Intermission 2

(Again, integral to the story, more so than the previous one so please read.)

- Knight of Betrayal -

The Round Table, usually bright and full of cheer from comrades who fought together, was unusually quiet and empty that day, with no knight to be spotted and the only light illuminating it being the dim rays of a setting Sun.

The chandeliers and torches did not burn, the seats around the table, each occupied by a figure of legend lay still, occupied only by the dust that rolled in from the open balcony and a tense air hung about the atmosphere.

There was no simple humour from Gawain, no poetic expression from Tristan, no defeated sigh from Lancelot, no embarrassed shouting from Bedivere and no witty remarks or jabs from Aston.

He was there however.

Sitting in silence, resting his chin atop his clasped hands as he watched over the other two, uncaring of the cold metal against his face.

Aston sat conflicted, presiding over an argument between two individuals he cared about on a personal level, his student and his king, unable to bring himself to intervene.

"You are not worthy."

"So you won't accept me as your son? Is that your answer, King of Knights?!"

Mordred's despair-filled shout was gut wrenching to hear and her rageful expression made him want to give someone he'd practically raised a hug. Aston stared at Artoria pensively, recognising the problem with suppressing one's emotions, if only she'd explain why Mordred was unworthy.

She was her biological child, that much was true and still a child, in mind.

"This isn't the proper method to go about this."

He spoke in a hushed whisper, sighing as he rose to his full height just as Mordred drew her sword, drawing a metallic clang from her armour when she got in the stance to attack, "Is that your final answer, King of Knights?"

Artoria momentarily eyed the standing Aston before turning to leave, walking away with heavy yet graceful, mechanised steps belonging to a being that did not operate on emotion. She didn't deign the question one worth answering twice.

This action just made the weight of her words heavier than it should have been, her face contorted further.

She'd admired the perfect king from afar, and when given the chance, she'd fought under him, under the tutelage of one of her oldest knights wrongfully feared because of her mother.

There had been no greater joy for Mordred when she came to know that the King who seemed so far away was her father, that it was her right to inherit his legacy.

And now, there was no greater sorrow for her than to know that that King thought her unworthy of such an honour.

Her mind a storm of emotions spiralling towards rage and despair, Mordred opened her mouth to make a declaration of her own, "I..If you won't accept me then I'll des-" She failed to continue any longer when an all too familiar sensation caused her to stammer and her words got caught in her mouth, tears welling up in her eyes.

It was the silent recognition of her teacher, his hand on her head.

Where her mother was strict and pushed her to something she didn't want to, where the King didn't recognise her, he took care of her and had made it clear that she was a splendid individual, someone he was proud of.

Well, he did treat her like a child.

And usually, he ruined her hair with this action, drawing her ire but right now..

"It's alright to cry you know?"

Mordred didn't turn to meet his gaze, unwilling to show him her indignant expression perhaps out of fear that he'd be upset, "W...Why am I unworthy? What did I do wrong?!" She shouted desperately, seeking answers from the one person she could trust in this den of traitors.

"Now this might be strange to hear but, you're actually not." Aston's voice remained gentle, the few tufts of bright red hair that still remained shining under the setting sun's rays, "I see how you avoid hurting innocents, those uninvolved and care for others in your way."

Mordred was like a child, full of turbulent emotion but someone genuinely virtuous, at least that was how he saw it.

And as if that was enough, "R..Right?" Mordred tried to wipe her tears with both hands, dropping her sword. Tears streamed down her face but, it seemed that the storm had passe-, "T-Tea-." The one who'd be known later on as the Knight of Betrayal started wailing.

Both happy and sad at the same time.

-

"Don't you see, foolish child?" Morgan le Fay hissed, voice laced with venom and malice.

Even if her face was hidden by a dark veil, her voluptuous body was highlighted by the black fabric of her clothes hugging her body, only added to by long pale hair falling down to her back.

"W-What, Mother?" Mordred physically recoiled, beads of sweat forming on her forehead. No matter how many times she faced the woman before, the instinctive fear that froze her body never went away, "The King has rejected me already."

She'd been approached by her in the shadows and told Morgan of how she wasn't much interested in the throne anymore for now, as long as her peaceful days with her teacher remained and she was able to look after the common man in her own way.

Morgan clicked her tongue, annoyed by how naive and malleable her offspring was but also instantly formulated how she could use that, "Child, do you not pity your teacher?" Her malicious grin remained hidden under the veil.

"What?" Mordred put a hand over her sword, alarmed, was this woman going to hurt him?

"Ah, the Knight of Atrocity, a scourge to the enemies of King Arthur, a vengeful and hateful being that slaughters indiscriminately.." Morgan held out her hand dramatically, the other over her chest, "Serves not for the people but for the bloodshed it allows him!" A trace of regret flashed across her eyes and for a moment, she failed to notice Mordred's clenching fists.

"Need I cont-"

"Shut up!" Mordred glared at her mother, "He's nothing like that! You have no idea how much he's sacrificed! No one does!" It was one of the things she wanted to change by becoming ruler, he didn't deserve that.

"It is so, does anyone consider the little boy who wept over his mother's corpse?" Morgan continued, Mordred really was too gullible, "All they see is a monster."

"The fuck are you gettin' at?" Mordred grabbed her sword, her annoyance and anger soaring.

"Who do you think is responsible for that? Who could make a kind man like that? Who has the authority to order him to such atrocity?"

Dozens of possibilities crossed the future Knight of Betrayal's in that moment until she settled on one, her eyes widening as she thought of the sole person her teacher obeyed.

He never lowered his head to any other, never obeyed any other and considering his kindly and compassionate nature, never would even consider the acts he was feared for committing without regard for whether or not he'd actually been behind them.

But someone would, the emotionless and pragmatic King of Knights who would always choose the most optimal path to victory, regardless of what it would cost people mentally, so long as they lived.

Sir Tristan had already said so,

"The King does not understand the hearts of men."

And as Sir Aston said,

"My King, what's the difference between just living and being dead?"

The realisation induced sorrow and rage that far surpassed anything she'd felt in her entire life, as if she were blinded by magecraft, she unilaterally decided that the best way to solve this was to destroy everything the King had built, to lay bare who was the actual monster.

It was what her father deserved.

Who did the King think she would choose?

The man who was kind to her, cared for her and taught her most she knew or a father who wouldn't even recognise her as his child?

She would destroy these false perceptions, destroy the one who put them up, and give her teacher the recognition and admiration he deserved.

It was her birthright to be allowed that.

A King who made her kind teacher a monster, hated by the masses, didn't have the right to declare her unworthy, that throne belonged to her!

She had to get it, to right HIS wrongs!

Seeing the child leave with heavy footsteps, sword in hand, Morgan couldn't help the satisfaction that welled up within her, "Once she declares rebellion, he will not side with her."

Ah,

Her child really was gullible.

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