100A/N: Are you as excited as me about chapter two? Probably not, right? ^^; Tell me whether the language is okay, since I wanted a medium between medieval old English and modern English.
Warnings: A couple of Welsh words, slash hints, and language. That's pretty much it for this chapter.
Chapter One: Mordred
My mother often told me I was the child of a king, and should always act with that in mind. Of course, when I was young, I didn't really want to behave like a prince, since they weren't allowed much fun activities, such as bathing in the mud or sleeping with the dogs.
As I got older, I realized that perhaps she was just embarrassed, being an unmarried woman living on her own with a bastard child. Perhaps she made up fantastical stories to cover up her shame. That, in turn, shamed me, as well.
It hurt to think I was a disgrace to my mother; that perhaps she would have been happier without me. It hurt all the more to know that, while she had at least stayed to care for me, I was so much of a shame to my father that he disregarded my existence altogether. This thought bothered me, hurt me, and broke me, until finally, I decided to forget my father all together. I had my mother, and she was enough. But, no matter how much I told myself that, I was never quite convinced.
My home stood alone on a small hill, barely a man's height from the ground. It lacked the extravagance one would expect from a castle. In fact, it was more like a large stone house, composed of perfectly even little bricks, and it had no more than two turrets on either side of its round body. But it was also quite cozy, hugged along its base by Mother's simple garden of zinnias, and very peaceful, with nothing but the plains around it for at least a mile. There was a large balcony that could be accessed from my room or my mother's, cut off at the center to grant us both privacy, and creeping vines traveled across the stone under it. I used these to scurry down to the ground, grass and flowers softening the blow.
"Mordred," an excited voice whispered. I knew it belonged to Terry, my best friend, without even having to see him. We'd been friends for the longest time, since we were both small lads, but we only grew very close after his brother left Bryn-Rhyd-Yr-Arian to become a knight. He didn't care about the gossip about my mother and I, and he wasn't afraid to visit our lonely castle. Lately, the feelings I had for him coursed deeper than simple friendship, making my breath quicken and my blood rush, but that didn't mean I'd ever tell him how I felt. "Mordred!" he repeated, louder this time.
That also didn't mean I couldn't be cross with him.
"Hush, ffwl," I hissed back, hoping he'd get the hint. My mother was finally asleep, and I'd planned this escape far too carefully to let Terry botch it up for me now. Thankfully, he caught my not so subtle message and remained quiet. So quiet, in fact, that I had to stumble through the fog to find him, since he stood below the hill and was shrouded by the shadows it cast. An apt revenge, I had to admit. Finally, when I tripped over his well-worn boots and heard the responding chuckle, I looked up at my friend.
Terry, christened Terrwyn ap Thomas, was taller than me, with a sun-darkened face and the most beautiful, warm brown eyes. The lasses in the village held their bosoms at the mere sight of him, but didn't get so much as a bat of his lashes in return. Terry was still just a boy in a man's grown form, and I preferred it that way. I had him and they did not, at least for the moment. It was selfish, but I was happy. He smiled down at me, his square teeth glinting in the fading sunlight, and my heart fluttered. I glowered to mask it, making him laugh and ruffle my long black locks, a contrast to his cropped brown.
"Don't be so dour, Mordred," he advised, grinning, and led me over to his mighty steed, who was really just his father's mare, Alis. She whinnied when he forced her away from the moist grass she'd been feeding on, but he petted her snout to sooth her. "Up with you, now," he directed me, holding the dappled brown horse steady so that she wouldn't suddenly buck.
As I was shorter than him, he mounted her first, offering a hand down to me once he was seated, and I scowled at the offending appendage, scrabbling on for myself. We rode bareback, since my mother thought it was unsafe for me to ride and didn't know about my excursions, and Terry's father, being just a simple wood-cutter, could afford no such luxury. I didn't mind. Any pain I'd suffer later on would be worth it to feel Terry's sculpted chest against my back, and his muscular arms around my waist. I didn't mind at all.
"On, Alis," Terry said, and the little mare set off at her slow pace. Because Alis had a lame hoof, it took her a while to hobble to the village, and we had ample time to converse. Scores of grassy plains, frosted with morning dew, passed beside us. You could see the mountains at a distance, their pale caps nearly indiscernible against the somber white sky. There were animals, too, but harmless creatures that didn't shy Alis, like rabbits and livestock. Terry tucked my messy head of hair under his chin, his eyes tracking a hare back to its underground haven, and smiled contentedly. "So, Mordred, I can't yet believe your mam let you set out to town with me."
At that, I wanted to glare up at him, hoping my green eyes would blaze and instill some sense into his thick skull, but couldn't, with my head trapped as it was. I tried to distract myself by counting the puffy white and pinkish clouds that slowly trudged over us, filling the sky as the sheep did the pastures.
