The Duke's son POV

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Before we begin, please set your Mordred's appearance. Eyes: <<cycle "$eye">> <<option "green eyes" "green">> <<option "blue eyes" "blue">> <<option "gray eyes" "gray">> <<option "brown eyes" "brown">> <<option "hazel eyes" "hazel">> <<option "violet eyes" "violet">> <<option "black eyes" "black">> <<option "amber eyes" "amber">> <</cycle>> Hair color: <<cycle "$hair">> <<option "dark brown, deep and rich and almost black." "dark brown">> <<option "chestnut brown, dark and lush." "chestnut brown">> <<option "light brown like honey." "light brown">> <<option "lush, dark blond." "dark blonde">> <<option "icy blond, cool and lush." "icy blonde">> <<option "golden blond, warm and lush." "golden blonde">> <<option "auburn, deep red." "auburn">> <<option "copper red, fiery." "copper red">> <<option "pure black like the midnight sky." "black">> <</cycle>> Hair type: <<cycle "$hair_type">> <<option "straight" "straight">> <<option "wavy" "wavy">> <<option "curly" "curly">> <<option "coily with corkscrew coils" "coilycurls">> <<option "coily and cloudlike" "coily">> <</cycle>> Complexion: <<cycle "$complexion">> <<option "ivory" "ivory">> <<option "warm beige" "warm beige">> <<option "cool beige" "cool beige">> <<option "rosy" "rosy">> <<option "tawny" "tawny">> <<option "olive" "olive">> <<option "light brown" "light brown">> <<option "sepia brown" "sepia brown">> <<option "golden brown" "golden brown">> <<option "russet brown" "russet brown">> <<option "dark brown" "dark brown">> <<option "warm black" "warm black">> <<option "cool black" "cool black">> <<option "deep black" "deep black">> <</cycle>> Mordred's agab (at this point in the story, trans Mordred is not yet out): <<cycle "$gender">> <<option "male" "male">> <<option "female" "female">> <</cycle>> [[Next, some questions about your Mordred's personality and choices|SetMordred]]

<div class="titlelettersone" style='font-size: 100%;'>Llamagirl</div>

<<set $eye = "unknown">> <<set $hair = "unknown">> <<set $gender = "unknown">> <<set $magic = 50>> <<set $swordsmanship = 0>> <<set $persuasion = 50>> <<set $intimidation = 50>> <<set $deceit = 50>> <<set $independent = 50>> <<set $pendragon_magic = "1">> <<set $water_magic = 50>> <<set $honest = 50>> <<set $confident = 50>> <<set $impulsive = 50>> <<set $calm = 50>> <<set $kind = 50>> <<set $defiant = 50>> <<set $emotional = 50>> <<set $affable = 50>> <<set $complexion = "none">> <<set $age = "a few days old">> <<set $controlled_magic = 50>> <<set $hair_type = "no">> <<set $chapt2bully = "">> <<set $chapt2toy = 0>> <<set $chapt2lot = 0>>

<<link "Stats" "stats">><</link>> <<link "Credits">> <<script>> Dialog.setup("Credits"); Dialog.wiki(Story.get("credits").processText()); Dialog.open(); <</script>> <</link>>

Name: Known as Mordred Leudonus of Lothia - but more often than not called Mordred Le Fay Age: You are 7 years old. //A description of your likeness// You have $eye eyes, much like your parents, $hair $hair_type hair alike your mother's, Morgana and $complexion complexion like your father's, Arthur. <<link "« Return to game" $return>><</link>>

<a href="https://nyehilism.itch.io/twine-template/">Twine Sugarcube Template</a> <a href="https://www.motoslave.net/sugarcube/2/docs/">Sugarcube 2 Documentation</a> <a href="https://github.com/ChapelR/custom-macros-for-sugarcube-2">Chapel - custom macros collection</a> <a href="https://github.com/cyrusfirheir/cycy-wrote-custom-macros">Cycy's custom macros</a> <a href="https://unsplash.com/">Unsplash</a> for sidebar images (<a href="https://unsplash.com/photos/P8LZaU52NME">light mode</a> and <a href="https://unsplash.com/photos/pDKoVuXYKxU">dark mode</a>)

<div class="titlelettersone" style='font-size: 150%;'>The Bastard of Camelot</div>

<<silently>> <<if $gender == "male">> <<set $pgen to 0, $child to "child">> <<elseif $gender == "female">> <<set $pgen to 1, $child to "child">> <</if>> <</silently>> [[On to the story!|BeginStory]]

