When Your Eyes Turn To Mine

The truth was that the world became out of focus each time Emrys turned his back on him. All The colors and shades faded when the blue of his eyes became dark with distrust.

Mordred would have done anything - anything - to change that, but it was out of his control. The others would accept him, the King would praise him, but there was no warmth in a world in which your kin deserted you.

There were moments - precious and even more despairing moments - in which Merlin would share with him a look or make a face. Those were the times in which he could almost taste the bound he craved for, but soon the warlock guarded himself again.

Still, Camelot had become his home, a place in which he had found a purpose to his life, in which he was useful and could do the best of the people. Even if he didn't belong, even if he found himself living in a lie, it didn't matter, for he would never be alone and nothing Merlin did or didn't do couldn't change that for Mordred knew, and there was no way to deny they were equals in so many ways.

As long as he had at least a glimpse of the colors that Merlin conjured by simply existing, he would be fine.