Mordreaux has spun tales of his childhood, one ringing more lovely and more false than the last. He was raised as a prince in his own right - no, no. He was loved by Morgan le Fay far away from castle walls, with faeries for playmates - no. He lived in a place made strange by the tides of magic, where time never touched, where there were different rules to live by that makes all mortal standards pale in comparison. Why not believe that the circlet on his brow is made of faerie gold? There's an undeniable charm in that.

If you lust for the death of your neighbor in order to claim his lady, what stops you, truly? Mordreaux feels how you ache, and simply wants to share that moment of release from your pointless shackles. And if his sweetly spoken advice resulted in feuds, all the better. People are more honest on the battlefield, as they shed all their pointless, peace-keeping lies.

Truthfully, his youth was spent plotting the death of his father the king by the will of his cruel mother, and Mordreaux foolishly fell in love with someone who should've remained an instrument of his scheme. His first plot ended in turmoil and death, and his love, Lugh, survived only to be caught in a centuries-long feud borne of betrayal and lies crafted by Mordreaux's mother, who wanted to keep him as a useful pawn. Everything after that, Mord committed in full knowledge and delight for the downfall of others, knowing he was no better than those he condemned.

Mordreaux has slain dragons, toppled kings, and played a hand on far too many stories and legends to even begin to believe. It's a mistake to catch his attention, and far too late when he has you in his mind.

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