A/N: This is too much fun to write, though I hope I'm keeping everyone in character. I mean, this takes place in medieval (which, for some reason, is a word I can't spell for the life of me) Britain. So I tried to make their speech eloquent, but simple at the same time, so you can read easily and without slur. You'll have to tell me whether I succeeded, as I'm bad with judging myself.

Warnings: Welsh words (because Welsh men are hot), slash hints, and language. That's pretty much it for this chapter.

Chapter One: Mordred

My mother oft told me I was the scion of a king, and should behave as thus. Of course, as a child, I didn’t much want to behave as a prince, as they weren’t allowed much leisurely activities, such as bathing in the mud or sleeping with the dogs.

As I got older, I realized that perhaps she was just embarrassed, being an unmarried woman living on her own with a bastard child. Perhaps she made up fantastical stories to cover up her shame. That, in turn, shamed me, as well.

It hurt to think I was a disgrace to my mother; that perhaps she would have been happier without me. It hurt all the more to know that, while my mother had at least stayed to care for me, I was so much of a shame to my father that he disregarded my existence altogether. This thought shamed me, hurt me, and broke me, until finally, I decided to forget my father all together. I had my mother, and she was enough. But, no matter how much I told myself that, I could never quite convince myself.

“Mordred,” an excited voice whispered. It belonged to Terry, my closest friend. We’d been friends for the longest time, since we were both small lads, but we’d only grown verily close when his brother left Bryn-Rhyd-Yr-Arian to become a knight. He didn’t care about the rumors and gossip about my mother and I, and he wasn’t afraid to visit our lonely castell. Latterly, I’d come to care for him as more than a friend, too, but that didn’t mean I’d ever tell him. “Mordred!”

That also didn’t mean I couldn’t be cross with him.

“Hush, ffwl,” I hissed back, hoping he’d get the hint. My mother was finally asleep, and I’d planned this escape far too carefully to let Terry botch it up for me. Thankfully, he caught my not so subtle message and remained quiet. So quiet, in fact, that I had to stumble through the fog to find him. An apt revenge, I had to admit. Finally, when I tripped over his well-worn boots and heard the responding chuckle, I looked up at my friend.

Terry, christened Terrwyn ap Thomas, was taller than me, with a dark face, and the most beautiful, warm brown eyes. The lasses in the village held their bosoms at the mere sight of him, but didn’t get so much as a bat of his long lashes in return. Terry was still just a boy in a man’s grown form, and I was happy that way. I had him and they did not, at least for the moment. It was selfish, but I was happy. He smiled down at me, his white teeth glinting in the moonlight, and my heart fluttered. I glowered to mask it, making him laugh and ruffle my long black locks.

“Don’t be so dour, Mordred,” he said, chuckling, and led me over to his mighty steed, who was really just his father’s mare, Alis. “Up with you now.”

As I was shorter than him, he climbed on first, offering his hand down to me, and I scowled at the offending appendage, climbing on for myself. We rode bareback, as my mother thought it was unsafe for me to ride and didn’t know about my excursions, and Terry’s father, being just a wood-cutter, could afford no such luxury. I didn’t mind. Any pain I‘d feel later on would be worth it to feel Terry’s sculpted chest against my back, and his muscular arms around my waist. I didn’t mind at all.

“On, Alis,” Terry called, and the little mare set off at her slow pace. Because it would take a long, long time for us to get to the village, a mile or not, we had ample time to converse. Scores of grassy plains, frosted with morning dew, passed beside us. You could see the mountains at a distance, their white caps nearly indiscernible against the somber white sky. Terry tucked my messy head of hair under his chin, grinning. “So, Mordred, I cannot yet believe your mam let you set out to town with me.”

I wanted to glare up at him, but couldn’t, with my head trapped as it was.

“Prithee, you know she didn’t,” I said instead, hoping to verbally scald him. It didn’t work; it never did. “I left to be with you, you big brute.”

It made me blush to admit this, but he didn’t gather the meaning from it that I did. To him, I was just his friend, going against my mother to play with my friend. To me, it was as closest to a love confession as I thought I'd ever get.

He laughed. “Aw, you know I don’t ever want to get you in trouble,” he said, and I rolled my eyes. Just being around him got me into mischief enough. “And ordinarily I wouldn’t want you to go against your mam's wishes, but this is the chance of a lifetime.”

