Cid (Group Fic for all to add to)

[himiko]

I come bearing another group fic!

Right, firstly, I had the idea of writing a fic about what would happen if Mordred had killed Arthur and survived the battle- never figured out how to go about it, so I thought I'd start it and post it up here as a group fic, so we can all join merrily into the writing of it, and no ending is needed. Yay!

Secondly, I would encourage you all emphatically to run and post on Fred, too (tis in the Foreign Art section for those who don't know)! Go! Flee!

----

Mordred lay on the floor, gasping, the point of his axe pressing into his ribs, blood trickling from the wound. Forcing himself to sit up, he pulled Caliban- Excalibur's dark twin, the only weapon which could defeat the mighty sword- from his chest, dropping it to the floor. He pulled off the helmet that covered his face, and shielded him from harm. Kneeling, bleeding before his father, all shining and bright in golden armour, Mordred looked every inch the defeated knight. But then, appearances were often deceptive, and Mordred, who had grown up with the Queen of Magic, knew that better than most.

He stared as Arthur raised Excalibur over his head, sorrow glinting in the foolish man's eyes, “I'm sorry, Mordred...” Mordred almost laughed. His father genuinely was sorry for being about to kill his enemy. And in that, Mordred saw his weakness.

“Tut, tut, father,” he taunted, almost gasping in pain, as Arthur prepared to strike, “Another sin? You'd kill your own son?” Mordred had certainly learned how to judge his foes. At those words, Arthur hesitated, fatally. Mordred, on the other hand, showed no such reluctance, as he pulled the dagger from his belt, and plunged it into Arthur's side.

The king cried out as Mordred stabbed him, his eyes losing the pity they had felt for his son, any warmth in his eyes turning to righteous fury, as he drew Excalibur back, ready to dispatch Mordred in an instant. It would surely be impossible for him to miss- Mordred was so close to him, and there was a hole in his armour where Caliban had pierced his chest. All that Mordred had to do was stay still...

But this time, something changed. Mordred didn't stay still and wait to be stabbed. As Excalibur cut through the air towards him, he threw himself to one side, with some considerable effort, and lay gasping in pain for a few moments. Had Arthur been at full health, it would have been a simple matter to run him through whilst he lay there, but Arthur, too, was injured, and the thrust towards Mordred had left him off balance. He stumbled and fell to the ground, gave Mordred the time he needed to recover. And that was his death.

Mordred pulled himself to his feet, ignoring the pain that flooded his chest as he did so. Hefting Caliban from the ground, he walked over to Arthur, almost giggling inside at the thought of what he could do once he'd killed his father. Britain would be his. All the Christian churches, all the allies of his father, they would all be drowned in blood and burned. Especially Merlin- Merlin, he assured himself, would die by his own hand soon enough. And Auntie Mab... she would be so pleased with him...

But first, he reminded himself, he had to dispatch Arthur. Standing above his father, Mordred wondered for a moment if he should at least pretend some sort of sentimentality, for the sake of his followers, who, at the sight of an impending victory, were beginning to return to the battlefield. But no, he decided. Acting to persuade them of his pure intentions was no longer necessary, because, Mordred thought as he brought the axe down with a sickening thud against his father's skull, it was he who would become King of Britain now, and there was nothing any of them could do to stop it.

---
The sound of the blow seemed to resonate loudly in Merlin's head, the sickening, deathly sound as Mordred brought his weapon down on Arthur.

“No, no, no...” the words ran through his head. Pulling himself to his feet, he stared around the enchanted forest, eyes searching for Sir Rupert.

He had just clambered onto the horse's back when Nimue approached him, staring at him questioningly.

“Merlin? Where are you going?” Merlin turned to face her, wondering why her eyes seemed to glisten with unshed tears.

“Arthur... he's...” His voice cracked slightly as he spoke, “I have to go to them, Nimue.” Nimue hesitated a moment, then nodded, tears beginning to escape her eyes.

“I'll be waiting for you,” she whispered softly, as he rode towards the entrance to the forest, to the entrance of the cave that held it. “Always...”
---

Deep in her inner sanctum, Mab let out a crow of triumph as she watched Mordred's killing blow. There was no doubt- Arthur, King of Britain, was dead. And Mordred, Arthur's only son, her own dark child, was still alive. Finally, after years of failed plots and struggling to survive, finally, she thought, something had gone according to her plans.
---

Thick mists had shielded most of Arthur and Mordred's battle from the other knights, but as they cleared, it took little time for the news to spread across the battlefield that Arthur was dead, that Mordred had killed him. At the news, Mordred's knights had become bolder, those who had fled, returning to the battle in the hopes of claiming the spoils of victory. Arthur's knights, on the other hand, were thrown into grief and disarray.