The letter preceded the visit by a week. It come into his father's hand/It came to his father's attention one uneventful evening in the parlor, where they were all gathered to idle the time away. His mother read close to the fire so that its light may fall onto the page and warmth on her cheek. His siblings played at her feet, where the blue fabric pooled on the rug. His sister had decided it was a lake, and the flames an erupting volcano. whatever -> mother reading a book, father leafing through letters. he says they got a letter from Morgana Nicol peered at the name on the envelope, written in sharp, elegant caligraphy - it did not say Leudonus, but Le Fay; and the seal used upon the azure blue wax was not the former's symbol either, but the serpent that adorned his Duchy's banner. It presided over the mantlepiece, emblozened in all its serpentine glory. bloodless Father had warned him of Morgana before - of one who clung to which was not hers anymore. Nicol knew the ocassion she was speaking of, even if he could not remember it - he'd been told of the time Lady Morgana stopped overnight on her way to Lothia, along with King Uther and the Royal Sorcerer. His father always said the old king had favored him, that he'd noticed his potential and thus granted him the honor of overseeing the land of Tintal. Tintal had once belonged to the Le Fay - Morgana's mother - but the claim was lost long ago. Morgana herself had nothing to recommend her for the role anyway. She grew up on Avalon, training as a priest - with a family of commoners, father said. It was a boon Lord Lot had even wanted to marry her and give back some weight to her name. "Father," Nicol asked, lifting his chin. "Why does Lady Morgana use "If I were Duke Lot I surely would prefer it over sullying my family crest," he grumbled. "You see, Nicol, Lady Morgana the duke and duchess are visibly perturbed/wary at first (because they know of morgana's reputation of a quick temper and talk of revenge towards 'all that wronged her') the duke then gets emboldened. let her come! we'll show her the little siblings weren't even really paying attention. they kept on playing. when they hear mention that she's bringing Mordred, her child, the sister chimes in with enthusiasm - how old are they?? can we play? Nicol frowned. jump to his father giving Nicol a little speech about how horrible Morgana is and how he shouldn't believe a word out her mouth (he's doing damage control bcause he assumes, correctly, that morgana will be mad) jump to their arrival "If she wishes to return to the Continent," father said, "she'll abide to the good conduct the Court requires. We can tolerate her for one night." Nicol stood waiting as he had years ago and could not remember for a guest that was just as much of a muddy blotch upon memory.The guest herself would have been a muddy blotch upon his memory had his parents not painted such a vivid image of her. He knew all he needed to know and liked none of it. The more he learned over the last week, the more he saw of his parents tensing whenever the matter of the visit came up, the more he bristled. Why should they be forced to take in someone who called on them in such an insolet manner, brandishing the sigil that now rightfully belonged to his family? Unfortunately, his little siblings didn't see the matter as darkly as him. They were oblivious and naive and far too young to understand so he took it upon himself to protect them. That was why he needed to guide them. Nicol describes how his parents are on edge, and also the staff: servants, knights, buzzing with gossip and wariness. some are...hopeful. wondering what had become of lady morgana, of the le fay, or sad, because she's now such a infamous figure. Nicol feels bad his parents should swallow this indignity and bow their head to this woman, this pretender, and her child. His siblings are oblivious to it all. when they arrive, he gets angry that they were the serpent so boldly and bumps into Mordred at dinner, he bristles as he watches Morgana go on so insolently and strenghtens his father's words when he can. uther chose his family. they have every right to be here in the playroom, he wants to protect his little siblings and give Mordred a piece of his mind Legacies came and went. Rulers rose and fell. It was the tide of history, the course of nature. It's what his father always told him. King Uther had brought a new era around, born out of flames and the ashes of the old world, the great chroniclers wrote. Those who opposed - those who could not withstand the fire - were vanquished and better leaders took the reigns. People with visions, like his father. it was their time now. he said, just as somber. He considered the letter for a while, then shook himself up. "

