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Morgan was not a good woman. Even if she was incredibly powerful and attractive, she was pure evil in the form of a witch. Literally.
To be fair, she did have her fair share of bad events, but did any of them give her the right to rape her sister and abuse and manipulate the child that came out of that scandalous ordeal?
Probably not.
Morgan was scowling when she was summoned, already disgusted with this place. It was not the right state for a queen of her standard.
She glared down at the Master, staring at him with an evil, but interested stare. Finally, after a solid thirty seconds of just gawking, she pulled her head back and looked around again. A small smirk twitched on her lips when he heard the Master breathe a sigh of relief. She wanted him to fear her. That’s how she liked her subjects.
“Your name is Morgan le Fay, right?” He asked, a small tremble in his voice. He had dealt with many Servants before, but nobody had been as sinister and deadly as the woman before him. He didn’t even want to know the extent of her magic and what she could do to him.
“Yes.” Morgan said, “But I prefer Your Majesty.”
“Ma’am- I mean, Morgan, I- Umm... I can’t-“ The young man stumbled over his words, widening Morgan’s smile. She was pleased by his fear.
“We’ll work on it.” Morgan said. “Show me to my chambers.”
“Ah- Right. Right.”
This place was good enough. Morgan didn’t like that she was crammed underground where she couldn’t bask in the sun, but she dealt with it. Even though the halls were narrow and cramped and the Servants were annoying and pretentious. Like they were better than her. She put them in their place with ease.
During outings, Morgan proved to be ruthless in battle. Her magical abilities seemed to be limitless and she wasn’t afraid to snap the necks of any unfortunate souls that got too close. She didn’t even feel bad about it either. Sometimes, she killed with a wicked smile on her face.
It’s not that the woman was insane, in fact, her mental state seemed fine, but she sure was intimidating. She struck fear into everyone, especially the human workers in Chaldea, putting them in her place. They were her subjects and they needed to realize that.
It was a few weeks into being in Chaldea when she finally found her. Her.../child/.
Mordred was hacking away at the dummy in the training room when Morgan walked in, her heels clacking loudly on the tile floor. She was amused at the startled yelp and how high Mordred leapt into the air.
“M-mother!” The Saber squeaked.
“My dear little Mordred,” Morgan purred, opening her arms, “Come here, my darling.”
Mordred blinked a few times before her eyes lit up. She practically threw herself into her mother’s arms, nuzzling into her soft chest. The smell of jasmine was so familiar.
Morgan listened to the child babble on about missing her, rolling her eyes. Mordred didn’t see, of course; she was too busy nuzzling every inch of her torso. The witch hated that she was being touched by such filth, but she would have to deal with it. For now.
“I’m here, my darling,” She cooed, “I’m here.”
A smirk spreads across her lips.
It’s about time.
———
Mordred was too desperate for attention and love to realize how bad Morgan’s treatment was. At least, not right away.
She often found herself clinging to Morgan’s dress or resting her head in the woman’s lap, cooing when tender fingers ran through her hair. She was like a puppy, willing to do anything as long as it got her affection.
And Morgan made sure to exploit that in any way she could.
She made Mordred her own personal knight, ordering her around like she was a maid. She made her fight in battles that were too tough for her, and her daughter often came back to her side wounded and bleeding. Not that Morgan cared. She was doing this for her own gain.
When Mordred didn’t do something right, though, Morgan proved to still have her fair share of cruel punishments.
Mordred’s skin was still raw from the cold chains that had clamped around her wrists. She had been locked in a cramped, dark room conjured up by her mother. Nobody could hear her crying and wailing from inside.
She spent twenty four hours in that room until Morgan finally let her out as long as she swore that she learned her lesson. Whimpering, Mordred had nodded rapidly.
That’s when Mordred started to realize her mother’s true colors. She was so stupid to think she cared.
Nobody cared.
If Morgan /had/ cared, she wouldn’t get mad when Mordred woke up from nightmares and came scurrying to her for comfort. She had snapped up in her bed, glaring daggers at the trembling child. There was still clumps of blonde locks on her floor from where she had grabbed Mordred’s hair and yanked her forward to scold her. Really, it was a threat to not wake her up again.
