Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I do not own the Fate franchise. It is the property of Type moon, and as such not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

It looks like her part in the Holy Grail war was at an end. That assassin was defiantly no push over though given she cheated and was more a kin to caster soothed her ego a little. Still she thought that Sieg would prevail in the end and there wasn’t a chance he`d you use the wish for something heinous so she and her master had fulfilled their objective if nothing else.  She’d come a long way since her summoning and it was all thanks to the man dying before her.

There was nothing to be done. His fate sealed as surely as her own.  Yet as he shares a final cigarette with her, his contentment is plain though their connection. No regrets.  For a brief time she had known what it felt like to have a father despite how unconventional the whole situation was. It was through that relationship that she had come to understand her biological father better. There was still a part of her that wanted to kill him, to prove she was better than him. That he was wrong to reject her. Yet it was tempered now. As Saber of Red fades away she can’t help but wish she could meet her Father again and show him how far she had come.

Mordred was many things but polite was not of them. This was especially true when it came to dealing with the Fae folk who she viewed with a deep rooted contempt for their connection to magic and her father. It is no surprise therefore that upon opening her eyes for the first time since fading away on assassins floating garden that she snarls demandingly at one such creature, “Who the hell are you!?”

The small blue nymph that had been smiling serenely down at Mordred recoils, its large black eyes widening in shock as it flutters backwards on translucent wings. It quickly recovers its composure however and precedes to scowl in return as it humphs indignantly and points at Mordred with an accusatory finger.

 “What kind of greeting is that Human?” The creature begins irritable as it fixes its ruffled long black hair back into place behind its dagger like ears, “It’s no wonder so many of your kind never make it here. Why it’s like I always say to Lilith you savages are not fit see one of us let alone set foot in this place.” The fairy stops its tirade for a moment; looking the sitting Mordred up and down as its scowl only deepens into open disgust.

“Keep looking at me like fairy and ill cut you in half.” Mordred bites out, springing to her feet and gesturing as if to summon her trusty sword as she had down so many times during the grail war. “Mordred Pendragon, the future king of Britain stands before you and I will not be looked down by anyone let alone a cur like you.”   

Under normal circumstances such a proclamation would make even the most veteran of soldiers pause given the renowned prowess attached to that name.  However instead of the radiant blade Clarent appearing to enforce her statement nothing materialised.  An ill omen that would have caused Mordred great distress if she had the time to process the failed summoning.

As it was the flying imp burst into hysterics in that moment of failure which had the side of effect of overloading Mordred`s confused mind with pure rage instead.

 “Oh there’s no weapons allowed here monkey.” The Fae titters with mocking joy as it floats closer, its elegant long white gown just centimetres from brushing up against the lush green glass below.  “How a simpleton like you managed to get here ill ne-Ugh....” The Fairy stops mid sentence with a pain filled gurgle as Mordred`s hand shoots forward around its neck and begins to squeeze.

“Who says I need a weapon Fae? Now unless you want me to strangle the life out of you I suggest you tell me who you are and where I am right now.” To add to the threat Mordred squeezes that little bit tighter though not enough to kill. Despite her initial anger at the Fae Mordred`s blood lust had quickly faded as the significance of the Faes presence finally registered within her mind.

 “I guess I should be glad I was summoned as a Saber rather than Berseker or this could have gone decidedly different.”    She admits begrudgingly, finding the image of that scenario rather appealing despite herself. “If a Fae is here then it can’t be the mortal plane and I can remember the grail war I just fought in so I can’t be in the throne of hero’s. Where the hell am I?”

“I believe I can answer your questions Mordred Pendragon.” Another voice cuts in from behind them before Mordred`s captive can answer, the owner tone serene but with an undercurrent of power than she knew should not be trifled with. “That is of course providing you release my misbehaving subordinate who seems to have allowed her dislike of humans to colour her duties again. For that I can only apologise and hope you won’t take further offence and ruin your chance at of obtaining peace.”  

Looking back over her shoulder, her hands still firmly on the Fae`s throat, Mordred takes stock of the new arrival as they emerge from the dense forest surrounding them. She was similar in frame to the first Fae though from the stories her so called mother had told the knight as child that build was the norm for those of their kind.

“I wonder if that sword of fathers also passed on the ability to maintain a slim figure no matter how much you consume.” Mordred muses with a degree of melancholy, recalling how her father had managed to consistently eat an armies worth of food and not show a sign of a widening stomach.  Something Mordred had taken  great delight in mimicking once she joined the round table given her similar disposition towards food.“Kinda sad to say but it was one of the few things were where able to bond over....even if father only saw me as a fellow knight.”

Pushing those conflicted thoughts of her father aside, Mordred acknowledges that this Fae was indeed markedly different from her captive.  Indeed beside her braided long blonde hair and additional set of wings this creature’s aura was as powerful as her voice suggested. 

“I hate backing down but tangling with that thing is probably not a good idea right now. Best to do what it says so I can find out what’s going on”. Mordred decides reasonable before adding with a smirk to herself, “And hey I can always cut its head off later if needs be.”

With her course of action decided Mordred reluctantly lets go. “Fair enough.” Mordred agrees with a shrug before grinning wolfishly at her former prey, “Scram Fae before I change my mind. Oh and if I ever catch that kind of attitude from you again you better bet you wont be so lucky. 

The newly released Fae rubs her neck with a scowl, looking as if they were going to argue before they catch the look of reproach from her apparent senior.  The Fae`s head quickly looks down with a mix of shame before quickly leaving the scene. Yet Mordred couldn’t help but notice a look of fear materialising on the Fae`s face as it passes its counterpart.  A barely audible “We will speak about this later.” uttered by the blonde haired Fae as its fellow passes by.

Feeling somewhat vindicated now knowing her antagonizer would likely be punished in some form, and by the look of fear it would not be pleasant, Mordred greets, “I’m glad to see someone has manners up here. Honestly looking down on someone you just met is a bad way to end up dead.” 

Moving to meet the Fae, Mordred maintains an open demeanour having decided the less confrontational approach would maybe serve her better on this occasion. That being said the creature was still a Fae meaning Mordred`s guard was still up all the same. “So you apparently know my name but I’m at a disadvantage here. What’s your name and more importantly why am I here?”

Maintaining a serene smile, one that would probably annoy Mordred given time if she was honest, the Fae responds, “Apologies I am Lilith, the custodian of these lands and all its inhabitants. As such I can again only apologise for not instructing Aoife more thoroughly. As a greeter she should be above such petty prejudice but alas her passed experience with humans has apparently left a greater mark on her than I feared.”

Lilith bows slightly, her voice tinged with regret, “Please do not allow that to impact on your experience going forward. ” The Faes head rises, her impressive aura rising a hundred fold as her voice takes on an edge of warning, “However you must know that violence is stickle prohibited outside of the sparring arena. As a newcomer there is some leeway but please refrain from further displays of aggression. The results would not be pleasant.”

Sensing the overwhelming power a part of Mordred almost leaps at the chance to prove herself against such a seemingly powerful being.  But as before Mordred is happy that she was not summoned as a Berseker . 

“Maybe if I had Clarent I could take her but even then it might be pushing it.” Mordred ponders, envisaging all the possible moves she might make to take down such a creature. “Still there’s nothing to be gained from antagonising her and I need to know what’s going on before i can decide what to do. I’ll give it to father this diplomacy crap is harder than I thought.”

Swallowing her pride at the implied threat Mordred responds as calmly as possible, doing her best to suppress the discontent she feels “Ok your house your rules and as for the other stuff its water under the bridge. Consider it apology accepted ok.” Seeing the small nod of approval from Lilith Mordred continues with barely concealed impatience, “Now with that out of the way can you tell me what is going on.”

Either not noticing or ignoring Mordred`s mood, Lilith smiles amicable. “Of course.  To answer your question your soul has passed on to the Land of the Eternal Spring thanks in part to your actions in the Holy Grail War.”

It takes a moment for Mordred to put the pieces together and realise what the Fae had said,  “Avalon? “ She breaths out in shock, taking a step back from the Fae in sheer disbelief, “H-how can that be. I-I can’t possibly be there. It’s said only those of Britain that the Fae deem worthy may reside.” Casting her gaze away from the Fae, Mordred adds bitterly, “I sullied every good deed I ever did by letting Britain fall to the Saxons .... All because I couldn’t stand father rejecting me.....just as mother said he would.”

“We prefer our name for this place as opposed to the human term but yes.” Lilith confirms with the same unwavering tone of serenity despite Mordred`s now openly dark mood, “However it was judged that you are no longer the same person as the one who rebelled against your sire. Given your actions during the war you have more than made up for your past shortcomings.”

Seeing Mordred incredulous look the Fae sighs and adds, “Most of what humans know of this place is poorly retold myth at best. Though rare it is possible for those with a less pristine past to be re-judged in light of new deeds as you were. Indeed though exceedingly rare even those not born of Britain but pure of spirit may find themselves here.  So long as they are willing to defend Britain when the time comes for our islands to face its greatest threat we are willing to accommodate.”

Mordred mulls the Faes explanation over in her head.  The knights natural distrust of the Fae and admittedly people in general warring against her desire to be accepted. To be told she was worthy after all.

“And given everything I’ve seen there really isn’t any other explanation.” Mordred acknowledges with a welling sense of pride before reality sets in and her mood darkens again, “I guess fate as a twisted sense of humour if it wants Britain’s destroyer to save it one day. Still that doesn’t mean I’m happy being volunteered to be the Fae`s attack dog.”

Staring defiantly at Lilith, Mordred voices her petulant annoyance, “Say I accept your explanation. Who says id want to be your little pet to unleash on your enemies whenever you please? You should know how it ended for the last person I had to serve unwillingly.”

“Oh it is of course your choice whether you accept our offer.” Lilith replies completely unperturbed a small impish smile forming as she tilts her head in question, “But are you saying you wouldn’t wish to defend Britain when it needs it most?”

“Damn know it all Fae.” Mordred curses knowing the creature had backed her into a corner. “I may have broken my vow to father but despite everything I can never go back on my word to protect Britain and she already knows that. Besides it may be the only way I can ever truly wash away my shame for letting it fall in the first place.” 

Seeing no way to save face Mordred `Humphs` irritably, “Fine that was a stupid question I guess. Of course I want to defend Britain. Even if that means having to work with the Fae.” Mordred pauses as she loses steam and calms down, another piece of detail of the Faes words rolling in her mind.

“That aside....” Mordred begins hesitantly, not used to being unsure of something, “What about Kairi, my master? You said those not of Britain could make it here and he was just as instrumental if not more so in the wars conclusion. Hell if not for him there’s no way I could have started coming to grips with what happened between me and father. I-I owe him more than can made up for in one life time.”

