tourmalinecrown:
He considered the question, for a long moment. He hadn’t thought much of it, when he’d heard that it was Mordred and Fiadh who had been tasked with seeking out the solitary armorer and enchanter, to ask for aid. He had thought, briefly, about what might be asked for in return for that aid, but only insomuch as that he was sure of what Brín would and would not give, for their help. He hadn’t thought that Mordred would come to him to ask about it, that he would worry himself about the cost.
He looked at Mordred, seeing the trepidation but also the honesty clear in his eyes. He wanted to help, even though he was scared; he was going to help, even though he was scared. An admirable trait, that bravery, made almost dangerous by the fear that it meant he could not also be selfish in his own small way. There was such a thin line, these days, between courage and zealotry.
‘You’re Ailis’ friend, yes? She trusts you. Trusts your judgment, your faithfulness, your heart. Where would you draw the line, if it were up to only you?’
He left the rest of the question unsaid, implied: how much is the life of our people worth, to you? It was a question asked without judgment. Everyone had things they were not willing to sacrifice for the greater good; everyone had things without which life would no longer be life. He himself would have given anything, anything at all, to stop this madness, except for one thing: the life of either of his children. It was a hard line carved upon his heart, clear as day in his mind when he thought the question. Whether or not he would say it aloud was one thing, but knowing it deep in his bones was another entirely, undoubtable. He imagined Mordred had a similar answer, deep in his bones, that he would know all the same, when asked.
Maybe in some small way he was afraid of the answer he might get. Now that the words were out in the air, he already knew his own answer. There was a line, even if there shouldn’t have been any price he wouldn’t pay for the chance to have something to help save them all. Now, though, he was afraid that Declan would look at him, and tell him there was nothing too great to give. He was the prince’s advisor, after all, it was his job to make certain it all went the way he wanted.
That wasn’t his answer, though. Ailis’ name made his stomach twist with guilt at the thought that having a line at all would be letting her down. He was right, after all, she trusted him with all of this, but he also knew her; she understood better than most that there were certain things worth more, worth finding other ways. She was fighting so hard because he had lost someone herself. Mordred looked back at Declan thoughtfully, wondering if he knew that about her, wondering if he had someone or something he would have fought the world for.
“I think everyone has something, one line they wouldn’t cross, even for the world. And I don’t think that’s a weakness. That why we’re all fighting in the first place. It’s not all noble, some of it is selfish, we each have something we want to protect, we’d do anything to protect,” he said slowly. He wasn’t sure if it was the right answer, wasn’t sure there was a right answer, but it was what he felt was the truth.
“I wouldn’t ask someone else to cross that line of theirs for me. And if they asked for that from me, and it was solely my choice...I suppose I would find another way, or else there would be no point in my fighting at all. I’d give up myself before I’d give up my heart. Is that unacceptable?”
