And though I couldn’t see his face, I knew his eyes were glowing brightly. The Queen of Orkney, the mother of Sir Gawain the great, was coming to Bryn-Rhyd-Yr-Arian with her sons, and Terry loved all things to do with court and knighthood. He had since his brother left to become a knight, but it didn’t matter so much to me. I was only coming along to be beside him when it happened, so no brave knight could enchant him away from me. Still, I couldn’t very well come out and say that, could I? So I pretended to be as roused as he, upon hearing this so-called wonderful news. Verily, I saw no reason for a noble such as the Queen to visit this land, and I didn't appreciate the gesture. Noblemen were only attractive in appearance.

“Aye, I couldn’t pass up this chance,” I said, and my clipped voice told him not to speak anymore. He made a low humming sound, which vibrated through my hair pleasantly, and complied. We were silent for the rest of the trip.

During my fifteen winters of life in Bryn-Rhyd-Yr-Arian, I’d never seen the village so festive, not even during the Sabbath nor any of the bonfire ceremonies, offering tributes to the old gods. Everyone, no matter how beggarly, was dressed in their Sunday fineries, and even small children were jumping up and down near the window-panes of the inn, trying to catch a peek at the revered guests. The inn-keeper had to beat them back with a broom to keep them away, but even so, they returned every few minutes or so.

“Duw,” Terry exclaimed with an expelled breath, his brown eyes as wide as saucers. We had to tie off Alis back at his father’s stalls because of the crowd. “This is enchanting, Mordred.”

And it was enchanting, but it made me uncomfortable all the same. The inn was completely blocked off, by the inn-keeper and Queen Morgause’s guards, as well as by all the peasants crowding around it. There was no way we could get in.

“Perchance we should stay at your father’s workshop for the time being? Wait until it’s a little less crowded...” I reasoned, but he didn’t hear me, or perhaps he didn’t want to. “We may just get a glimpse of them anon, when they leave in a fortnight’s time. There will be plenty of opportunities to see them.”

“Nay, Mordred, we can meet them now,” he insisted, looking determined. I sighed; when he got like this, there was no changing his mind.

“All right, stubborn ass, how, pray tell, will we manage that, eh? We’d have to fight through the crowd,” I chastised, but he only laughed. It was a nice laugh, but I could hear the mischief in it. I would not like what he had planned, but at the same time, the sound of his laughter, his face when scheming, was as exhilarating as always.

“Remember that old tree we used to climb? The one that got us over the inn fence and into the yard? We used to take it to steal sweets from the inn-keeper’s wife,” he explained, and I let my head fall into my hands. He’d go through with this, with or without me, even if I told him that we were most likely too old and too heavy to climb that tree anymore, so, as his closest mate, the proper thing to do would be to go along with him. That didn’t mean I had to do it amicably.

“Fine, ffwl, let’s go, then,” I commanded, and he hurried after me. It wasn’t difficult to get to the tree without being noticed, even with all the people around us, for they provided the best cover of all. Terry climbed first, and I let him, mostly to test out the sturdiness of the tree. After he climbed it, and I was assured multiple times that it was safe, I took to it as well, and I scaled it quickly.

“You peasant!” a voice screeched from the other side of the fence, and I sighed. Apparently, not quick enough, for Terry’d gotten himself into some new woe yet again. When I crossed the fence and landed in the yard, I immediately found the source of the trouble. Two boys, both older than I, were staring down at my friend, and one was calling obscenities. “How dare you wander in here, in the presence of Princes!”

Both were dark-haired and blue-eyed, with pale, pale skin, and both wore the light armor frequented by squires of the court. One of them had a gentle hold on the other’s arm, and appeared to be scolding him. They looked close enough to be brothers.

“Gaheris, you shouldn’t behave this way. It’s unbecoming. He probably only came here to meet with elder brother. You know how village boys venerate him,” he mused, but the other boy shook off his touch, apparently too incensed to take his brother’s advice.

“Nay, Gareth, it would be an insult to my honor to let this knave go. Imagine, he could’ve come in here to get a look at our lady mother. We cannot allow this transgression,” the boy, Gaheris, responded. His brother, Gareth, released his arm and sighed.

“Don’t bloody him up too bad, brother,” he said, before conceding and backing into the shadows. Terry began to blubber apologies — he was big and he was strong, but even he knew that he was no match against a trained squire. That was all I had to hear, and I decided to step in.

