13 stared at his younger self who continued to smile at 13's obvious confusion, this continued for who knows how long.
Until the eldest among the two spoke for the first time in their impossible meeting.
"Where are we?"
At this question Mordred shook his head.
"The question should be where I am. We are both facets of the same being ripped from the past and the present. We are not two different people, two strangers meeting for the first time. We are looking through the mirror as we see one another."
Mordred spoke in a way that reminded 13 about Igraine, who had a flare for being poetic about even the smallest thing, 13 shook his head.
"So where am I?"
The younger one only laughed at the corrected question.
"I have no idea."
He said in a voice that betrayed the inexperience of the boy.
13 sighed and grabbed his younger self by the hand and dragged him along as they made their way into this dreamlike world.
But as he opened the door to the rumpus room the two were greeted by the sight of Igraine, her back was turned away from them and she seemed to be fawning over something.
And 13 and Mordred ran over to hopefully get some answers until 13 noticed who was in Igraine's arms that made her smile like nothing else.
A baby, her baby, yet another Mordred who even this young had his long curly blond hair and large brown eyes.
The baby was playing with her long scarlet hair giggling and smiling all the while as his mother held him.
Mordred and 13 had tried to gain her attention, but seemingly she was ignorant to their existence.
That is until 13 noticed something about this younger version of his mother and himself, that the two of them kept repeating their previous actions.
Igraine perfectly humming the peaceful lullaby meant only for her child to hear and the babe in her arms trying to keep a hold on the crimson curls of his mother's hair.
It was like reading the same page of a story book, trying to convince oneself that the moment could be perpetually.
The two mindlessly looked at this peaceful yet eerie scene, like a diorama of a moment played out by actors on stage never really meant to be in the background.
They were echos of echos and when the younger of the two visitors seemingly realized the same thing 13 had the eldest ushered him out of the room.
And that's how it continued, the two physically running through their memories which the eldest couldn't recall.
And as they both sped through the impossible halls and rooms that folded in on themselves, they watched as the echo of themselves get older and older.
Until Mordred stopped 13 and spoke enthusiastically.
"I know this day, come on."
As he sped closer to his excited self, he was met with a scene that seemingly did not repeat itself.
…
It was a younger Mordred seemingly eleven years of age dueling with a much more playful Uther.
Father and son dueled while smiling all the way, the clanging of the weapons fill the central courtyard.
The two watchers watched this scene from the sides silently, the bonding experience that only the younger one remembered.
"I had been waiting for as long as I could remember to learn our parent's arts."
It was the younger one who had started the conversation.
The boy's face reflected one that spoke of a love for the past, not something that someone his age should have.
13 had turned his head to well himself, wishing to hear what Mordred had to say.
"They were the most amazing things to me, how dad had seemingly infinite strength and stamina. Or how mom had complete control over fire and the arcane."
"And when it started, it was the training, the studying, the oaths I took along with any progress I made."
Mordred's eyes then started to sadden, and as if connected through unseen forces the Morded in the echoes seemed saddened too.
"Truly, it was the most magical time in our life and I would never change them."
"But?"
13 asked, now more curious.
"I started to realize that they weren't fully mine."
And as Mordred finished the one dueling Uther had become obviously irritated, and just dropped his sword in a show of defeat.
Uther's face fell from the joyful grin he had before turning into confusion.
And when he tried to voice this confusion, the visitors heard nothing from their father but garbled squalls and the ringing of great bells.
Both visitors were surprised by this, but what had gotten them next was what their own self had to say.
"I'm sorry dad, I just don't like swords."
And with those words spoken the world around the visitors disappeared and shifted into something new.
…
They were now somewhere else, 13 looked around trying to figure where and when they were now.
The two were in a surrounding courtyard to a building five times the size of the Collins family home, with decorated trees and marble floors.
This place seemed to be a complex with one big central building with seven smaller buildings that orbited the main one, these themselves having training fields that orbit the smaller buildings.
"This is Octavan academy."
Mordred told his older self while looking around in a nostalgia fueled frenzy.
13 followed his younger self, walking through empty corridors, staffless libraries, and teacherless classes.
As they explored the empty school Mordred told 13 the stories of themselves being here, the friends, the teacher that liked and seemingly disliked them.
It reminded 13 about the stories from their parents, the stories that 13 will never experience.
