twenty-five. The call came and, within a few firm inquiries, Morgause's heart nearly stopped from the gravity of the situation. She had just spoken to Gawain about this day but she perhaps she should have just gone to her littlest instead, not left anything to chance.
As even as sadness swelled up, rage wasn't far behind at Merlin - at Arthur for allowing that foolish and cruel plan to go ahead. If it hadn't, the boy might not have done himself harm now. No matter what her pain was over having to place her youngest in that boat, his would be that his own father had nearly killed him. Even if Arthur hadn't known, that was the truth.
And when it came to her children (excluding one), Morgause was unforgiving to those who wished to hurt them and extremely blind with affection for them. It wasn't right, it injured her common sense but it hadn't changed. Wouldn't change. Her sons were her pride and joy and Mordred was special, always would be special.
Nothing would stop her from reaching New York Presbyterian. And she would fight to stay for as long as possible.