Bastard's Beginning

Chapter Two

Mordred hugged her knees to her chest. Her lashes fluttered closed, a soft sigh escaping her mouth as she luxuriated under her mother's gentle touch. Morgause held a hair brush, its mother of pearl handle iridescent in the dim glow of the lamps, the slender columns of flame flickering behind glass. The boar bristles rasped with each stroke and Mordred shivered, her skin tingling at the sensation.

She opened her eyes once again, focusing on her mother's face, bathed in gold by the candle light in the mirror of their shared intricately carved walnut vanity. Solemn dark eyes, high cheekbones, a heartbreakingly perfect face framed by locks of hair the same spectacular shade of auburn as her daughter's. The seasickness remedy Morgause brewed had eventually taken effect around three days into the trip. She'd allowed the girl a few days of freedom, running wild along the deck, before gradually beginning the task of reining her daughter in.

"Will I be as beautiful as you one day?" Mordred asked quietly. She lowered her chin to her knees as her mother's eyes met hers in the glass. Morgause's lips curved and she rested a slender hand on the girl's cheek.

"Perhaps," She answered thoughtfully. Her gaze scanned her daughter's face, passing over the fine spray of freckles across her nose, an emotion Mordred could not identify flickering like a shadow over Morgause's features as she lingered on irises coloured a shade as striking as emeralds. "Things will change as you grow, when you become a woman, in ways that can't be predicted. Breasts will develop, you'll gain weight and your hips will widen. These are things that happen to girls once they begin their monthly cycles."

Morgause resumed the slow movements of the hairbrush. Mordred digested the information. The idea that one day her skinny body might one day resemble her mother's pleased her greatly. Sir Lamorak was not one to bandy compliments. Yet Mordred had soon learnt to observe her mother's fierce lover. She noticed the way his eyes seemed to brighten when Morgause entered the room, the way his hands immediately reached for her hands or her waist. And she remembered Captain Eirnin's face as he had gazed longingly at the savaged wooden corpse of his beloved Valeria.

Mordred longed for a similar love. Unusual, perhaps, for a child of such a young age to become so fixated on such a subject. Yet the girl was a bastard, born of incest to boot. Her earliest memories included looks of disdain and pity alike from the visitors and inhabitants of Avalon. Such experiences had forced her to face facts. It was highly unlikely that she'd ever find a suitable match, she knew this instinctively.

Whilst her mother maintained her wealth, a vast inheritance from her mother as eldest daughter, she held no lands of her own. Lord Lot, her mother's husband, would never reveal the truth of the incest, too loyal to his king. But nothing stopped him from banishing Mordred from his court, without words confirming the rumours that she was in no way a product of his marriage. So what choice of action was left available to her? Mordred had to work with what few assets she possessed to attract a partner who would eventually love her as Lamorak loved Morgause.

Mordred dreamt of it sometimes. A knight, resplendent in shining armour. Beautiful, brave and true. He'd defend her like the princes in the storybooks defended their princesses. She imagined her warrior, raising his sword and vowing a fate worse than death upon any who dared utter the word "bastard" under their breath.

A soft smile and a dreamy cast of her daughter's eyes had Morgause's brow arching. "What has taken your mind from me, my little one?"

"I'm going to find someone who will love me as Lamorak loves you," Mordred giggled brightly, her eyes sparkling at the idea. "He'll be brave and strong and..."

Morgause frowned and Mordred's voice trailed away. "Mordred," She began, a thread of steel weaving her once tender tone. "You are a princess. Born of the Pendragon line. Your father's blood makes you royalty. But more than that."