin. "I thought you were dead." He didn't know how his tone sounded. Thick with confusion, that much was certain. While Arthur never enjoyed killing, it was necessary at times. During war, and in eliminating threats, like Mordred. Though these were the only words that escaped his lips for now, as he kept his eyes firmly on Mordred . . .cautious and wary, and . . . curious to know what made him so reassuring toward Arthur's safety; a drastic change from their last encounter.

[mordred]

The druid's lips curled into an almost-amused smile as he watched the King struggle through the reality of what was happening. "I was dead." Mordred paused a little, before his eyes fell upon the King once again. "Prophecies are strange things, aren't they?" He asked quietly. "Destinies, fates, strings pulled by the Higher Powers that we have no control over..." He sighed softly, shaking his head. "I did not want to kill you, Arthur. There were... things at work. Things that neither of us will ever perhaps understand. But both of us were dead, and now, both of us are alive once more." He managed a weak smile. "Perhaps, by the grace of the Gods, a new destiny for each of us will arise."

Taking a slow breath, Mordred stood up, and then dropped into a kneel next to the King. "You have no reason to ever trust me, my King, but I pray that one day, you may perhaps forgive me, for I never wished for Morgana's plan to come to pass. I hoped only to swade the tide of her anger against something other than Camelot, and instead I was her instigator. I pray you can find it in your heart to forgive me."

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur was not sure how to process all that Mordred was saying. His mind could not keep up. He had been dead then, but risen back to life? Is that . . . is that what happened to Arthur now? He had risen from the dead? Was such a thing possible? The young former knight then spoke of destiny, prophecy, fate . . . Merlin spoke of similar things. Prophecy, how he had tried to stop what happened. None of this made any sense though! How was this all possible? How could they both rise again? Were their destinies really so great that fate brought them back to this world? He was with the druids after all . . . they held powers that Arthur could never truly understand. Arthur tried to organize his thoughts, enough to bring them to voice, however it was Mordred's next actions that caused him pause, and made him look at the druid. He was kneeling in front of him, speaking of trust and . . . forgiveness.

Arthur looked away, the pain of what had happened between them too great. As he once looked at Mordred with pride, he now could hardly hold his gaze. "Get up Mordred," he said in a low voice, the pain stronger than any demand. In fact, his words held no authority. They were words of a man, a former friend, rather than a king. "You have no reason to kneel in front of me right now." Because here, Arthur was no king. He was . . . well, he wasn't sure what he was. He didn't know how to react to anything Mordred was saying or even doing. Did he know Morgana was dead? Is that why he wished for Arthur's forgiveness? No, that did not make sense. For he was with the druids and had no reason to falsely want Arthur's trust once more. Was Morgana dead still? Or had she too risen from the dead? Arthur prayed not. He hoped that wherever she was, she found more peace there than she did in this world.

"When you thrust your sword in my chest, you spoke of how you had no choice." Arthur remembered those words, loud and clear, for they had been the last things he'd heard before slipping into darkness for the first time -- prior to Merlin finding him. He slowly brought his gaze to Mordred's, needing to see if he could detect the sincerity in the druid's words, of if Arthur was being his usual naive self in trusting people more than he should. "Why?" He questioned in a low voice. "I embraced you as a brother and believed we were such. Perhaps the fault is mine, for not seeing how easily swayed you could be to join Morgana's side. Had you merely parted from Camelot, I would have understood. But you sought vengeance. How could you side with someone who's methods you so strongly disagreed with for such a long time?" For the months he was with him. That was why he fought on Camelot army was it not? For he shared the same values, methods and ideals as Arthur. So why . . . how had he changed? Had the loss of the woman truly done that much to him? Had it really made him hate Arthur that much?

[mordred]

"I believed I was doing what was right." The druid defended himself, watching Arthur warily. He didn't expect the King to understand - what would a Pendragon know of such things as fate and destiny? Morgana had laughed such things off, and it seemed that Arthur was doing the same. Would the blonde never learn from the mistakes of his elders? "You don't understand, Arthur. You have no understanding of what it is to be handed a destiny, and told that you must see it through, no matter what."

Mordred sighed, shaking his head. "Cara's death... it made me wonder, made me think. I loved her, Arthur. Can you not understand that? After all you have been through with the Queen, after all you have shared - can you, of all people, not underestand true love?"