My brothers seemed very concerned with introducing me to court. I think they were worried I’d make a bad impression if left to my own devices. They were probably right, actually. In any case, their wishes were the same as mine. I wanted to get the presentation out of the way.
I felt like everyone was watching me as we stepped into the grand hall. It could have been my imagination. It wasn’t as if they lacked distraction. The room was alive with music and revelry. Dinner had been cleared away, and all of the elaborately dressed hangers-on had separated into little groups to play and gossip. Supposedly they had better things to do than try to catch a glimpse of Queen Morgause’s youngest son.
At least one person was staring at me though. An old man was sitting by the fire, being tended by a young woman. He was glaring so fiercely that I guessed he must be Merlin. I winked at the pair as my eldest brother claimed the attention of the king.
“My King!” he called. “I want to present my little brother to you. Sire, this is Medraught.”
Arthur was sitting in a throne at the head of the hall. No one had told me how much we looked alike. Perhaps no one was as aware of it as I was. Certainly there were differences. For one thing, the features that were feminine on me made him seem approachable and wise.
He was older, of course, but the contrast in that area seemed more dramatic than it should have been. After all, he wasn’t even forty. Yet his black hair was threaded with grey, and his eyes had lost some of their brightness.
“We would be so pleased if you would allow him to stay at Camelot,” added Gareth, stepping in front of his twin. Gaheris still wasn’t very good at hiding his contempt.
“Of course,” said the king. “I am always pleased to welcome another of my sister’s boys.”
I recognized the force behind the words. They were a warning. My role was to be one more beloved nephew, and nothing else. No one could contradict this. Not even me.
“Come forth, Medraught,” he said to me.
“Actually, your majesty, I prefer to be called Mordred,” I said, making a proclamation of my own.
That was when I truly had his attention. I wondered how long it had been since someone had deviated from the proscribed series of events.
“Have you been knighted, Mordred?” he asked me.
“I haven’t proven myself yet.”
“I’m sure you’ll prove worthy,” he said. “May I?”
This was informal to the point of mockery. You are supposed to earn the privilege, or at least do something religious first. I didn’t really care. I never had much interest in the rank. Yet to have my own father knight me, even surruptitiously, made the prospect seem worthwhile.
“I would be honoured, my lord.”
I knelt on the stone floor while he drew Excalibur. It was rumoured that only he was able to wield the infamous sword. Everyone else found it too heavy, or possibly dangerous to use. I had also heard that one blow from the weapon was supposed to be fatal.
I did not drop my gaze as I was supposed to. I wanted Arthur to see his younger self as he looked down into my own blue eyes. The tip of the sword shook as he laid it against my shoulder, so close to my throat.
It was Guinevere who eventually broke our tableau. She reached a hand out to me and pulled me into an embrace as Excalibur slid away. While she was no longer the most beautiful woman in the castle, the queen was looking better than her husband. A lock of her golden hair brushed my cheek.
“Welcome, Sir Mordred,” she said.
Now everyone was watching. I let them stare and make their judgements. I tried not to care as they all decided whether I was to be the dark prince, or something more.
Spoiler! :
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. At the end you added a spoiler to ask for reviews about what we have learnt about Mordred so far. As I have mentioned beforehand, I have not read the preceding chapters of your novel. But, here are a few points I gathered during the story:
Gender:
Points: 2952
Reviews: 136