The letter preceded the visit by a week. It came to his father's attention one uneventful evening in the parlor, where they were all gathered to idle the time away. Their parents were sifting through correspondence while the children sat on the rug before the hearth. Nicol held a book and tried his best to replicate that proud, proper pose he'd seen his parents affect when attending to serious matters. He read too, not administrative documents but historical chronicles his tutor had assigned, though his gaze would often glaze over the polished words like shoes on sleek stone. It was his little siblings - their giggling and tittering and talking distracted him. Julia and Linus were brandishing wooden toys and cloth dolls, having turned their surroundings into some make-believe, wondruous world. The blue skirt pooling at mother's feet was a lake, his sister had decided, and the flames in the hearth an erupting volcano. Linus all but flung one of the dolls into the fire, holding it close to the heat while spouting various threats in character. They sounded less than impressive spoken with a child's lisp. His siblings goaded him into playing till he acquiesced. Secretely, he was relieved for the interruption, but he didn't want his parents to think he was so eager to give up on such an important lecture. Nicol had barely picked up a wooden horse when a weary sigh arrested his attention. He looked up to his father, who in turn was staring at a letter. The fire limned a serpent sigil stamped upon blue wax. Their seal. There were many places Nicol had seen it, proudly displayed. It presided over the mantlepiece here, emblozened in all its serpentine glory. It was stiched into many a fancy tunic he owned, etched onto their grand carriages. On this letter, though, it did not belong. "We received word from Lady Morgana of Lothia," father said, bloodless. The light threw into relief the apprehension in his eyes and the shadows it cast rendered the creases of his face deeper. His grip on the sheet was tight, knuckles whitening as did the thin, strained line of his mouth. Mother glanced at him, then the letter, over the silver rim of her glasses. A notch formed on her brow. "Is that-" "Yes. Signed Le Fay to boot." Nicol peered closer at the name on the envelope, written in sharp, elegant calligraphy. Indeed; it did not spell Leudonus, which he knew to be the official surname of the Duchess of Lothia, but a name she long renounced. Mother took off her glasses and folded her hands. "What does she want?" "She's returning to Lothia and wishes to stop here overnight during her journey." "Does she now?" she asked. Her tone had that guarded, slow quality his little siblings affected when interrogated about some mischief they were trying to cover. "It's curious; all the other times she traveled to the Continent she preferred to lodge at the Temple. What changed?" "She expressed her desire to see how Tintal is faring." "She didn't seem all that interested in learning how Tintal was faring when she last came," mother said. Nicol knew the ocassion she was speaking of, even if he could not remember it. He'd been told of the time Lady Morgana stopped overnight on her way to Lothia, accompanied by King Uther himself and the Royal Sorcerer. His father always said the old king had favored him, that he'd noticed his potential and thus granted him the honor of overseeing the land of Tintal. Tintal had once belonged to the Le Fay - to Morgana's mother - but their claim to it was lost long ago. Morgana herself had nothing to recommend her for the role anyway. She grew up on Avalon, training as a priest, raised by a family of commoners, father said. It was a boon Lord Lot had even wanted to marry her and give back some weight to her name. "But we must indulge her, mustn't we?" mother said with the lackluster enthusiasm of one prescribed bitter medicine. His father's response was just as somber. "There's no good reason for us to refuse." After considering the letter a second time, he found a way to sweeten the matter. "Let her come. Let her see how much Tintal has truly flourished under us." "Father, why does Lady Morgana use our sigil?" Nicol asked, lifting his chin. "Wouldn't it be considered forgery?" He felt very proud of himself for having remembered what he'd been told in his lessons. "If I were Duke Lot I surely would prefer it over using my family crest," father grumbled. "It could be considered such, but the hue of blue is darker, not quite right. But the intent is clear. You see, Nicol, Lady Morgana is a...stubborn woman who thinks Camelot wronged her and now owns her something. And you make a good point" - here Nicol stood straighter - "but it's not worth challenging her. She has a...distorted view of matters and a bitter heart. She calls on us with no good intentions, I can tell. She writes to us under her old name, which she must fancy holds power yet. She uses our own seal. Already acting the rude guest, but we shall be wonderful hosts, shan't we?" Nicol frowned. He couldn't understand why they'd have any obligation to receive her if she was such a rude guest and pretender, but he didn't want to contradict father. The Court clung with teeth to politeness, civility and good manners - otherwise it'd all plunge into chaos, his parents said. "I assume...she's bringing her child?" mother ventured. Julia's head snapped up, eyes wide. "Is she? Can we play with them?" Nicol's frown deepened. "Why would you want that?" "Now, now, children," mother intervened, "be cautious, but nice. We don't want to pick a fight." Nicol shut his mouth and nodded. [[Continue|TensionMounting]]

Tension lingered in the parlor long after Lady Morgana's letter was cast to the side, and would permeate the week ahead. [[Continue|PrepareForGuests]]

