Realisation

"Damn it, is he ignoring me on purpose?"

Mordred clenched her fists and grit her teeth, annoyed with a situation even she could read as she rode alone through the desert, after the man who had been her teacher in terms of both combat and strategy and the man who she'd stabbed in the back in declaring rebellion against Camelot.

She had no retainers, her Father hadn't deemed her worthy of any, which made sense, and she'd been left to do what she did best, wreak havoc on the enemy, but her inner turmoil was one she couldn't possibly ignore, so, the optimal course then was to join up with her teacher's forces.

Two heads were better than one after all.

And she agreed, headbutting her enemies twice did seem to complete the job most of the time.

*Ehem*

"Teach, come on!" She called for the Knight of Atrocity riding a few metres ahead, as she'd done a number of times before only to be met once more with silence.

It was strange for her you see, for someone who was usually overly responsive and attentive to ignore her like this, someone she'd grown to like pestering if only for the fact that he did NOT ignore her or scold her for it, even if she'd never admit it.

They'd been riding through the night, the sun was on the horizon, peeking from behind the sand dunes that littered the landscape, and Aston's 'soldiers', the so-called 'idiots' who followed a monster, acknowledged Mordred, inner resentments aside, and moved to make way for her as she passed them by so the unruly saber knew it wasn't some weird bullshit like being invisible.

"I already said I'm so-"

"I can't seem to make any sense of it."

The first response since their summoning was one that left Mordred utterly confused.

Her rebellion?

Her claim?

Was Aston saying he couldn't understand the reasons for her actions?

That... well, that hurt a little.

...

"Not even you..." Mordred's loud, maybe even obnoxious, voice was somehow lowered to a barely audible whisper. The Knight of Betrayal clenched her fists, firm in the belief that her Father was in the wrong but also hesitantly grateful about how this second chance meant her Father saw something in her, "At least you..."

"I find it difficult to believe that this is our King." Aston continued, a hand on his chin as he thoughtfully peered into the vast expanse of barren land beyond them, "The method proposed is too drastic."

"What?" Mordred was dumbfounded for the second time, though this time her confusion quickly morphed into annoyance, "At least pay attention!"

"What a bizarre way to go about whoring for attention."

The Knight of Atrocity quickly covered his own mouth, maybe realising just exactly whom he was dealing with and how his words could possibly be a lot more hurtful than he attended.

SO,

He took the best course of action thinkable when dealing with a sensitive loose canon.

Aston put a hand over a shaking Mordred's head, and gently patted her helmet, washing away what may have been rage or sorrow with that one simple action, "I also find it difficult to believe you think one as amazing as I would fail to see your reasoning, did you get knocked over the head in the rebellion?" Of course there was no way for him to completely stop the snide that was almost involuntary at this point.

"It was for you too... you know." The staunch and rowdy Mordred showed a rare moment of vulnerability, allowing her shoulders to droop as she whispered what she thought was an excuse, "It wasn't right."

Indeed, King Arthur, the Perfect Ruler who had no emotions, had a flawed way of ruling, flawed only because it lacked human flaw, thus alienating the King from the masses.

Aston sighed, "I for one, think you may have made a better ruler."

While that certainly wasn't the case initially, stepping down later down the line may as well have been the best course of action to maintain the nation's stability. Artoria rejected Mordred because the latter was emotional (so Aston believed) but because she was emotional, she would have made a good ruler.

"If only yours didn't clash with the King's."

Their ideologies were the antithesis of one another when it came to ruling.

With proper guidance, an empathetic king would do a stable Britain good.

It would also save them from their inevitable destruction.

So Aston believed.

"Alas..." The Knight of Atrocity let out a prolonged sigh, seemingly expecting Mordred to react in the way she did and blocking her fist with his right palm before pulling her close and hugging her tight with his left hand.

The knights and soldiers who witnessed the sight would later describe the sight not as one that appeared romantic but as reminiscent of a parent sincerely apologising to a brash child, something that rarely ever occurred.

"Why the hell did you side with Father then?!"

Mordred's annoyance, anger, and desperation was understandable.

It was like finding out a person you could always count on and trust had decided to alienate themselves for no particular reason.

"Your teacher is a fool, I apologise."

It was also rare to see the Knight of Atrocity apologise, mostly because he acted in a way that he believed was right.

"So if I do it... now? What would you do?" Mordred asked, her emotions in conflict.

On one hand, it made her inexplicably angry that he had believed her right and yet still chosen her father over her. On the other hand, the revelation that he understood and supported her reasoning gladdened her too, it was heartwarming to see someone genuinely believe in her and not show support for ulterior motives.

Sure the Knight of Betrayal was driven mad, blinded by rage but there was no way for someone like her to not see that many of her 'supporters' had their own agendas, she just wilfully ignored them.

If the King couldn't understand the hearts of men, the Knight of Betrayal possibly could.

It was for this very reason that when her teacher answered her question with complete silence, she just sighed in disappointment.

However,

In doing so, she displayed the immaturity for which her 'Father' had rejected her.

Her brashness was what left Mordred entirely dumbfounded for the third time when she felt her teacher nod his head just barely, a gesture that most missed.

"...Fucking traitor."

That was about all she could manage before the emotions she'd held back overflowed and she conveyed them the only way she could.

By repeatedly punching Aston in the gut, releasing gusts of wind that kicked up dust and smoke as Aston gulped, silently accepting his disciple's frustration.

Betraying her own actions, her damned lips refused to obey her and curved into a massive smile.

Also,

She definitely didn't cry!

Definitely not!

Anyone who claimed otherwise would be a traitor!

"The fuck are you snickering at?!"

She snarled at Aston's followers, prompting many of them to react even more openly while some just kept their amusement to themselves.

"Get moving! Father's given us orders!"

Aston slightly tilted his head, "I'm afraid you're going to need a lot more than your father's name to move my men." There was no way she was earning respect by declaring her birthright like some pompous ass.

"I know that!"

The Knight of Betrayal grinned at her teacher, her actions betraying her own words.

-

You can find up to 7 chapters ahead at patre0n.com/bleap

(Bit behind but I've started writing again so should be filled soon enough.)