The Faes smile falters for the first time, a look of sadness passing through her features before her usual demeanour is restored. “I am sorry Mordred.” She soothes gently, “Though your masters deeds were great in this instance he would not be considered eligible for a place here or in the throne of heroes. As I said it is rare for any human to reside here let alone a mostly normal one.”

She frowns slightly while suppressing a grimace as if she had tasted something foul, something that boosted Mordred`s spirits despite the answer she was receiving.“There is also the matter of his necromancy that has tainted his spirit so. He would not be capable of residing here even if we wished it.”

Lilith pauses, looking into the distance as if searching for something before continuing with seemingly genuine sympathy, “There may yet be another version of this human from another universe that would qualify but none have emerged as yet. It also must be said that even if such an individual did occur they would be unlikely to be the same person you knew or be sent to this universe. Im sorry Mordred but it is unlikely the master you knew would ever be able to join you here.”

“No I already guessed that would be the answer but hoped I was wrong anyway” Mordred accepts with a forlorn sigh, suppressing her resentment of the fact before chuckling fondly, “And yeah I’ve got to say the whole necromancy stuff wasn’t my favourite thing about him either.  Though it worked for him and saved our butts on a few occasion so I can’t really hold against him.... even if it means I can’t see the idiot again.”

“I can keep a watch on the meta verse for him if you wish. ”Lilith responds with restored professional composure, “It will after all be some time before Britain faces its trial. Stranger occurrences though rare have happened. Your own situation being a prime example.”

“The last thing I want is to be indebted to her anymore than I already am.”  Mordred ruminates as the knights desire to help her master struggles against long held prejudice, “But even if it’s a slim chance I owe it to Kairi to accept. Being petty at this point won’t help anyone.”

With that in mind Mordred infuses her reply with as much gratitude as she can muster. Something which incidentally would still be barely noticeable to most but not the empathetic Fae, “Ehh if you could that be great. Even knowing he found happiness somewhere would be nice ....So thanks I guess.”

“Thats no problem.” Lilith responds with a knowing smile, one Mordred has to try really hard not to punch in response, “We have prepared a dwelling for you in the meantime. You can also meet your fellow denizens in the communal areas and use the sparring arena for practise as well as stress relief if you wish.” Fixing Mordred with an intense though seemingly still friendly stare, she concludes, “Hopefully that should prevent any more unauthorised acts of violence yes.”

Rubbing the back of her head in slight embarrassment, though still believing the uppity Fae got what was coming to them, Mordred agrees unruffled, “Yeah yeah you wont be getting anymore problems from me ok. Though id advise keeping what’s her face away from me. For both our sakes.”

Seemingly accepting her answer in good spirits, at least as far as Mordred could tell, Lilith turns to leave offering a simple, “That can be arranged.”

“Hey wait a minute!” Mordred calls out in frustration while looking around the grassy clearing in utter confusion, “How do I get to my new place or any of that other stuff you mentioned?”

Turning back, Lilith lets out a small chuckle and smile that she tries to hide with her hand, “Oh my how silly of me I almost forgot. Simply think on the place you want to be and a portal will appear leading to it.”

“It’s that easy? “ Mordred asked with a raised eyebrow just as a wispy portal of cloud appears in answer, its depths a swirling pool of colour.

“Indeed.” The Fae confirms with a smile before her mask slips momentarily, a slight frown of apprehension forming. “There is one other matter. You recall how I said your situation was an example of an unusual entry into our lands?”

Scratching her chin in thought Mordred replies with an uncertain scowl, “Yeah I remember.  I thought you meant because of my how chequered my past is?”

“That is part of the answer but not the main points.” Lilith answers with care as if trying to figure out the best way to present the information, “For reasons unknown to ourselves it seems the grail of your war heard your final wish and granted it in some measure despite you not being the final servant.”

“My final wish?” Mordred questions in confusion, struggling to remember her final moments as clearly as she would like. “Well I was dying and probable a little delirious from all the damage so I guess I can’t really hold myself accountable.  Still why the hell would I want to end up here?

 “It appears so.” Lilth answers seemingly as confused as her, “The magic that transported you here was unmistakable but its intent a mystery. All we knew was that you had been sent here from another universe.  While you remained unconscious we inspected the events of your grail war through the throne.  Seeing all that had occurred it was determined you were indeed worthy to remain in our lands despite the unorthodox way you arrived.”

Pausing Lilith seems to brace herself. At the same time Mordred had only been listening with half an ear, trying with growing frustration to figure out what her last wish could have been.  However her attention is regained fully once more as she registered uncharacteristic uncertainty in Liliths voice.

 “It was not of course guaranteed that we would allow you to stay here given your past and noted mistrust of our kind.” Lilith explains, studying Mordred`s reaction with interest. 

Mordred having no comeback given what happened simply shrug’s. Apparently pleased with her reaction, Lilith continues though with still a hint of doubt in what she was communicating. “In any case what secured your place was one of our denizens strong canvassing on your behalf.”

“Well I’m not sure if I should thank them or punch them honestly.” Mordred wonders out loud, her emotions still somewhat conflicted over the issue but her voice whimsical. However more pressing for the knight was her suspicion that whatever was making the Fae so uncertain was the identity of Mordred`s benefactor.  “Ahh doesn’t matter I’ll decide when I meet them. So who are they?”

Grimacing slightly, the Fae responds, “They actually wished to greet you but given your past I suggested they wait for you to approach them.  If you still wished to do so of course.”

It was at the moment Mordred experienced a sinking feeling deep in her chest. There were many people she had called enemies in her life. Some undeserved and others very much so. But when thinking on the person who had caused the most grief only one name came to mind.

“Y-You don’t mean...?” Mordred chokes out just as the memory of her final wish comes to the forefront of the knights mind.

Seemingly relieved to finally say it Lilith responds, “Yes. The person who spoke on your behalf is your sire, Arturia Pendragon.”

Chapter Text

“Bored.....” Mordred moans for the twelve time that day as she plays absently with her spiky blonde hair.  “Bored, bored, bored.” She repeats, staring blankly up at the wooden walls of her new home provided for by the Fae.

 It was a modest cottage in Mordred`s humble opinion, the wooden building reminiscent of what many local magistrates called home in her time. Though it had to be said it was built to a standard unachievable in the dark ages. Indeed it was stocked with all the modern appliances Mordred had knowledge of through the throne of heroes and would see her live a comfortable life if she so wished.  

“I bet those damn Fae ripped it right out of my mind.” Mordred muses irritable, finding the very idea that the Fae had touched her psyche with their foul magic distasteful. “How else could they have seemingly recreated the home I grew up in with mother...... The place where many of my most treasured memoires lie.”

The last part is said in but a bitter whisper , the memories having been tainted with the knowledge of what her mother truly thought of her.  With a `Humph`  Mordred stares up  at the ceiling and growls from her arm chair, “Damn Fae sticking their noses into where they don’t belong. I have half a mind to cut that smug Liliths head off the next time I see her.” Mordred pauses, an embarrassed blush gracing her cheeks as she grumbles, “At least when I get my sword back.” 

Much to Mordred shame she had lost the right to using the sparring arena for a month. A major inconvenience as it was the only place she could seemingly manifest Clarent.  

More important for the knight however was that she could no longer indulge in her new favourite pass time of beating up the overconfident denizens of Avalon. The fact that most of these where Fae was just icing on the cake for Mordred.  Indeed, it was a boon she was sorely missing now as boredom set in and her useful distraction was taken away.

“I probably should have stopped beating that guys face in when Lilith warned me.” Mordred admits begrudgingly as she leans forward into her seat, rubbing her face in frustration as she recalls the event, “But the bastard was looking down on me and hell it was just so much fun seeing his arrogant smirk crumble away like that. What was I supposed to do?”

Knowing full well what she was supposed to do, Mordred lets out an irritated groan, “Ahhhh im such an idiot. Why do always manage to screw everything up. Now....Now I have nothing to do but think about father.”

It had been two weeks since Mordred had arrived in Avalon and in a rare moment for her she found herself utterly torn on what to do. “If I was the same person who died at Camlann id probable try to finish what I started. And I still do if for nothing else than to prove that I can beat you but knowing what I know now everything is different.  ” Mordred thinks with bitter regret as she always did these days, the truth of her mother’s actions changing much in Mordred`s mind, “You played both me and father like fiddles mother. To think I was nothing but a disposable pawn to you, one who you didn’t even have faith in to carry out your twisted schemes.”

The knowledge of her mother’s actions gifted to Mordred by the throne like a poisoned chalice combined with her time during the grail war had made the knight revaluate things.

For Mordred her mother’s actions where indefensible but what tore at the knights heart most was that she didn’t believe she could best Arturia. Indeed so sure was she of Mordred failure that Morgan cast a spell to compel the knights body to strike out upon death when Arturia was close. A spell to ensure Morgans victory as surely Mordred would fail. A spell that ultimately killed Arturia rather than Mordred`s skill.

No betrayal could ever be as grave as the one her mother committed on Mordred.  Except perhaps Mordreds own actions against her sire.

“Foul magic.”  Mordred curses quietly as she stares into the flames of the fire place across from her, the knowledge still difficult to accept despite how long she stewed on it. “Though it wasn’t magic that made me rebel. That was on me I guess. An expendable pawn marching to mothers tune just as she planned.”

Springing to her feet in frustration, she begins pacing the room like a lion on the prowl arguing, “But hell father had a hand to play in that as well. He never understood the people like I did with his aloof perfection shielding him from any emotional connection. Why else would Lancelot and Guinevere betray him so? Why else would so many flock to my banner if not for his inability to connect with his people?” She stops, gritting her teeth as she reminds herself begrudgingly of what she had long known. 

“Father wasn’t perfect.” She admits with a sigh as she slumps back into her chair, “He tried to be because that’s what father thought a king should be. But no human is perfect. No one let alone me had a right to hold him to the ridiculous standard he set himself. A standard father had no hope of maintaining no matter how hard he struggled.”

Mordred has seen many of these struggles from a prime position, the incident with Lancelot’s affair only the tip of the iceberg. Saxon invaders, scheming nobles and ungrateful masses. Mordred had seen it all and yet despite knowing how this strain would affect most she pointedly ignored the possibility that her sire could also be similarly affected. Indeed Mordred greatest sin was holding her father up to the same standard as everyone else, stabbing him in the back when he inevitable failed. 

“I should have kept my oath despite his rejection.” Mordred muses as her voice becomes infused with growing self loathing, knowing that she had doomed the kingdom she sought to rule with her betrayal, “Hell can I even really blame him for doing so given my origin. I’d have probably find it hard to keep the disgust from my face if put in a similar situation.”

No matter how much Mordred liked to dress it up the simple truth was that she feared being rejected again. Feared seeing that brief flash of horror that passed through her sires eyes when she revealed the truth. Feared him turning away from her like he did that day and deny her very existence. An existence she had fought so hard to prove worthwhile.

