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tamingthemuse2012-05-12 10:22 am
amaranthine-7.livejournal.com) wrote in tamingthemuse2012-05-12 10:22 am
Entry tags:
Prompt#303 - A decade later... - The end - amaranthine_7 - Original
Title: The end
Fandom: Original (based on the Arthurian Legends)
Prompt: #303 - A decade later and a penny short
Warnings: None.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: The Arthurian Legends are in the public domain. I make no reference to any copyrighted work. So all is mine.
Beta: None, so any mistakes you see are mine.
Summary: He had failed her. She had wanted to rule and he had let her die. She had wanted to give him a throne and he had destroyed it.
Mordred laughed, jerking his head back to welcome the drops of rain. A decade had gone by since he had first set foot in Camelot. Ten years. That has been his timeframe to succeed and change everything, but he had failed them all. His only consolation was that his mother was dead, she wouldn't have to witness his fall.
He heard the sound of a galloping horse pounding the earth.
"Sir, sir!" The rider was breathless, his armour clinging above his voice. "They're coming! They're here!"
"I know." He barely glanced at the man. "What are you waiting for," he snapped. "Get the others ready."
"Ye... yes sir."
The horse galloped away to the camp. Mordred watched him for a moment in silence but soon his laugh came back to him. It wouldn't have taken long enough for Arthur to come back and save his wife. His kingdom was crumbling to pieces and it was he, Mordred, that had made it crash all on his own. There was nothing Arthur could do about it. Oh how he had deceived him, disappointed him. His laugh became louder. But how he had failed. Tears mixed to the rain on his cheek, his laugh melting into a cry of pain and anguish. For all his glory in taking down the best kingdom in the world he had failed. He had failed her. She had wanted to rule and he had let her die. She had wanted to give him a throne and he had destroyed it. Even if he could win, he would die. His army was no match to Arthur's men. They may be tired from the journey from Gaul, exhausted from the fights and betrayals but they were still better men. They were trained at war, they were strategists and still had a blind faith in Arthur. His men could never be a match, they were rebellious youth and lawless bandits. They would fight with their all their energy and anger but they would be just that, a band of angry dogs. Dogs would be defeated and he would die.
He fell on his knee, his armour hitting the grand in a loud thump. He knew he shouldn't stay like this. The metal would rust and make his movements awkward but he didn't care, not anymore. He didn't even want to win and rule Britain. There was nothing left to rule, not even a small city, not even his beloved Orkney islands far in the North. They had never liked him, they would never accept him.
He stared at the grey cloud for long seconds, his tears dry.
"Let me die tonight. Let it all finish."
He remained silent for a few seconds before standing up. He focused on the battlefield. It wasn't a good spot. He smiled. It would be easy to die here, there wouldn't be any escape for him. He had chosen well.
He placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, finding comfort in the familiar shape under his palm. His men were cheering, forming a shield wall as ugly and disorganised as he had ever seen. He laughed one last time, the sound coarse in his throat. The trap was set, all he needed to do now was to walk in, give in.
Fandom: Original (based on the Arthurian Legends)
Prompt: #303 - A decade later and a penny short
Warnings: None.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: The Arthurian Legends are in the public domain. I make no reference to any copyrighted work. So all is mine.
Beta: None, so any mistakes you see are mine.
Summary: He had failed her. She had wanted to rule and he had let her die. She had wanted to give him a throne and he had destroyed it.
Mordred laughed, jerking his head back to welcome the drops of rain. A decade had gone by since he had first set foot in Camelot. Ten years. That has been his timeframe to succeed and change everything, but he had failed them all. His only consolation was that his mother was dead, she wouldn't have to witness his fall.
He heard the sound of a galloping horse pounding the earth.
"Sir, sir!" The rider was breathless, his armour clinging above his voice. "They're coming! They're here!"
"I know." He barely glanced at the man. "What are you waiting for," he snapped. "Get the others ready."
"Ye... yes sir."
The horse galloped away to the camp. Mordred watched him for a moment in silence but soon his laugh came back to him. It wouldn't have taken long enough for Arthur to come back and save his wife. His kingdom was crumbling to pieces and it was he, Mordred, that had made it crash all on his own. There was nothing Arthur could do about it. Oh how he had deceived him, disappointed him. His laugh became louder. But how he had failed. Tears mixed to the rain on his cheek, his laugh melting into a cry of pain and anguish. For all his glory in taking down the best kingdom in the world he had failed. He had failed her. She had wanted to rule and he had let her die. She had wanted to give him a throne and he had destroyed it. Even if he could win, he would die. His army was no match to Arthur's men. They may be tired from the journey from Gaul, exhausted from the fights and betrayals but they were still better men. They were trained at war, they were strategists and still had a blind faith in Arthur. His men could never be a match, they were rebellious youth and lawless bandits. They would fight with their all their energy and anger but they would be just that, a band of angry dogs. Dogs would be defeated and he would die.
He fell on his knee, his armour hitting the grand in a loud thump. He knew he shouldn't stay like this. The metal would rust and make his movements awkward but he didn't care, not anymore. He didn't even want to win and rule Britain. There was nothing left to rule, not even a small city, not even his beloved Orkney islands far in the North. They had never liked him, they would never accept him.
He stared at the grey cloud for long seconds, his tears dry.
"Let me die tonight. Let it all finish."
He remained silent for a few seconds before standing up. He focused on the battlefield. It wasn't a good spot. He smiled. It would be easy to die here, there wouldn't be any escape for him. He had chosen well.
He placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, finding comfort in the familiar shape under his palm. His men were cheering, forming a shield wall as ugly and disorganised as he had ever seen. He laughed one last time, the sound coarse in his throat. The trap was set, all he needed to do now was to walk in, give in.