Ficlet: babysitter!Mordred for Soujin
"Anyway," the boy said, hugging his knees, "I don't want a little brother."
"Don't be stupid, of course you do."
"I don't, either." He frowned at his uncle's back, having expected more sympathy than this. He began to think babies were one of the things adults were simply unreasonable about. But Mordred turned then, dusting his hands off, and looked down at him thoughtfully.
"Why not?"
"I just don't."
"How d'you know until you've got one?"
The boy frowned harder. "Mama says brothers are a curse."
"Your mother," Mordred began, and then his mouth changed shape and he looked back at the stone fence behind him. "Your mother found it so. But she didn't have your family."
"What family did she have?"
"One that didn't look out for each other. We do."
The boy sighed; this was, he found, the answer to most things. "I know, but--"
"If I'd got it into my head I didn't want a baby brother, where would you be? Your father wouldn't be born, and you wouldn't be here."
"My father?" He was entirely taken aback. His father was a great bright presence, a certainty like a rock washed by the sea and warmed in the sun; a good king, a great knight. He had never imagined him as someone's baby brother.
"Of course your father, idiot." Mordred grinned at him, and leaned over to ruffle his hair. "You see? Don't go wishing people unborn till you know what you're about." Then, softer, he said, "You'll be glad of him all your life. Believe me."
(Later, years and years later, Florence remembers that, and remembers that it was Mordred who told him so.)
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One down, one to go.