Are you sure this is where you want to be {Cazaril}

[Mordred Le Fey]

Mordred had arranged for the portal to deposit him about 5 miles outside of Camelot, at a tavern he knew well from his various illegal rides outside of the castle walls during his breaks from school.  He had arrived long before his arranged meeting time, having needed to escape the claustrophobia of Trenale, where everyone knew what had happened, and he hadn't felt able to leave his house in the last week.

As he took a seat at a table in a dark corner, Mordred felt his hands shaking and clenched his fists, trying to control them.  He knew it wasn't nerves, although willingly arranging to meet his father like this was something very new and alien to him, he knew that it was withdrawal that was causing the shaking.  He hadn't had any pills since Aiden had saved him.  He was scared of what he might do.  Of course, that hadn't stopped him drinking; he needed the numbness that the alcohol gave him.

He knew his father would probably be shocked at his appearance - instead of his normal immaculate presentation he looked ill - his face was thin and gaunt, with dark circles under his eyes.  His hair was lank and greasy, unstyled and hanging limply.  He wore dark jeans and a black shirt, but even this attempt at his usual dress looked half hearted and unkempt.

He ordered a tankard of ale, drinking deeply when it arrived.  Dutch courage, he told himself.  What was he doing here?

[Cazaril]

Cazaril was obviously worried about Mordred. The arrangement to meet in the dark tavern outside Camelot did not surprise him, but it wasn't exactly the safest place for one of the court children to reside. Still, Caz had told the rest of the court that he had arranged a meeting with an old friend there before disappearing off by horseback to meet his son.

And if anyone knew Caz at all, Horses and Caz were not something he did very unwillingly. They didn't get on. But, anything for Mordred.

On arrival, his horse tied outside, Cazaril started to search for the boy's familiar face. He says boy, but knows that Mordred has not been a boy for many years, but as a father who had watched him grow too quickly, he was still a youth in his eyes, and still had much to learn.

And it was for this reason he wasn't so angry as worried about him. It's not like Arthur had been a perfect man, (or still was perfect himself) at Mordred's age.

Still, to be sure he wasn't easily recognised as a member of court, he too had gone for dark plain clothes, and spotted with his son almost hidden by a large tank of ale. It was going to be that kind of meeting then? After a few moments at the bar, Cazaril got to the table with two more tankards of ale, initially ignoring greeting to sit down instead.

"Hello Mordred," he said, quietly, quickly taking in his son's meager appearance and trying not to wince at his how bad his son looked, and opted not to mention it, because that would make it worse. "Another drink?"

[Mordred Le Fey]

Looking up as his father took a seat across the table from him, Mordred almost crumbled. The intensity of the last few weeks, the emotional rollercoaster he'd been on, was threatening to overwhelm him all at once, and Mordred was barely holding it together. But he took a deep, steadying breath as his father greeted him, and gave a small smile as Caz offered him another drink. "We're lining them up today then?" He muttered quietly, an attempt at humour that he felt fall flat.

As he looked at his father, greying, bearded, with those deep eyes that had always looked at Mordred with nothing but love and kindness even when Mordred was railing at him as a teenager, saying unforgivable things, telling him he hated him and he'd never understood him, Mordred couldn't help but wonder why he had been so willing to come when Mordred asked for help. He hadn't even expected a response to his letter - his mother had given up on him a long time ago, and he couldn't understand why his father hadn't done the same. Once Leela had arrived, sickly and weak, his parents had barely had time for him, and the more he acted out the further he drifted from them both, until his mother gave up and left him to his own self-destruction. Yet here was his father, who had come here on horseback no less, giving him time and support and love he knew he didn't deserve.

He drained his first tankard, before reaching out and pulling the second towards him. "Thanks for coming, Dad." He said quietly, eyes downcast as he picked at a hole in the table, probably inflicted by an angry dagger during a disagreement. This was the kind of place for that.

[Cazaril]

"You're welcome."