Frik watched the battle despondently. Some of Arthur's knights- particularly the young and foolhardy ones- stood and fought, perhaps under the illusion that right would prevail in the face of the odds. Frik, however, shared no such fantastical hopes. They would be dead within minutes. Other knights had surrendered to Mordred, perhaps hoping to escape too severe a punishment by the new king. Frik snorted. Mercy was even more foreign to Mordred's nature than it was to Mab's. Where Mab saw violence and death as necessary, Mordred seemed to actively enjoy them. Likely those knights, too, would be dead soon. Other knights had gathered together, and withdrawn from the field. Most probably, they hoped that by surviving, they could somehow form a resistance force against Mordred. Frik didn't fancy their chances much, either. However, in the short term, it would seem that their plan offered the greatest chance of survival, and so, gathering together his weapons and sneaking quietly around the trees, Frik hurriedly picked up his pace and followed in the direction they had gone.

---

Now, feel free to add more

[kamikazijoe]

~Salutes~ Will do

Merlin arrived at Arthurs’ side just in time to see the very last glimmer of life fade from his eyes. Mordred was on the floor, trying desperately not to laugh, the wound at his side had damaged him greatly, but not lethally. Merlin raised, fury in his eyes, his hand clenched into fists, no magic, no fire ice or lightning, he wanted to choke the life out of the murderous swine.
Mordred crawled backwards on his elbows, and raised a taunting finger. “Now now Merlin, your duty is to your King remember, and if you kill me, who will be left to take my place?”
“I have a few ideas.” Merlin hissed, in a voice reminiscent of Mabs’ own.
“Oh I bet you do, I bet you do. But who can you get who’s capable of running this country?”
Merlin thought frantically, but his thoughts were clouded with pure rage. He didn’t want to talk, he wanted to kill. He subsided, but did not relax. Finally, he turned and stalked away, wrenching Excalibur out of the ground as he passed, Mordreds’ cackling, choking laughter ringing in his ears.


Mab was at Mordreds’ side in a flash of lightning. She was gleeful, as she put a hand to his wound, and heeled him instantly. New power coursed through her body, the whole world was waiting for her control, Mordred had proved most beneficial, but she forced herself to remember that he was merely a tool, a means to an end. And such a sweet ending it would be.
Mordred stared up at her grinning countenance adoringly. “Have we won now Auntie? Is it all ours?”
“Oh yes Mordred,” she lied, “All ours, all of it.” Her eyes fixed on the retreating figure of Merlin, as the two of them faded into nothingness.

[himiko]

Mordred peered around the city of Camelot, former seat of his father's rule. It was abandoned now. Not that Mordred had been expecting the surviving knights that hadn't sworn loyalty to him to have come back and be waiting for him to arrive and kill them all, but it was as if everyone left in Camelot had simply vanished- the young, the elderly, the infirm, all had vanished and left precious few supplies behind them. Evidently, they'd heard of his victory, and had run, perhaps hoping to join those knights. Mordred smiled to himself. Let them have their hope of survival, of revenge, for now. Soon enough, all of them would be crushed.

Mordred stared out of the corner of his eye at his Aunt staring around the abandoned city, feeling an absurd surge of joy as he saw her smile to herself. Soon, he promised her silently, soon I will give you everything else you want. And by then, he thought to himself, there will be no one else left for you to love more than me.

With that thought in his head, he took a few steps away from Mab, out of her range of hearing, and stepped into the path of one of his knights. The man was a fearsome fighter, slaying enemies without a thought on the battlefield, but under Mordred's stare, he shuffled nervously and glanced away.

"Merlin is still alive," Mordred said to him coldly, "Arthur's pet wizard. You will find him, and tell me where he is. Bring him to me if you can," the sneer he directed at the knight suggested he doubted that, "But don't kill him yet. I want him alive. He will die by my hand, no other. Go, now." The knight bowed hurriedly and ran off, with not even the faintest muffled complaint about being sent off without the chance to rest or eat after battle. Likely, he was relieved to still be alive.

Turning once more, Mordred walked over to Mab, smiling at her as charmingly as he could. Doubtlessly, Auntie Mab wanted Merlin to remain alive, and wouldn't be pleased at Mordred's plans. But it would all be for the best. She'd see.

[kamikazijoe]

Merlin, on the other hand, had no intention of being caught by any of Mordreds’ pathetic henchmen. He could not make himself invisible for any great length of time, but he was more than capable of being someone else.

He was accompanying the refugees of Camelot into the mountains, under the guise of a stereotypical little old lady. It had been hard disguising Excalibur, but he knew it to be the only weapon capable of felling Mordred, so he was not prepared to leave it to the mercy of any inquisitive stranger, and leaving it locked in stone again was a risky option.

As he stumped along the dirt track, Merlin wondered bleakly how the christian church was going to fight against Mab now, or perhaps it couldn’t. Although he was more than aware of one force that could combat her. It was a step in the wrong direction, but it was a step away from Mab, and that was what was important.