“But Lilith said father wished to see me and they even vouched for me.” Mordred tries to counter, that unfamiliar uncertainty still warring with this unexpected but pleasant knowledge. “Maybe he finally wants to settle things between us. It`ll be worth it even if all that happens is a duel.” Mordred grins broadly, the image of her father conceding defeat to her too euphoric to contain. The knight failing to realise the duel hadn’t ended in her sires death as her fantasies used to.

Mordred smile lessens, a thoughtful look rising in place. Despite herself she conjures another scenario that she would never admit to desiring, a reluctant hope infusing her words, “Maybe he will actually acknowledge me as a person. Treat... treat me as his child and say I would have been a worthy successor.”   

“What if he only wants to reject you again?”

With a frustrated growl  Mordred  slams her fist against the adjacent wall , leaving a large imprint that slowly fades as the Faes magic fixes the problem. An event that was quiet common within Mordred`s domain.   

“Why can’t I get over this!” Mordred roars, her doubts an unseemly weakness for the normally self assured knight. Taking a calming breath after a minute of irate teeth grinding as she tried to overcome this affliction without success, Mordred admits longingly, “I wish you were here master.”

Her former master in the short time they had been together was always approachable no matter the reason. Indeed she had pestered him about many things from the mundane requests for food or cloths to the deeper issues regarding her sire.  

“And damn do I need someone to talk to right now” She admits, cursing anew the Fae despite how reasonable their excuse as to why her master couldn’t be here. “You always heard me out, always acknowledged my worth. First as a servant and eventually a person. Hell it almost felt like how a father.....how father should be.”

Mordred knew that his indulgence was partly down to his own loss of a daughter. A role she had slowly and unintentionally started to fill for the mercenary during the course of the war. Still Mordred appreciated it nonetheless and by the end she would like to think they were on the same page when it came to their strange relationship.  Never said aloud but very much that of surrogate parent and child.

“I wonder what you would say if you could see me now.” Imagining that very scenario it doesn’t take Mordred long to realise how foolish she had been. “There is nothing in this world that would have stopped him seeing his daughter again despite all that happened.” She begins to reason, seeing the look of disapproval mar his battle worn face, “Here I am feeling sorry for myself when the person I craved to see like no other was but a portal away. It doesn’t matter what my father’s reason was I deserved to be acknowledged if nothing else. I can’t afford to waste this chance. I owe it to master to confront father again. No matter the consequences.”

“You would tell me to stop wasting time and demand the answers you want.” Mordred proclaims as she stands up with renewed vigour. “You would remind me that no true king of Britain would hide away like a craven fool. No, a true king tackles their problems no matter the hardship they may face.”

With new found resolve Mordred heads for the door, determined to get the acknowledgment she so sorely craved from her father.

“Ready or not it’s time to settle this father.” She affirms while materialising her white and red etched armour, prepared for a fight should it come to that. “One way or the other.”

“Well I wasn’t expecting this.” Mordred ponders aloud as she scratches her head. Eyeing the structure, a scowls appears as the knight recalls this foreign style of building courtesy of the throne of heroes. “Why the hell would father be living in an old Japanese house? There’s no way this is the right place.”

Before Mordred was a white wall with a blue tiles roof, the entrance gateway revealing a large wooden complex of traditional Japanese design. A far cry from the thatched cottages or stone castles of Britain that she expected to find. 

 “Unless the Fae I nearly beat to death in the arena is somehow involved with how the portals work.”  Mordred muses irritable, annoyed that she may have worked herself up for nothing because of a sore loser. However a feral smile soon forms as she imagines the consequences for the foolish Fae if that was the case, “Though if that’s true at the very least Lilith might let me finish the job.”

Dismissing the thought as wishful thinking, the portals having been nothing but accurate since her arrival in Avalon, Mordred presses on.  She passes through the gateway, the distinct clunk of a bamboo Sōzu fountain emptying reaching her ears. A sound that drives home how utterly bizarre her fathers choice in residence was. Something that only becomes compounded by the heavenly smell of food emanating from what she assumed was the kitchen window.

Unbidden the image of her father in casual ware with an apron on top and whisk in hand enters the knights mind.  A snort of amusement escapes Mordred lips at the image, especially as her father’s culinary skills had proven essentially as lethal as her blade.

“Then again maybe father learned to cook in order to alleviate the boredom.” Mordred wonders, her curiosity growing , “Giving enough time anyone should be able to make a decent cook I guess. Though the why is probable more interesting than the how.”

Putting that mystery aside,  Mordred reaches the front panel of what appeared to be the main entrance and knocks on the frame firmly. The last thing the knight wanted to do was risk losing her nerve because her father couldn’t hear her summons.

“It’s now or never Mordred.” She silently affirms, her heart thumping in equal parts anticipation and fear, “No matter what happens I’m getting my answers from father. To achieve anything less is a failure I cannot accept. ”

Hearing the sound of approaching footsteps beyond the entranceway, Mordred builds herself up to get the first word in. A childish though necessary action for what Mordred considered gaining the initiate in the battle of words and perhaps more to come.

Yet when the occupant finally slides the door open all Mordred can muster is a bewildered “Huh.”

Instead of the regal frame of her father the knight expected  she is greeted at the door by a man. A man of seemingly Japanese decent sporting a blue and white baseball t-shirt along with jeans .  A man who would appear utterly unassuming if not for his oddly spiky auburn hair. A man who was most certainly not her sire.

Equal part angry and embarrassed that she may very well have ended up in wrong place after all, Mordred chooses the former emotion.

“Who the hell are you!?” She demands irately, the man lucky she was incapable of summoning  her blade right now. However to Mordreds vexation rather than appearing scared or even taken aback the man simply smiled warmly. “You must be Mordred- San.” Bowing deeply he continues, “Im Shirou Emiya, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Still utterly confused Mordred can’t help but let out another “Huh.”

Seeming mildly abashed for a moment, Shirou quickly regains his weird brand of friendly helpfulness. “Ahh sorry I’m obviously not the person you were expecting. Sabe-I mean Arturia is in the dining room right now so if you follow me ill take you to her.”

Turning to leave without waiting for a response  Mordred has no choice but to follow dumbly behind as she tries to fully comprehend what was happening. Indeed as if in a haze she follows, only stopping to take her shoes of at the entrance area as instructed. Before Mordred knew it she was lead through the corridor to another sliding door before being ushered inside.

Just as her brain catches up with reality Mordred tries to turn back to the retreating form of Shirou, so many questions on the tip of her tongue.  Yet all are silenced as a voice she had only been able to hear in nightmares for so long welcomes calmly, “It is good to see you again Mordred.”

Chapter Text

In all the scenarios Mordred had envisaged while she stewed in her home this past week this one had never for a moment entered her mind.

Indeed sitting down on the floor opposite her father as she was directed to, not a single word had been shared between the pair. A pair so similar in appearance they could be mistaken for sisters. A pair who would take great umbrage to any who dared utter such a comparison for that similarity bore a great deal of bitter history for both.

"How the hell did it end up like this?" Mordred demands with as much confusion as irritation at the absurd situation she found herself, the soft sizzling and occasional clanks from the kitchen her only reprieve from the silence. Eying her sire wearily, who for some reason was wearing a frilly blue skirt and white top, Mordred can't help but feel frustrated with how things had gone so far. "I came here for answers ...and maybe a fight admittedly but this...this I don't even know what to say."

Despite everything the knight had wanted to say, to ask, to demand Mordred suddenly couldn't find the words. The bizarre site before had taken the wind right out of her sails leaving the knight with only her doubts for company.

"Father had never been without their armour and certainly wouldn't be found drinking tea oh so damn contently." Mordred reasons irritably, "Is this even the same person?"

As she puzzles over this thought Mordred studies her sire, the former king drinking her tea in the most regal fashion and seemingly unperturbed by the whole thing. The knight's curiosity soon fades as time drags on and anger rises in its place, Mordred fuming at the injustice of it all, "Of course father is totally at ease. You never let things faze you so why would now be any different. What no words for your mongrel offspring who's come to visit?"

Mordred pauses, the moment she revealed herself to her sire flashing before her eyes. The moment where a brief look of disgust marred her sires features before she turned away from the knight forever. "I suppose that's not true." Mordred acknowledges bitterly, "Your lauded composure broke then didn't it."

"Your tea." Comes the voice of the man who initially greeted Mordred, his golden-brown coloured eyes shimmering with friendliness as he sets a small cup on the table in front of her. "Dinner will be ready in half an hour. If you want more tea just say."

"Wh-what tea? Dinner?" Mordred splutters as she springs up in a rage, her patience for the situation worn out despite her original intention to keep things mostly peaceful, "I didn't come for any of that you idiot."

"Mordred!" The stern commanding voice of her father cuts crisply through the air, the authority held within only slightly diminished by its owners current attire, "It is not polite to insult a host and most assuredly beneath a knight of the round. You will apologise at once."

"Like hell I'm apologising for anything father." She responds hotly, her voice laced with growing amounts of venom. "Especially if it's something you're telling me to do. You have no right damn it."

Artoria`s steely gaze meets Mordred`s challenging stance, the tension thick in the air. Neither one seemingly willing to back down until a voice of reason cuts in.

"Now now Saber I'm sure Mordred-san didn't mean anything by it." Shirou tries to calmly reason, raising his hand in supplication as two sets of emerald eyes turn their ire on him.

Blinking nervously, Shirou clears his throats and presses on despite the twin force of baleful energy now being directed at him, "She's just on edge giving everything that's happened and by the sounds of it there hasn't been much conversation happening since I left." Offering an encouraging smile to Artoria he prods gently, "Maybe you should calm down and make the first step."

"You're in for it now boy." Mordred muses hungrily, her rising blood lust invoked by her father now fully directed at the person who dared to interrupt their standoff. "Once father cuts you down to size I'll take my turn and you'll wish you never stepped back into this room."

In all Mordred`s time at court her father , though never unjust, was never one to suffer impudence. A king after all could not afford such a challenge to their authority and hope to enjoy a long reign.

Yet to Mordred`s utter shock as soon as the man's final words leave his lips her father's gaze softens. Meeting Shirou `s eyes, a long sigh escapes Artoria`s lips as she agrees, "Perhaps you are right Shirou."

So completely confused by what just occurred before her, Mordred zones out and completely misses her sires follow up words. Registering that her father's lips were indeed moving as her brain struggles to catch up with reality, Mordred asks with dazed eyes, "What?"

Not seeming to care that Mordred hadn't been listening, Artoria with her facade of calmness restored repeats patiently, "I said I apologise Mordred. Despite having gone over this conversation many times I found myself lost for words when you sat down before me. "With a bob of her short blonde hair, having apparently decided something of import, Artoria requests, "Please calm down and sit. If you are still willing I will do my best to engage with you on this ...difficult topic."