Cazaril drank some of his ale, wiping his beard before carefully, and kindly might I add, he expected the man across from him, now on his second ale. 

"You can have as many as you like, though if you're going to be sick, preferably not on my boots, I just bought these."

He quipped a smile back at the man. To even get a thank you, was not like him. Cazaril wasn't sure what he preferred in this instance, a son that ignored him and was indeed happy to rage against him to this, this sullen boy. 

"Thank you for asking for me, I --- I'm glad to be here for you if that's what you want."

Another drink of his ale. Perhaps change the subject, give something else for Mordred to think about. 

"How's Leela? We haven't had a letter, we're hoping no news is good news..."

[Mordred Le Fey]

Mordred didn't reply to start with, avoiding his father's gaze as he drank silently. He had so much he needed to offload, so much to get off his chest, but how could he tell his father any of the things he'd done since he returned to school?

"She's fine. She loves school, she seems really happy.  Probably too busy to write."  Not that I've seen her recently, I can't face her. Mordred couldn't bring himself to add the last part.

He knew his parents knew his reputation, knew what kind of person he was and the things he got up to at school. He got up to most of them at home too, after all. But normally his antics didn't involve bedding and rejecting the king's daughter, or mortally wounding the queen's.

Or trying to end it all.

He took another long drink, before placing his tankard on the table, taking a deep breath, and looking his father in the eye. It was now or never, and he couldn't keep it all to himself anymore.

"Dad, I slept with Meredith then treated her like dirt. I stabbed Lorelei. And I took an overdose."

He braced himself for his father's response.

[Cazaril]

Caz sat very, very still, luckily, he hadn't been drinking anything. He stayed calm. He stayed perfectly calm as his son explained what happened. Everything that lead to that last admittance, gosh how hard it must have been to admit that to him. A man known as father that he barely spoke to anymore.

Cazaril pushed his drink aside. He wanted to squeeze his son's shoulder, instead he told himself to not overreact to be calm, and to take all the problems apart piece by piece.

"You've had....quite an eventful few days, haven't you? It's okay. Lets talk about this. I'm sure that despite you telling me the truth, there is more to those statements than what you're telling me..."

He took a breath, closed his eyes and tries to give Mordred his most appealing look of understanding.

"Not to sound preachy adult, I swear I'm not trying to, but I don't think you treated Meredith like dirt and stabbed Lorelei because you felt like it. There would have to be more to it than that."

Still, there was more to say. More to admit. He'd never talked about his years in slavery with Mordred or Leela before...

"When I was...well, I was in my thirties, when I was made galley slave. There were times, times I wanted to take my own life...and when I released from that slavery, I was so sick, that my nervous breakdown meant I spent months in bed. I....I cannot say that I understand, but that I have an understanding, Mordred, of how you must have felt to take that choice." 

[Mordred Le Fey]

Mordred had dropped his head as soon as he finished speaking, looking away from his father and staring at the floor as he waited for the response he expected, the shock, the lamenting, the scolding. But it didn't come.

He raised his head sharply and stared at Caz, his mouth falling open slightly, shock in his eyes. His father had never told him that - Mordred had had no idea what his father had gone through. He didn't know what to say, how to process that information - but at the same time he could feel a wave of relief running through his body at the realisation he wasn't alone, that he wasn't the only person to have felt this way. That there was someone out there who understood how it felt to feel that things had gone too far, that there was no way out.

"Dad... I..." Mordred didn't know what to say. He wanted to ask questions, to find out more, but he was too deep into his own darkness to take on his father's as well. But he felt, at that moment, a closeness to his father he had never felt before. "I'm sorry, Dad."

He was right though, Mordred knew. There was so much more to the things he had done, but to express them now was to admit them, and to admit them was to realise the sheer stupidity that had led him to this point, sitting in a dark tavern with his father, still wishing he hadn't drunk the salted water Aiden had passed him.

