Page 26 of To Love a Dark Lord

“Murder.”

“No. What needed to be done. What needs to be done still to this day.”

Mordred curled his knuckles and rubbed his temples with them; using his clawed fingertips would certainly add to his headache, not relieve it. “This is farcical. If I must relive these dreadful memories, must you provide commentary? Though, I suppose I only have myself to blame if you are a figment of my own soul.”

“That is precisely what I am attempting to tell you—repeating the mistakes of the past will get you nowhere new, Mordred. If Gwendolyn frees you—when she frees you—what will you do? Act in self-defense alone as the elementals unite against you? Raise your head up high and pretend to be the noble king you were never meant to be?”

“I have given up on such foolhardy hopes.”

“Then why do you still act as if you have not?” Arthur grunted in frustration. “You muzzle your wrath. They should fear you.”

“They do.”

“But not enough. You present to them a foe that can be challenged. A wall that can be breached. There is another way forward. A way that embraces your true nature. Your true self.” Arthur reached out a hand and weakly placed it upon Mordred’s wrist. “The wrath in the shadows. The fear of what will come when they disobey.”

He grimaced. “You would have me become some fairytale boggart? The whispers that are told to children to ensure they eat their vegetables? Now, you insult me.”

“If you had ever met a boggart, you would know they are far more than myth.” Arthur let his hand fall back into his lap. “She needs you. And she needs you to be your true self. For she cannot walk the path you are meant to tread.”

Mordred felt his jaw tick. To that, he had no answer. To that, he had no riposte.

For Gwendolyn, he would do anything.

Become anyone.

And destroy the world if he must.

For her.

He shut his eyes. “I am remiss in my duties. I promised her I would seek to find a hint to where they have hidden the Crystal. If I am to become this wrath in the darkness that you entreat me to become, I cannot do so languishing inside a prison of my own madness.”

“Now you are finally speaking sense, boy.” Arthur struggled to sit up but was too weak to do so. “Perhaps I can be of some assistance.”

Mordred resisted the urge to help him. “Finally, you may prove to have an actual purpose.”

“Now, now. I am not the truth you must face. I am not the one blocking the path to your freedom. There is another you must confront for such things.”

Fantastic. “Who?”

Arthur laughed as the memory faded away. “You know who.”

Yes. He supposed he did.

Gwen decided that the ability to magically fashion herself things was really coming in handy. It made the idea of camping under the stars with no supplies more palatable than sleeping on the dirt in her clothes. She could at least create enough fabric to make a bedroll and some blankets. Starting a campfire was the easiest part, for obvious reasons.

She snuggled into the makeshift pillow and watched the fire dance. She missed having someone to talk to. Or Eod to snuggle with. It was…strange, being on her own. She hoped everyone was okay. She hoped all of Bert’s friends survived, though she knew that was highly unlikely.

Rolling onto her back, she gazed up at the stars overhead. They weren’t the stars from home, not that she was expecting them to be. Avalon was a world between worlds, after all—a junction between other realities. She wondered how many there were. Probably countless universes, filled with strange and fascinating people and monsters. She wondered if that’s what Avalon’s stars were—all those worlds.

It made her feel a little less alone, strangely. Watching them watching her, twinkling high above. Taking a deep breath, she let it out, and reached her hand up toward them. She didn’t know why. She didn’t even know what she was after.

Letting her hand fall back down after a moment, she rolled onto her side and snuggled into the pseudo-pillow again. When she dreamed, she would be with Mordred. Or what was left of him, at any rate. The thought of it encouraged her to take a deep breath and try her best to fall asleep. And not long after, she was.

For better or worse.

She didn’t need to ask what memory she had popped into. She could guess, judging by the shouting. Judging by the knights standing off against Mordred.

“Traitor!”

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