Well, I meant to get this up last week, but with NaNoWriMo and getting ready to sell at a local craft fair, it kind of just slipped away, but I hope you enjoy this chapter now. This is pretty much it, there is only an epilogue left that will be up next week. Let me know what you think, as always!
Previous Chapter
Read First Chapter
Read on Wattpad
chapter twenty-eight
all laid bare
I woke
but only barely. I felt pain ripping through my stomach, something causing even
more pain than there was before. I heard shouting, someone pressing me down on
my back so hard I could barely breathe. I struggled, crying out. Someone
grabbed my hand but only a second before an even greater pain tore me apart and
I greeted the blackness again like an old friend.
***
The
next time, I was buried in ice. At least that’s what it felt like. I wished to
open my eyes and see if I was correct, but I couldn’t find the strength to do
so. I shivered so violently that my teeth clacked together. Someone called out
from close by and there was murmuring and cursing in familiar voices that I
couldn’t put faces to just then, and a heavy weight descended over me. Someone
tucked it around my body and I wasn’t so cold anymore. The close warmth lulled
me back into the darkness and I didn’t protest.
***
The
fire came next. No more was I glad of the warmth from before, I was burning up.
I thought I had been thrown over a fire and I thrashed and cried out for
someone to stop it. Pain ripped through me with every movement and only made me
scream harder. And then finally, someone caught my flailing hands and pressed
them to my chest, shushing me gently; a wonderfully cool hand on my brow.
“Hush, Mordred. It will all be over
soon, just rest.”
I reached out to the voice. I
couldn’t remember who it belonged to, but I knew it was safe, and I whimpered
like a babe as I felt myself pulled into a strong, comforting embrace and
despite the fire still burning me, I was comfortable enough to greet the
darkness once again.
***
The
next time I woke I was finally lucid enough to see where I was.
I wasn’t entirely sure at first, for
it was dark, and I was still not quite together, not knowing how I got where I
was, or what I remembered beforehand. I remembered bad dreams and lots of pain,
but not much more. Then I registered the familiar, comforting smell of herbs
and once I looked around a bit more in the dim candlelight of the room. I
realized I must be in Merlin’s rooms back at Camelot.
Camelot. That thought made me sit
up, or try to. I didn’t get far at all. As soon as I started the motion, pain
flared across my abdomen and I fell back against the pillows gasping. I moved a
shaking hand up to my belly and felt lumpy bandages through my nightshirt. Apart
from that, I realized my hand itself was bandaged and clumsy. I tried to flex
my wrist but a dull ache pounded there and I decided against it.
How was I back in Camelot? I
shouldn’t be there. I wasn’t wanted. Then everything came rushing back to me:
Merlin meeting me in the tavern before I had been captured by Morgan and then
the curse taking over my body to force me into the fight with Arthur.
I nearly sobbed in relief. I hadn’t
killed him. I had beaten Morgan’s curse just as Merlin said. My love of Arthur
had outweighed my hatred of Morgan and had won in the end. I had proved her
wrong and Merlin as well. I had made my own way, no matter what fate or destiny
had written for me.
And Morgan was dead.
I felt nothing. Not for her. Not
satisfaction or anger or anything else. I was just simply relieved she was
gone. I was not disappointed that I had not been the one to do it either. It
didn’t matter now. Nothing mattered but that I had won over her and Arthur was
still alive.
But would things go back to being
the way they were before? Uneasiness replaced the relief that had previously flowed
through my body. How could Arthur forgive all the lies that I had told him? No
one could forgive that or ask to be forgiven. Did I even have the strength to
face my comrades and Guinevere again with the new knowledge of what I was, and
how I had lied? I didn’t know. And Arthur…I knew how much it had hurt him when
Morgan told the truth, and I would never forgive the fact that it had come out
of her mouth and not mine. But nor could it be undone now. I knew Arthur would
want to hear it all from my mouth eventually, and sooner better than later. I
dreaded it, yet dreaded the anticipation even more.
A door opened and footsteps sounded
through the room. I tried to call out, but no sound escaped my dry throat but a
croak. I didn’t have to wait long for assistance though, for Merlin came around
the corner of the room and looked over at me, seeing I was awake. He let out a
curse then strode the last few paces to my bed and surprised me by bending over
and crushing me in an embrace, doing his best not to hurt me.
“Thank the saints, boy, I thought
you were dead for sure,” he breathed into the top of my head. “Do you have any
idea what I have had to do to keep you alive these past few weeks?”
Weeks? I moaned slightly, hoping he
would let go and wishing he would stay for a few more seconds at the same time,
but he finally drew back and laid me so gently on the pillow I hardly knew it
was Merlin. I saw him swipe at his eyes, but couldn’t discern if there were
tears in the dim light.
He seemed to remember something and
reached quickly for a pitcher and a cup, pouring the liquid into it. I licked
my lips at the sound and he propped my head up and helped me drink. I wanted so
much of the lovely water, but he only allowed me a few sips.
