Mordred has never felt the need to scream before. He has never felt his own voice clawing its way up his throat and scratching at the walls of his body. He has never had his cheeks burn from being puffed and pulled over and over again or seen his own body shake from the magnimity of his own words. Mordred has never screamed until now.

It's a rather unpleasant experience to him. He has been forced to maintain composure for most of his life and this feral act is so far from everything he's been taught that it's terrifying. Mordred cannot stand not being in control if himself- but right now, at this moment, it feels like his only choice. To let every thought that's been pounding up in his skull crash out like waves beating upon the shore during a storm...it's almost natural- except that's it's not.

Mordred can see the startled looks on his fellow knights faces- Leon's wide eyes, Percival's frown, Elyan's raised brow, Gwain's outright pout. And even worse, he can see the blank face of his king peering over at him. Mordred knows that he is hurting them and that he should not be yelling at his superiors but he can't stop. His eyes are glazed and his face his red but he can not stop. There's a part if him that is desperately trying to stop him because these are the men that he looks up to- the ones that have taken him in and taught him the ropes and been his friends, but there is another part of him, the part that's screaming and it's stronger. This is the part that was raised by Druids to the tune of Emrys, Emrys, Emrys, the part that was saved a long time ago by a kind servant- and the part that sees that same servant drowning while nobody else seems to notice.

At first, when Mordred came to Camelot, he had expected to meet theeared manservant with a gentle nature, but what he found was entirely different. This man, he thinks, the one who still insults the king and jokes with the knights, is a poor substitute. He acts the same- says the same words and does the same things- but he's a thin shell on the verge of cracking. Mordred knows because he watches Emrys when he thinks that nobody is looking. He can see how his smiles no longer reach his eyes (Eyes that are now so dull, so, so dull.) and how his shoulders sag at every movement, as if the very air itself is an incomprehensible weight of which he can barely lift. That's all Mordred had done at first- watch. And then suddenly he's yelling.

Mordred had wanted to help Emrys for so long, now. Wanted to pick up all the pieces of him and put them back together until they form a smile that shines like the sun (Because that's what Emrys is to him- the sun.), but he knows Emrys would never listen to him. There have been one too many Morganas for that, but still. Mordred worries. He can see the very esence of Emrys slipping away, everything that made him worthy of his destiny receding to the darkest parts of his soul in vain effort to protect himself . Mordred had wanted to wrap his magic around Emrys and pull everything back out, but he could only watch- until one day when he's watched entirely too much.

It had been just another hunting triphur had wanted to escape from his duties for a while, as if he was the one who had it hard. They hadn't really caught anything- Emrys had scared them off, purposely, from what Mordreds seen- but nonetheless the knights and King had seemed to be enjoying themselves. And then there had been Emrys. He had been unusually silent most of the trip, not bothering to keep up his cheerful facade. He hadn't even bantered with "his royal pratness." Even the knights had noticed that, but they held their tongues until supper.

It was Gwaine who broached the subject, never one for subtlety he waited til the servent was out if earshot and then, "What's wrong with Merlin?" Mordred had snapped his head up at that, and stared from his place perched on a log around the fire, "Maybe he is just stressed." He had thought that maybe they would take heed of him, lighten up on Emrys, but before he can even suggest it the King is speaking, "What could Merlin possibly have to worry about- it's not as if he worries about the quality of his service." And then Mordred is screaming.

He feels like a dragon- like he's breathing fire and it's scalding hot, searing and burning everyone it comes in contact with. And everyone steps back lest they be burned, but Mordred can't help it because how dare they? They don't even know all that he's done for them- all that he will do. They don't understand, can't even begin to comprehend, what he goes through and all the work they give him on top of that. How dare they how dare they how dare they. And Emrys hands were shaking when he served them and there were bags under his eyes. He hasn't been sleeping, hasn't been eating AND HOW DARE THEY? He can feel the flames licking the ground and bursting up in the air and his throat is burning. Then he sees Emrys, cowering slightly near a tree. Mordred has scared him, terrified him. That's not what he wanted. And he's suddenly so tired and he's not screaming anymore but he's breathing heavily and glaring so fiercely at all of them. And they just stare.

Arthur swallows thickly and looks between Mordred and Emrys, who's still shaking. "Mordred- what exactly are you saying?" And Gods, does he realize what he's done. There's no getting out of this, the way his fellow knights and his king are acting. And Emrys looks like he's collapsing in on himself- because he was not ready for this, not yet, not after years of hiding. Mordred is sorry, so sorry- and Arthur is waiting for an answer- so Mordred does the only thing he can and reaches out with his magic because he thinks it'll comfort Emrys a bit to feel the familiar touch in his mind, "We have to tell him, Emrys. I'm sorry." He thinks that maybe Emrys wants to scream too.

AUTHORS NOTE: So, I have not seen much of season five guys. I heard spoilers and have since religiously avoided it because I can't believe it unless I see it...Shutup I'm working on it. So just keep that in mind when reviewing, okay guys :)