Fall

Word traveled quickly of my coup. Arthur's supporters brilliantly made themselves known, voicing their opposition to my control. Of the Knights of the Round, only Sir Agravain supported me in my rule. I ordered the rest to be jailed, under direct surveillance by the army. Other courtesans and lords in the court who opposed my rule I sent into exile, and their armies I collated into the Royal Army. I knew my consolidation of power had to be swift and firm, as Arthur and his force would return in a mere month.

The next stage commenced by demonizing Arthur to the people, and more importantly, demonizing the force he brought with him. No soldier would willingly fight against his own brother on the other side without such propaganda. I ordered heralds to cry the tales of the Great Drowning, the Dolorous Stroke which turned Britain to waste, and Arthur's inability to even keep his own queen loyal. The populace not just supported me, but strengthened me - enrollment in the army nearly doubled overnight. Just as they were receiving their final training, word arrived that the expeditionary force was set to land at a bay near Camlann - a hill so cursed that even Merlin refused to approach it.

I ordered every soldier within a week's travel from the landing point to muster immediately, and soon over 40,000 men filled the ranks atop the hill just as the sails of ships emerged on the horizon in early dawn. I stood at the front of the ranks with the Crowning Blade Caliburn in hand as Arthur disembarked with his meager forces, wielding the legendary Excalibur. I ordered my forces to halt as the opposing force stepped onto land, knowing we outnumbered them eight to one - and to attack a defenseless force now would besmirch even the kindest ruler. Arthur approached me on the hill, escorted by a pair of his knights, Sir Galahad and Sir Bedivere, and I marched forward with Sir Agravain and a young squire in tow. Negotiations began as we met face to face, perhaps for the last time.

"Sir Mordred-"

"King Mordred," I quipped.

"I shall grant no usurper such a privilege. Mordred, surrender Caliburn and my kingdom to me at once, and I will forgive your crimes against the peace and crown."

"I shall grant no invader such a privilege. You have failed, Arthur - perhaps I should say Father. My army far outnumbers your meager failure of an expedition, and your best knights are chained to stones beneath Camelot. You have failed as a father, as a husband, and as a king." As I finished, his face began to pale. The sound of a sword drawn interrupted the intensity, and soon each of our retainers were locked in combat. One word sent the armies toward one another.

Despite the tremendous clashing of armies, a circle formed around the deposed and myself as we entered into single combat. We exchanged blows and slashes, but our abilities were equally matched. After what felt like hours, I finally managed to catch his blade's hilt with mine, disarming him with one stroke. He drew the long spear from his back, and launched a surprise attack more swift than I had ever seen. With one strike, the spear pierced my chest cleanly, the sound of tearing flesh filling my ears, and the battle fell silent around us. Arthur stood bloodied and panting in exhaustion, his strength quickly diminishing at the end of the fight.

With my last breath, I gripped the spear with my free hand and pulled myself toward Arthur, as the searing pain in my body turned numb. I embraced him, and thrust Caliburn through his back and into my heart, and the visible life in my body departed.

Arthur fell to his knees, and Sir Bedivere ran to him, and the deposed king ordered him to return Excalibur to the lake. Thrice he was ordered, and twice he returned, unwilling to separate the king from his magical blade. On the third try, he finally returned the blade to the lake. I witnessed his third return empty handed like a fly on the wall, Arthur smiling as his blood flow slowed. He bade Sir Bedivere go to the Garden at the World's End, Avalon, and await him there. One can never know how long he'll be waiting, or where Arthur left to from Camlann.

Sir Bedivere awaits King Arthur in paradise.

I'll await him in Hell.