Summary: Mordred had dreamt of the future.
Warnings: Mention of character death.
Word Count: 223
Author's Notes: Thanks to jelazakazone for the beta and for suggesting I write a Mordred fic in the first place.
As he had become a knight of Camelot, giving his oath even as he lied about who he was, Mordred had dreamt of swearing fealty to Arthur with no secrets between them. He had envisioned his fellow knights accepting him for who he was, and had seen them building a new world together.
He had dreamt of a life lived out in the open, where he no longer had to pretend he had not been born and raised a druid. Where his magic was something to be celebrated, rather than feared.
These dreams had kept him going as he lived amongst those who would kill him if they knew who he truly was. Whenever he had felt like he was drowning under the weight of the lies he had to tell each day, the dreams had provided comfort. They had given him something to cling to when he had stood by and watched as Osgar was struck down and killed by men he called friends. They had given him a reason to justify his loyalty to Arthur, especially when Kara had scoffed at him.
He had believed with every ounce of conviction he possessed, that those dreams were the future — one day they would come to pass.
But now, as he plunges his sword into Arthur’s chest, Mordred knows that future is lost.