Mordred nods dumbly and she sits back down, the fight bled from her by the confusing scenario. Yet despite her befuddlement Mordred still catches the appreciative smile her sire offers Shirou, one which causes the boy to blush and rub his head in apparent embarrassment.

"What the hell is going on between those two?" Mordred ruminates, working the question around her head as if she was trying to decipher an infuriating riddle, "Could they actually be... no father forsook such relationships. There's no way he could be with anyone like that let alone this strange man."

Seeing her sire's smile slip away, one filled with a contentment Mordred had never seen before, the knight truly begins to question that belief. "What the hell happened to you father?"

"There is one thing that needs to be cleared up before we go further Mordred." Artoria begins diplomatically, drawing the knight away from her ruminations. Yet despite the placating tone Mordred can't help but notice and indeed approve of her sires eyes that still retains that indomitable strength that brook no argument, "I still require you to apologise to Shirou . Especially as his food is of the highest quality and it would not do to have it wasted on an unappreciative guest."

Her curiosity now at an almost unbearable level, Mordred suppresses the anger she feels at the knock to her pride and nods slowly. "There will be time to fight later and this thing with the boy is only one of the many things I want to ask father about. I've got to take this chance...though there is no way I'm grovelling to him as father expects me to." The divine smell of some kind of meaty stew meats Mordred nostrils, "And if nothing else the guy seems like a decent cook. I suppose it couldn't hurt to try it." Studying her father wearily who appears to have meant every word, Mordred`s decision is made.

"Fine I'm sorry for the disrespect I showed you." Mordred offers vaguely to the room, not dignifying Shirou with her direct attention as a way to not complexly give in to her sire`s will, "I`d be honoured to sample your food." Offering a defiant smile to Artoria, knowing full well that under normal circumstances such an apology would not have been adequate, Mordred asks mischievously, "Is that good enough father?"

Before Artoria can make her displeasure known Shirou cuts in cheerily, "Apology accepted Mordred- San."

"Huh?" Mordred questions, dumbfounded by his easy acceptance, "You forgive me just like that?"

Seemingly confused at first by the question, Shirou responds positively a moment later, "Of course. Why wouldn't I? Now I think I've interrupted enough. I hope you find the answers you want Mordred-San."

And with one last encouraging smile to her sire and a bow to Mordred, the man promptly leaves before the knight can even respond.

"You're too soft Shirou." Artoria mutters to herself as she shakes her head in amusement, the fond smile that forms utterly alien to Mordred`s eyes, "But I suppose it will have to do."

Without any idea how to process such a person Mordred looks to Artoria like a child wanting their parent to explain a new concept. "Is that guy for real?" Mordred asks with profound befuddlement, scratching her head as she continues in vain to figure out the mysterious man.

Smile deepening Artoria explains, "Shirou has an interesting view of the world and is without guile. Though unusual he is very much real."

As if it never existed the smile disappears and her sire's kingly mask of serenity slips back into place. Apparently all business once more Artoria adds, "Now Mordred why don't you relieve yourself of that armour. It's not suitable for polite conversation."

Not really liking the idea of being without her armour but acknowledging her sire was equally unprotected Mordred relents with a huff. "Fine I suppose it's only fair." Realising what she had on underneath Mordred lets out a wicked smile as the armour fades into nothing. "I prefer this outfit anyway I picked them up in Romania. What to think father?"

Mordred was currently wearing a white tube top and some blue denim hot pants that was very much on the short side. Completing her roguish look was pair of black boots and a short red coat that was left open to better expose the knights other choices in clothing.

It was an ensemble Mordred had taken to during the grail war and now served as her casual ware when not in the sparring arena. Most importantly for the knight it was an outfit that showed a lot of skin and would most certainly offend her sires sensibilities. "This should be good."

Mordred watches expectantly as her father runs a critical eye over her attire but to her disappointment Artoria doesn't a say a word. However the knight does catch the flicker of disapproval that manages to break through her father's facade, though not the kind she was expecting. Indeed it is a look that very much mirrored her masters own reaction when she first revealed the choice in attire during the war. Something that makes Mordred`s heart skip a beat in a weird kind of joy she had never experienced before.

"Huh so that is the look a father would give his daughter when he didn't approve". Mordred ventures hesitantly, recognising Kairi`s and her father's reactions for what it was as she recalls the memory. "Never thought I'd be so happy to see those disapproving eyes again. Then again their not really the same are they."

No eyes like that come with a key distinction that made them utterly different from the ones levied at her when she first revealed her identity. A distinction that Mordred realises for the first time as she drinks in her father's gaze that continues to scrutinise her but without scorn. The truth being that however misguided or unwarranted those looks are, it is one offered out of concern rather than abhorrence for the person in question.

"Does...does father actually care?" Mordred dares to hope despite herself, the bizarre thought more appealing to the knight then she ever thought possible, "I mean father obviously doesn't approve which is a win in my book but his eyes are so different from last time. I...I really don't know what the hell I'm supposed to with that."

At a loss and deciding she really didn't like this raw vulnerability that was welling up inside her Mordred replaces the unknown with the known. For if there was one thing Mordred knew for certain is that she had managed to make her father's composure break. Something the knight was always happy to revel in.

"What... don't you don't like the way I`m dressed father." Mordred teases gleefully as she preens , forcing her uncertain emotions behind a wall of cheer filled victory. "I saw that look in your eye. Is it unbecoming for a knight to wear something like this because I got to tell you I find it quiet comfortable."

As if to prove her point Mordred stretches her clasps hands into the air before laboriously arching backwards and forwards, a smirk etched across the knights face. Yet to Mordred chagrin all her theatrics earn her is a raised eyebrow.

Apparently barely fazed by the display, Arturia offers plainly and without any hint of strong judgement, "It is not what I would call suitable attire no, but for our purposes it will do." She pauses, a sliver of regret entering her voice, "Besides you were correct regarding one point earlier. No one has the right to tell you how to dress or make any other demand of you for that matter. That is especially true for me."

Uncomfortable silence follows her utterance, neither Mordred nor Artoria knowing what to say now. In Mordred`s case the lack of reproach and most importantly the admission that referred to so much more than her attire utterly deflates the knight.

Indeed, to her confusion that slip of emotion she detected in her father's voice makes her almost feel guilty for making her sire utter it. A truly surreal thought that leaves the knight struggling to think on how to comfortably broach the topic that her sire had opened the door for. Something that Artoria was apparently also struggling with if Mordred`s sharp eyes were any indication.

"This has got to be some kind of nightmare." Mordred mentally groans as she sees the grimace escape her sires control, the knight utterly frustrated by her inability to act as she normally would. "How else could I be in the same place as father and be left completely speechless time and again? How else do I find myself unable to demand everything that is owned to me?"

Mordred musing begin to boil over, her anger threatening violence as her nails dig painfully into her skin. "Have I truly become so weak so quickly... so weak over the hope that father regrets his actions and cares for me somehow? I really am pathetic..."

Mercifully Mordred is saved from her inner turmoil by the soft sound of her father clearing their throat, her anger sapped away as Artoria offers sincerely with a weary sigh, "I'm sorry Mordred. It is quiet vexing but despite my promise I seem to have fallen at the first hurdle." Seemingly gathering herself up as Mordred stares slack jawed at her sire, Artoria offers with a contemplative nod, "If it is agreeable I will start by answering any question you might have. I'd imagine you have many?"

"That's the understatement of the century." Mordred acknowledges after regaining her wits. Realising how foolish her train of thought was, she mentally boasts as she thinks on the grail war, "No I'm as strong as I ever was. Hell I bet I'm even stronger now that I think about it."

Satisfied by the mental as well as physical fortitude she displayed during the war, Mordred turns her attention to her sire, "Father is making the effort and though I still want a good old fashioned duel I somehow think I'd still feel unsatisfied in the end. Is it really a weakness to try and talk things out? To maybe... have that kind of relationship with father?"

Though still hesitant to accept such a scenario, Mordred braves the unknown and replies sincerely though with a degree of uncertainty, "Ehh yeah... that sounds fine."

Artoria allows a small smile to form, something Mordred still wasn't used to seeing. "Good, ask whatever you wish and I will do my best to answer." She pauses for a moment before suggesting, "It is of course a matter for you to decide upon but perhaps start with something less problematic. It is clear that this may be a difficult road for the both of us and a less taxing beginning may be best."

Nodding in agreement and silently thankful for the suggestion, though she would never admit it, Mordred scratches her head in thought. A menagerie of different questions presents themselves to Mordred as Artoria waits patiently.

Sadly for the knight most questions definitely fell into the sphere of "Problematic" and for a time Mordred was as lost as she had ever been. However as Mordred turns her attention to her sire, who was seemingly doing their best to look encouraging by offering a patient smile, an idea strikes.

"Soooo..." Mordred begins casually; not entirely certain this was a good question but if she was being honest was dying to ask, "What's with the frilly dress?"

Artoria did something Mordred had never seen her sire do before. Artoria laughed.

Chapter Text

It was but a low chuckle, barely a titter by most standards if Mordred was being honest, but a laugh all the same. A laugh that Mordred in all her time serving as her sire`s knight had never seen escape the former king of Britain.

Under normal circumstances Mordred would be furious. After all no one laughs at Mordred Pendragon and leaves with their legs still attached. As it is the utterly alien sight disarms the bite before it can manifest.

“Is this really father?” Mordred wonders in astonishment for what must be the umpteenth time as Artoria`s merriment begins to peter out, the site truly foreign and somewhat bizarre to the knight, “I`m seeing more emotion from you in five minutes than I have ever seen before. Who knew you could look so happy.”

Indeed before today Mordred had often wondered if her stern father was even capable of such things. The fact that her sire obviously was makes the knight wonder how well anyone truly knew the former king if so much was hidden away.

“Where you always secretly like this father but forced to suppress it out of some misguided idea of kingship?” Mordred ruminates with growing anger both at and on behalf of her sire as the knight thinks on how much was sacrificed, “If that’s true you never got to enjoy life like the rest of us did you. No one should have to live like that so why the hell did you put yourself though that father?”

“Of all the things you could ask me that is what you wanted to know first?” Artoria poses with a small smile that still holds a sliver of amusement, the question drawing Mordred out of her irate contemplations.

“I’ll grill you on that stuff later father.” Mordred decides, knowing that such things would take time to properly wade through. “Besides that would defiantly rank high on the problematic scale and probably lead to an argument.” Seeing that the mirth had still not entirely left her father’s visage Mordred`s anger begins to cool into a more peevish mood as her cheeks light up in embarrassment. “More importantly even if I’m still not used to seeing it I won’t abide you continuing to taking any more amusement at my expense.”