- - -

Frik, too, was headed for the mountains. Having caught up to the feeing knights, he’d been welcomed to the group with barely an indiscriminate grunt; he’d simply been accepted as being there. Frik looked on this as an improvement to the usual screeching demands he was normally subject to. He had asked if there was any kind of plan, only to be dismissed, or glared at, or asked if he had a plan, no, well get out of my sight until you’ve got one then you snivelling little wretch.

Frik had never felt so powerless. By now Mordreds’ goons would be on their trail, and he was nothing more than a weakling with pointy ears amidst the lost and confused remnants of a kingdom that would never be equalled in their lifetimes.

It was down to him then.

[tosca]

Mab knew there would be no answer drifting up from the still surface of the lake as she stood upon its banks. But still, as she felt the wind glide through her hair, she tasted the sweet thrill of victory. She felt justified in gloating. "I kept my word, sister. I did it alone. More fool you that you didn't care to share the glory." And while she savoured the words, the emptiness around her left a bitter aftertaste to the sweetness of her triumph. The world was not yet as it was. The battle was won; the war was not. And, Mab knew, as she glanced in the direction of Camelot, where its many turrets could be seen piercing the heavens, she was still working alone.

Mab chose to walk the path back to their new stronghold, breathing in the lingering scent of battle. The stench of blood would not leave this place. Generations to come would pass over these grounds and shiver with the cold breath of what had been. The dead had been cleared, but the grass was still red with the stain of spilt blood, of worthless valour.

Both forces had abandoned the site of battle - Mordred's army, to Camelot; the scant remnants of Arthur's fleeing for the mountains. It seemed the mournful birdsong should be the only sound interrupting the knowing silence. And yet, Mab paused, hearing an unfamiliar tread. Coming to a halt, peering into the gloom, she stood partly shrouded in the forest mists - and waited.

A pair of eyes met her own.

[Incapability]

What surprised her the most was not the fact that there was a living being in this world of death, someone who had not crept to hide away in a niche, a corner, away from the battles that were bound to come.
No, it was that those eyes did not falter under her stern gaze. They spoke of great suffering and pain, and for a moment she felt a strange connection to this unknown person, to someone who was left behind in a cold, hostile world where there was only fighting or going down.
But still, despite all the likeness that she could see in those eyes, there was a difference that could not be denied.

[kamikazijoe]

Mordred circled the throne, giggling like a school child. He crouched, leaned over it, observed it from all angles, drinking in the sight. He reached out to it, but held back, like someone reaching out to a fire, daring himself to touch it.

But no, even Mordred understood the need for order, and process. It would not do to touch the throne, or wear the crown until it was rightfully his. That left the matter of the coronation, which would require an official holy-man of some sorts.

The thought struck him, wouldn’t it just be the most delicious irony to force Merlin to place the crown on his head, he could see the look of twisted outrage on his face, the visceral fury he spun the crown over and brought it sharply onto Mordreds’ head, blood trickled- Mordred looked up, he was in the corridor, one of his guards had just spoken to him. “What?” he barked.

“I said, are you alright my lord?” Mordred took some delight in “my lord”, but stayed resolute, and pointed at the guard. “You! Fetch me a holy man!” He stormed back into the throne room, to find Mab stood to one side of the throne, and stood on the other side…

[himiko]

Mordred blinked a few times and stared at the unfamiliar figure oddly. He resembled Mab in a way- his features were similar, although where her eyes were icy blue, his were a deep reddish-brown colour, and where she was pale and cold, the man's skin had the glow of someone who had spent a good deal of time out of doors in the sun. And, though Mordred thought it was his eyesight at first, when you saw him out of the corner of your eye, or when you weren't truly concentrating, he seemed to be giving off a strange glow, as though his whole form was on fire. Clearly, he wasn't human.

He cast a questioning glance at Mab, and as he did so, the stranger laughed slightly.

"Well, sister, are you not planning to introduce us?" Mordred started slightly when the man addressed Auntie Mab as "sister". Mab fixed the stranger with a cold look.

"This is Mordred, the King of Britain, as you know full well," she replied tartly, turning back to Mordred, who almost giggled with glee yet again at the words "King of Britain", "Mordred, this is the Lord of Fire."

[kamikazijoe]

Merlin left the village early, not daring to show his true nature until he was well away from the walls. He headed west, to where he’d created a legend, hoping to find some kind of respite, some glimmer of hope in the coming darkness.

It took some time, he could not take sir Rupert for fear of being found too easily, but eventually he came to a long grassy rise, peaking in a large scar of jagged grey rock that stretched for a mile across the rolling turf. He sat down on a conveniently sized boulder, and stared down on its’ surface. He drew Excalibur, and slid it back to where it had rested, all those years ago.