Despite this, Mordred still came to her room the next morning to get her orders. It was like her mother was her real Master. She ordered her around, commanded her, and stated what she could and couldn’t do. One of these things was no regeneration. In fact, Morgan seemed to take all of Mordred’s mana for her own.
This left the child a hollow, shivering shell. Her pale skin was grimy with bruises and scratches, rattling her with pain every time she walked. She had begged Morgan to let her heal the slice on her right forearm and arrow puncture in her stomach, but her mother turned her down through gritted teeth. Mordred gave up, not wanting to further her rage.
Added with her routinely night terrors and occasional panic attacks, things were not looking good for Mordred. She felt a fever coming on and was afraid what her mother might do if she got sick. So, behind Morgan’s back, she decided to go and see Nightingale. She was so close to the medical wing when someone grabbed her by the back of her collar.
“And where do you think you’re going?”
It was Morgan.
Mordred actually tried fighting this time, but Morgan overpowered her and dragged her to her bedroom, where she promptly threw her to the floor and blocked the door. Mordred was trapped inside with the witch.
“What were you doing, Mordred?” Morgan asked in a relatively calm voice. Her arms were crossed over her chest.
“N-nothing!” The child squeaked, cowering on her knees.
“Oh really? Why were you going to the medical wing? Didn’t I specifically tell to not go there?”
“I-I know, but-“
“If you want to be a strong, powerful knight, you need to learn to endure pain. That’s why your regeneration abilities and help from that black haired man is off limits. You need to get used to being injured.”
“B-but mother, it /hurts/ so m-“
Mordred yelped out loud when her hair was grabbed violently, drawing her in close.
“I don’t care.” Morgan hissed. “You’re a knight, aren’t you? Be strong. Stop acting so pathetic.”
“What’s going on in here?!”
Mordred felt relief form in her chest. The Master was standing in the doorway, his eyes wide.
“Something wrong is going on here.” He said.
“Yes!” Mordred blurted without thinking. “There is! She’s been treating me like a slave! A-a prisoner! She doesn’t let me heal myself or anything! She’s horrible!”
“Mordred, hold your tongue,” Morgan snapped.
“I will not!” Mordred cried, “Please, get me out of here!”
She scrambled forward and grasped onto the Master’s arms. Her eyes widened as the skin under her fingers dissolved away into dust. She heard Morgan growl from behind her. This was all a trick.
“You ungrateful mite!” Morgan hissed, grabbing Mordred by the hair, digging her nails into the back of her head. Her face rippled with disgust.
Mordred watched in horror as inky black spread on her mother’s skin. It was like someone poured the night sky on top of her. She was shaking as Morgan’s body shifted. Her magic was so powerful.
Morgan dropped Mordred and stepped back. She crouched down on her hands and feet, growling lowly.
When the transformation was complete, piercing yellow eyes stared at the tiny child cowering on the floor. She had iridescent, shimmering blue-black scales with pointy horns on top of her head. Long scars ran down her back from where her wings used to be. They didn’t even transfer over in this form. Smoke puffed from her nostrils, winding around her horns.
Mordred tried to run out of the room, but the door was locked. She didn’t have time to twist the lock, because talons that were as cold as ice closed around her arms, wrenching her backwards. She screamed and was thrown roughly into the wall.
“I had given you everything growing up, even now, and this is how you repay me?!” Morgan roared, towering over little Mordred. Her tail lashed furiously.
“I-I’m-“ Mordred stopped herself from apologizing. She had to be strong!
With a bout of courage- or maybe it was stupidity- she lunged at Morgan. She didn’t even think to form her sword; she was running on full adrenaline.
The child, a tiny nat compared to the beast, rolled out of the way of Morgan’s talons and clambered up onto her back, scrambling to find a hold. She tried to dig her nails into the scales, but they were was strong as diamonds. How did someone manage to cut off her wings with such tough hide?!
Morgan reached back and plucked Mordred off as if she were just a little bug. She scowled, snorting smoke into the child’s face before throwing her into a bookshelf.
Before Mordred could get up, Morgan slashed her across the face, her talons suddenly as hot as fire. They singed her skin, making it bubble and crawl into a shade of charred black. Her left eye was nearly ripped out of the socket, punctured by the burning claws and leaking blood all over the floor. Morgan smiled wickedly at the howls of pain that accompanied her attacks. She watched as Mordred writhed on the ground, pawing at her bleeding face. Smoke rose up from her fresh wounds.
