Betrayal
618 Words
"Why am I not surprised?" I coughed out, still trying to catch my breath. "My loving brother finally decided he wanted to get rid of me, huh? But you couldn't even do it yourself." I sneered, slowly pulling myself back to my feet. Trying to look weak so he'd attack.
Mordred turns to me, his shoulders stiff and his jaw clenched tight. His cold green eyes refused to meet mine, instead focusing on my forehead.
"Arthur," he says. "It's nothing personal. I just think this place needs some new... leadership." A sly smile formed on his face, and the urge to punch it grew within me.
"Oh. And who would that new leader be?" I asked. "Nobody in front of me is worthy of the throne." I sneered.
The smile faded from his face, and anger replaced his humor. "Like you were worthy of it, Brother. Look around you. You couldn't even protect your own people." He shrugs, looking around at the destruction.
Anger builds in me at his words, but I don't show any of it on my face. "You're right, Mordred. But now you won't have anybody to rule over if you can manage to kill me," I said.
Mordred sneers at me, his anger showing clearly.
He might have wanted me dead, but that was it. He didn't plan for Morgana to take things this far. He was a fool. Just like I had been.
"I'm tired of the bickering, boys. Let us get on with it, then." Morgana says, smiling her wicked smile.
Without another word, Mordred ran to me. I stood my ground, not moving an inch, and let him come for me.
He reached me in mere seconds, his fist hitting my jaw and throwing my head to the side. Spitting blood out, I hit him back even harder. He roared in pain, his nose pouring blood down his face.
"Why can't you just accept this, Arthur? I'm going to win; you don't have to make it painful for you." Mordred says.
I scoff. "You hope you'll win, brother, because if you don't, it means you're a dead man." I say, drawing my sword.
Mordred sneers, eyeing my sword with disdain. "Let the best brother win, then."
The clashing of our swords was deafening, sparks flying off the blades as they collided with each other. Mordred wasn't a terrible fighter, in fact he was pretty skilled. No matter how skilled he was though, he wasn't better than me with a sword.
My sword slashed his shirt from the back, leaving a bleeding mark on his back. He roared at the pain, falling to his knees for a moment, then getting up again.
"Mordred, this can end now." I told him, wishing he would walk away.
"Not until I'm King." He sneered back at me, swinging his sword at me again.
I dodged it, shaking my head at him. "If that's what you wish, brother."
A noise came from behind me, and I swung around to see what it was. Morgana stands there, a sword in her hand, swinging it towards me. I dodge it, but Mordreds' sword catches me in the stomach.
I stumble, the burn of the blade making me see stars for a moment. By the time I can focus again, Mordreds sword is aimed at my neck.
"Yeild." He says, his eyes shining Victoriously.
"No." I said, accepting that my time on Camelot was coming to an end.
Mordred sneers, his sword raised again to swing towards my neck.
One moment, I'm kneeling on the ground, watching Mordreds sword as it comes toward my neck, and the next, all I see is black all around me.
Is this death?
- Writer