“I bid you, stop this!” I said, faking calm, and stepped out of the shadows. All of them promptly swung their heads toward me, and while Terry just looked relieved, though I couldn’t fathom why he’d think I could do anything when even he couldn’t, the other two gazed at me with something akin to shock.

“Y-you, you're—” the angry one, Gaheris, stuttered, while the other one gave a half-bow in my direction. When Gaheris finally snapped out of whatever reverie he was in, he pulled Gareth back by the material of his tunic. “That’s not who you think it is, you clod!”

The other boy stood up posthaste, his blue eyes wide, and just stared at me. I stared back, confused. Terry took the opportunity to crawl over to my side, staring up at me questioningly as well. I couldn’t explain what was going on to him; I had no idea myself.

“But didn't he, for the barest moment, look like him, brother? You saw it, too, did you not?” the soft-spoken squire asked, and the other boy, his brother, faltered. Finally, he caught his bearings, and gave a mocking laugh.

“He’s too dirty. Just another peasant, if you ask me,” he jibed, and I felt myself getting angrier. However, it was quite obvious that these lads had to be Queen Morgause’s sons, and I was in no position to challenge them.

“Aye, but this cannot be a coincidence. Mayhaps he is the reason for Mother insisting on our journey here,” Gareth mused, wonderment in his voice. I quirked my brows and frowned. What were they going on about? Well, whatever it was, Gaheris didn’t seem pleased with his brother’s theory.

“Y-you think Mother brought us to this backwater village because of him?” the angry boy asked. Were they talking about me? Before his brother could reply, he pulled a small sword from his scabbard. “Well then, let’s see if he can fight like a Prince to prove it!”

He pointed his blade right at me, and my heart leapt into my throat. His brother stepped up, and I gave him a hopeful look. He only laughed and threw his own scabbard, sword and all, at my feet.

“I do hope you know how to use it,” he said, just before his brother charged. My name is Mordred, I have no sire, and, at only fifteen winters of age, I am about to die.

A/N: I hope I did Mordred justice; he's my favorite character out of Arthurian legends, because, though he's supposed to be 'evil', you can sympathize with him. He's a good person in a bad situation with no way out. I hope this chapter was a good introduction to Mordred. My Mordred, as you should know, is gay, but I didn't want to follow the slash cliche where the guy doesn't even know he's gay until he meets the person he'll be with forever. Being perfect in his imperfections, Mordred will have trial and error relationships. As you've probably guessed, Terrwyn is his first love, but not 'The Wizard's Apprentice', so he won't be his only love. Stick with me -- we'll get somewhere someday.

Translations: I wasn't lying when I said that I think Welsh men are hot. They are, and that's why I couldn't resist making Mordred grow up in Wales. I mean, it seemed like an okay choice, since sites in Wales are rich with Arthurian artifacts and things, and the village where Mordred grew up is a small village hidden in the mountains of Northern Wales, effectively cut off from society, and the perfect place to send an illegitimate prince.

Castell: Castle

Terrwyn: Brave

Ffwl: Fool

Alis: Alice

Mam: Mom

Duw: God

Thanks: To everyone who enjoys my strange muses. That means all of you readers, reviewers, and everyone who added this to their story alerts/favorite stories. I'd like to thank Aviatorlisa, Koneko Otome, Sunnivaixchell, and SinfulWolf for being my first reviewers. Also, thank you to Silversorceress for adding this to her story alerts. Now, to anonymous reviewers...

Aviatorlisa: Yep, Morgause is creepy. I suppose I can see why she's so bitter, but I don't think anyone who sleeps with their clueless half brother just to torment him can be classified as anything but creepy. It has been forever. I've just felt so lazy. *Smacks self* But your encouragement always brightens my day. I'm going to try and write a seductive, blatantly sexual character sometime in this story. Don't know if I'll succeed, but I thought it would be fun, and good practice, to write characters different from Jibri and Carmen.

Sunnivaixchell: I'm glad you enjoyed it. 8D This chapter shows a bit of the slash. Like I explained, Terry is Mordred's best friend and first love, but this is a story that'll have a couple of trial and error relationships before getting anywhere. I wanted to be realistic. Some pairings might be a bit odd, though, and not just the slash pairings. I can't wait to hear more from you.

R&R: Now that I've stopped blabbering, thank you for getting through yet another chapter of The Wizard's Apprentice. The next chapter will have a fight, which I hope I depicted accurately, as it was my first fight scene. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. If you did, please review. I'd love to hear what you think about this story, which is close to my heart because it incorporates my favorite mythology.