“Now you know the price of disobeying me.” Morgan crooned, leaning her head down to eye level with her child. Her smile only grew when the little Saber whimpered in fear, trying to move away. “Submit to me. Do this and your pain will end. If not, I will give you the most painful death you can imagine.”
Extending a hand, Morgan cupped Mordred’s face with her black talons. She moved her thumb to Mordred’s good eye and pressed the claw inside.
Mordred screeched in pain, waving her fists uselessly at Morgan’s hard scales. Blood and tears mingled on her face as the claw pushed further into her socket. She could barely see anymore, only having a sliver of blurry vision left. She choked on her sobs.
“Obey.” Morgan said lowly, almost purring in Mordred’s ears. She twisted her claw to further the child’s anguish.
“I-I-“ Mordred coughed a few splatters of blood, “I do. I-I submit..”
“Apologize.”
“I-I’m sorry, Morgan- M-mother-“ Mordred sobbed weakly, “Mistress.”
“Good.” Morgan cooed evilly, pulling her talon free, nearly getting the eye out of the socket, too. She lapped up the blood on her claws, enjoying the taste on her purple tongue.
“Good girl.” She purred, pressing her other talons to the burning scars on Mordred’s face. The flesh began to mend slowly, but it burned painfully, making the child whimper. Morgan knew that it was painful. She did it for a reason.
She tapped Mordred’s eyelid and her stabbed eye began to heal, too. Her child’s vision began to return.
“I hope you’ve learned your lesson. I’m the only one you’ll ever need. And you will never, /ever/ disobey be again. Understand?”
“I-I do.”
Morgan hummed in response as Mordred pushed into the area between her neck and shoulder, curling up into a trembling ball. Her mother’s scales were rough and scratchy against her skin, but she didn’t dare move. She was too scared at Morgan’s long tail twined around her securely. Oh, how she wished it was a protective move to keep her little child safe. No. It was to keep her in place so she couldn’t run.
Mordred was trapped.
———
Arturia found out about the abuse when she heard crying coming from inside Morgan’s room. Curious, she opened the door to see Mordred huddled in the corner with a dark creature looming over her. Smoke wreathed around its horns. Anger flashed in its golden eyes.
Slowly, it swiveled its head to stare at the intruder.
“/Sister/.” A familiar voice spat her name like it was acid.
That was Morgan. Arturia has to remember her sister was a powerful mage. Of course she could change the shape of her body into one of a beast’s. Maybe this was the form of the bloodthirsty demon that lived in her cold heart.
“What are you doing?” Arturia asked rather calmly.
“Punishing this rat,” Morgan replied honestly, holding Mordred under her talons. “Did you know this is the /second/ time I’ve taken this form to punish her?”
“I see.”
“I don’t know how you dealt with her when she was your knight!” Morgan exclaimed, her tail lashing. It whipped one of Mordred’s legs; Arturia couldn’t tell if that was intentional or not, but it left a red mark from impact. She saw the child shudder in pain.
“Really, I pity you, sister. I can’t imagine the annoyance she brought you. Now I see why you didn’t accept her.”
Arturia was silent, her arms flat at her side.
“Listen, I know we’ve had our differences in the past-“
Oh, how Arturia wanted to point out how Morgan had raped her.
“-but how about I give you a peace offering? A truce, you could say.”
Morgan plucked Mordred up by the neck, her claws poking dangerously in her throat. She weightlessly tossed the little Saber to Arturia’s feet without a care in the world.
Arturia stared down at the shivering, bleeding body below her. Mordred was crying silently, her eyes squeezed shut. Her hair was matted and in patches, crusted in blood. Visible scratches stretched across her shoulders, collarbone, and back. Her clothes were ripped and tattered, dyed in blood from Morgan’s attack.
She felt her heart twinge a little when Mordred opened her big, teary eyes. They sparkled emerald green, so much like her own. Arturia saw nothing but fear and pain in Mordred’s eyes.
She raised her head to face Morgan. The witch was lapping blood off her her talons with a purple tongue. It made Arturia’s stomach turn.
“There’s blood on my beautiful tail,” Morgan hissed to herself, almost forgetting about the other two in her room.