Still observing them, I scoffed, "Ha, you know she didn't," at least wishing to verbally scald him. It didn't work – it never did – so I clarified, "I left to be with you, you big brute."
It made me blush to admit this, but he didn't understand what I meant. To him, I was just his friend, going against my mother to play with my friend. To me, it was as close to a love confession as I thought I'd ever get.
Chuckling, he said, "Aw, you know I don't ever want to get you in trouble," and I rolled my eyes. Just being around him got me into mischief enough. "Ordinarily, I wouldn't want you to go against your mam's wishes, but this is the chance of a lifetime," he continued eagerly.
Although I couldn't see his face, I knew his eyes were glowing brightly. The Queen of Orkney, mother of the famous Sir Gawain, was coming to Bryn-Rhyd-Yr-Arian with her brood, and Terry loved all things to do with court or knighthood. He had since his brother had joined the High King's forces, but it didn't matter so much to me. I was only coming along to be beside him when it happened, so no brave knight could enchant him away from me. Still, I couldn't very well come out and say that, could I? So I pretended to be as excited as he, upon hearing this so-called wonderful news. Truly, I saw no reason for a noble such as the Queen to visit this land, and I didn't appreciate the gesture. Noblemen were only attractive in appearance, and even then because they had the wealth to be.
"Aye, I couldn't pass up this chance," I said regardless, my clipped tone warning him not to broach the subject any further. He made a low humming sound, which vibrated through my hair pleasantly, and complied. We were silent for the rest of the trip.
Bryn-Rhyd-Yr-Arian was a village sheltered from the rest of Wales by an impressive mountain-region. The villagers made their fortunes sheering wool, planting crops, and the like, which didn't actually yield much pay. As such, it was a village of peasantry, filled with small, hut-like homes, fenced-in livestock, and tiny plots for farming. There were a rare few shops, like that of Terry's father, who cut up wood and sold it for hearths, but every family could provide just barely enough for themselves.
During my sixteen years here, I'd never seen the village so festive – not even during the Sabbath nor any of the bonfire ceremonies, which offered tributes to the Old Gods – especially so early in the morning. Everyone, no matter how poor, was dressed in their finest garbs, and even the smallest children were jumping up and down near the windows of the wooden inn, trying to catch a peek at the revered guests. The inn-keeper had to beat them back with a broom to keep them away, but even so, they flocked about him like flies drawn to honey.
"Duw," Terry exclaimed with an expelled breath, his brown eyes as wide as saucers. We wandered through the village square, at the very heart of town, having tied Alis off back at his father's stalls because of the thickness of the crowd. The usually fresh mountain air was thick with the musk of people, and we were constantly knocked to and fro, barely able to stay together. Taking in the sight, Terry announced, "This is brilliant, Mordred."
And it really was, but it made me uncomfortable all the same. The inn was completely blocked off by men, armed with weapons both fatal and not, as well as by all the people milling about it. There was no way we could get in.
"Perhaps we should stay at your father's workshop for the time being? Wait until it's a little less crowded..." I reasoned, but he didn't hear me, or perhaps he didn't want to. Persistently, I plowed on, "We may just get a glimpse of them anon, when they leave in a fortnight's time. There will be plenty of opportunities to see them then."
"Nay, Mordred, we can meet them now," my friend insisted, looking determined. I sighed – when he got like this, there was no changing his mind.
"All right, stubborn ass! How, pray tell, will we manage that, eh? We'd have to fight through the crowd," I grumbled, but he only laughed. It was a nice laugh, mischievously untroubled. I would not like what he had planned, but at the same time, the sound of his laughter, his face when scheming, was as exhilarating as it had always been – would always be.
"Remember that old tree we used to climb? The one that got us over the inn's fence and into the yard? We used to take it to steal sweets from the inn-keeper's wife all the time," he explained, and I let my head fall into my hands, utterly exasperated. He'd go through with this, with or without me, even if I told him that we were most likely too old and too heavy to climb that tree anymore. Thus, the proper thing for any good friend to do would be to go along with him, if only to keep him in line. That didn't mean I had to do it amicably.
"Fine, ffwl, let's go, then," I commanded, ambling away, and he hurried after me. It wasn't difficult to get to the tree without being noticed, even with all the people around us, for they provided the best cover of all. Terry climbed first, and I let him, mostly to test out the sturdiness of the branch. After he'd ascended it, and I was assured multiple times that it was safe, I took to it as well, and scaled it quickly, before staring down at the humbly sized log-cabin that housed what few visitors Bryn-Rhyd-Yr-Arian had.
"You peasant!" a voice screeched from just below me, and I sighed. Apparently, I hadn't been swift enough, since Terry had already managed to get himself into trouble. When I crossed the gate and landed nimbly in the yard, I immediately found the source of the trouble. Two boys, both older than I, were staring down at my friend, and one was calling names. "How dare you wander in here, in the presence of Princes!" was probably the most polite of his comments.
