never tear us apart [CLOSED/COMPLETE] Characters: Iseult (iseultthefair), Mordred (traitorously) & Deiphobus (deiphobos) Date/Time: Directly after this Location: Ilium Rating: R Warnings: Character death Summary: Iseult goes to find her husband. Her husband goes to find his fate.
Iseult couldn't be any more conflicted if she tried. Having ascertained that her brother was alive, if troubled, she made her way home, accompanied by guards, uncertain how comfortable she was (or how safe) being in the house she shared with a husband who was, apparently, part of an increasingly bloody revolution.
Because she would likely never break herself of the habit, she ran barefoot down the street towards her house and, though she could not hear the sound of clashing steel, she knew that she had to get home quickly. There was part of her that desperately wanted to see Mordred and part of her that was terrified at the prospect.
The guards departed and she entered the house alone.
§
Mordred shouldn't be here. Of all the places for him to run to in order to catch his bearings he had to pick the one place that he knew anyone with even a fraction of a brain would think to look. Still, this was his home, and if he was lucky he might be able to catch his wife before the proverbial shit hit the pavement.
His wife. Iseult. Never had he thought that he'd think of anyone, man or woman, with the tenderness he now associated with her, but here he was risking life itself just for a chance to explain himself to her. He hoped that she hadn't heard anything of his actions, and if she had that she didn't believe the worst of him. Raking a shaky hand through his hair, he wondered if she'd hate him. He couldn't blame her if she did.
§
She burst in the door, likely scant seconds after he arrived, and almost ran into him. She didn't recoil at the sight of him but neither did she great him with her customary smile and embrace. Looking at him with wide, grave eyes, she simply asked, "What have you done?"
§
His eyes widened when she entered the room, hands automatically reaching out to steady her but pausing mid-action when he saw her expression. Dropping his arms to his sides he looked down at her, fondness and regret clear in his eyes. "I did what I felt was right, in time I hope you'll understand that."
§
She ran her fingers through her hair and shook her head. "I don't - I don't understand, Mordred." Her voice cracked. "There are people dying and Uriel-"
She held her hand over her mouth and forced herself to blink back her tears and pull herself together. The transformation was impressive, given the stress of the situation. Iseult held herself upright and looked him in the eyes. "I should want you killed for what you've done but - but -" She bowed her head. "I don't. I don't want you hurt-"
§
He watched her with trepidation, waiting for the inevitable outburst. She didn't disappoint. "I don't expect you to, Iseult. People die every day, and I did my best to keep your brother from being one of them."
His tone and expression were filled with his conviction, the genuine belief that he had done what was best giving him a gravity that he hadn't been aware of until now. Mordred could feel himself release a breath he was unaware of holding when she said she didn't want him hurt. Careful not to touch her, he stepped closer. "Iseult, you have to believe me when I say I never wanted this. The Queen needed to be shown that people cannot be treated like they don't matter. No one is insignificant, no matter what class they were born to."
§
Iseult's lower lip trembled. "You hurt him, Mordred. I love him and I love you and you hurt him-"
She stopped suddenly, struck by what she had said and she wanted to reach for him but she wasn't sure she could close that final space because she was suddenly coldly terrified that he would leave her and be killed doing something stupid in the name of his beliefs (with which, if she had ever paused, she might have agreed).
§
Mordred's entire face fell, the guilt over his actions against Uriel plain as day. "I knocked him unconscious, yes, but I got him someplace safe. I had no desire to fight your brother, Iseult, not knowing what he means to you."
He paused, looking up at her sharply. "You... you love me?" he asked, his disbelief obvious. "Of all the times for you to say it, you had to choose now..." he muttered, crossing the distance as he reached for her, placing his hands on either side of her face. Meeting her eyes, he spoke in what might possibly have been the softest tone he had ever used. "Iseult, know this now and take it to your heart. No matter what I have done, or what happens to me, I did it for you. For us. For the future of our children. I would never want them to grow up thinking it's acceptable to look down upon those who are born to different circumstances than them, not when everyone should be the same. I love you, and while I couldn't give you the world I had to try."