[Cazaril]

He was so quiet, waiting nervously for his response. He didn't know how his son would react. He didn't know if he had said the right thing, if that was too much for his son to handle just yet. But, he always found honesty was the best policy in this situation. He relaxed a little.

"You don't have to say anything, you don't have to speak. We don't have to pretend we understand each other, if you don't want too..."

Cazaril was trying so hard, to keep his distance, to make sure the wounded panther that was his son could see he meant no further harm. He took up his drink again, giving his son he kindest and warmest smile he could muster with a silver beard framing it these days.

"You really have nothing to apologise for, never to me anyway, my boy, now I should probably get a move on with this ale, or I'll never catch up with you." With that, he downed his pint with a satisfied gasp.

Then he stood, heaving himself out of his seat, still slightly sore from the ride.

"Another drink for you, too?"

[Mordred Le Fey]

He let his father drink in silence, still trying to take everything in, and contain his emotions. He might be depressed, he might be having a breakdown and his life might be in utter tatters around him, but he was still Mordred Le Fey, and Mordred Le Fey had control.

Except when he didn't. But Mordred had learnt in the last few days, that losing control was not something he could afford to do anymore. Not when it hurt the people he cared about. Not when it hurt Meredith.

He nodded at his father's offer of another drink, and waited for him to return to the table before speaking again.

"You've barely said anything about what I did to Meredith." He questioned quietly, back to digging at the hole in the table with his finger. "Or Lorelei. I almost killed her - I could have killed her, but you haven't said anything." He looked up at his dad, a sudden fear striking him. "Does the queen know? Am I banished?"

He couldn't bear it - to be separated from Meredith forever like that. At least now he had a chance to be close to her, even if she wouldn't speak to him. He knew she was nearby. But if he was banished, he might as well have died.

[Cazaril]

Cazaril was careful, as always, tenderly allowing Mordred to ask him questions about he felt was better than him pinning blame. This was an easier line of questioning.

"Mordred, to think in what ifs isn't going to make you feel any better, as...as far as my understanding goes, Lorelei wasn't killed, she's healing, or I would have heard about it in the court. I am not aware that the court have heard anything, but it is a family matter, and Arthur and Gwen can be private when it comes to their children, and they may not want to talk to me about it, as I am your father."

Cazaril did straighten up then with some pride. "But if they did have any plans in banishing you, I would like to think, I'd have been informed first."

He gives the young man a smile, trying to coax some confidence. "Sometimes, no news is good news. Better news than bad."

He took a swallow of his ale and put the tankard down with a considered thoughtful look. "As for Meredith, I don't think it was a good thing to do, but as I mentioned before, in my letter, an apology might be in order? If you still want to be friends with her?" He paused, considering his next sentence. "Do you like her?"

[Mordred Le Fey]

Mordred nodded, feeling a sense of relief that word didn't appear to have reached Camelot yet. At least he wasn't going to have Gwen's wrath to deal with any time soon. Lorelei's father he could handle, easy, but Gwen was another matter entirely.

And if Arthur and Merlin ever found out what he'd done to Meredith... that didn't bear thinking about.

He tried to smile at his father's assurances, but it was weak and faded quickly. He sighed, staring unseeing into his ale. "Meredith healed Lorelei as much as she could, then she was taken to hospital. All I know is she's healing, no one will talk to me about it. Pretty sure I broke her wrist, I felt it snap." He rubbed his head, sitting back and looking at his dad, his face contorted with pain and confusion. "I just lost control, Dad. She's a kid, a stupid kid who thought she could handle a sword - but I was trained as a knight of Camelot, I should never have agreed to fight her, I should never have let it get so far. But I was just so angry." He leaned forward and rested his head in his hands. "What's wrong with me?"

And then he asked the ultimate question. Did he like Meredith? Where did Mordred even begin to answer that question. He drank slowly from his tankard, pondering how to answer the question, silence dragging out the time between them.

Well, he'd come this far.

"Dad. I'm completely in love with her."

