Unknownfate
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Chapter 114
🕑 Added 2025-05-01 02:11:15 +0000 UTCMordred and Jessica had been growing increasingly bored since they moved out of their apartment in Hell’s Kitchen.
Stark had given them a new place to live, though Matt had turned it down, and instead just gone back to his own place and life.
After all, he was the only one of them with a place of his own and the only one to wear a mask, meaning he could go back without getting hunted down.
Neither Mordred nor Jessica had done that, so the Hand was after them, not to mention everyone else.
So, now they just stayed here, just the two of them… and because of that, the place was an absolute mess.
The living room looked like a war zone. Clothes were strewn across furniture that hadn't been used for sitting in days, pizza boxes and takeout containers formed a loose fort on the coffee table.
A half-assembled punching dummy stood awkwardly in the corner, missing its head. Jessica had thrown it out the window during an argument over the TV remote.
Mordred sat slouched on the couch, one leg hanging off the side, her boots up on a pile of magazines that may have once resembled a coffee table stack. “I’m going insane,” she muttered, flipping a knife between her fingers. “At this rate, I’ll end up stabbing a delivery guy just to feel something.”
Jessica didn’t even glance over from where she was nursing a beer and staring blankly at the muted TV. “You already scared off two food couriers this week.”
“They were cowards.”
“They were teenagers.”
“They should’ve been braver,” Mordred shot back with a huff, tossing the knife at the wall. It stuck with a solid thunk — in the exact same spot as the other seven knives. “This is not what I was made for.”
Jessica leaned back, sighing. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t made for this either. But here we are. Professional fugitives with a government bounty and ancient ninjas breathing down our necks.”
“And rather than hit them all back, Stark dumps us in his safehouse!” Mordred muttered, gesturing broadly to the chaos around them. “I feel like a prisoner!”
Jessica let out a short laugh. “You are the only prisoner who spends a few grand a day on takeout and delivery.”
Mordred threw the now-empty wrapper from the burger she had just finished. “Well, I don’t have anything else to do but eat, can barely swing a sword around in here without hitting something.”
Jessica looked at the pile of food on the table, then at Mordred, then at herself before giving up. “Well, you were the one who trashed the last place, the big one, with all the cool entertainment systems.”
Mordred snorted, unapologetic. “That TV had it coming. It was looking at me funny.”
Jessica arched an eyebrow. “You put your sword through a sixty-inch flatscreen because it was looking at you funny?”
“I don't trust things that don't blink.” Mordred said as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world. “And anyway, it wasn’t just the TV. The whole place felt... off.”
Jessica just shook her head and took another sip of her beer. “You’re lucky Stark didn’t just kick you to the curb.”
“He wouldn’t dare,” Mordred said with a sharp grin. “He knows what I can do to his suits.” And she wasn’t even boasting.
She personally trashed his latest suit, one meant to withstand her strength, but clearly, he was far from reaching that point, even if the suit was way better than the last one she had trashed.
Not that she would tell him that.
They didn’t get further in the very same discussion they had every day since having to give up the hunt for answers and evil ninjas as there was a knock on the door.
Mordred and Jessica both barely reacted.
Jessica lifted her head from the back of the couch. “Did you order something?”
Mordred frowned, flipping the TV remote in her hand. “No. Thought you did.”
Jessica shook her head. “Not this time.”
Another knock. Firmer.
Still, not exactly threatening — just... there.
Mordred grumbled under her breath and stood up, stretching her arms until her joints popped. “Maybe it’s that new dumpling place. I did think about ordering dumplings. Maybe I blacked out and did it.”
“You’d think they’d at least text first,” Jessica muttered, eyeing the door suspiciously but not moving to open it.
Another knock. Patient. Solid.
Mordred sighed heavily. “Fine, fine. I’ll get it.”
She stood up, her back popping as she stretched, then in the most dignified manner, befitting of a knight of Camelot, a Knight of the Round Table, she slouched toward the door, still expecting to see a delivery guy balancing a massive food order.
She yanked the door open without thinking.
And froze.
Standing in the doorway, calm and collected, was Arthuria Pendragon.
Father. King. Knight of legend. In casual clothes that somehow still looked more royal than anything anyone else could have pulled off.
Behind Arthuria stood two strangers — one serene and radiant like a living portrait, and another small, smug, and mischievous-looking.
Mordred’s brain blanked for a full second.
-----
“Hello, Mordred, it’s good to see you again.” I greeted her as soon as the door opened, and what a look she was. Her expression was so funny, poor Sprite couldn’t help but break out in full-blown laughter.
Mordred's expression twisted, her mouth opening like she had a retort ready — something snarky, something cutting — but nothing came out. Her hand gripped the edge of the door just a bit too tightly.
Jessica, still lounging on the couch, shouted without looking. “Is it dumplings or not?”
“Nope,” Mordred said, voice weirdly flat. “It’s worse. It’s my... dad.”
That got Jessica to sit up. “Your what?”
“Worse? Sir Mordred, it almost sounds like you aren’t happy to see me?” I asked with a teasing tone, already finding myself feeling better. “Aren’t you going to let us in? I just talked with Stark, he talked at great length about this place, how nice and clean it should be.”
Mordred’s face did something strange — part scowl, part horror, part a desperate attempt to regain control. “Of course he did,” she muttered under her breath, stepping aside stiffly.
I stepped inside and looked around, taking in the mess all around me. And what a mess it was, even worse then back home.
Sersi followed gracefully, taking it all in with the quiet bemusement of someone who had seen far, far worse. Sprite bounded in after, nose wrinkling.
