A/N: Thank you for looking at this story, if you enjoy it, yay! If you have feedback, also yay! I have nothing to note here, though, so just enjoy.
Disclaimer: We own nothing.
Co-written with Rubblestrength.
Torch flames burned, lighting up the large war-room with living orange light. The air smelled of smoke, having nothing to do with the torches on the wall. In the distance, black plumes rose from the lower town. Arthur's face was grave as he sat at the round table, meeting the eyes of his trusted knights.
"I've received word that our messenger was killed before he could deliver our request for aid to Godwyn." The young king rubbed both hands over his face, then took a slow breath and continued. "If we cannot get out a message..." he stopped, shaking his head. Gwen-who was sitting beside him-put a gentle hand on his arm.
"Until we can get a message out, we're trapped in the citadel." Mordred's quiet voice said what Arthur had not.
The knights murmured quietly; a few casting glances toward the window. They all knew they couldn't last forever inside the citadel, however well fortified it may be. Camelot was surrounded. They needed aid from outside. Gaius moved to have his arms resting on the table with his hands clasped together. He breathed a quiet sigh through his nose, the sound whistling. "We need to send another."
Arthur nodded. "You're right Gaius." He considered who to send. His mistake last time, had been sending a man out alone, thinking stealth would help the man get past the Saxon army without trouble. Needless to say, his assumption had been wrong. This time, he would send at least one knight with whomever he sent.
From where he stood, Merlin frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. If he went, he could get the message out, but did he want to risk something happening while he was gone? The answer was yes, it was the only answer worth having. "I will go," he spoke, aware of the possibility of being questioned and so continuing, "They wouldn't notice me."
Gwen smiled without showing her teeth and leaned forward, hugging Arthur's nearest arm, "If they see you, Merlin, they will surely kill you."
"They won't see me," the warlock tried for a grin, "Stealth is my middle name."
"I'm sorry but I'm not quite sure that's true..." Gwen winced but the smile stayed in place. Merlin was many things, but bless his heart, stealthy wasn't among them. She didn't want to lose a friend. She looked at her husband, hoping to see some thought sparking behind blue eyes, some better idea.
Arthur was solemn. "Very well, Merlin. I'll send Mordred with you." With that, Arthur turned to Mordred. "You will ensure his safety."
"Yes, Sire," Mordred nodded-the closest thing to a bow he could manage while seated.
Merlin felt a stab in his chest, the thought of it sending shivers down his spine. He couldn't watch his back from Mordred while trying to get past the Saxons. "No - we don't need to endanger anyone else, Sire. If a servant dies it's nothing, it's different when a knight dies."
"You may be right..." A hint of a teasing tone entered his voice, but vanished at his next words. "But no one is going to die. That's the end of it, Merlin."
The manservant let his arms drop to his sides and hid his irritation. It would be easier for him to go alone, not that Arthur knew that, and Merlin was beginning to doubt that he ever would. He dipped his head in acknowledgement and glanced at Mordred. "We'll leave as soon as you've another message for Godwyn, Arthur."
Arthur nodded. "It will be finished before the sun sets. Merlin, prepare the horses. I will leave the letter with Mordred."
Merlin bowed and hurried towards the door, trying to shake the whole idea that he would be spending the next who-knew-how-long with Mordred, the man destined to kill the youngest Pendragon. Well, not just that, but he could risk all of Albion and everything that so many had died and suffered to achieve. Yeah, he was definitely not going to think about *that*. Merlin made his way down the long hallways and winding corridors, taking staircases at impossible speeds. When he finally did arrive outdoors, he headed straight for the stables. He would need to pack his things and say goodbye to Gaius - just in case. With that thought, he decided to go back to the physician's chambers and then prepare the horses afterward.
His trip was a relatively short one, and when he came into his surrogate father's workshop he felt his heart drop to his shoes by the lack of robe and somber eyes inside. Maybe the man would come before he was doing packing - yes, he thought - there was every chance. He jogged up the steps and grabbed his pack from under his bed, pushing off of his hands and knees only to begin shoving clothes inside the bag. When he finished, Gaius was still out and the sun had lowered significantly. He refrained from sighing.
He slung the pack over one of his shoulders and made his way to the castle entrance. Once arrived, he took to the fat stone stairs at a run, his arms jostled by every abrupt and short landing.
Merlin made his way inside the stables and started the process of brushing and tacking the two horses, happy to see that someone had already fed them at least an hour prior, hence the hay almost being gone and reduced mainly to a few bits of green and small piles of sticks. On Mordred's horse he tightened the girth and checked its tightness with one hand before moving to his own animal, and, distracted, he barely managed to keep the pushy horse from shoving her nose against his shoulder.
From outside the stall door, a quiet voice asked, "Do you need any help, Merlin?"
Merlin gasped and turned his head, his hands still tangled in the length of leather bound to the saddle. He quickly closed his mouth and shook his head tersely.
Mordred stood, arms draped over the stall door as he watched Merlin. "Thank you." He let himself in and walked over to his horse, putting the letter from Arthur To Godwyn in his saddle bag, then glancing toward Merlin again. "I know it displeases you that Arthur sent me." He didn't know why-of course-but he wasn't so blind as to believe Merlin liked his company.
As though he hadn't spoken at all, Merlin said, "If we ride through the night we can get past the army while they sleep."
"Agreed." Mordred hid a sigh at Merlin's quick dismissal.
Merlin brought his mare from the stall and into the courtyard, taking a moment to mount and re-position the saddle packs. "If we go around to the moat after the gate, we can avoid the thick of it."