Both were dark-haired and blue-eyed, with pale skin, somewhat like my own, and they wore the light armor frequented by squires of the court. One of them had a gentle hold on the other's arm, and appeared to be scolding him. They looked near identical, which was a strange anomaly indeed.
"Gaheris, you mustn't behave this way. It's unbecoming. He probably only came here to meet with elder brother. You know how village boys venerate him," the restrainer berated, but the other boy, Gaheris, shook off his touch, apparently too incensed to take his brother's advice.
"Nay, Gareth, it would be an insult to my honor to let this knave go. Imagine, he could have come in here to get a look at our lady mother! Why, I certainly cannot allow this transgression," Gaheris claimed. His twin, Gareth, released his arm and sighed.
"Don't bloody him up too bad, brother," he said, before conceding and backing into the shadows. Terry began to blubber apologies from his bowed position on the leaf-strewn ground — he was big and he was strong, but even he knew that he was no match against a trained squire. That was all I had to hear, and I decided to step in.
"I beg you, please stop this!" I ordered, faking calm, and stepped away from the cover the branch above me had offered. All of them promptly swung their heads toward me, and while Terry just looked relieved – though I honestly couldn't fathom why he'd think I could do anything when even he couldn't – the other two gazed at me with something akin to shock.
"Y-you, you're—" the excitable Gaheris stuttered, while the other gave a half-bow in my direction. When Gaheris finally snapped out of whatever reverie he was in, he pulled his brother back by the material of his tunic. "That's not who you think it is, you clod!"
Gareth stood up quickly, his sapphire eyes wide, and just stared at me. I stared back, confused. Terry took the opportunity to crawl over to my side, looking up at me questioningly as well. I couldn't explain what was going on to him; I had no idea myself.
"But didn't he, for the barest moment, look like him, brother? You saw it, too, did you not?" the soft-spoken squire asked, and his twin faltered. Finally, he caught his bearings, and gave a mocking laugh.
"He's too dirty. Just another peasant, if you ask me," he jibed, provoking me further. It was, however, quite obvious that these boys had to be Queen Morgause's sons, and I was in no position to challenge them.
"Aye, but this cannot be a coincidence, can it? Perhaps he is the reason for Mother insisting on our journey here," Gareth mused thoughtfully, touching his hand against his cleft chin. I quirked my brows and frowned. What were they going on about? Well, whatever it was, Gaheris didn't seem pleased with his brother's theory.
"Y-you think Mother brought us to this backwater village because of him?" the vexed squire shouted. Were they talking about me? Before his brother could reply, he pulled a small sword from his scabbard. "Well then, let's see if he can fight like a Prince to prove it!"
He pointed his blade right at me, and I felt my heart leap into my throat, my eyes flitting around the empty courtyard, locking briefly onto the entrance of the inn. Gareth stepped up, and I glanced at him hopefully, but no one rushed to save me. He only laughed and threw his own scabbard, weapon and all, at my feet.
"I do hope you know how to use it," he said, just before his brother charged. They called me Mordred, I had no sire, and at only sixteen summers of age, I feared I was to die.
A/N: I hope you like Mordred. He's my favorite character from Arthurian legends. He's supposed to be 'evil', but I don't think so. Rather, he's a good person with a hard life, forced to make difficult decisions. Mine is gay, but I don't really like the slash stereotype of gay-at-first-sight, so Terry's just an initial relationship for him, not The Wizard's Apprentice, whoever that is. Nope, not sharing anything about him just yet, so you'll have to stick around and see. ;)
Translations: Mordred grew up in Wales because a) I've liked Welsh guys since I read this awesome novel, haha, and b) it's actually pretty viable, as opposed to, say, putting him in the States or something (what moron would do that?). These are probably the only translations I'll use, though.
Terrwyn: Brave
Ffwl: Fool
Mam: Mom
Duw: God
Thanks: To everyone who enjoys my strange muses. That means all of you readers, reviewers, and everyone who added this to their story alerts/favorite stories. Now, to anonymous reviewers...
Aviatorlisa: Yep, Morgause is creepy. I suppose I can see why she's so bitter, but I don't think anyone who sleeps with their clueless half brother just to torment him can be classified as anything but creepy. It has been forever. I've just felt so lazy. *Smacks self* But your encouragement always brightens my day. 3
Sunnivaixchell: I'm glad you enjoyed it. 8D This chapter shows a bit of the slash. Like I explained, Terry is Mordred's best friend and first love, but this is a story that will have a couple of trial and error relationships before getting anywhere. I wanted to be realistic. Some pairings might be a bit odd, though, and not just the slash pairings. I can't wait to hear more from you.
R&R: Please leave me feedback. :D This is a work-in-progress (I hope this doesn't scare you away) and how can I progress without feedback? So review! ^^