“That’s partially your fault.” Arturia pointed out while slowly crouching down to Mordred. She touched the child’s shoulder; Mordred flinched violently.
“Hmph,” Morgan said, blowing smoke from her nostrils. She craned her head around and down to clean her tail.
While she was distracted Arturia put her focus on Mordred. She had never seen the kid look to utterly terrified before. She brushed her hand over the crown of Mordred’s head gently; It had to have been the most soothing touch she had felt in a long time, because Mordred pressed into her hand.
“I’ll take her.” Arturia said, sliding her hands under Mordred’s knees and back, hoisting the child up weightlessly bridal style. She didn’t know why she was doing this. Didn’t she hate Mordred? Didn’t she enjoy was Morgan was doing to her?
“Mhmm,” Morgan said, no longer paying attention. She must have been fed up with babysitting. “Leave.” She waved her talons, “I want that pest out of my sight.”
Arturia nodded and turned for the door. While she did so, Morgan spoke again:
“Have fun with her. Do whatever you want.”
———
Arturia took Mordred straight to the medical wing, something Morgan should have done if she was a good mother. The human workers, and even Nightingale and the other Servants inside, were shocked when she entered with the bloody, battered body of the one who killed her people and destroyed her city in her arms. Nightingale attended to the smaller Saber immediately while Arturia went off to tell her knights about what happened.
Bedivere nearly fainted when he saw the blood smeared on his king’s clothes. Gawain nearly fainted when Arturia explain why there was blood smeared on her clothes. And /Lancelot/ nearly fainted when he heard that she /helped/ the reason why there was blood smeared on her clothes.
Agravaine just looked shocked, his stiff arms crossed over his chest. His mother truly was horrible. Gareth agreed without him even having to say it out loud. Tristan was equally as disgusted as Merlin. It said a lot if /Merlin/ felt anything about the situation.
“That’s terrible,” Bedivere had gasped, his hand clamped over his mouth.
“I slept with that woman.” Merlin said to himself, but everyone heard.
“Good move,” Gareth commented, nudging the wizard in the ribs with her elbow. “Did you raw her ass to dust when she was in that murder former?”
“Gareth?” Tristan spoke.
“Yup?”
“Shut the hell up.”
“Alright.”
Gawain cleared his throat.
“What are you going to do?” He asked Arturia, “What should /we/ do?”
“For now, we’ll just leave it be.” Arturia answered. “I know it may sound cowardly or the wrong thing to do, but Morgan handed Mordred over without a fight. She didn’t even seem upset that I found out what she was doing. It was all a ‘peace offering’ as she called it.” She explained, “Morgan is not an enemy we want to have. If we’re on good terms, I’d like to keep it that way.”
The knights (and Merlin) all nodded. That seemed like the smartest thing to do.
“And what about Mordred?” Lancelot asked.
Arturia was quiet for a moment, like she was thinking.
“I’m going to go see her.” She finally said.
Lancelot blinked a few times. He wasn’t expecting that.
“Really?”
“It’s the least I can do.”
Arturia turned to walk back to the medical wing.
“You’re welcome to come if you’d like.”
They did. All of them, actually. Whether that was because they wanted to protect their king, just in case, or wanted to see the kid’s condition was beyond Arturia as she walked down the hallway.
Bedivere had gasped (again) when he saw the state Mordred was in. Her skin was doughy white and hot to the touch; some of her old wounds might have gotten infected. The bright red scratches and gashes and bruises practically glowed on her pale skin. She was lying in a bed in the medical wing, twitching in her unconsciousness and breathing heavily. Maybe she was having a nightmare.
“Will she be okay?” Gawain asked Nightingale, being the protective and worried older brother he was.
The medic nodded her head carefully, glancing at the wounded child.
“She needs a lot of rest and time to heal.” She said. “Over time, she should get better. I’m afraid she maybe have some permanent trauma and anxiety after this, though. Possibly trust issues.”
That was expected, though. Mordred has every right to be anxious after what happened to her.
“I see.” Arturia said slowly, sitting beside the bed. She studied Mordred’s face, which was twisted with pain, even while she slept.
Morgan was still out and about in Chaldea. Arturia had to protect this child.
/Her/ child.