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Thoughts about the last episode?

Why was she being so kind to him? As the ward of the most hated man admist magic users, she should hate him... she should be turning him in. Why was she helping him? Mordred studied the lady quietly, wondering how strong she had to be to be able to resist Uther's cruel influence. Perhaps one day, he would find a way to repay her for this... if he was ever to leave Camelot alive, of course.

At the offer of water, Mordred swallowed instinctively. It had been... far too long... since he had had water... and he had never drank clear water such as the water that nobles drank from. He managed a weak smile at her offer, and nodded his head a little, thanking her with a smile. Yes, he would drink! Goddess be blessed upon this lady, hed drink all the waters in Albion, such was his thirst at that moment.

Mordred raised an eyebrow at the tone of her voice... The new spirit of Camelot, indeed... he thought. Did that mean she disapproved? Or did she approve and was trying to seem reserved? The Knight mentally shrugged off the thought, knowing he would eventually mull it over later. At the mention of one of his fellow knights, a smile graced the druid's lips. "I know Sir Gwaine," he acknowledged softly - feeling like an idiot as soon as he said the words. Of course the Knights knew each other! What sort of fellowship would it be if they did not? Cursing himself silently for his own stupidity, the druid smiled at her. "I have not yet gotten to know him as well as I would like, but he seems like a kind and honest man."

The pendant seemed to be pulling at him, for reasons that Mordred did not understand and was desperately trying to fight against. He tried to focus on the girl's voice, realising it had cut off and she was staring at him in... confusion? Fear? What? He stared at her, then down at the pendant, then up at her, not even thinking that his actions could be described by anyone as being innappropriate, since his main focus was on the pendant. A shiver of.. something passed through him, and the druid felt vaguely ill, as though he might throw up. His hands shaking, the druid forced back a grimace, giving the girl an apologetic smile. "Please forgive me, dear Lady," he said softly. "I was caught by the signature, though alas I do not know what it represents." A slight lie... but then, was she telling lies too? A carver's signature, she called it... but no, Mordred was certain he had seen it somewhere before. A whisper in his ear of times gone by - no. No. The knight pushed such thoughts aside, and gave the girl a distant smile.

"My apologies. I am not myself.... and I should be late for training if I stay here for too long," he stumbled about his words, desperate to get away from the pull of the pendant, praying against prayer that it was somethign that would loosen its hold on him if he were away from it. How long had it been here, in Camelot? Was this woman a witch? Did she mean to work against the King? Or was she as innocent as she claimed? He gave her a strange look, and a weak smile. "It was a pleasure making your aqquantence," he said, the words sounding false to his own ears as the Knight turned, desperate to get away from the magnetic pull of the pendant.

Mordred's eyes darkened and narrowed, as his hand on the knife clenched a little tighter. For the warlock to be here... and to be making these ridiculous attempts at seeming innocent... it was almost too much. The druid swallowed back a rising insult, forcing a slow breath instead. Merlin's facade of inncence was somewhat convincing though. The druid's mouth formed a frown as he wondered whether the warlock was truly unsure, but then - no. No, how could he be? After all he had done?

Pushing back his shoulders a little, the brunette gazed into the eyes of the fellow magic user, his gaze cold. "More tricks, Merlin? They won't work this time... I hope you know that." He shook his head. "How could you, Merlin? You were his dearest friend, his trusted ally, and yet you..." he cut off, swallowing. "And yet for so long, you blamed me. You swore it would be I who brought this about... is that why you chose the task, Merlin? To change my fate by taking it on yourself? You and I could have worked together! We could have kept him safe..." The druid shook his head, his eyes shining with sadness. "But you chose to turn against him, against Camelot... against Arthur." With a slow breath, the druid shook his head. "I never thought you capable of such tings... clearly I was wrong... and now all of Camelot is weeping."

The druid raised an eyebrow, his blue eyes never leaving the warlock's gaze, as he held the knife a little closer to hand. "Are you still playing these old games, Emrys?" he asked softly. "Are you still faking innocence, faking idiocy?" Mordred gave a half smile, though there was no warmth in it. "These things do not become you. Best stop whilst you can."

Once upon a time, he had hoped they would be friends. He had truly, desperately hoped that he and Merlin might somehow overcome the fate which was decreed upon them, and he had prayed that they would defy the odds, and somehow protect that which they both held so dear. But he had failed, Merlin had... well. And now? Now the die had been cast, the wind's song had been sung, and Mordred had never been more afraid in his life.

The smile on his face showed none of this, however it instantly faded as Merlin spoke of Arthur. "Do not speak of the King!" He hissed, his eyes narrowing and the flickering candle nearby going out as power crackled in the air. "You have no right to mention his name, to speak of him!" He took a step toward the warlock, and then stopped, his eyes still upon the brunette. "No. I will not dishonour this place with your blood."

"I hope the time will come," Said the Knight in return, giving her a quick smile back. He glanced down at her daughter with a smile to the girl, before raising his eyes back up to her mother. "Sometimes I think children are more observant than us adults," he admitted, a smile coming to her lips at the lady's chuckle.

"Caitrin it is," The Knight took her hand, kissing it gently before letting it go. "It is indeed an honour." He glanced down at the small child as she spoke of the game they were playing, and smiled, taking a seat next to Caitrin, happily, his eyes turning to the woman as he listened to her. "I have found the King to be highly gifted in the art of making people feel at home," he said softly. "I am most debted to him... he has made Camelot feel like my home. I can well see that he would treat you the same," he said with a quick smile.

Mordred nodded, feeling a little more at ease with the other knight. At least Gwaine wasn't going to mock him for his lack of fighting skills or start pestering for information on the druid's history. That might have been awkward to say the least. He smiled a little. "Thankyou,"

His eyes watched Gwaine's movement as the man demonstrated his stance, and raised his sword up, moving his feet to mimik the other knight's stance, hoping he was getting it right. The druid nodded at Gwaine's words, trying not to feel too nervous. "I'll do my best, Sir Gwaine," He said quietly, the words almost a vow. And he would. He had a duty, after all, to protect Arthur... and he couldnt' do that with no knowledge of the sword, could he?

Mordred had never felt more relieved than at the sight of the smile the lady had given him. As a newcomer to this kingdom, he was uncertain of protocal in these situations, thus every movement he made, every greeting, felt strange. He pushed the thought aside, with a warm smile of his own. "I am glad, my Lady." He was about to ask her name when she spared him, and introduced herself.

"The pleasure is mine, Lady Elenora," said the knight with a soft smile, inclining his head in respect to her. After all, she was a noble woman, and far higher in ranking than he was. At her question, he smiled a little. "I am indeed, my Lady," he assured softly. "I confess I am a little lost here though, I am not used to being among so many people..." He paused, wondering if his words would reflect badly on the King somehow. "That is to say..." he floundered, not sure how to continue.