“Easy,” he said.
I grunted, but cleared my throat and
was finally able to speak again. “W-weeks? How many?” I asked.
Merlin sighed and set the cup to one
side before settling into a chair beside the bed. “Yes, three to be exact. Two
of which were spent in a bloody awful inn not far from the battlefield because
we couldn’t risk taking you all the way back here. Only when your fever broke
did I deem it safe, but even then, you were on death’s door. You were barely
alive when we pulled you off the battlefield. That was no scratch you managed
to give yourself.” He suddenly leaned forward. “Speaking of which, you utter
idiot, how could you be so bloody foolish?”
“I thought it was the only way,” I
said quietly. “And it worked.”
“Putting holes in yourself never
works,” Merlin scoffed. “I was nearly thrashed from my fight with Morgan and
then I had to heal you as best I could with all my powers failing. I might be a
great sorcerer but even I couldn’t heal you properly and had to do most of the
tricky stuff by hand without all my resources. I slept for three days
afterward.” I nearly smiled. I could tell that his ranting was a result of his
fright. And I saw that he was scared, or had been, by my condition. It sobered
me, never knowing before how much Merlin cared about me, and I knew it wasn’t
just because of Arthur. Merlin was, for all intents, my uncle, so I suppose it
should come as no surprise that he cared for me as much as Arthur did.
Especially after all he had already done.
“Thank you, Merlin,” I said quietly.
“Oh, you’ll thank me, boy,” he
growled. “You can be sure of that. I ought to tan your hide, but I suppose I
can’t do that now. Not when you’re already within an inch of death. I suppose
that is punishment enough.”
“How’s Arthur?” I asked hesitantly.
I knew I had wounded him, but I didn’t know how badly.
“Far better off than you. He’s
getting some sleep though I doubt he’ll be too long from your bedside.”
I was silent for a long time, a
thousand questions to ask, and no way to say them. I finally settled on one,
after much deliberation. “How…how is he?”
“Arthur?” Merlin asked tiredly,
slumping back in the chair. “Exhausted, worried about you, run down as usual. But
at least we don’t have a war on any more with Morgan gone. And don’t forget who
is responsible for that, thank you very much.”
I smiled genuinely at his grumbling.
“I knew you could beat her, Merlin.”
“Granted you did give me a fine
distraction,” Merlin admitted with a sly look. He sighed then and sobered. “I’m
not going to lie, Mordred, you and Arthur are going to have a lot to talk
about. But do know this; no matter what happened, he truly does love you like
his own son, that has never changed, and I know that given time he will forgive
you.”
“How can anyone forgive the lies I
told?” I whispered, my throat closing up from the pain pressing into my chest.
“Everyone lies, Mordred. Everyone.
The key is to only tell the cruelest lies when they are for the protection of
someone you love. I’m not sure we made the right decision in not telling Arthur
everything, but I do know that you did what you did for the right reasons, and
that always counts for something. And besides that, you showed that you were never
on Morgan’s side. Arthur is no fool. He will see the truth, if he doesn’t
already.”
I closed my eyes with a heavy sigh
and felt Merlin’s hand on my shoulder, squeezing comfortingly. “Get some rest.
Arthur will want to see you in the morning. You’ll be better off if you sleep.”
I nodded, not having the energy to
open my eyes again, and knowing that I would need every scrap I had for the
conversation that would ensue when Arthur came to see me.
***
I woke
to him sitting by my side.
He looked awful, that was the first
thing I noticed. Gaunt, tired, and worn down. I swallowed hard, knowing that I
had been the cause of that. Not only of the physical wounds I had dealt to him
in that last battle, but also the inner wounds that were not so easily healed.
But then, I hardly hoped I would look much better so perhaps we were even.
“Mordred,” he said quietly, his eyes
lighting up with renewed hope as mine fluttered open. He did not reach for my
hand as I thought he would, but rather shifted uncomfortably. I didn’t know
what to think, whether it was him or me, and that made me feel rather awkward.
“My lord,” I replied, deciding that
the formality couldn’t hurt.
But it did. I saw it in Arthur’s
eyes. The formal title took a little out of their brightness, but he seemed to
ignore it after blinking for a moment. “I am glad to see you well. I was afraid
that…that you would not come out of it.” His voice trembled but he kept it in
check.
“Merlin seems to think I will, my
lord. I wouldn’t worry anymore,” I tried to reassure him, offering a small
smile.
His hands were clasped in his lap
and he looked down at them, seeming not to know what to say and I decided that
I needed to be the one to speak first. I would be a coward no longer. It was
finally time that I speak the truth from the beginning, I would be clean by the
end of the day, all my secretes laid bare, for only then could I truly find
peace in myself, no matter the consequences it had on others and my
surroundings.
“My lord Arthur,” I began, easing
myself up with a wince to better look at him. “There are things that I need to
tell you.”