Tintal Castle was awash in tension and anticipation. His parents held onto a veneer of equanimity but Nicol could tell the visit hung heavily over them. It was in the way they moved, the way they talked - voices notched higher at the smallest inconvenience, steps sounded louder as they paced up and down hallways. The change was noticeable among everyone, nobles and staff alike. Servants and courtiers would speak with wariness of the infamous guest. There were those judicious ones who thought this was folly; that the Lady had no good intentions in visiting. That she was coming to stir trouble, as she did many years ago in Camelot just before her hasty retreat to Avalon. It had all happened behind closed doors but word had trickled through nonetheless - of her threats made to the Crown, of her volatile nature. Yet still many lamented how the Le Fay had fallen, and figured Morgana only wanted to see what had become of Tintal in her family's absence. Others few spoke in hopeful, curious whispers, looking forward to her arrival. These fools, Nicol could not understand. His little siblings were mostly oblivious to the bustle and rumours. They listened with wide eyes to their parents' warnings and the biting words Nicol had reserved for their guests. Yet their laughter stayed as loud and merry as ever, grating on the tattered nerves of adults; they were relegated to their playrooms and garden with Nanny, who seemed to Nicol as old as the castle itself. Nicol kept to his studies, listened attentively to what the adults said, and joined his siblings when the tension started to seep into his being as well. [[Days passed. Their guests were soon to arrive.|Arrive]]

Nicol stood waiting, as he had years ago and could not remember, for a guest that herself would have been a muddy blotch upon his memory had his parents not painted such a vivid image of her. He knew all he needed to know and liked none of it. His mother had reinforced to him the necessity to //play nice// and while he nodded obediently, he bristled on the inside. Why should they be forced to take in someone who called on them in such an insolet manner, brandishing the sigil that now rightfully belonged to the Allard family? He wished they could have just turned her away and be done with it. At his side, Julia shifted nervously. She gnawed on her lower lip no matter how many times Nanny had admonished her for it, and stared at the door with wide eyes as if awaiting for a beast to spring through. Linus sighed. He looked unhappy but unlike the others, his only complain had been regarding the fancy garb he had to don. The family had assembled in the main hall, which stretched long like the body of a snake. They stood close together, shoulders rolled back and hands folded elegantly, facing great wooden doors. They were embossed with serpentine coils: a swarm of the reptiles, so entangled one could barely tell when one ended and the other began. Nicol's ears were pricked for any sound, the clink of armor, the tell-tale of footfall. It was so silent in the hall, Julia's little restless movements echoed off the walls. //Clunk, clunk, clunk//, came the sound of plates. It mingled with a sharp //tap, tap, tap// of shoes. [[The double doors opened to admit their guests.|GuestsHere]]

