My anger ate at me so much I wasn’t able to talk to Guinevere for a full day. She finally found me when I was going through the sword kata I had developed, it was based off her style of combat but altered to be more aggressive and use multiple weapons at a time instead of a single sword.

“Was she the one who…” Guinevere asked not needing to finish the sentence.

“Yes,” I said doing my best not to lash out with my anger at the only available target.

“It still hurts that much?” Guinevere asked me.

Letting me practice sword and club fall I wiped the sweat from my body. “I never learned to deal with the past,” I said.

“Do you think this the time to start?” Guinevere asked.

“I resent the implication that I need to change,” I said picking up my sword again.

“Why?” Guinevere asked.

“I don’t know, would you like it if I just started listing off flaws, I see in you and start telling you to fix them?” I asked.

“What flaws?” Guinevere asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Exactly,” I said. “I imply that I see you as flawed and you don’t like it. I’ve had people trying to “fix” me my entire life and I’m sick of it.”

“You told me yourself that you see yourself as a monster,” Guinevere said.

“And maybe that’s who I’m meant to be,” I said with a dismissive shrug. “Everyone whose tried to repair me has focused on where I am now instead of where I came from. I am what I was made, and I don’t feel the need to conform to other people’s desires.”

“We all have responsibilities to each other,” Guinevere argued.

“We only have responsibilities to those we care about, everyone else is just dead weight,” I responded. “It may have been wrong for me to try and kill my father, but my actions were still justified. I was a child with no way of dealing with the evil I saw before me and acted in the only way I could think of.”

“And after that?” Guinevere asked. “You’ve never let go of your hatred or rage, its eaten away at you your whole life destroying everything around you. Why do you cling onto it so much?”

“Because it is my fortress,” I snarled whirling on her. “When I let my anger take control, I don’t feel anything but that rage, it blocks out the heartbreak, the pain and the voices all around telling me that I am evil.”

“When I’m the monster I’m not evil, a monster isn’t evil it is just something acting in its nature.”

“You aren’t a monster Mordred,” Guinevere told me stepping closer even as my face was twisted with hate. “You told me yourself when you admitted who you really are, you are just a man.”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“So what do you want me to do? Just abandon my anger, let if fall behind me?” I asked. “Your one to talk. I can feel your emotions in the dreamscape too. Your just as angry as me, you may have pushed it down but its still there.”

“At least mine isn’t an out-of-control wildfire,” Guinevere shot back.

“No,” I agreed. “It’s a sleeping volcano, and one day it’s going to erupt. How many people will you hurt when that anger you think you have under control breaks free. I’ve been dealing with my anger for years,” I said stepping closer and poked her in the chest. “You’ve been drugging a wild beast and think you have it tamed.”

Guinevere pushed my hand back. “At least I can go through my life without constantly making myself the victim.”

“The victim?” I asked my voice laden with scorn.

“You blame everyone else for all the problems in your life,” Guinevere said, her voice disgusted. “I’ve seen your memories never once have you taken the high road. At the slightest provocation you beat down anyone who pushes back on you.”

“And you just stand their and take their abuse,” I retorted. “Your father, your teachers your peers. Is there anyone you haven’t let walk all over you? Your marrying your cousin because if you don’t two men who care more about power than their own people will go to war.”

“And what would you do if you were me?” Guinevere asked.

“Fuck’em,” I said. “You have enough strength to stand on your own Guinevere, but you’ve always been to afraid to do so. Be who you are, not who they want you to be.”

“And are you who you want to be?” Guinevere asked, poking me back in the chest. “I’ve seen inside you too; your anger can’t mask all your self-loathing. Is this who you really want to be is it who you really are?”

“Yes,” I said.

“I don’t believe you,” Guinevere said.

“That’s your problem,” I said with a shrug.

“There’s an easy way to prove it,” Guinevere said.

“And what’s that?” I asked.

“Touch the pedestal again,” Guinevere said. “Show me who you really are.”

“Fine,” I said flatly. “You want to see the real me, let’s see show each other who we really are.”

---

Arthur readied himself as he circled Lancelot. The Dragon Tourney was only a few months away and while it was a ceremonial competition he wanted to still be in top form for it. There was also the matter of the next Event in a month and a half. Both he and Lancelot wanted to be ready for it. The details were sparce, but the system had implied that it would be different from what the last two had been like.

“How’s the baby?” Lancelot asked, trying to distract him.

Arthur didn’t falter but a smile did come to his face. “Galahad is fine,” he said. He’d wanted to name his firstborn Arthur but had been forbidden by both his father and uncle. His heir had to come from his wife, so he had settled for another traditional name for his son.

“When are you getting married?” Arthur asked, launching a series of attacks against his friend.

“When I’m good and ready,” Lancelot said countering each of the attacks and trying to hook Arthur’s leg and trip him.

“What about those letters I’ve seen you writing to that one lady?” Arthur asked. “Mira was her name, wasn’t it?”

“It’s just a friendly acquaintance between me and another champion,” Lancelot retorted shoving against Arthur with his shoulder as he pushed him back to make some space. “You should try making them more often.”

“Why would I do that?” Arthur asked stabbing forwards in a feeling then slashing at Lancelot’s left side.

“Because maybe then you wouldn’t keep having your women problems,” Lancelot said. “What would Guinevere think if she could see your bastard now?”

The words were meant to put Arthur off balance, and they worked. Lancelot swept his legs out from under him, and his sword was at his neck.

“I win,” Lancelot said.

“That was a dirty trick,” Arthur said scowling standing up.

Lancelot shrugged. “I need to use them to beat you, what was that? Seven to one in your favor?”

“I’m the champion of duelists,” Arthur said. “Try fighting me with a few other people if you hate losing so much.”

“The disadvantage makes me better,” Lancelot said. “don’t be so sour, it’s not my fault if your words sting, you broke your word to her she’s dead now. You need to move on and live with the consequences you’re not doing your son or anyone else any favors by wallowing in your guilt.”