The Queen of Shadows

Chapter 19: Mommy's Little Monster

Everyone had turned in for the night, all wanting to get some rest for Scathach's next bout of training. Mordred for one had retreated to her quarters and laid restlessly on her bed. Today's events still weighed heavily on her mind, preventing her from falling asleep.

The servants' first day with the Shadow had been rough to say the least. Aside from the grueling obstacles they all had to navigate, Mordred recalls the way Scathach had been exercising her authority over her students; namely herself. The Knight had tried to challenge her but found herself helpless against the warrior queen talking down to her. It was as if Scathach could just read her like a book and knew exactly how to make Mordred back down. The red Saber never had been left so vulnerable by anyone in her life... save for one person...

Mordred clutched her arms as she curled up on her bed, feeling a familiar and excruciating sensation whenever she remotely thought of her. She stamped down the urge to claw at them, turning over on her bed again and grunting in frustration.

It seemed Scathach was having a similar affect on her, and Mordred hated it.

Mordred forces herself to stop thinking about it and instead focus on something else. It wasn't long until her thoughts fall on another individual; one that aggravated her in a different way.

"I don't think you of all people have any right to question someone's loyalty..."

Arturia's words still stung as badly as they did earlier in the day. Mordred seethes at the memory of her King reminding the Knight of her betrayal to her and all of Camelot. The red Saber was frustrated and angry that her father meant for those words to hurt.

And just as angry at the fact that her words were true...

Yes, she did betray the king...

Yes, she made the rest of Camelot turn against her...

And yes, that singular act destroyed everything; the peace and prosperity she and the Knights fought for, and the faith in honor and chivalry they practiced.

The irony was, Mordred genuinely believed in those same things. It was why she wanted to be a knight...

But alas, Fate had different plans...

Flashback: Cornwall, Early Sixth Century A.D

The village was bustling with activity as everyone went about finishing their daily routines. The market in particularly was busy as a little girl navigated the crowd. Her hood was hiding her blonde tassels and youthful complexion, wearing decorative red-black coveralls with gold accents concealed beneath her cloak. She carried a basket hung on her arm, one that was full of ingredients that was sent to retrieve as an errand.

Mother will be happy I got these for her! She will be proud of me!

The little girl was optimistic that Mother will praise her for completing the task she was carrying out for her. Mother could not get these herself, so the daughter was happy to do so if it meant being in Mother's good graces.

Besides, it gave the little girl an excuse to get out of the manor. It was boring being stuck in there all the time with Mother's insistence.

But the daughter was special. She had grown a lot and learned so much in just a few short years; being tutored by those under Mother's employ. Not only that, but she was strong; able to lift a standard sword and shield with ease.

And coincidentally, she just started learning swordplay too...

As the girl left the market and walked down the main road, she caught a glimpse of three children playing outside of a house, and stopped to see them playing. A girl was dramatically pretending to be a damsel in distress, held captive by her brother, posing as an evil knight in a makeshift mask. She flailed her hands as her brother pretended to threaten her with a fake wooden sword. The sister calls out for a brave, noble knight to save her, and on cue, an elder brother wearing a white cape and holding another fake sword, declaring himself to be one of King Arthur's Knights of the Round Table, and that he will save the noble lady. He and the evil knight mock-battle, and it ends with the elder brother ending the fight with a quick, gentle swing across the younger brother's torso, not even touching him as he grasps his chest and falls on his knees in dramatic fashion; the elder bother holding up his sword in victory.