The guard introduced them in a booming voice: "Lady Morgana Leudonus of Lothia and her ?child, Mordred Leudonus of Lothia." Nicol took the measure of the dreaded guests. Lady Leudonus carried herself with a graceful, self-assured - arrogant, even - step. She curtsied and smiled and the child by her side took ?their cue from her. Mordred. ?They looked around the same age as Julia and clung to ?their mother's side like a thistle, tiny hand wrapped in Morgana's. ?They stared at the Allards with curious, keen $eye eyes. The bastard, it was what people called Mordred, given ?they wasn't Duke Lot's actual child, though everyone was made to pretend as if ?they was. Father stepped forward, throwing his arms wide open. "Welcome, Lady Morgana." As he'd instructed Nicol and his siblings, father was adhering to the rules of hospitality: putting on a genial smile to hide all the frayed nerves and sizzling tempers that had marked the week leading up to this encounter. Morgana's voice was honey-sweet and carried a vague lilt, yet her words had the sting of a bee: "Thank you for the honor of welcoming me into my own home." Father chuckled. It didn't sound like him. A pregnant silence followed. Nicol glowered at Lady Morgana as father faltered. He cast his eyes wildly around, opened and closed his mouth, but it was mother who finally persevered. "Lady Morgana," she said, ignoring the disrespectful words entirely, "we're so happy to have you here, and I hope you will appreciate the effort we have put into making Tintal as blooming as before. We were very grateful to be entrusted with the care of this beautiful land." "Why of course," Morgana replied, but her brow pinched the way mother's did when Nicol or his siblings approached her to show a fresh scrap or bruise. "It must have been such a difficult task, cleaning away the blood and building up a kingdom ravaged by war." Mother spluttered. "I-" It was father's turn to swoop in. "Servant!" he called out. A young page scampered into view. "Take their cloaks, will you? We will be having dinner soon." The servant approached her nervously. Nicol couldn't fault him. He'd heard the stories too - stories of how Morgana had hurt people with her magic. How it acted out with her explosive temper. The more she lingered in their castle, the more he wondered why she was even allowed inside. Why she was allowed to return on the Continent. He removed her cloak quickly, like he might burn himself if he stayed too close, too long, then took Mordred's as well. Nicol stiffened. A golden serpent pendant hung by her neck. A similar one rested against Mordred's chest. It was the same symbol that decked the castles' halls and chambers, that adorned his father's azure tunic, that his family proudly brandished. In the chandelier's light, the pendants glinted mockingly at the Allards. Nicol clenched his hands and gnashed his teeth. It would be unbecoming of him to speak up, but he so wished he could. Especially when his father chose to ignore the blatant mockery. "Shall we?" he said, already setting off down a side corridor. Mother and Lady Morgana followed immediately, but Nicol fell behind with the other children. Julia and Linus inspected Mordred as they would a new toy, yet didn't dare to stray from his side. They didn't seem to comprehend the gravity of the situation, didn't share the frustration that seared through Nicol. Mordred, too, stared at them with just as ingenuous an expression. The adults weren't watching. Nicol sneered, stepped forward and slammed his shoulder into Mordred to remind ?them ?their place. <div class="choice">[[Mordred frowned, but didn't say anything.|Tintal2][$chapt2bully to "frown", $defiant to $defiant-1]]</div> <div class="choice">[[Mordred shoved him back.|Tintal2][$chapt2bully to "shove", $defiant to $defiant+1, $impulsive to $impulsive+1]]</div> <div class="choice">[[''Hey! That's not nice!'' Mordred said.|Tintal2][$chapt2bully to "reprimand", $defiant to $defiant+1, $confident to $confident+1]]</div> <div class="choice">[[Mordred smiled sweetly. Oh, they'd win him over.|Tintal2][$chapt2bully to "smile",$affable to $affable+1, $confident to $confident+1]]</div> <div class="choice">[[Mordred averted their gaze, not wanting to stir up more trouble.|Tintal2][$chapt2bully to "meek", $defiant to $defiant-1, $confident to $confident-1]]</div>

<<if $chapt2bully == "frown">> The child frowned but said nothing. Good. <<elseif $chapt2bully == "shove">> Mordred came barreling at him. ?They was smaller and younger yet driven by a might that sent Nicol teetering. He glared at the little wretch then marched off after his parents. What else did he expect from the child of one who acted like Lady Morgana did? <<elseif $chapt2bully == "reprimand">> "Hey, that's not nice!" Mordred protested. ?Their words fell on deaf ears. It wasn't Nicol the one in the wrong here. <<elseif $chapt2bully == "smile">> Mordred's lips curled - not in a sneer, but a smile. //A smile//. One that looked so much like the one ?their mother wore as she insulted them. He glared at the little wretch then marched off after his parents. <<elseif $chapt2bully == "meek">> Mordred looked away and shied back. Good. <</if>> A small, cozy parlor had been arranged for them to have dinner. Nicol sat silent between his parents and his siblings. The dishes were lavish, deserving of a feast - he'd overheard his mother give instructions for food to impress - yet it all left a bitter taste on his tongue. He hated having to share a table with these guests. Lady Morgana sipped her glass, gingerly dabbed at her mouth with a napkin and said: "The food is exquisite. And the wine - is it from Astolat?" "Only the very best for my table," father smiled, and she smiled back. Nicol cut into his steak, content he didn't have to indulge in polite conversation. It was a big charade. "Are you eager to return to Lothia, Lady Morgana?" mother asked. "You must have missed your husband and first born." "Yes, I have dearly missed my son." That halted conversation for a while. They turned their attention to the food and drinks. Then father broached the subject he's been determined on bringing up ever since the letter arrived: all the ways in which Tintal had flourished and thrived after the war. Nicol listened intently as he continued to eat, though everything his father said rang familiar to him. His family's achievements filled him with pride. One day, his parents said, it would be him taking up the reigns of the land. Morgana listened too, nursing her cup of wine. "Yes, you have certainly changed a lot," she said, swirling the liquid and looking at nothing in particular. "You have also redecorated, I see." She caught father's eye. "Beautifully woven tapestries you have. Of tyrants." His smile vanished. "Excuse me?" She put down her goblet and leant forward. "Does your first born, your heir, know the story of the castle they will rule?" She glanced at Nicol and he met her gaze headlong. "Does he know the great hall was soaked in the blood Uther spilled when he stole this kingdom? Does he know this title and symbol and land do not belong to you?" He knew blood had been spilled, but so it had been all over the Continent. That was war, that was the path to peace and success, his tutor said. Nicol lifted his chin. "Uther has given us the title. It is ours, as much as yours is now Duchess Leudonus of Lothia," he added, to remind the Lady of the name and sigil she should be using instead of flaunting around a derisive simulacrum of their own. Morgana smiled. It had none of the sweetness from before. It made his insides knot, but he didn't look away. "Your father taught you well," she said. It wanted itself an insult, but Nicol took pride in the statement. And he would have said so had mother not jumped in before the conversation could further unravel. "I believe we should continue our talk in the common room, and let the children play in the nursery." [[Continue|Nursery]]