“It was the first thing that popped into my mind ok.” Mordred replies with a childish pout and rosy cheeks, crossing her arms defensively as her sire's smile stubbornly refuses to die. Grimacing at her lame rebuke she adds while gesturing vaguely to Artoria`s garments, “Besides there was a time you wouldn’t be caught dead without your armour. Seemed like a good place to start if we wanted to avoid a sore subject. What else should I have asked father?”

Nodding her head with a low hum, Artoria`s smile fades and her features neutralise as she concedes apologetically, “You are right Mordred I’m sorry. It was just so unexpected I lost myself for a moment. It is indeed a fine question to start with. Truly on reflection the answer would explain how I came to be here. Though it is quite a long tale it has to be said.”

Hungry for the answer and satisfied with her father’s apology Mordred prompts with a shrug, “I’ve think we have nothing but time father.”

Smiling softly in acceptance, Artoria closes her eyes as if in deep contemplation before seemingly gathering herself up and answering, “Very well. Could I ask that you allow me to complete my recollections before asking any questions? It was quite a trying time and some things will be difficult to repeat.”

Seeing Mordred`s eager nod, the knights desire to know more growing by the second, Artoria continues wistfully, “It all began with the holy grail.......”

And so Artoria recounted all that had occurred to her during the two Holy Grail wars she fought in to the attentive Mordred. The detail precise though tinged with a faint hint of sadness that grew heavier as her sire recounted the fates of the first war`s Lancer and Berserker. Yet though certainly understanding her sire`s distaste for what occurred in both instances, Mordred`s interest lay elsewhere.

“Damn I wish I was there. Imagine if we were both summoned as sabers.” Mordred ruminates hungrily as Artoria recounts her battle with Lancelot, almost fidgeting with excitement at the thought of what such a battle could have been, “I mean there was plenty of good scrapes in my war but a chance to fight father and Lancelot would have been something else entirely. Especially if he was a Berserker. Just thinking about how strong he must have been gives me the chills.”

Mordred had greatly admired Lancelot not only for his swordmanship but how he seemed to embody what a perfect knight should be. It is no surprise therefore that Mordred strove to emulate and surpass him with almost as much gusto as she put into exceeding her father. Though it has to be said his affair with Guinevere did sour the impression somewhat despite Mordred`s betrayal leaving little room to judge.

“Ahh well hopefully he’s able to make it here one day.” She allows begrudgingly, not wishing to admit the aggravation she feels on her sire’s behalf at the affair as Artoria solemnly relays Lancelot’s final words.
“I can finally pit myself against him then....and I suppose if he manages to reconcile with father over their shared loss to me it won’t be any skin of my back. Might even be preferable so they can fight me as a team and actually give me a challenge.”

Putting her fantasies of unchallenged martial superiority aside, Mordred listens as her father`s tale of the first war ends with Artoria being forced to destroy the grail. A fact that almost makes Mordred explode with outrage. Yet she contains herself as Artoria explains that the grail was corrupted. Something she would explain in more details as the truth became known in the second war.

“I guess I was lucky my grail was fine.” Mordred muses, seeing the light shadow that had fallen over her sire`s features lift as Artoria`s account of the first war ends and the second begins, “At least I hope it wasn't? Hell for all I know the world ended after I got sent here…...”

Deciding its better off not dwelling on that possibility, Mordred`s curiosity is peeked as her sire`s expression begins to gain the barest hint of happiness. Her tale now describing her flamed haired master for the second war. The man who was also bizarrely Mordred`s host at present.

“Shirou was and still is a principled man. One who would not think twice in endangering his own life to save another. In many ways a knight for the strange modern era I found myself in.” She accounts with a soft smile, genuine respect infusing her word before she scowls, “Though it had to be said he took it to a somewhat suicidal degree. He had little knowledge of mage-craft and summoned me by accident. Frankly it was rather vexing having him constantly putting himself in danger out of a misguided attempt to fight alongside me.”

“If it was me Id have ditched him.” Mordred interrupts with a snort despite her earlier promise, unable to help comparing her own master to this apparently useless boy. Gesturing vaguely to the door Shiro had left through she adds scornfully as Artoria listens with resigned patience, “My master was a kick ass mercenary who could hold is own but knew when to back off and let me handle things. Why even put up with such a nuisance? Scratch that. How did he supply you with mana if he barely knew anything about magic?”

Letting out a low sigh Artoria replies, her tone the same as a teacher telling off an inattentive pupil, “I was getting to that Mordred. If you let me finish as we agreed ill answer any questions left un-answered at the end.”

“Fine.”Mordred agrees with a `humph` knowing that her father had the high ground on this one despite how much she hated being told off like a child. “I get it ok so carry on .”

Seemingly satisfied Artoria renews her explanation, “Shirou was indeed not what most would term an idle master. Indeed due to my unusual circumstances I was unable to go into sprit form making Shirou`s inability an issue.” Seeing Mordred apparently gearing up to interrupt again, her mouth opening in protest, Artoria holds up a hand and adds firmly, “In order to cope I conserved mana by resting as much as possible, eating large quantities of food and un-summoning my arms and armour.”

Gesturing to her dress Artoria explains, “Shirou provided these cloths along with food and shelter and It cannot be exaggerated how generous he was to provide these things given his own situation.” She shakes her head wistfully, “Though I confess I hated it at first, as you say I would not have been without my armour in the past for anything but…..” Apparently struggling for words Artoria pauses, her expression turning rueful before admitting. “….but that was mainly due to me clinging to the persona I had forged in a misguided attempt to be the perfect king. A persona I no longer needed to uphold and truly should have discarded many year ago. Indeed, though I have made peace with what happened I do wonder at times if perhaps things may have turned out differently if I had.”

Silence reigns, Artoria appearing drained by the omission. One that almost floors Mordred with how unexpected it is given the innocent origin of that original question that started the tale.

“Father wasn't kidding when they said the dress was a good place to start.” Mordred broods as she leans back in shock, a long breath released in surprise at what she just heard. “Id never thought I would here you admit your wrong. Even when we were on that damnable battle field with my army of rebels you never once acknowledged an error. That you could have done something different to avoid it. You really have changed father.”

Unused to offering her sire comfort or anyone else for that matter if Mordred was being honest, she ventures awkwardly, “Well I don't think anyone could blame you for the whole gender thing father. I mean the people of our time wouldn't accept a female ruler so I suppose you didn't really have a choice no matter how foolish the scenario.”

Seeing her sire give a resigned smile Mordred cant help but add playfully, humour and cheek more familiar ground for the knight. “Though being less of a stick in the mud couldn't have hurt.”

“Thank you Mordred.” Artoira responds with a subdued though still appreciative up turn of the lips, “I'm not sure that's how I would describe it but indeed perhaps It would have went some way to allowing the people to understand me better.” Her sire`s smile slips as a hint of melancholy tinges her words. Yet to Mordred`s surprise an odd long found acceptance was laced into every syllable, “Sadly I fear I was a product of my environment and not prone to change. If not for Shirou I might never have come to accept the part of me I long suppressed.”

“So ehh your master ehh… shiro? ” Mordred prods, the knights curiosity regarding the red headed host growing now. “He helped you accept that other part of you?”

Nodding her head in affirmation, Artoria`s small smile returns. “Among with his other attributes Shirou is very stubborn.”

“Pot calling the kettle black”. Mordred mumbles without thinking, though to her slight disappointment her sire carries on as if she hadn't heard. “Probable for the best.” Mordred acknowledges irritably despite herself, knowing how she had already interrupted her father despite promising not to. “Still ill keep that fact in my pocket for later should the need arise.”

Though Artoria did indeed hear the utterance she decided to feign ignorance despite her fully accepting the accuracy of it. The former king deciding that vexing Mordred for her frequent interruptions was of a higher priority.

“Despite my denials he insisted on me conserving my strength and even fighting by my side.” Artoria continues, hiding her secret amusement at Mordred`s sudden scowl as she carries on seemingly unaffected. “It took great effort on his part but he wore me down until I accepted that given his propensity for heroics I would need to train him in the art of swordsmanship for both our sake.”
Artoria`s words become infused with a light nostalgia, her smile making clear how fondly she looked back on those times, “Truly between our spars and the mundane trappings of a simply life I found our existence between battles almost idyllic. Dress in all.”

Her smile broadens, one that Mordred almost begrudges for how peaceful it was. Yet given everything she knows now Mordred finds herself feeling happy for her sire. Something that surprises Mordred more than anything else this day.

“I suppose father earned a little happiness given everything.” Mordred relents as he father describes her time at the Emiya residence, not sure if she was comfortable with how soft she had apparently become. “Still things weren't as cut and dry as I thought. There is still a lot of unfinished business between us and there will be reckoning for that but I suppose…. I suppose its ok for us not to be totally at odds all the time.”

Unaware of her progenies revelation, Artoria finished describing the other denizens who frequented the household and moves again to her master. Her cheeks now slowly turning red, Mordred`s attention is fully on her sire as her curiosity goes into over drive.

“In time I slowly began to let my guard down around him and talk about my past.” Her father explains, fidgeting slightly in apparent discomfort which only feeds Mordred`s keen interest, “It was during this time that I began to truly come to terms with my past and accept things about myself I had long buried. It...It was Shirou who made me realise it was ok for me to love another…..”

A moment of silence follows before Mordred explodes upwards in shock as at last the pieces fall fully into place for the knight. “Wait, Wait, Wait!” She exclaims with a now crimson visage, gesturing wildly to the sound of cooking food. The source of her embarrassment, whether as a result at the idea of her father taking a lover or that she hadn't realised until now, something Mordred didn't know. “You and him?”

Having seemingly regained her composure, perhaps taking some joy at Mordred`s outburst, Artoria blinks and nods with a blithe “Yes Shirou is my consort.”

Falling to her knees in disbelief, Mordred rubs her hands into her face as she lets out a chuckle, “Of course he is. How did I not see it, the way you were looking at each other what else could it be.”

“I thank you not to laugh at out relationship Mordred.” Her sire chastises with a scowl, an edge of warning entering her tone.

To amused to take umbrage to the challenge, Mordred holds her hands up in surrender and quickly clears up the misunderstanding, “Don`t get me wrong father I wasn't laughing at the thought of your relationship just that I didn't see it. Honestly of all the things I expected that was the last thing.”

“Very Well.” Artoria concedes with a sigh. “I suppose given everything the idea that I would pursue such a relationship would be unexpected.”

Wiping an errant tear of laughter from her face, Mordred sits herself back down properly opposite her sire. “You can say that again.” The merriment soon leaves the knights features as a thought occurs.

“Not that I`m not happy he managed to make it up here.” She begins, meaning every word but failing to hide the trace of bitterness she feels, “But when I asked about my own master the Fae said its rare for humans to make it here.”

Artoria nods her head sadly, knowing how close Mordred had become with the scarred mercenary. “I am sorry your master was unable to accompany you here. He seemed a fine a warrior and quite wise. Indeed, I would have very much have liked to meet him.”

