I don't think I have ever been so excited about a story, and I certainly have never written a second chapter a day after I published the first one. But thank you very much for the warm welcome everyone! Glad to see all those Merdred fans out there, it warms my heart! ^^ We get some Mordred this chappie as a Thank You!

-Born to Die-

Two: Whatever I Am, You Made Me

[Mordred]

Mordred could only smirk when he heard her speak his name.

Perhaps, it was the thrilling knowledge that she still knew him, even after all these years, she was able to see past his appearances and simply feel him near her. Or maybe it was the sound of his name spoken by her that shot excited tingles down his spine.

It's been years, but she was still his Emrys. Still as beautiful, and as majestically powerful as before. In fact, she was even more powerful then before, her power making the air around them sizzle with authority. There was so much of it that Mordred felt like he was drowning, but if he was to die he couldn't think of a more pleasant way to go.

She had matured as well, her body now developed and full, her ears still slightly too big for her face adding to her unusual beauty, framed by a pair of most stunning blue eyes that captured and enthralled him when he was still but a child.

However, there was something else too, a change he did not like.

Emrys looked tired, defeated almost, her innocent blue eyes now haunted by tragedies she had seen. Her gaze felt heavier, more demanding, her eyes glued to him as he turned his attention back to Arthur.

"Hello Arthur," he greeted the king pleasantly.

Arthur was a good man. A man that saved his life when he was young; an act of kindness Mordred never forgot.

"Hello Emrys," he also added in his mind, knowing that she would be able to hear him. Her mind was still just as open to his magic as his was to hers.

So he couldn't help but to take great pleasure in watching her go rigid, her glare intensified to a point he could almost feel it burning his skin with its destructive touch.

How no one else noticed her breath-taking power, he did not know. It seemed so obvious to him; there was always something about her, pulling everyone, animal and human alike, to her. Including him.

Even after her betrayal, he never forgot her.

Back then he was so angry – no, furious – for her betrayal, the crippling knowledge that she practically spat on their friendship, the sacred bond they shared. Did she not feel it, he wondered back then, the intensity of their connection, intertwining them together forever. But he was young then, and with time he began to realise that he was far too harsh in his judgement, because while, yes, she did betray him, he also understood why she did it. After a while he forgave her, realising only then how much he really missed her.

He missed her voice, her eyes, her smile, her very presence in his mind – he missed all the little things that made up his beautiful Emrys. He never stopped considering her his. From the moment their minds connected all those years ago, he knew that there was far more meant to happen between them than just a fleeting meeting.

So he ran, learned to control his magic, in hopes that one-day he would be able to come back and seek her out again, apologise and start over again. A few times, back in his darkest moments when he was about to lose all hope, he used his magic to catch a glimpse of her, and make sure that she was safe. That she was still out there on this Earth, waiting for him to find her one-day.

He had fantasised about this moment many times before, gone through countless scenarios in his head, trying to work out what he would say once they were reunited at last.

However, he never expected it to happen like this. To find Ragnor's tugs pointing their filthy weapons at her and the King of Camelot.

For a single moment, absolute rage overcame him. And it took everything in him to not snap and shatter the man's arm with his magic for daring to point his weapon at her.

He managed to supress it, somehow, letting his magic boil and swirl angrily under his skin. He gave them a first excuse he could think of, using Morgana's name to save them both.

Then, their eyes met and Mordred was lost in her gaze, their magic dancing and fusing together before he had to take his eyes away from her in order to control his emotions.

"Mordred…the druid boy…" Arthur spoke in realisation, his eyes sharp as he began comparing the young boy he'd saved appearance with that of a man before him now.

Arthur hadn't changed as much as Emrys had. In fact he looked almost the same physically, however the air around him was different now, wiser and more commanding. He held himself like a King should, his eyes full of compassion but also sternness. There was something formidable about Arthur that Mordred couldn't help but to admire, and he was about to smile at the king until from the corner of his eye he noticed Ragnor's men coming closer towards them with ropes in their hands.

Mordred's attention turned to his Emrys for a split second, wondering why she wasn't doing anything to escape. It was only then did he notice a look of fear and doubt in her eyes as she quickly glanced from the approaching men to Arthur. A sinking realisation came over him, and he realised that she hadn't revealed herself to Arthur yet.

Arthur still had no idea about her magic.

He toyed with idea of telling them to try and run for it, but it would be useless since Ragnor and his men had horses that were exceptionally fast and durable. He knew that better than most.

He stood silently behind them as three men tied the rope securely around Arthur's and Emrys' hands, tying them to the horses so they wouldn't escape. Mordred tried not to look, but his hands that were folded behind his back were clenched so tightly he briefly thought he could hear the sound of his own bones cracking under pressure.

He wished he could do something, anything, to help them escape, but he couldn't do that without giving himself away as well.

He only hoped that they would come up with some plan to escape by themselves.

The journey was long and the further they went up north the colder it became. Mordred wrapped the thick scarf he wore around his head, blocking the chilling wind. But it wasn't his wellbeing that concerned him. Some time after they moved out, Emrys and Arthur were tied to a wagon that was pulled by a few horses and held their supplies. He was ahead, walking on foot so he could keep an eye on his sorceress. He seem to be aware of every sound that left her chapped and slightly blue lips, each noise making him turn around and make sure that she was uninjured and well. Neither her or the king were dressed warmly enough for this kind of travel, and it was easy to tell that they were starting to struggle with the drastic drop in temperature as well as the freezing snow that surrounded them.

They were discussing something, he realised when he turned back to look at them again. Their voices were low, and even though she was talking to her King, Emrys never took her eyes off him, her gaze searching as she observed him.

He was curious to know what was going on in her head. What did she see when she looked at him?

"Halt!" Ragnor ordered loudly.

Mordred immediately snapped his attention to the leader, trying not to draw any attention to Emrys or Arthur.

But it was futile as Ragnor stormed past Mordred and slammed his fist painfully into King's side, causing Arthur to release a sharp gasp. Fury flashed in Emrys' eyes, her jaw clenching visibly as she half-caught Arthur in her arms. Her anger and disgust in the man was visible as she held onto her King protectively, her shoulders squared and eyes dark with emotion.

"You speak when you're spoken to!" the leader barked furiously, his features twisting threateningly. He looked back at everyone else, "Faster!"

Mordred carefully controlled his emotions, thinking that if that man had hit Emrys instead he would now be missing an arm.

She glowered at Ragnor while he brushed past Mordred, and their eyes met again, the fire in them intensifying. He loved having her eyes on him; it was impossible not to feel her gaze regardless of what emotion was shining in them. And he craved them all, from hate to love, from disgust to trust.

Your fault, they said now, it's all your fault.

But he couldn't understand her anger or coldness towards him. He had done nothing wrong; he hadn't harmed Arthur or her, yet the mistrust radiating from her was almost tangible. He tried not to show how deep her coldness cut him, and how much he wished it could be otherwise. Even though he hadn't done anything to her, she seemed to hate him already for some unknown reason. But he was going to change that, and get back into her good graces somehow – he would not leave her or Arthur to suffer.

So it was only after they started moving again, did he send her a message, a message he knew she would hear as clearly as a day.

I'm sorry, Emrys.

AN: Hope you liked it, lovelies!~ I hope you also enjoyed a peek inside Mordred's head. I loved writing his chapter a lot, and I hope you liked it too. :) Once again, thank you for your reviews, they were all lovely, and a lot of you also seemed to agree with me on the unfairness of Merlin/Modred relationship. That's nice.

Regards.

A.