#mordred
im not saying that the interpretation of mordred as an edgy scheming bad boy or whatever is erroneous– or at least any more so than any other character extrapolation upon medieval literature. im just saying that its not necessarily the most interesting or sympathetic interpretation, in my opinion. i think mordreds takeover of camelot as a tragic comedy of errors esque farce, wherein he ends up through thoughtless poor judgement and bad luck to be in too deep, and having lost too much, to back down
Galahad smiled and pulled the door open, bowing chivalrously to Mordred and Guinevere. “My queen, sir knight, after you.”
“You can call him ‘my prince,’ you know,” Guinevere teased. “More romantic that way.”
“Mordred doesn’t like that, since he couldn’t inherit from his step-father,” Galahad corrected. Guinevere gave the now fidgeting prince a look.
“You didn’t tell him?”
Mordred rubbed the back of his neck. “Not yet.”
Galahad blinked and looked between the two of them. “Tell me what?”
Guinevere inclined her head, prompting Mordred to sigh. “Okay, and I want the record to show that this is a really bad time to tell you, but my biological father was, and kind of is, I guess, King Arthur. He’s accepted me as his son now, so it’s sort of official.” Galahad opened his mouth but Mordred interrupted. “And just… don’t think about it too much. It gets ickier the longer you do.”
With a knowing gaze, Galahad softly smiled and shook his head. “Mordred, I already knew. I just wasn’t sure if anyone else did.”
His mouth fell open. “You… what? How—”
“We covered Arthurian legends in freshman year at my old school. Some were horribly inaccurate, but most all agreed that you were Arthur’s son,” Galahad explained. “I just needed you to confirm it.”
For a few seconds, Mordred couldn’t speak. “You know, I kind of forgot those existed for a bit there,” he finally said.