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tamingthemuseTitle: Reminiscence
Fandom: Original (based on the Arthurian Legends)
Prompt: Prompt 334 - Bittersweet
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: Mordred and Kay talked about Morgause.
Ever since Kay had found Mordred, the older men spent most of his evening with him. It was his way to keep an eye on him as he had promised to Arthur. Mordred hadn't minded much. He had liked the company. The older men rarely talked but he was there, a presence in the apartment that Mordred could feel and see. This particular evening Kay hadn't turn on the TV and hadn't brought anything to keep him busy. Instead he had started to talk. Mordred had been startled at the beginning but went along. It wasn't often that he could share anecdotes about his life. But the conversation had gone out of his control and Kay had somehow geared him towards the past and his very first childhood. Mordred wasn't sure if he wanted to talk about it but the words kept flowing out of his mouth.
"I don't understand how you can still like her," commented Kay about Morgause.
"I don't like her." Mordred paused. It wasn't entirely true. "No... it's..." He didn't like to ponder on his relation to his mother and as a result had never done so which made the words difficult to formulate this evening. "I used to like her. I don't anymore... I don't think so," he added after a pause.
He closed his eyes for an instant and took a deep breath, dwelving into his memories. He could almost feel the cold fingers of his mother against his skin.
"My dear boy..." Her voice was a whispered.
She kneeled down to face the seven years old Mordred. Her eyes were piercing his and he felt she could see inside his soul.
"You're a very special boy. You need a special education, one that your brothers wouldn't understand."
She took his hands and led him down into the basement of the castle for the first time.
"She made me feel special... worthy..." he said, his eyes still lost in the past.
"That's no reason to like her," commented Kay.
"It was," replied Mordred, his voice cold and his eyes suddenly back into the present, accusing Kay. "No one wanted me back then. She did."
"You didn't act as a friend," spat Kay.
"Would I have been welcomed if I did," defied Mordred.
The question remained unanswered.
Mordred fell back against his chair, his eyes closed. He was tired. He didn't like to think about Morgause. There were too many feelings and complications to take into account. He was aware he needed to untangled the knots of that relationship if he wanted to complete his mission of freeing himself from the past, of being forgiven but he wasn't feeling strong enough to do it just now. She had tangled so many web in his mind and in his soul that he was almost afraid to break them. What if nothing would be left of him after it?
He sighed.
"I don't like her," he repeated softly. "But I owe her," he finished with a small smile on his lips. She had been the only adult person, the only authority in his life to show him some kind of love. It hadn't been warm but it had still been there, and he had trouble forgetting that fact even in the light of all the evil she did, of all the punishments and curses she inflicted on him.
Fandom: Original (based on the Arthurian Legends)
Prompt: Prompt 334 - Bittersweet
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: Mordred and Kay talked about Morgause.
Ever since Kay had found Mordred, the older men spent most of his evening with him. It was his way to keep an eye on him as he had promised to Arthur. Mordred hadn't minded much. He had liked the company. The older men rarely talked but he was there, a presence in the apartment that Mordred could feel and see. This particular evening Kay hadn't turn on the TV and hadn't brought anything to keep him busy. Instead he had started to talk. Mordred had been startled at the beginning but went along. It wasn't often that he could share anecdotes about his life. But the conversation had gone out of his control and Kay had somehow geared him towards the past and his very first childhood. Mordred wasn't sure if he wanted to talk about it but the words kept flowing out of his mouth.
"I don't understand how you can still like her," commented Kay about Morgause.
"I don't like her." Mordred paused. It wasn't entirely true. "No... it's..." He didn't like to ponder on his relation to his mother and as a result had never done so which made the words difficult to formulate this evening. "I used to like her. I don't anymore... I don't think so," he added after a pause.
He closed his eyes for an instant and took a deep breath, dwelving into his memories. He could almost feel the cold fingers of his mother against his skin.
"My dear boy..." Her voice was a whispered.
She kneeled down to face the seven years old Mordred. Her eyes were piercing his and he felt she could see inside his soul.
"You're a very special boy. You need a special education, one that your brothers wouldn't understand."
She took his hands and led him down into the basement of the castle for the first time.
"She made me feel special... worthy..." he said, his eyes still lost in the past.
"That's no reason to like her," commented Kay.
"It was," replied Mordred, his voice cold and his eyes suddenly back into the present, accusing Kay. "No one wanted me back then. She did."
"You didn't act as a friend," spat Kay.
"Would I have been welcomed if I did," defied Mordred.
The question remained unanswered.
Mordred fell back against his chair, his eyes closed. He was tired. He didn't like to think about Morgause. There were too many feelings and complications to take into account. He was aware he needed to untangled the knots of that relationship if he wanted to complete his mission of freeing himself from the past, of being forgiven but he wasn't feeling strong enough to do it just now. She had tangled so many web in his mind and in his soul that he was almost afraid to break them. What if nothing would be left of him after it?
He sighed.
"I don't like her," he repeated softly. "But I owe her," he finished with a small smile on his lips. She had been the only adult person, the only authority in his life to show him some kind of love. It hadn't been warm but it had still been there, and he had trouble forgetting that fact even in the light of all the evil she did, of all the punishments and curses she inflicted on him.