Nicol liked to think he'd graduated from the nursery room. He still came when his siblings bid he play, but he otherwise spent him time with the children his age or older and the adults. In the parlors and libraries and gardens, listening to their talking of matters that were not make-believe, and trying his best to emulate them. Nanny dozed off in a chair by the hearth, her half done embroidery forgotten on her lap. Julia and Linus made a dash for the toy chest, already disputing their claims over its contents in hushed voices. Nicol lingered close, his attention on Mordred. ?They slowly approached his little siblings. Waiting for their reaction. Julia, hugging a cloth doll to her chest, examined the intruder in turn. To Nicol's dismay, she came to the wrong conclusion. With a smile, she extended the toy to Mordred, who gladly accepted it. It made Nicol seethe. First, they came in parading //their// family's symbol. Now, they wanted to take their toys! He would not stand for this, and wished Julia wouldn't either. After their introduction in the hall, after that talk in the parlor, how could she still do this? He blamed it on her age and her ingenuous nature - and rushed in to rectify the situation. He snatched the doll from ?their hands, leveling ?them with a mean glare. "Don't let ?their filthy hands on our toys." Mordred looked stricken. <div class="choice">[["Give me back the toy!" Mordred demanded.|Toy][$chapt2toy to 1, $impulsive to $impulsive+2, $intimidation to $intimidation+1]]</div> <div class="choice">[["I just want to play," Mordred said.|Toy][$chapt2toy to 2, $calm to $calm+2, $impulsive to $impulsive-2]]</div> <div class="choice">[["Whatever! You are thieves! Mother says you have no place here!" Mordred shouted.|Toy][$chapt2toy to 3, $calm to $calm-2, $impulsive to $impulsive+2]]</div>

<<if $chapt2toy == 1>> Mordred stomped ?their foot and frowned. "Give me back the toy!" Oh, ?they thought ?they could make demands? In Nicol's castle? "No," he bit back. "You have no right to play with us. Leave my siblings alone. They shouldn't play with the likes of you." <<elseif $chapt2toy == 2>> Mordred's face scrunched up. "I just want to play," ?they protested. Nicol curled his lip in disgust. "We don't play with the likes of you." Julia tugged at his sleeve and he turned to her, frown smoothing. She looked concerned; of course, she shouldn't be made to play nice with Mordred. "Nicol," she whispered, "please. Let ?them play with us." His frown returned in full force. "No. Haven't you heard what father said?" It only rendered Julia more confused. "But what did ?they do?" "What did ?they do?" Nicol repeated, incredulous. "?They're a bastard with a mother who has the audacity to come in here as if she owns the place." <<elseif $chapt2toy == 3>> "Whatever! You are thieves!" Mordred shouted and crossed ?their arms. "Mother says you have no place here!" Nicol bit back: "You are the one who has no place here!" <</if>> He threw the toy away. His blood drummed in his ears, a furious melody. Julia and Linus had no idea, but he knew. He stayed enough around the adults to hear the full, sordid story of Mordred and Morgana and their ventures. "You are just a knight's bastard! Your mother had to flee from shame! You're nothing but a pretender at Lot's mercy!" <div class="choice">[["Shut up!" Mordred screamed and in a burst of fury, fire erupted out of their hand.|Tintal5][$chapt2lot to 1, $fire to "yes", $fire_reason to "anger"]]</div> <div class="choice">[["Shut up!" Mordred cried and in a burst of anguish, fire erupted out of their hand.|Tintal5][$chapt2lot to 2, $fire to "yes", $fire_reason to "anguish"]]</div> <div class="choice">[["Shut up!" Mordred screamed and punched him.|Tintal5][$chapt2lot to 3]]</div> <div class="choice">[["Shut up!" Mordred started wailing.|Tintal5][$chapt2lot to 4]]</div> <div class="choice">[["Shut up!" Mordred started crying.|Tintal5][$chapt2lot to 5, $crybaby to $crybaby+1]]</div>