She pauses, not wishing to be uncharitable to her hosts who had given so much to the former king. However knowing that the Fae can be an irksome and mysterious folk at times Artoria concedes apologetically, “The Fae can be a difficult people to deal with I grant you but even they are bound by certain restrictions. Unfortunately only a pure soul can enter this realm and face the end times.” A slight grimace escapes the former kings control as she offers awkwardly. “Im afraid your masters chosen field of magecraft made his inclusion impossible. I`m sorry Mordred.”

In was Artoria`s turn to be surprised as instead of the enraged outburst she feared, Mordred simply scowls. Letting out a resigned sigh, Mordred waves off her sire`s concern, “The Fae said something similar when I asked. I just wanted to hear it from someone other than those jumped up fairies if I`m honest.” Shrugging off her bitterness the knight grins awkwardly, “But thanks I guess….. His necromancy was kinda creepy but he was a good master. Hell the best master I could have asked for.”

Mordred looks down, her hair obscuring the deep rooted sadness that formed upon her weary visage as she grumbles, “I wish you could have met him too.”

Even without the visual clue Artoria was able to detect the traces of sorrow that had sneaked through Mordred`s subdued utterance.
A part of her wanted to offer something to sooth the pain held within. Something, anything to help her. Yet the former king could not find the words. Paralysed between an alien instinct that she suspected was parental in nature and the feeling that she had no the right to offer such a thing. Not yet at least and certainly not without Mordred permission to try and fulfil the role Artoria turned her back on so many years ago.
“Anyway that didn't answer my question father,” Mordred prods impatiently before she had to endure any further sympathy from her sire, all traces of her gloom gone as she gestures vaguely to the kitchen, “Red seems nice enough and from what you have told me I can buy that he is pure of soul or whatever. But no offence how is he meant to help when things take a turn for the worst. You said he was pretty useless in your war.”

Secretly glad to be rescued from her quandary for now, Artoria answers solemnly and with a touch of pride she cant quite conceal, “It is not my story to tell I`m afraid but suffice to say he grew beyond my expectations as a warrior during the war. Indeed afterwords he continued to grow and was one of the few people of his age whose deeds were so great that his soul was recoded in the throne of heroes. If I were to be honest should Shirou fight seriously and without chivalry in mind I dare say he could defeat me.”

“No way that shrimp?” Mordred exclaims with disbelief, her mouth left hanging in shock, “Come on father if it wasn't you id say you were trying to make a joke.”

Letting out a low chuckle, Artoria confirms with a smile, “I am quite serious. Shirou like me chooses to take the forms of when we first met.” A slight blush forms upon Artoria`s normally porcelain skin, something Mordred fails to notice in her incredulous state, “His true form is much different I can assure you. Perhaps one day you two can spar and see then how much of an accomplished warrior Shirou is.”

Seeing that her father was indeed utterly serious Mordred quickly abandons her doubts. “Ive seen stranger things after all and father wouldn't lie about something like this.” She concedes, her hunger for a good fight replacing any scepticism. “Someone that can even beat father. Yeah I`m totally going to challenge him later.”

Seeing the growing battle lust within Mordred`s eyes, Artoria moves to nip any impulsive moves in the bud. Long held experience telling the former king that such a confrontation would be at best destructive and at worst destroy Shirou`s expertly crafted dinner. A risk that was simply unacceptable to Artoria.

“In any case that will have to come later if Shirou is agreeable,” She begins pleasantly though with a note of warning that Mordred was very familiar with and knew not to challenge if she didn't want an unpleasant punishment. “I believe I was going to explain the wars conclusion?”

Suppressing a shiver at the memory of that very scenario and knowing that there was no use arguing Mordred thinks better of pushing the desire. “If I can wait to fight father I can wait to fight red as well.” She allows, visions of scrubbing a seemingly unending mountain of dishes in Camelots kitchens swirling unpleasantly through her mind, “Hell maybe I can fight them both at the same time. Now that would be a fight and a half. I suppose I can wait a little longer for that.”

“Yeah that was the next bit I guess.” Mordred agrees reluctantly, her tone like a child who had their favourite toy taken away despite her internal acceptance.

With a knowing smile, Artoria covers the final act of the grail war. Her countenance growing grimmer once more. Finally she concludes, “With the grail corrupted I was forced to destroy it for a second time. Though given that I knew the reason why it was with far less reluctance. Indeed I can honestly say that after everything I experienced I had no desire for my original wish in any case.”

Mordred was shocked to say the least. After going through all those struggles and sacrificing so much to find out that the price was a damnable monkeys paw had to be someones idea of a sick joke. Something that Mordred had no idea how she would have handled if faced with a similar scenario.

“You really are something father.” Mordred muses with a hint of the old hero worship she used to heap on her sire in the early days on Camelot. “Don`t know how you even managed to come out of that sane…...” In an instant her train of thought is stopped as the last part of her sire`s tale fully registers. “You had no desire for your final wish……..?”

“What was your wish?” Mordred asks with a whisper, fearing the answer. A million possible wishes that her father could have desired springing to mind in the knight`s head.

To have more soldiers to fight Britain's many enemies. To perhaps be born a male to do away with all the deception that hindered her reign. Or perhaps the wish she feared the most. The wish to undue the birth of a traitorous knight who killed her sire on the fields of Camlann.

Artoria could see the distress that was mounting within Mordred but the former king had no idea at the cause. Seeing no reason to deny Mordred her answer and wishing to hopefully dispel her concerns she lets out a small sigh and confirms stoically, “I wished for another to pull the sword of destiny and be chosen instead to rule Britain.”

Chapter Text

It starts off as but a titter, an edge of madness to the utterance. Soon however it turns into a cackle that robs Mordreds ability to breath as the full irony fully hits the knight.

“I-I cant….I cant believe it.” She forces out between laboured guffaws, her eyes tearing with unrestrained amusement, “I- I wished to be given the chance to draw….to draw cailburn and you were just going to-to give it away. Just like that. That` s got to be the funniest thing Ive ever heard.”

Raising her arms wide in disbelief, ignoring the worry etched on her fathers visage, Mordred bitterly prompts as her laughter peters out, “You killed me to protect that throne Father. What? Did you decide you didn't want it any more?”

Seemingly surprised by the outburst, Artoria`s eyes narrow in thought as she tries to compose a reasonable response to the venom found within Mordred`s question. A response that doesn't come quick enough for Mordred as the irate knight exclaims, her finger stabbing at Artoria with a scornful accusation, “What no answer father? The way you made it sound you'd made peace with the decision. So what, are you too embarrassed to say the reason out loud?”

Mordred knew she was being unreasonable. That such an answer would be complicated. It had to be given how the father she knew would have never allowed another to rule…...To take up the burden that had wrought such hardship on her sire.

“I don't care.” Mordred seethes as she watches her father let out a long sigh, “You killed me to protect your throne and as soon as you had the chance tried to wish it away to someone else. I would never had the chance to best you…..to save you from that life. How dare you father!”

“Embarrassed.” Artoria begins thoughtfully, though with a clear sense of weariness infecting her words, “I suppose that is the best word for it. It was indeed a most foolish wish. One I regret being so weak to even wish for in the first place.”

“What?” Mordred questions dumbly, the knights hand falling slowly as her emotions slowly disarm in confusion. The last thing she expected was for her sire to agree to the charge levied in anger. “Your`e embarrassed?”

“Indeed, as I said the grail wars showed me my folly.” Artoria affirms with a nod, “I realised no kingdom is eternal. If not the Saxons then some other people could have conquered our country. Indeed the Normans did just that to our invaders.” Her words become etched with unconcealed pride, “And despite it all the people adapted and flourished. Indeed, they faced every trial and came out stronger for it. I have no doubt that when the end times comes the people will be in a fine position to weather the storm .”

Shaking her head, as if amused by how foolish she had been, Artoria continues, “I did the best I could given the circumstances. To wish for another outcome would be a betrayal to all those who supported me and what we sought to achieve. Yes I can think of no better word than embarrassment when I think on what I once wished for.”

Her sires features darken before she shakes her head in apparent distaste. “Truly I have seen the fate that has sometimes befallen Britain when different choices have been made. All things considered I can take pride in what I achieved.”

The darkness fades from her mood, Artoria`s features relaxing into their usual neutral stance, “Mordred, fate did not end up in the way I had envisaged. However if one can take pride in ones life, one should not wish for another chance.”

“Y-You honesty don't regret what happened?” Mordred asks mystified, her anger rising once more with each word she spits out. “Lancelot….. The Saxons…...My rebellion…. You wouldn't wish for it to be different?”

“Regret it? Do not mistake my words. Of course I regret it Mordred.” Artorta chastises, a note of ire forging itself into her tone for the first time causing Mordred to flinch back. “I made mistakes that hurt many … especially you and I will always regret that. But wishing away those mistakes…..no failing to take ownership of them could lead to a much grimmer future for Britain Mordred. When you were my knight you often scolded me for holding myself up to an impossible standard. For trying to take responsibility for things beyond my control. I finally came to understand the wisdom in your words.”

The irony was not lost on Mordred. For years when she had served as her sires knight Mordred implored just that. “You always hid it well but I saw the pain it caused you.” Mordred acknowledges with gnawing guilt, remembering all the times she had urged her sire not to take the blame for things out of her control. “You always gently fobbed me off but I guess my words did get through to you. And here I am demanding why you followed my advice. God im such an idiot.”

“That….fine, I guess.” Mordred offers begrudgingly, the knights pride not allowing for anything else as her anger fades in light of her sires response. “Im not apologising but I suppose I get were your coming from.” She gives a toothy grin, waving off with false bravado, “Given it was me who said I cant argue with the obvious wisdom behind it. You should have listened to me years ago.”

Artoria gives a curt not of acceptance, her countenance back under control, “Very well. So long as we understand each other. Know that my acceptance of our fate doesn't mean I lack remorse for what passed.”

“Yeah yeah I know that ok.” Mordred concedes, deflating slightly as the exhaustion of the emotional ups and downs takes its toll. “I guess fate can be a real bitch sometimes.”

Unable to fully disguise the small smile of amusement that escapes, Artoria replies reluctantly, “Though I cannot say I agree with your choice in words I can certainly concur with the sentiment.”

“Fair enough.” Mordred accepts with a gentle laugh at her overly proper sire. A laugh that soon diminishes as Mordred`s mind turns to the most important part of her sires explanation for the knight.

“Father.” Mordred ventures hesitantly, steeling herself as best she can for the question she fears most. A question she had avoided all this time but knew had to be answered if their was any hope of moving on. “Do- do you truly regret how things ended up between us? Did you not at any point wish that I had never come to be and avoid all that befell us?”

Artoria flinches as if struck, her grimace racked with a profound guilt and shame that the former king was seemingly struggling to suppress. With a slow shake of the head Artoria seems to gather herself as she responds carefully. “What I am about to say will not be pleasant but please have patience.”