With that said, he kissed her with every ounce of his being behind it, aware that it most likely would be the last kiss they'd share.
§
Iseult could do nothing but kiss back. She wanted to do nothing more than kiss back, her arms wrapped around his neck as though by holding him against her, he couldn't leave her. He could apologise to Uriel, they could have a family, they could leave Ilium if that's what it took, but she couldn't quite bear the thought of him walking out the door.
That they wanted to have children was known; they'd had this conversation. She didn't think she was pregnant but she wasn't sure how one knew, she didn't know if one felt different and she was terrified that if she let go of him, she might never know. Even when she ran out of breath to kiss him, she still held fast to him.
§
Mordred would have loved to stay there with her all day, to pretend that the rest of the world outside their door didn't exist, but he knew that couldn't be the way of it. People were dying, all for a cause that he believed in despite knowing the odds were stacked against them. He owed it to Tristan, to Percival, even to Uriel. That people had to be hurt in order to be heard was deplorable.
Sighing quietly, Mordred pulled back enough to catch her eyes before closing his own and resting his forehead against hers. For a few moments he didn't speak, content to just hold her, but in the back of his head he could hear fate beckoning him. "They're going to come for me, love, and when they do I'd rather you not get hurt in the process. I need to go, face this like a man, but before I do promise me this - Promise me that you will live your life to the fullest, that you'll love again, have children, and be well. And if by some miracle you're blessed with a son that has eyes like mine, name him after me."
§
Iseult nodded and her eyes were glistening too brightly. She couldn't quite speak but her hands drifted over Mordred's cheeks, caressing lightly and feasting on the sight before her, for fear that she wouldn't see him again.
Finally, she managed to step back, just a little, resting her hands on his chest. "Try not to die," she managed, her voice tremulous. "I was getting used to have you around. I - I'd like to keep you. And have your children."
§
Mordred smiled tenderly as he allowed his hands to wander down Iseult's body before coming to rest on her hips. She was going to cry, but he appreciated that she was waiting for him to leave to do that since if she started he wouldn't be able to go.
Passionately, leaving no argument as to exactly how he felt about his wife, he kissed her again. "You have my word that if they leave me able to even so much as crawl I will find you, no matter what." A last lingering look was given as he grabbed one of her hands, bringing it to his lips to brush them across her knuckles before seeing himself out.
§
And, of course, of course, who should be leading the nearest patrol but Deiphobus? His sword was already red with blood and he was showing no mercy. The rebels should have been grateful that he was in a ruthlessly efficient move. His aim was to quell the rebellion swiftly and leave few survivors. The leaders would be kept, for interrogation and for punishment, but most of the soldiers were slaughtered without a thought spared for the fates of their families.
§
Dead man walking that he was, Mordred made no secret of where or who he was. His wife was safe, and if anyone - even the bitch-Queen of Ilium - knew what was good for them then he could rest assured that Iseult would be spared. Even he, in all his self-righteous fury, couldn't see the logic in possibly pissing off the diplomat by harassing his sister, which was why the soldier had been wise enough to be gentle with Uriel (even if it didn't seem that way). Hand on the hilt of his sword, he walked down a few streets, far enough away that Iseult (hopefully) wouldn't hear the ensuing melee, and confidently stepped out into the open. 'Here I am, come get me.'
§
It was a quick death, all told. It was Deiphobus' sword that slid under Mordred's ribs. It's doubtful he would have been moved by any pleas, even I faithful Uriel himself had begged for Mordred's life.
He wiped his sword clean and looked down at the body with little emotion. "Put it with the rest."
He briefly contemplated how life had gotten so much more interesting but he didn't think he'd like a revolution every day.
He turned to his men. "Don't just stand there. Some of us have homes to go to."
(And Deiphobus set about his work with a happy song in his heart.)