But before that thought could be completed 13 finally found an echo, at one of the training grounds a massive amount of people watching something taking place in the center.
But something stopped 13 from telling Mordred about this discovery, the people that inhabited the arena were not moving like statues.
13 grabbed Mordred by the shoulders and motioned to him to be quiet.
To which he does not even seem to notice as he notices and runs off to the makeshift arena.
…
As 13 chased Mordred to the only populated area the still scene had erupted to life, with cheering crowds of students and disgruntled sighs of teachers.
The entire scene was one of excitement, and then 13 had heard a very familiar voice.
"Come on over here!"
Mordred yelled over the crowd, them of course being none the wiser to their visitors.
Mordred had taken a seat on the top of one of the walls next to the stadium seating, 13 saw as he motioned for the eldest to sit beside him.
As 13 reunited with his younger self, he scowled at his reflection as he tried to get comfortable.
"I remember this day, it was a duel!"
The younger one said in excitement, 13 could easily see that this duel was really important to Mordred, to himself.
"So what happened? Did we catch our father's hunger for battle?"
Mordred looked shocked at the question and took on an uncharacteristic expression as he answered.
It was cold, not like the sunlit expression 13 had seen so many times when following the boy.
"No no my dour reflection, this was no fool's errand this was about the honor of a friend."
13 raised an eyebrow at the apparent seriousness his younger self had taken when it came to this specific duel.
…
The two young warriors faced each other, one the only child of Sir Uther and the Fire sage Igraine, and the other Myles Voyer oldest son the Captain of the royal guard and having heavy ties with the Oblige faction that had their hands in many branches of Solodarr's government.
The two boys both barely fourteen, had gotten into a dispute that neither of them would back down from.
Had these two boys been any other students, this quarrel could have easily been swept aside by just talking to the parents of the feuding individuals.
But no, this had to be them and it had to be over something complicated.
The young Collins had started getting close with a commoner student by the name of Lenore Allens.
And sadly for the school, Myles had been bullying the girl and she had decided to go Mordred instead of the ineffective school staff.
And when she did, Mordred then hounded Myles at seemingly every second.
And when Myles could get away from the rabid Mordred, Myles would swear he would see a fire in the distance as well as his things being "Mysteriously" burned.
And when he was at the end his rope, and demanded what he had to do for this to stop.
Mordred asked only for an apology, but not to himself.
For Lenore, Myles would apologise to the girl whose life he made hell and would never bother her or anyone like her again.
This incensed Myles seeing this as so below him, that he originally thought Mordred was joking.
But when Mordred had doubled down on his conditions, Myles challenged him to a duel not even daring to think of doing the peaceful option.
Mordred, not even a bit surprised, accepted instantly.
…
Mordred had his eyes closed as he breathed in deeply, as he waited for his challenger with his glaive resting on his chest.
And then he heard the cheers of the stadium hit a similar high as he had entered the arena.
Modred breathed out and took a well practiced stance, and when he opened his eyes he say that Myles was already on the attack.
And his reaction to such an illmannered breaking of tradition and honored decorum of duels?
He smiled, a big wide smile toothy grin because that is just what he expected.
Why would he expect anything better from an honorless cur who uses his family's power and influence to lord over others who couldn't.
So as he saw Myles' sword aim at his neck, he only accepted the fact that his opponent was everything he stood against which made this fight even easier.
In flash Mordred dodged the obvious killing blow and pulled his glaive back as far as he could and slammed the dull edge of his glaive into Myles' dominant arm.
And even with both of them wearing armor, all in the stadium heard the cracking of Myles' bones.
The sword was dropped as the young fighter had absent mindedly dropped it from the crushing pain.
Mordred saw this as his chance and before Myles' could even grunt in pain, Mordred then kicked him in the center of Myles' chest.
The force of the kick far exceeded the blow of the glaive as it sent Myles flying in the opposite direction, with him landing on his back and skidding closer to the walls of the arena.
Myles was stuck on his back as he had been left gasping for air, and as he did Mordred stood above him, his smile shining and his eyes hidden.
And as he pointed his glaive at Myles, he gestured to see if his opponent wanted to continue and took the hate filled look he received as a no.
…
As 13 watched his forgotten victory, he watched as half the crowd exploded in joy.
He saw as a few ran into the arena to congratulate his younger self, but out of the twenty or so students one popped out for 13.