“Oh wow,” Sprite said, hands on hips. “It smells like gym socks and despair in here. Is that mold on the ceiling or just pizza sauce?”
Jessica grabbed a throw pillow and hurled it without rising. “You’re not funny.”
“I disagree,” Sprite replied with a grin, ducking easily.
“Who asked what you think, you brat?” Mordred clearly didn’t appreciate Sprite’s comment.
Sprite, too, didn’t like being called a brat, so she responded in the way only a brat can do.
With glowing eyes.
It was clear she was using her power, and a lot of it.
Mordred didn’t show any reaction for a moment, just stood there, blank-faced.
Then, whatever it was Sprite was doing pissed her off. I don’t know about the Marvel version of Morderd, but mine got pissed off very easy.
And Sprite, despite her age and experience, couldn’t possibly be ready for a suddenly angry Mordred.
The situation changed fast after that, within moments of getting trapped in some illusion, Mordred went through a quick series of emotions, shock, surprise, fear, horror, and then anger.
I didn’t know what she was seeing, what she was hearing, but I could see the result, as could everyone else.
Sersi knew about Sprite’s power and temper, so she understood perfectly well what was happening.
Jessica might not understand it that well, but she too knew something was happening and stood up on guard.
Then, Mordred raised her hands, and Clarent appeared there. The sword of kings, and of rebellion, the king slaying blade, the kin slaying sword. Mordred’s sword and one of her noble phantasms, a good sword, even if I never really used it much.
I didn’t feel I deserved it, never saw myself as the kind of king who would wield it.
But it was a good sword, and now it was crackling with red lightning, and it seemed Mordred was about to demolish whatever apparition she was facing in the illusion.
I’m sure Sprite had faced this kind of situation a lot, where someone she wanted to scare decided to fight back. Yet there was something she likely didn’t expect here, Magic Resistance B.
Not enough to make her immune to illusions, even my Magic Resistance A didn’t do that, something Merlin demonstrated plenty back in the day. But it was enough to change one crucial thing.
Mordred wasn’t just attacking inside the illusion, no, she was also attacking outside it.
And that made all the difference.
The air around Mordred pulsed, the red lightning from Clarent scorching a path into the real world. I felt it — the moment the illusion began to buckle under pressure.
“Sersi,” I said calmly.
She was already moving. She quickly jumped at Sprite, knocking her to the ground and breaking her concentration and the illusion.
At the same time I reached out and place a hand on Mordred’s head, ruffling her hair. “Alright that’s enough, I don’t think we need to turn this block into rubble over a bit of fun.”
Mordred blinked rapidly as the illusion crumbled around her like ash in the wind. Her breathing was still heavy, her eyes wild — a cornered beast pulled back from the edge just in time.
Clarent flickered and vanished from her grip, though not before leaving deep scorch marks in the carpet. She swatted at my hand half-heartedly, grumbling, “Don’t touch my hair.”
I ignored the protest and gave her a gentle pat anyway. “Still as dramatic as ever.”
“Still as annoying as ever,” she muttered, but the fire had faded from her voice, replaced with embarrassment and no small amount of confusion.
Sprite groaned under Sersi’s knee, clearly winded. “I said I was just messing around!”
“You say that every time,” Sersi replied evenly, not moving until she was certain Sprite wouldn’t start round two the moment she stood up. “You’re lucky she didn’t cut this place in half.”
“She almost did!” Jessica yelled, flinging her arms wide. “Is anyone else seeing the sword marks on the ceiling?! That was nearly my head!”
“I wasn’t aiming for your head,” Mordred muttered, rubbing her temple. “Probably.”
Jessica just groaned and dropped back onto the couch, grabbing her beer again. “I need hazard pay.”
I looked back toward Mordred and studied her face for a long moment. There was tension there — not just from the illusion, but something deeper. I knew that look.
“What did you see?” I asked quietly.
She hesitated. Then: “Nothing I want to talk about.”
Fair enough. I wouldn’t press. Not here. Not with everyone watching.
“Then let’s change the topic,” I said, backing off gently. “You’re coming with me. We’re heading to Detroit.”
Mordred looked incredulous. “That’s your follow-up?”
“Or you can stay here, rotting away here while explaining to Stark why you cut apart the ceiling… and clean up the place, this looks and smells like a dump.” I guess they shouldn’t be worried about werewolf attacks.
Any creature with half a nose on its head would stay away from this place.
“Okay! Detroit it is!” Mordred was quick to change her tune under the threat of cleaning.
Not to mention, I was sure she wanted to get back home as well, but she was just too embarrassed to be honest.
“Oh, and in case you need introductions. These are Sersi and Sprite, and they are both older than all of the Round Table combined. So you can call them granny or something.” I quickly introduced the two Eternals, while getting a little payback on Mordred’s behalf.
I didn’t know what they had seen in the illusion, but I knew it was nothing good by the flashes of emotion on her face. And only I got to mess with Mordred.
(End of chapter)
I was really struggling with how to deal with the aftermath of Sprite little attempt at getting one over Mordred.
I had a few ideas, for one, have Arthuria step in and use Avalon to tank a Clarent Blood Arthur.
Another idea was to have the Ancient One step in and send them all into the mirror dimension to have the NP go off in there. and then have her send them to their destination.
There was never any way Mordred and Sprite meeting wouldn’t end in a mess. One hates being treated as a female, while clearly being a woman, I mean the clothes Mordred likes to wear dosen’t even attempt to hide her sex.
And the other, appearing as a child, hates being treated as that. And both have a temper, yeah, they are gonna be best friends, in the same way that Thor and Loki are the best brothers.
Then again, this won’t last long as Sprite will get her reward.