“I wont interrupt this time.” Mordred offers irritably, knowing her sires preamble was because she had done so previously when an upsetting topic was discussed.

Apparently satisfied, Artoria presses on, “I will not lie. Your rebellion cost Britain dearly and caused a great deal of suffering Mordred. With all that occurred I was guilty of thinking ill of you….of your birth.”

Her intense gaze locks eyes with Mordred, her words stern but tinged with a sense of pain, “I do not condone your rebellion and I remain firm in my belief that you were not ready for the throne at that time.”

She pauses, as if expecting an outburst from Mordred. Yet Mordred keeps her peace. A surprise even to the knight who only reacts to her sires words with an annoyed scowl.

“Damn if I`m going to break my word again and give father the satisfaction.” Mordred broods with vexation, though with a certain amount of satisfaction at her sires look of surprise. “Besides I expected this response. I don't totally agree with father but…..” Her thoughts turn melancholy, an uncomfortable realisation making itself known, “….But I cant exactly argue either. Looking back on everything that happened I…. I really screwed things up.”

Motioning Artoria to carry on with an impatient wave of the hand, Mordred hides her inner ruminations. Seeing that Mordred wasn't going to argue at this point, Artoria dips her head in approval which the knight outwardly ignores despite the gesture making her secretly happy. “Regardless of that however I came to understand your motives and I appreciate my unnecessary contribution to them. I can say with all honesty that I do regret how our ties were severed.”

Her words become infused with that same note of pride she affixed when speaking of the people of Britain, something that Mordred struggles to process. “You may have not been ready then but you were a fine knight who sought justice for all. I recall how of all my knights it was you who was most in tune with the needs of the larger population by not dwelling on social standing.” She lets out a tired sigh, “Though you still have an issue controlling your temper and it must be said your book keeping skills leaves much to be desired.”

“Hey…...” Mordred begins, wrath infusing her words before she realises with embarrassment that she was proving her sires point as well as interrupting. Schooling her features she adds gruffly, her face crimson, “I wasn't that bad at making sure my keeps brought in money.”

Smiling with a hint of knowing indulgence, Artoira responds, “Indeed you had capable people who you delegated to. Not that it is a criticism. Knowing ones weaknesses is important and delegation is an important part of ruling.” Artoria`s mirth fades, regret weaving itself into her words. “A lesson I wish I had taken to heart.”

Seemingly not wishing to dwell on such things, Artoria reins in her emotions and forges ahead before Mordred can comment, “In any case both issues could be worked on with time. Indeed your conduct during your grail war demonstrates your growth and only highlights what was always true.” Artoria smiles softly at Mordred, her sincerity without question. “Given time and the proper training you could have made a fine ruler Mordred. One I would have proudly given the throne to. If there is anything I still regret it that I foolishly denied our connection and withheld that possibility from you.”

It was everything Mordred had ever wanted to hear. To be accepted by her sire, for them to say they would have made a good king. Nothing in this moment could adequately describe the joy that was trying so desperately to spring forth within the knight.

“Does father truly mean it?” Mordred considers carefully, the grudge she had nursed for years fighting bitterly with the desire she so hoped for. “Father never showed any indication he regretted his actions before. Hell he even killed me on that damn hill. But now…..now father is so different. Does he really think I could have made a good king?”

The answer was plain to the knight. Her sire was not one for guile and the honesty held within Artoria`s words was unquestionable. More importantly Mordred had a lot of time to think during her grail war that lead to a number of realisations. Some that made the knight realise how foolish her rebellion had truly been and the true reason she lead it.

“Father…. Father accepts me.” Mordred muses in wonder, the elation within her building to an almost uncomfortable degree as her most deeply held wish is offered. An offer Mordred had literally rebelled for in the misguided hope that it would force her sire to acknowledge the knight. Indeed so powerful and consuming is the torrent of emotion now flowing through Mordred that her facade begins to break.

For the first ever Mordred`s most vulnerable aspect of her personality was on display to the last person she ever wanted to expose it to. For the first time ever in front of her sire tears began to flow.

“I….I dont know what to say father.” She manages to force out, her hands trying to ineffectually wipe away the stinging tears that were slowly forming. “I always looked up to you and when I revealed myself to you I had hoped…..” She stifles a chock unable to properly articulate how much she had longed to hear those words from her sire. “As much as I hate to admit it I just really wanted you to accept me father. ” The tears come more freely now, Mordreds sorrow saying more than any words could.

Artoira seeing Mordred begin to slowly break down shifts slowly beside her, that newly identified parental instinct from earlier going into overdrive. Uncertainty practically radiates from the former king as she raises a hesitant hand towards her progeny. The fear of making any form of contact clear in her frown. However, with one final effort Artoria places a hand on the knights shoulder. An awkward offer of comfort made, but not over stepping a line Artoria wasnt sure she had the right to cross. A line Mordred had no choice but to cross as her barriers fall.

Lunging forward, Mordred envelops the petite frame of her sire and grips on as if her life depended on it. The knights tears staining the back of her sires blue dress as they fall. Artoria in that moment froze in shock, the scenario before her something she was ill prepared for. Yet slowly, so ever slowly, she carefully returns the now sobbing knights embrace.

“I know Mordred.” Artoria soothes as best she can, eyes watering as the her emotions finally catch up with the moment. “I know. Im so, so sorry. If there was one thing I could change it would be that.”

Mordred's grip tightens but no words are uttered, seemingly content to enjoy this previously unavailable level of closeness with her sire. Something that Artoria is happy to indulge having never thought such a thing possible. The unspoken bond of family helping to bridge the gap left by bitterness and feelings of betrayal.

Chapter Text

Eventually after what seemed like an age to Mordred, but could have only been a handful of minutes, the knights tears dry up. Gathering herself as best she can, but still remaining firmly attached to her sire, Mordred lets out a mirthless laugh, “Do you know what my wish was father?”

Artoria breaths out a sad sigh, “Yes I am aware of your wish.”

“I know I know.” Mordred replies with regret, snorting up an errant sliver of mucous that threatened to escape her nose, “I suppose we were both bad at making wishes. You know I didn't realise until the end why I truly wanted the throne or at least the original reason.” She pauses before quickly clarifying, “I mean don't get me wrong I still wished to best you. By rebelling I hoped to prove I had surpassed you. That I….that I was worthy of your acknowledgement.”

The last part comes out as barely a whisper, embarrassment plain as her emotions threaten to boil over again. Taking a deep breath she manages to centre herself and save further embarrassment in front of her sire. She presses on, her words forlorn, “You were always so damn perfect, never letting your emotions show. But just because you hid it well doesn't mean it wasn't affecting you. Isn't that right father?”

“No you are correct Mordred. In my folly I hid my troubles….Even from Guinevere.” Artoria admits mournfully, “I do not regret taking the sword but it did come with a weight that I sometimes struggled to uphold. In the end hiding the burden from others only ended in tragedy.”

Digesting the confirmation of what she had always suspected Mordred replies wistfully, “I saw through your mask sometimes. Saw how hard ruling Britain was on you …..especially after Lancelot and well me and the whole rebellion thing. I-I wanted to save you from that burden as well. Let you retire and not have to worry about Britain any more. Retire knowing a worthy successor was in charge. ”

She lets out a grunt, frustration evident in her own actions, “I guess I kinda ruined that. In the end I betrayed the ideal I has sought to achieve. But when I revealed my true identity to you and you rejected me I……..” Mordred tries to suppress her rising emotions, the memory of that time still a great source of pain to the knight. A task she fails to complete as tears well up once more.

“...I -I was so angry Father. So angry.” She admits with a mixture of woeful bitterness, “And what did my anger bring? A kingdom in ruins and any chance of earning your recognition turned to dust. I was a damn fool father. Im sorry father…..Im sorry.”

“I understand Mordred.” Artoria affirms gently, trying her best to comfort Mordred as her own feelings of sorrow bleed through, “I have thought long on this and you have my forgiveness Mordred regardless of what the outcome of today brings. Mistakes were made on both our parts. I think….I think its time we forgive ourselves as well as each other.”

Elated at her sires words, but fearful of the unknown territory Mordred askes hesitantly, “Is that really possible?”

“I hope so.” Artoria replies without hesitation though with the same concern over the un-tread path, “I know there is a great deal of issues that cannot be resolved in a single conversation but I hope we can make peace between us and if you so desire perhaps ….” She pauses, Artoria`s confidence seemingly eroded by her next utterance which is anything but certain though completely sincere, “….. Perhaps we can attempt to forge the bond I so foolishly denied in the past. It will likely be trying at times but If you are willing to endeavor I will to.”

Everything was telling Morded to clasp on to the offer and never let go. Indeed such a thing had never seemed possible and she feels a horrifying dread at the thought that it would disappear if she didn't do just that. However there was one thing that had to be cleared up if there was any hope of them truly moving forward.

“Father I-I want that….i think.” She admits cautiously, her emotions clashing together like two bitter armies on the field , “Its confusing and I never thought we would be in this position but there is something I need to know first.”

“Ask Mordred.” Artoria prompts encouragingly, “I will do my best to answer.”

With her sires acceptance , Mordred forges ahead and asks the question that had burned away at her soul ever since that horrible day, “Father why….Why did you reject me that day?”

A short silence follows the desperate utterance, Artoria expecting the question but still finding the answer difficult to say. Finally, the former king summons up her courage and admits with growing a mix of sorrow and shame, “I will be honest with you. When you revealed yourself to me all I could see was Morgan and her foul schemes. Then when the initial shock wore off and I realised how you must have come into being im sorry but all I could feel at that moment was an all consuming horror that clouded my judgment. Mordred I shouldn't have said what I said however your origin …….”

She pauses, grinding her teeth in frustration as flashes of that time assault her mind and sap her will. Feeling Mordred tense up Artoria takes a deep breath and with notable effort calms herself. However as she forces herself to continue she cant disguise how painful it was for her to say. “Your origin...Your origin is unfortunately a source of great trauma for me. It is not your fault but when I knew the truth all I could think about was that time and how Morgan intended to use you against me.”

Mordred was not surprised by her sires words. Indeed, as agonising as it was to hear she had this conversation in her mind countless times. Yet instead of the fiery anger she expected ,though that was defiantly there, she mostly feels empathy and a hard to pinpoint sadness. All they had discussed in the short space of time making Mordred look at her sire in a new light that was honestly still confusing to the knight. Yet even so it was telling the knight to try and banish this torment that was so harrowing that not even her sires iron clad composure could bury it.

“God I truly am getting soft.” She admits as she pulls away from their embrace and awkwardly places a hand on her sires, trying to offer what comfort she can. The knight not at all pleased by how rewarding that small thankful smile she received from her sire in response was. “I never thought about how father felt about how I came to be. Now that I think about im not sure I would have reacted any better. Merlins twisted idea of a joke and mothers damnable sorcery. Yeah what freak show I am.”