[Cazaril]

Caz watched his son carefully, even though he was obviously trying very hard to make sure that his son was able to answer his own questions, what was the point berating someone who was already berating himself? He knew what he'd done wrong.

"Oh son, we all make mistakes, we do. Lorelei is....from memory a decisive young girl. I don't think she'd have let you live it down if you'd turned away. Pride is....something we all have to deal with Mordred, you're allowed to be human. No one is perfect."

It was the last comment, the statement that hang in the air, it was like the whole pub had faded away when Mordred explained he was in love with Meredith but it was soon back to normal. The pub seemed to return to it's hustle and bustle rather easily.

"Love isn't....a bad thing, son? Troublesome and painful, but not bad..." Cazaril said lightly. "It --- well it sort of sucks sometimes to use Tintagel terminology, but it can be good, if you allow yourself to admit it to yourself."

Another pause. "And Meredith? Do you think --- perhaps before what you did --- felt anything of the sort about you?"

[Mordred Le Fey]

"But what if I lose control like that again? I was lucky Meredith was close enough to come and heal Lorelei, but what if I'm not that lucky next time? What if there's something wrong with me, something missing in my head that stops me doing these things? What if it's not just pride? What if there's something inside of me that is just inherently bad?"

It didn't matter what his father said, Mordred knew this was true. No one who was good could behave the way he did. Heroes didn't do the things that Mordred did, didn't treat people the way he did. No, Mordred knew the books were right - he was the bad guy, he was the villain. Maybe this was the start of his descent. Maybe he should just embrace it, accept there was no good in him. Maybe he'd be happier then.

"I don't think she'd have done what we did if she didn't." Mordred said quietly. "She's not that kind of girl, not like the girls I usually take home. But I called her a whore, I kicked her out in the middle of the night - if she felt anything before it's turned to sheer hatred now."

He was destined to be alone. Perhaps that was something else he should just embrace. And if he couldn't, he had another bottle of pills hidden from Aiden under his mattress.

[Cazaril]

Caz wouldn't be able to just change his son's mind with words, who had obviously deemed himself to be bad --- Cazaril wished Mordred had been able to have this chat with him a few years ago, when he was a bit younger, but now he was a man, now he had let himself truly think these things. Still, he could not see his son as a bad person. Only a conflicted one.

"We aren't all born good or bad, Mordred. We all have our own demons to face, perhaps yours are just a bit more obvious than most...and if I wouldn't worry about Meredith my boy. Sheer hatred isn't a total dismissal...Someone said this to me once and I think it's important to note: “Hatred is too strong an emotion to waste on someone that you don’t like.” Besides, just try to be in her good books, she can't hate you forever if she doesn't have a reason to hate you after this."

He drank the rest of his tankard, considering. "As for how you feel about yourself...all I know, is that your mother felt as you did, when she was younger, and she found her feet. She found me, she found some sort of peace."

[Mordred Le Fey]

He wanted to believe his father, he really did. But it just sounded so cliched, so impossible, he didn't see how it could be the case, especially for him.

"But what do I do? How do I get into the good books of a girl who hates me, who has every reason to hate me, whose whole family and friends hate me?"

He listened with disbelief as his father described his mother, and their relationship. If that was the case, if she had found peace, why had she rejected Mordred? Why had been so absent all through his childhood? Why hadn't she been a real mother to him, like Gwen was to all her children? Mordred resented the idea that he was anything like his mother, that she had ever been like him. If that was the case, why wasn't she here now? Why hadn't Mordred felt able to turn to her?

If Mordred hadn't seen what Morgana was like with Cazaril, and Leela, he wouldn't have believed her capable of love. So maybe he wasn't so unlike her after all. The thought made a swell of anger, confusion and pain in his chest.

"I guess I arrived before she found that peace then." He muttered, his voice laced with bitterness. He picked up his tankard and drank deeply, wanting once again to smother the pain as he had a few days ago.