<<if $chapt2lot == 1>> "Shut up!" Mordred screamed - voice ringing in the nursery - and reached out, palm open. Fiery red filled Nicol's vision, then engulfed him. His whole world turned into pain. A million teeth sank into the side of his face - biting, searing, scorching. He stumbled back, screaming. His face burned. His mind fogged, all senses lost to the flames that ate at his skin. He was on the floor, twisting, writhing, pawing at his cheek, trying to put out the fire. A second, desperate set of hands joined in. The fire stopped, but the pain went on. Nicol was numbed to his surroundings, unable to focus on anything else but the heat on his cheek, the pulsing and throbbing keeping a rhythm of agony. He was vaguely aware of Nanny shifting by his side, then rushing off. "Master, master! Someone fetch a healer!" Her shrill voice carried a desperation he'd never heard before. Nicol stared at the ceiling. The corners of his vision blackened. He was losing grip on his senses, pushed underneath the tide by invisible hands. He considered letting go, submerging, if only to find relief, but the ensuing chaos kept him bobbing to the surface. He could hardly track the flurry around him. People came, people yelled; he blinked to find himself carried off on a stretcher, the healer's concerned face peering down at him. Then he was on a bed in the infirmary and a bottle was put to his lips. He drank heavily - the liquid tasted tart. As the pain was fading, various balms were applied to his face. Hands hovered just over his cheek and lips whispered unintelligible words. He was slipping away again but this time it felt less brutal, as if struck behind the head, and more peaceful like laying in bed. Someone stroked his hair and urged him to sleep, it would be alright, he would be alright. [[So Nicol slept.|NicolRecovery]] <<elseif $chapt2lot == 2>> "Shut up!" Mordred cried out - voice ringing in the nursery - and reached out, palm open. Fiery red filled Nicol's vision, then engulfed him. His whole world turned into pain. A million teeth sank into the side of his face - biting, searing, scorching. He stumbled back, screaming. His face burned. His mind fogged, all senses lost to the flames that ate at his skin. He was on the floor, twisting, writhing, pawing at his cheek, trying to put out the fire. A second, desperate set of hands joined in. The fire stopped, butthe pain went on. Nicol was numbed to his surroundings, unable to focus on anything else but the heat on his cheek, the pulsing and throbbing keeping a rhythm of agony. He was vaguely aware of Nanny shifting by his side, then rushing off. "Master, master! Someone fetch a healer!" Her shrill voice carried a desperation he'd never heard before. Nicol stared at the ceiling. The corners of his vision blackened. He was losing grip on his senses, pushed underneath the tide by invisible hands. He considered letting go, submerging, if only to find relief, but the ensuing chaos kept him bobbing to the surface. He could hardly track the flurry around him. People came, people yelled; he blinked to find himself carried off on a stretcher, the healer's concerned face peering down at him. Then he was on a bed in the infirmary and a bottle was put to his lips. He drank heavily - the liquid tasted tart. As the pain was fading, various balms were applied to his face. Hands hovered just over his cheek and lips whispered unintelligible words. He was slipping away again but this time it felt less brutal, as if struck behind the head, and more peaceful like laying in bed. Someone stroked his hair and urged him to sleep, it would be alright, he would be alright. [[So Nicol slept.|NicolRecovery]] <<elseif $chapt2lot == 3>> "Shut up!" Mordred yelled. ?Their fist came flying at his face. Nicol stumbled back with a yelp. Pain exploded across his cheek - the impact rattled his teeth and sprung tears in his eyes. That was it. Such disrespect could no longer be tolerated. To attack him like this - in his own home - it was unacceptable. Anger and embarrassment seared through Nicol as he rushed to the door and screamed at the top of his lungs: "Father! Father! I want ?them to leave!" The rest happened in a flurry. Nanny roused and the other adults poured in, as confused as her. Nicol and Mordred talked over each other in a competition of explaining quicker, louder. It didn't matter what the bastard said - it was Nicol his parents believed. Yet Lady Morgana listened to her own child's words and acted the offended one. Soon, it was the adults who were screaming at each other. Morgana hurled insults at his father and stormed out with Mordred. Father went hot on their heels, his aggrieved voice ringing down the hall. Mother stayed with the children in the nursery and looked over Nicol, sending for a healer to treat the bruise that reddened his cheek and throbbed dully. It wasn't until later that Nicol found out what had gone down in the hall - Morgana's little display of magic meant to frighten his father. The Court agreed she had indeed come to stir trouble. For weeks, wary speculations of her future endeavors on the Continet gripped the castle. It solidified Nicol's hatred of them. He decided he'd keep a careful eye on them whenever their paths crossed again. [[The End|End]] <<elseif $chapt2lot == 4>> "Shut up!" Mordred wailed, voice shrill and thin and grating on Nicol's ears. Before he could do anything else, Nanny roused; raising in a rush of skirts to strike the back of her palm across Mordred's face. It shut ?them up immediately. "Insolent child!" Nanny cried as Mordred craddled ?their reddening cheek. ?Their lips quivered, eyes filling with tears. The spell of quiet broke; ?they bawled again, ?their keening louder this time. It quickly drew the adults into the nursery, who arrived concerned and confused. Once Lady Morgana surveyed the scene, she rushed to console Mordred and throw accusations at Nicol. It unraveled into chaos. Nicol and Mordred talked over each other in a competition of explaining quicker, louder. It didn't matter what the bastard said - it was Nicol his parents believed. Yet Lady Morgana listened to her own child's words and acted the offended one. Soon, it was the adults who were screaming at each other. Morgana hurled insults at his father and stormed out with Mordred. Father went hot on their heels, his aggrieved voice ringing down the hall. Mother stayed with the children in the nursery to calm them down. It wasn't until later that Nicol found out what had gone down in the hall - Morgana's little display of magic meant to frighten his father. The Court agreed she had indeed come to stir trouble. For weeks, wary speculations of her future endeavors on the Continet gripped the castle. It solidified Nicol's hatred of them. He decided he'd keep a careful eye on them whenever their paths crossed again. [[The End|End]] <<elseif $chapt2lot == 5>> "Shut up!" Mordred screamed, voice thin, and burst into tears. Before he could do anything else, Nanny roused. She glared at ?them, a cutting, hard stare, and commanded: "Shut up, insolent child!" It didn't stop ?them. The adults were called, arriving confused and concerned. Once Lady Morgana surveyed the scene, she rushed to console Mordred and throw accusations at Nicol. It unraveled into chaos. Nicol and Mordred talked over each other, in a competition of explaining quicker, louder. It didn't matter what the bastard said - it was Nicol his parents believed. Yet Lady Morgana listened to her own child's words and acted the offended one. Soon, it was the adults who were screaming at each other. Morgana hurled insults at his father and stormed out with Mordred. Father went hot on their heels, his aggrieved voice ringing down the hall. Mother stayed with the children in the nursery to calmed them down. It wasn't until later that Nicol found out what had gone down in the hall - Morgana's little display of magic meant to frighten his father. The Court agreed she had indeed come to stir trouble. For weeks, wary speculations of her future endeavors on the Continet gripped the castle. It solidified Nicol's hatred of them. He decided he'd keep a careful eye on them whenever their paths crossed again. [[The End|End]] <</if>>