“Mother….”She starts before correcting herself bitterly, trying and failing to suppress her feelings of self loathing as she looks away in shame, “I mean Morgan. She told me about what Merlin did ….” She withdraws her hand and looks away as her tones bite bleeds away, the embarrassment over the contents of the conversation hitting home, “The ehhh whole gender change thing….and then being stupid enough to let mother get a hold of….of your essence.”

She huffs in annoyance, letting her anger take hold as a way to counter her unease, “Im not going to say I fully accept your reasons. Hell im not sure I could fully really accept any reason if im honest. But I get it . I-I just want you know im sorry that happened to you father. And im sorry I didn't think about it when I first revealed myself to you. If that fool was here now if id revenge myself upon him for both our sakes.”

“Thank you Mordred.” Artoria accepts with a grateful nod before adding gravely having picked up on Mordred obvious shame, “However you should not think less of yourself because of your origin. It was my folly to not see past the actions of others Mordred…..”Artoria pauses for a moment in thought, uncertainty clear on her delicate features as Mordred dwells on what was said.

“Damn father picked up on that.” Mordred ruminates with an annoyed kind of embarrassment that stains her cheeks red, “I wish I wasn't such a mess right now. This so frustrating.” The knights thoughts cheer slightly despite herself, her sires words striking home. “Though its nice to hear father say that as well. God if im not careful I might end up embarrassing myself again.”

Artoria shakes her head as if the answer she had come up with was unsatisfactory, drawing Mordred away from the secret relief and joy her sires words brought.

Gritting her teeth the former kings tone pulls between bitterness and confusion as she continues, “Merlins motives are uncertain to me. He was always a trickster but I believed his intentions despite his often irksome actions were noble. Now I wonder if Morgan wasn't the only one toying with us.”

“What happened to him?” Mordred asks with a feral snarl, leaning forward hungrily as if she would spring into action should she find the incubus still lived. The easy target a perfect way to focus her anger and hold back the threat of another emotional breakdown, “If he did truly betray you my blade hasn't seen some action in a while and I have my own bone to pick with him anyway. Just say the word father.”

Artoria`s lips twitch with amusement and a hint of gratitude before sombreness takes hold once more, “If the opportunity presents itself I would be happy for your assistance. Sadly at the time of the rebellion he disappeared without a trace. I have since learned however that the fool somehow trapped himself within a tower here in Avalon.”

She lets out a frustrated sigh, deflating slightly in disappointment, “I have been unable to breach the barrier surrounding the keep despite my and Shirou`s concerted efforts. The Fae however believe he will emerge when the end times come though I have no way to to be sure of this.”

Mordred lets out a snort making her opinion of the Fae known. Artoria inclines her head by way of acknowledgement, sharing her frustrations but still holding faith in their hosts. “Regardless should he ever emerge I will have my answers. His intent must be questioned for both our sakes.”

“Well I got say I was kinda hoping we could beat it out of him now.” Mordred muses with evident disappoint as she puts some distance between them to take some control back from her rebellious emotions. Leaning back she smirks with evident anticipation as her bravado restores itself, “Though I think that's something we can definitely agree on. When the times comes ill be there with you to get my pound of flesh.”

Shaking her head in amusement, Artoria nevertheless cautions, “I hope it will not come to violence and indeed hope it is a misunderstanding. We must give Merlin a chance to explain himself Mordred.”

“Yeah yeah.” Mordred waves off blithely, satisfied that her sire wouldn't shy away from the conflict if it was necessary, “But if he is guilty he gets whats coming to him.”

A dark look flashes across her sires eyes, the former kings intent clear even if their tone was controlled,

“If he is guilty.” She concedes, the promise behind her words unshakable, “We will have our reckoning.”

“Agreed.” Mordred accepts with a pleased nod, feeling an odd sense of bonding over their shared promise as morbid as it is. With the matter now resolved Mordred voices the question on which many things hinged upon, her voice filled with uncertainty as she gestures vaguely, “Sooooo. Where does that leave us now?”

Clearly as uncertain and perhaps fearful of the response as Mordred, Artoria lets an uncertain grimace escape before schooling her features.

Gathering herself, she nods and answers resolutely, “We can be wherever you want us to be Mordred. My offer from before still stands if you wish it but I will not hold it against you if you decline. Regardless of your decision however I will help prepare you for the end times.” A sad but accepting tone sneaks into her words, “I would rather it not come to it, yet even so when the darkness is banished and if you still I wish it we can settle our duel.”

Mordred in that moment was a maelstrom of competing emotions that angrily refused to concede. Her greatest wish struggling against her bitter desire to best her sire. Yet after all that she had heard this day the answer was clear even if she still held mixed feeling over it.

“I- I dont think I have the right to hold it against you but its still all so new to me.” Mordred answers warily, her thoughts still a jumble as she stares resolutely at the floor to avoid eye contact , “I mean I think I can forgive you . That anger that's poisoned me for so long isn't as strong. But its hard to just cast away everything just like that you know.”

She looks up cautiously as if fearing the response. However she has nothing to fear as her sire nods encouragingly, fully accepting of her emotional struggle. Fearing the swelling of tears that was threatening to burst forth Mordred turns her head away again before pressing on fiercely. “Dont get me wrong I want us to settle our duel and there's things I still need answers to. But…..”

Mordreds tone softens, a small hopeful smile forming as she braves eye contact with the patient eyes of her sire., “…. But I dont want it to end in anger. Just a fair duel with us both walking away unscathed. Or at least mostly unscathed. So please give me some time to work through this father. I-I want to build towards that kind of bond as well.”

Wiping away an errant tear Artoria allows her joy to fully manifest, declaring with a smile, “Im...Im glad Mordred. I-I accept your terms.”

Mordred begins to tear up as well despite her best efforts. Indeed she was in danger of repeating her earlier show of vulnerability as the sublime feeling of elation overwhelms her. However with great effort she springs to her feet and turns to the doorway. With a boisterous shout she exclaims cheerfully as she trys to disguise her tears, “So now all that feeling stuff is out of the way I say its time to start practising. Its been a long time since Clarent faced a worthy blade to trade blows with.”

Before Artoria can respond a shout from the kitchen catches her attention.

“Dinner is ready Saber, Mordred -San.” Shirou calls merrily before offering helpfully, “I can put a lid on it if you guys need more time.”

Smile undiminished, Artoria calls back with undisguised expectation, “No I believe we are done for the moment. Please bring your efforts through. It smells wondrous Shirou .”

“Hey.” Mordred protests as her sires settles herself down at the table, crossing her arms in frustration even if her suggestion was only an excuse, “He said we could have more time. Why not have a spar now and have dinner later.”

Wagging her finger in disappointment, Artoria chastises lightly with restored calm, “Mordred you should know better. It would be an insult to Shirou`s cooking to not eat it at its prime. Besides to spar without the energy to expend would be of no good to either of us. Hunger is the enemy.” She advises sagely.

Before Mordred can even begin to unwrap that odd piece of advice Shirou pops his head through the door.

“More importantly.” He offers with an amused shake of the head, his hands full with a large pot, “Saber is a incorrigible glutton who doesn’t want to wait any longer than she has too for dinner.”

“Shirou that is not true at all.” Artoria counters ineffectually as her face burns crimson. “I`ll thank you not to disparage my good name.”

“Of course your Highness.” Shirou answers playfully as he sets down the pot before retreating to recover more food.

With a huff Artoria shoots back to his retreating form, her tone lacking any real threat,“ You will pay for that later Shirou.”

A distant and muffled “I look forward to it.” is all she receives in reply. Deflating slightly at the battle lost, Artoria clears her throat in embarrassment and gestures to the space opposite, “Do not take Shirou seriously in this respect. Please sit down. Once we have recovered from our meal I promise we can begin training.”

Still getting used to the pairs interactions, made harder by the knowledge they were in a relationship, Mordred stares in confusion for a moment. Deciding her sires consort was a conversation for another time Mordred has half a mind to continue her protest for the sake of it. Yet her childish whim is soon dispelled as the smell of the stew settles in her nostrils.

“Well there will be plenty of time for sparring later I suppose.” Mordred reasons while sitting down as she was bade, her mouth watering a little at the heavily scent. “Red was working hard on it while I hashed things out with father. I guess its the knightly thing to do to enjoy my hosts efforts.”

Making herself comfy as Shirou brings in the last of the dishes Mordred eyes the food with brazen anticipation, the smell promising to taste better than she ever dreamed. Allowing Shirou to serve her a plate of the meaty stew and rice she takes a bite from the hearty dish.

In an instant Mordreds taste buds explode with delight. The meal bombarding her with a menagerie of flavours that all blend perfectly together that manages to elevate a simply dish to one of the best she had ever had. So much so that before she knows it the contents are consumed. Yet before she can even utter a single syllable of disappointed she finds her plate refilled as if by magic.

“Dont worry.” Shirou assures with good humour as he now moves to refills her sires plate, “Saber is a big eater so I always make enough to feed a small army.” He chuckles, the recollection widening his smile, “Im just glad we dont have to pay for things here. I almost became destitute keeping up with her appetite during the grail war. ”

Apparently having higher priorities than protecting her good name, namely devouring the next portion, her sire seemingly ignores the remark. Though judging by the slight narrowing of her eyes and rosy cheeks Mordred was certain Shirou was telling the truth.

Seeing her sire demolish another plate and now somewhat fearful of the food running out despite her hosts reassures Mordred joins in. Inhaling the food with as much speed, though with noticeable less grace, than her sire the frantic meal presses on.

“I cant believe im eating dinner with father like this.” Mordred muses with a growing sense of contentment, though with no less speed in her consumption of food, “Hell when I came here today I was prepared to kill father. Now...now all I want to do now is protect the bond we have begun to form.”

Mordred stops eating for a moment. Her resolve hardening as she promises, “It wont be easy but think we can make it. No we will make it. Defeat is unacceptable”. Mordred's eyes focus on her sires. Artoria pauses in her mission, Mordred's intense stare somehow communicating the message despite no words being uttered. “Father Ive come along way since that terrible day. But you better bet that my journey is far from over.”

With a proud nod of acknowledgement, Artoria smiles before asking Shirou to refill her plate. A move soon repeated by Mordred as her determination becomes set in stone.

That joy once alien but now becoming common place rises within her as she watched with amusement as her sire consumes another mountain of food without shame. “Father acknowledged me...he-hes even proud of me. More importantly Ive finally begun to understand who they truly are and now know how we ended up the way we did. Father….I was finally able to show you far I had come.”

Mordred didnt know why the grail had decided to grant her wish. The knight would just have to chalk it up to to fate. But one thing was for certain. Mordred`s final wish had been fulfilled.

End