Mordred followed Merlin, swinging onto his horse as well. Mordred only nodded at Merlin's statement. "Godwyn must have heard of Camelot's plight by now... Perhaps he would have sent aid already?" The young knight suspected that was too optimistic to hope.
"I wouldn't hold my breath." Merlin clicked, urging the horse into a trot. They could make it to the gate in a matter of minutes.
Mordred tapped his heels against his horse's sides and passed Merlin, leading the way toward the gates. The gate guards-already having orders to let them through-opened the gates and stepped aside quickly. Outside the castle, the smoke was even thicker, making it difficult to breathe.
Merlin could see torch light as though the forest was on fire. His frown deepened. They might not be able to make it to the moat, but, it was worth a try. As soon as they were out of the guards' line of sight, he whispered a spell under his breath, subtle light beginning to shine near the ground and off to the right. He looked for a break in the path, some way to get to the water. There were fields of green against every side of the castle, dropping down into the moats and then on the other side was the lower town, as well as the surrounding woods - and the Saxons.
Tents were becoming visible in the last light. The Saxons had camped around the moat. Mordred glanced at Merlin. There was little to no chance they would make it through unseen. Fighting may be their only option. "Merlin... We may have to fight our way through." He was certain Merlin knew what that meant.
"Yes," Merlin snipped. He bit his tongue.
Mordred shook his head. What had he done to deserve Merlin's mistrust? He could think of a few things in the past... but all he'd done since coming to Camelot had been to earn Arthur's-and Merlin's-trust.
Merlin slowed his horse down. They might as well just take the bridge, since it seemed there wouldn't be any getting past them anyway. Well, he was in a bad mood, and Mordred also had magic, so at the moment he couldn't imagine it would be too difficult.
Mordred frowned, but also made his way toward the bridge. It would be a fight, then. They had another sixty yards before they reached the bridge, but they hadn't gone that far when they were spotted.
"There! Someone's coming!" A man yelled, voice cracked and uneven from shouting orders. "Archers, fire!"
Mordred sensed the arrows as they sped through the air toward them. He redirected several of them, making them miss by just enough that no one would sense magic had caused it. He looked to Merlin, to ensure he hadn't been wounded. A disbelieving curse was followed up by an archer asking how they'd all missed. It seemed Merlin wasn't hit either, then.
Merlin looked over the army, trying to find the best place to get through. He headed in that direction, Mordred by his side, and raised a hand towards the first wave of archers. His head jerked forward moderately, his eyes flashing gold, "Byre!" A cold wind blasted the men back.
As enemy men stumbled, falling over one another, Merlin and Mordred rode through their ranks. The horses never slowed, plowing down anyone who stood in their way. Mordred drew his sword, blocking as a man with a spear attacked. He deflected the weapon... sending it back into the crowd of soldiers. The spear shaft smacked one of the other soldiers in the face, making the man wielding it turn in surprise.
"Sorry!" the fellow yelled to his companion, turning his attention from the battle.
Mordred would've found it amusing, if not for the dire situation.
Merlin set a man's bow string on fire just as he was about to pull it back. The warrior howled and let it fall to the ground, gripping his burned hand to his stomach as his face twisted in pain. "There," Merlin spoke, seeing there was an opening right to the woods. He urged his horse into a gallop.
Mordred's horse charged after Merlin of its own accord. Looking over his shoulder, Mordred held a hand up. His eyes flashed gold and a blast of power knocked several men back, toppling them onto the next row of men.
The trees of the forest approached quickly. Wind whipped about them as they made their way deeper into the trees and away from the Saxon army. Mordred could hear someone shouting to follow them, but he didn't turn or slow. Instead, he focused on catching up with Merlin.
The young warlock didn't slow for some time, not until they were at least a mile or two into the woods. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing Modred and staring as though he wasn't sure what to make of the man. "Have you ever been to Godwyn's kingdom?"
"Yes-but not recently."
"Arthur and I went to attend Princess Elena's wedding a few months back." Merlin straightened in the saddle and moved the reins over the animals neck, altering course to a well trodden path.
"Princess Elena?" Mordred asked, glad at least that Merlin was speaking to him now. He slowed his horse a bit and glanced back to ensure they had lost their pursuers.
"They were meant to marry."
"Elena and Arthur?"
"Yes." Merlin pursed his lips for a moment, his jaw muscles twitching. He would prefer not to spend the next few days in strained silence. "We stop for supper."
Mordred didn't argue. He may be a knight, but Merlin was... Emrys. He wasn't about to argue with the man.
The young servant dismounted in the closest clearing, not even bothering to gather firewood. Instead, he said, "Forbearne," and with it fire leapt from the ground, burning and flaming from what seemed to be nothing. He unpacked what he would need and settled down on his knees, mixing vegetables in the small metal pot he had brought with them. "Tell me,-" he began, peering up for a moment, "-Mordred, why become a knight?"
"I owe Arthur my life. I wish to repay that debt... this is the only way I know how." Mordred dismounted, untacked his horse, and glanced over his shoulder at Merlin.
Merlin seemed to contemplate this. "He is the son of Uther - he still holds magic with distrust. Why risk it?"
"The same reason you do; I believe in the future Arthur can create... That one day, Arthur will permit magic to be practiced in Camelot again."
Merlin gave no response for the time. He struggled to find what it was that the seers always saw in Mordred - he had seen it, when the knight was a child - the thought of it made the hairs on his arms raise - but ever since then, nothing. All he had were the prophecies to go off of. He began cooking the soup and stood up, following suit in untacking his own horse.
"Besides-I do not want to become like Morgana... She was so kind once." His eyes grew distant. "Her hatred destroys everyone-including herself."
"Yes, it has."