It was a girl with short raven black hair and large round glasses, the reason that she had stood out was how she acted around his younger self.
Unlike the others who had hugged him or gave him a smack on the back for his victory, this girl instead treated him like a fragile statue.
And as the mordred held out his hand to her it took countable seconds until slowly taking it, as if his hand were a flower petal.
13 audibly laughed when he saw Mordred lace their fingers together and pulled her close, he laughed because of her blushing that could be seen from where he was.
It was then the mordred beside then spoke up, with tearful eyes he asked.
"Do you think she remembers us?"
13 looked at his younger self in surprise, this being the first time that he asked 13 any real question.
And when 13 looked back to the victory party and saw the reflections of a time long finished he smiled for the first time he could remember and pulled his reflection close and said with immense certainty.
"Ofcourse she does!"
Then the world shifted around them once again.
…
He fell off the couch with a monstrous crash, it took a second for him to remember what was going on.
"Oh I was simply dreaming."
He said but his voice was not what he expected, it was wrong.
He hurriedly picked himself up and searched for a mirror or some reflective surface to check if what his intuition had been screaming at him was right.
And after searching around the dark room he found a simple hand mirror that held his reflection.
He saw no scar or imposing figure, he saw golden hair and large brown eyes.
He then looked around trying to figure out where he was, and when his eyes had gotten used to the darkness he couldn't recognize where he was.
Until he heard from the only other person that was in the room, the sound was as soft as cotton and it made him look right at her.
He had looked over her at first somehow, in the middle of the room laid a cradle and she laid there squirming.
His antics seemingly waking her, he slowly made was to the cradle and he teared up when he laid eyes on her.
It was princess Cathrine, his cousin, his family, and the future of Solodarr.
The baby looked at him with such wonder, and somehow that filled him with such joy.
Mordred's head was filled with hopes for the future, his cousin's potential as queen and lord regent.
The idea of serving under her command along with the idea of working together for the betterment of Soladarr.
Those thoughts ignited his zeal like never before, but as he daydreamed about his future alongside the newborn.
Mordred felt something, a presence of a creature dark and hateful that sent Mordred's instincts into a frenzy.
He felt it just beyond the door, Mordred heard steps of it coming closer and closer.
And there was nothing he could do, he had no way of contacting his parents or leaving the room with his cousin because the nursery was on the sixth floor making it impossible to ensure Cassandra's safety let alone his own.
Mordred could not even begin to think about how such a horrid thing could get this close to the nursery without alerting the templars, the royal guard, and his mother.
Those questions were answered when the horrid beast opened the door, It was Darla.
The head maid of his aunt Queen Mary, she had been known for her diligence and etiquette and Darla had been serving the royal family for little over sixteen years.
Mordred himself had spoken to Darla multiple times, but now the originally demure woman that the boy knew for his entire life was finally ready to take off her mask.
She walked in, unaware of her actions and when Mordred looked eye to eye with the monster wearing human skin, he knew that he would die today.
That whatever Darla actually was, wanted Cathrine and the only thing that stood in the way of taking the newborn to parts unknown was himself.
Mordred instantly threw himself at Darla, trying his hardest to at least make her stumble.
But even though he could shatter stones with just his bare hands, the simple dressed woman didn't even take one step back.
But Mordred would not allow this thing to take his cousin, so he kept up his offensive punching and kicking the immovable maid.
The maid after a few seconds grabbed her bold and young attacker by the throat and brought Mordred closer trying to silence the brazen brat.
But as she brought him closer to her face Mordred saw this as his best chance at slowing her and used the strongest spell he could use.
[Flaming torrent]
Mordred threw his hand inches away from the monster's face as flames burst forth from his palm.
The force of the spell shook the walls and hopefully alerted at least someone, yet even as the fires continued to burn the grip around Mordred's neck remained unbreakable.
And like all things Mordred's mana eventually ran low and the flaming torrent died out like a candle in the wind.
And when flames disappeared Mordred would see Darla's face for the last time, and she was smiling.
…
He once again fell off the couch again, face planted into the cold hardwood floors. It took a second for his shaky mind to put itself together.
As he stumbled to his feet his eyes looked around the room, he was back in the rumpus room back to the world of the waking and as the young man ran outside.
He breathed in fresh air for the first time in four years he was back, the fractured memories were put back into place, the memories, the faces, and even the words.
And as Mordred breathed out, he heard a knocking and he smiled.