Introduction...?

[illgotten]

Something has changed

Comments

[dutifuldaughter]

"What the hell does it look like?" Clar says, dropping down from the cherry tree she's been harvesting blossoms from.

She glares at him thoughtfully. "It's not like it's changed."

[illgotten]

Mordred turns sharply, one hand moving in an abortive gesture; whatever he expected to see, it wasn't Clarissant. "What are you--"

[dutifuldaughter]

"What am I what?" she says, her voice a mocking sing song.

She looks closer at him, her head tilted to one side. "What have you been into? You've got shadows on you."

[illgotten]

"No doubt," with something closer to his usual mockery.

[fingersofleaf]

And just when Percy got used to nice!Mordred, and was so happy to have met him. Well, this is a bit of a blow. But he doesn't know what's wrong, just at the moment; all he can tell is that something's not the way it should be. So he does what seems best, and beams a friendly, sweet Percy smile at Mordred.

"Hullo. Are you all right?"

[illgotten]

A level, dark stare. "Peredur."

[fingersofleaf]

"Percy. You know I like Percy better," all friendly reproach. "What's wrong?"

[illgotten]

"I might better ask you," shortly.

[sweariwontdie]

*stares* Prince Mordred? *yes, retreats into formality when he's nervous*

[illgotten]

He laughs briefly, not as though he's amused. "You do me too much honor, sir."

[sweariwontdie]

*another puzzled blink* Too much honor? You're more of a prince than I am.

[illgotten]

Oh, if looks could mangle. "That may be," coolly, "but even so, you mistake me. I have no such claim."

[gaherisoforkney]

He notices, of course, this change in his brother's manner-- how could one not? "What's going on?" he asks casually, trying hard to keep his tone off-hand, for he knows from childhood experiences that no one is ever flattered by the statement 'you looked pissed off.'

[illgotten]

His face changes. It might be fear, or simple bewilderment. After a moment he remembers to breathe. "Is that it, then?"

[gaherisoforkney]

Now he frowns. This is odd. "Is what it?"

[illgotten]

"This-- place, this--" He starts to reach out a hand, then stops. "Are you--"

[rightismight]

*one would expect Arthur to be perceptive enough to notice the change and to be concerned by the change, but while he does, he's not; he's become used to their awkward-but-not-unpleasant relationship, to the boy who he may someday be able to think of as 'nephew' and nothing more, and nothing less--*

Are you not well, nephew?

[illgotten]

Mordred stiffens. "My lord High King," precise and cold. "I am as well as may be."

[rightismight]

You do me too much formality, dear Mordred.

[illgotten]

"Do I?"