The Flower of King and Knights

Birth of the Traitor

“What the hell is wrong with you?” roared Mordred. His face was red as he looked at Morgan as he was going to strike at her. Several of her guards gripped their swords if anything grew worse.

Morgan sat in her chair glaring at Mordred. Bored of his continual consternation, in the back of her mind she wondered why she still kept him around for her plans to claim the crown. “I should be asking you that? You had a golden opportunity to kill the little bastard and you didn’t.”

“And had you not fouled his spear and saddle, I would’ve been able to beat him in a fair fight.”

“A fair fight, do not insult my intelligence. You and I both know how you slew Sir Lamorak and Sir Dynadan by stabbing both of them in the back.”

“Those were men of lesser quality of knighthood. Ector doesn’t deserve such a death. He is different.”

“You’re a fool, a damned fool Mordred. And you should know better.”

“You don’t understand. You never understood us at all.”

“Understood what? That Ector is the enemy, our enemy? He needs to be slain if we are to succeed, and here you are looking to find a way to kill in an honorable manner. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought you were trying to sabotage our efforts.”

“Never, but he…he’s a king. He has placed his safety at risk for his people repeatedly. And he is the head of the Round Table.”

“Oh that damned table. You treat it like it has any meaning.”

Morgan noticed Mordred staring back at her. “Why her you looking at me like that?”

“I was a Knight of the Round Table. When I fought Arthur, I was a Knight of the Round Table. I lived by those standards as if they were my blood. It meant something to me. And it wasn’t until those men who I worshiped, turned to be low men, that I looked to clean that order of those men of low valor.”

Morgan shook her head. “My sweet, if you knew the naivety of which you speak, you would die from shame.”

“Naïve hope gives a man reason for living. If they do not have some ideal so innocent and pure to guide them, then why should they live?”

Mordred walked out of the room and out onto a parapet of Morgan’s castle. He looked towards the direction of Camelot. He could hear the clanging of armor and weapons as Ector’s host began their march to their castle. Merlin would’ve told Ector the best method for victory, strike first. Make the enemy come to him on ground that he chooses.

Mordred knew Ector wouldn’t attack them directly. And for the first time in years, Mordred wished that none of this had ever happened.

As he closed his eyes he thought he heard the sound of horse hooves coming towards the castle. He kept his eyes closed and waited for the knights to announce themselves. The porter walked up to the knights. The prolonged shuffling of the steps gave away the porter’s drunken stupor.

“Yup,” said the porter.

“I say good sir,” it was the voice of Sir Kay, “This is the castle of the Queen of Dore, yes?”

“Yup,” replied to porter, the man began to slur in his speech.

Sir Kay whispered to the knight next to him, “Sir Bedivere, doesn’t he look like…”

“Aye he does, that tall rat faced lad Ector used to work with.”

“I thought his demeanor was the result of all that cannabis he smoked at work.”