“No, Mordred,” Arthur replied
quickly. “You don’t—”
“Please,” I said abruptly and rather
rudely, but I would not be thwarted in my confession. If he said I didn’t have
to, then I feared I would never have the courage again. “Please, you must let
me do this.”
He stared at me for a long time and
then finally gave a nod, sagging in the chair, almost relieved. “Very well
then. I shall not stop you.”
“Thank you,” I whispered then took a
deep breath and began.
I started at the day Morgan la Fay
found me when I was nothing but a child. Told of the first years when she had
been kind, and how she had changed when Arthur was crowned king. I told him of
the torments she had put upon me then, and finally how she trained me and sent
me off to Camelot for the purpose of gaining his trust and eventually killing
him. I saw Arthur’s hands clenching in his lap as I told this, but he did not
say a thing. He never interrupted once through my entire narration.
I related next how I had refused to
comply to her words and her visits in correlation with my defiance. I hesitated
a moment before telling how Merlin found out, but decided he must already know
that the sorcerer had been in on it the entire time; Merlin had likely told him
himself. I shuddered when I told of the curse, hating to think of it even now,
and could not look at Arthur or I feared I might not be able to go on with the
narration.
It was a long time before I had told
everything, almost midday, and my voice was nearly finished being so long
unused and then put to hours of talking.
“Merlin told me I could beat the
curse, he always said I could,” I finished after a slight pause. “But I truly
thought I would kill you at the end.”
Arthur was still silent, and I got
nervous, wondering whether he was angry, so angry he couldn’t say anything, or
just taking the whole story in. He was looking at his hands clasped in his lap
and finally he raised his head and looked straight at me. I could not read his
expression for there were so many emotions warring in his gaze that I could
hardly tell one from another.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked
finally, his voice barely above a whisper.
It was my turn to look at my lap,
focusing on my splinted wrist. “I wanted to. So many times, Arthur. I just
didn’t—I didn’t know how to say it.” I took a deep sigh. “I was going to tell
you that night. I had sworn it to myself that I would. That night that…Morgan
came. But she told you first, and I will never forgive myself that. I should
have told you so much sooner. I was just afraid.”
“Why were you afraid?” Arthur asked.
Tears pricked my eyes but I would
not let them fall. I couldn’t let him see the pain that was partly of his own
causing. “Because I feared you would…make me leave.”
He was quiet for a long time. So
long that I didn’t know if he would speak again, but finally he took a deep
breath and turned back to me. “And when you ran away that time…that wasn’t
because of me? That was because of the curse? I thought…”
I shook my head, squeezing my eyes
shut and once again forcing the tears back. “No, I only ever did it because I
was afraid of hurting you. I never meant for you to take it like that. I just
thought…I don’t know. I was desperate.” I couldn’t help myself anymore. I
reached out and wrapped my uninjured hand around his wrist, looking up into his
eyes. “Arthur, I know that I have done unnamable wrongs to you, and Guinevere
and my comrades and everyone here in Camelot. I know you can never forgive me
for those things. I can’t forgive myself. But I do want you to know that I
never once meant to hurt anyone. I only did what I did because I thought it was
best. It was ill-advised and foolish, but I never did it out of spite or
hatred.” A tear slid down my cheek before I could stop it, and I turned my face
aside to try and hide it.
Arthur’s hand folded over the one I
had clamped around his wrist and squeezed. “I know, Mordred. I know it. You are
so very brave, my boy. Yes, perhaps what you did was foolish but so was I. No
one can ever do the best thing all the time. Otherwise how would we learn?” I
shook my head, wanting to protest but he stopped me. “No, now it’s your turn to
listen. I too have done things I regret. And throwing you out in the first place
is one of them. I never should have done that. I was angry and not thinking
properly and I will forever have that on my conscience, but I just want you to
know how sorry I am for putting you through that, and for not keeping you by my
side when you needed me most.” He reached down and took my face between his
hands, pulling me around to face him fully. “I cannot forgive myself for that,
but I can forgive you for all you have done, and I want you to know that I am
still so proud of you, Mordred. I could never love a son more than you.”
“But I’m not your son,” I whispered,
not knowing what else to say. “I never was.”
He smiled, and a tear slid down his
own face now. “Do you think that after all this that matters to me at all? I
will still be your father, Mordred, if you will have me.”
I didn’t know what to say, and even
if I did I couldn’t say it for my swollen throat. Tears dripped into my lap and
I barely noticed when Arthur shifted to his knees beside the bed to better see
my face. He wiped the tears from my cheeks with his thumbs.
“Hush, do I offend you so much,
Mordred?” he asked teasingly.
I finally looked up at him and
smiled genuinely through my tears, reaching out to grab the front of his tunic.
“Father,” I whispered and buried my face under his chin.
He held me close for a long time and
after the embrace ended we finally felt reconciled with each other, and I fell
asleep, feeling for the first time in so long I couldn’t remember, actually at
peace.
©Copyright 2014 by Hazel B West