The ground rumbled, and a voice, as deep as oceans said, “THE SWORD? BUT THAT CAN ONLY MEAN…” A small landslide revealed a large eye in the side of the rock. It spoke of times long past, and age, and wisdom. The Mountain King fixed his gaze on Merlin, somewhat blearily. “WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO THE PURE MAN? THE ONE WHO’S CARE I ENTRUSTED THE SWORD TO?”

Merlin bellowed up the slope, “He’s dead, at the hands of your sisters prize servant. Now there is a monster on the throne, and she’s pulling his strings.”

The Mountain King stood up.

[himiko]

Meanwhile, at Camelot, unaware of Merlin's conversation with the Mountain King, Mab turned back to face her brother.

"You've had your introductions now," she said sharply, "Now, brother, you will explain what you're doing here." He gave a small laugh.

"Patient and charming as ever I see, Mab." She shot him a cold stare and continued.

"You haven't walked amongst mortalkind for hundreds of years, and now you reappear in this form, suddenly and without warning, at this precise moment in time. Do not," she hissed, "Even try making a comment about simply wanting to see your fellow elemental kings. I'm not a fool." Mordred watched their exchange intently, not particularly pleased with having seemingly been forgotten by his aunt, but also interested in why this Lord of Fire, one of the most powerful magical beings in existence, had chosen now to return to the world of men.

[Zoicite]

The Lord of fire gazed at her with a look that clearly meant he had thought she would already know.
"Perhaps your new success has temporarily blinded you. There has been, and will continue to be, destruction here. I have felt the power rising steadily, and now I have come to it's call. As for choosing alliance, I have none. For now, I am content to merely soak in the raw power. There is something I have to thank you for though. All of this would not be possible without your tenacity, and so for that I give you as much thanks as is due. Now, about the boy.." He retracted his gaze from Mab and set it lightly on Mordred, curious for an answer. Just being in the world of men was enough to take advantage of the power. He might as well attempt to keep up on things.

[Libitine]

Mordred pouted in his stance like a child, his beady little eyes fixated on Mab, patiently awaiting her response.

Her reaction was, of course, to flick her wrist and send the Lord of Fire flying. "You have some never Loke." She hissed as the magical blow sailed through him.

Just as easily as Loke had been tossed, he drew himself up. "Patient and charming as ever . . ." He muttered, dusting off his cloak. "Your stubbornness over a simply boy will be your downfall Mab, I assure you."

Her mouth hardened into a thin line as her bright green wolf eyes took him in. "Loke, leave us." She said sharply.

The Lord of Fire ignored her. "You always put so much faith in everybody else." He said smoothly. "And never enough in yourself. That's your problem Mab."

Mab curled her hands into tight fists. "Loke . . . I said get out." Each word was pronuciated carefully through gritted teeth, even as her anger grew.

[himiko]

Loke raised an eyebrow, "Oh, come now, sister," he said laughingly, "Surely you can muster up a bit more patience for your dear little brother? You know I'm only trying to be helpful." Mab glared at him.

"Your definition of helpful, Loke, must be very loose indeed." Still, she reluctantly unclenched her fists, though her glare remained very firmly in place, "If you wish for my company so much, then try and keep your opinions to yourself."

Loke let out a mock sigh, "Ah, well, I'm sure that you will, as always, have plenty of opinions for the two of us," he replied smoothly. Mab ignored him, turning back to Mordred.

"Now, my sweet," she muttered, "About your coronation..."

[Libitine]

Mordred, who had begun to get quite bored without any talk of himself, jumped off his chair and practically ran over to Mab, his eyes shining bright.

"Yes, yes, Auntie Mab," He said quickly. "I want a huge party. With lots of wine and chocolates and lots of people."

Mab smiled softly, patting his cheek. "You can have whatever you wish, Mordred my darling."

Mordred beamed and then sauntered back to his throne. "But I don't want him there, Auntie." He said, pointing an accusatory finger at Loke.

Loke rolled his eyes. "And why not?" He snapped.

"I don't like you." Mordred replied smugly.

[himiko]

"The feeling," Loke replied with a sweet smile, "Is more than mutual, I assure you. And you needn't worry, I'll make myself scarce- I have rather more interesting uses for my time than "chocolate and wine"." Mordred glared at him, and turned back to Mab, who also shot a warning glance at the Lord of Fire. Loke smiled innocently back at his sister.

"Tell me," she said coldly, "You've managed to antagonise the both of us, but you have yet to explain why you chose to come here." Loke shrugged.

"Curiosity," he grinned, "And besides, Mab, you know you've always been my favourite." Mordred's expression darkened at that. It didn't sound quite so pleasant when Auntie Mab wasn't saying it, and it wasn't directed to him.

"An honour I could well do without," Mab replied, though Loke fancied there was the ghost of a smile behind her annoyed expression.