It took weeks for the burns to heal. The adults talked mostly among themselves - the healers speaking to his parents, alternating between sober expressions and strained, reassuring smiles. //You're healing well,// they said to him, always tending to his face with balms and prayers to the Goddess, always giving him potions to numb the pain. They'd made him wear a bandage over the affected side of the face, so for a while he couldn't even see what the bastard had done to him. But he'd seen the frowns of the healers when they unraveled them, caught the concerned looks they exchanged between them. "It's different than usual fire," one said when father demanded an explanation for their worried pantomimes. "Magic...well, it makes it harder to treat, even when we're doing so with magic too. Hence the prolonged healing process. And they'll be scars." When he was finally before a mirror, bandage removed, wounds recovering, Nicol saw them. Marks branded into his face to remember his pain by. To remember the bastard by. [[The End|End]]

Hope you enjoyed it!

How did Mordred feel about leaving Avalon? <div class="choice">[[They were crying, sad to leave.|Ship][$leave_avalon to "sad", $crybaby to $crybaby+1]]</div> <div class="choice">[[They were smiling, excited to go to the Continent.|Ship][$leave_avalon to "excited"]]</div> <div class="choice">[[They were nervous, excited about the Continent but wary of leaving their home.|Ship][$leave_avalon to "nervous"]]</div> <div class="choice">[[They were holding back tears, sad to leave.|Ship][$leave_avalon to "sadnotcry", $crybaby to $crybaby+1]]</div>