Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or any of the characters in the series, I'm just borrowing them from BBC to play with a little and I promise to give them back when I'm done. No copyright infringement is intended and I don't make any money from writing fanfiction.
At Camlann
When the push came to shove it was his loyalty to Arthur that decided the action of his hand, the fate of Arthur and ultimately the fate of Albion. So when he raised the blade that had been forged in a dragon's breath, he didn't raise it on his king, his friend, his brother-in-arms but on Morgana, the woman he thought would restore magic to Albion but had been lost on the way, blinded by hatred and cruelty. He could not blame her for what she'd become because no one could know how they'd turned out had they had to endure what she had. But he could blame her for the actions that she'd taken and he finally realized that he could not follow her. He could now understand Emrys' dedication to Arthur and that it was his continued reign and not his death that would bring magic back to the lands of Albion. He could also understand why Emrys had been so suspicious of him and so reluctant to welcome him into the inner circle of Arthur's knights. He had almost played the part in Arthur's destiny that had been foretold that he would, as the one betraying the king. But he had managed to create his own destiny and let love conquer hate.
And so when steel bit info flesh it was not Arthur that gasped in pain but his half-sister, eyes filled with sadness and confusion. A small cry escaped her lips and when she fell, it was into his arms. Gently, almost like holding a child, he lowered her to the ground and held her as she drew her last breaths. Her eyes found his.
"Why?" she managed to whisper.
"I had to" he simply answered and knew that it was true. He couldn't have done it any other way, it was clear to him now.
With Morgana fallen, Mordred not fighting and Merlin somehow having managed to restore his magic, Arthur's enemies soon succumbed or gave up. Mordred stayed on his knees, holding Morgana's body in his arms and stroking her hair as the battle drew to an end around him. He dimly realized that he was surrounded by people but didn't move neither to acknowledge them or nor to defend himself. He also noted that his sword seemed to have disappeared somewhere but it didn't seem to matter anymore.
"Mordred?" He heard Emrys' voice in his mind.
"Yes?"
"I'm sorry." Before Mordred could react he heard a softly murmured incantation and suddenly his magic wasn't his to control anymore. He could still feel it but it seemed to be dormant and he could not will it from its depths of slumber. Then two soldiers appeared behind him and attempted to grab his arms but he jerked out of their grips, holding on to Morgana.
"Mordred." It was Arthur's voice. "Let go." Arthur crouched before him and gently tugged at Mordred's hands until he released his grip.
"I'll take care of her, I promise." Arthur nodded to the soldiers and Mordred was hauled to his feet and led away. He turned to look back at Arthur who carefully lifted Morgana's body and carried her over to one of the tents where the wounded were cared for.
Mordred was surprised that he was not taken to the other prisoners but to a smaller tent close to the king's. As he was led past the knights and soldiers of Camelot he could see hate, fear and suspicion in their eyes, but also confusion, why had he been spared, how could he be allowed so close to the king? He didn't know either.
It turned out that the smaller tent was Merlin's and he waited inside as Mordred was pushed through the opening. The soldiers, very ill at ease in the company of sorcerers, hurried away and left the two of them alone. Merlin, now back to his normal, young self, seemed to wait for Mordred to say something but he couldn't do more than stare into the ground.
"Mordred?" he asked at last and Mordred looked up at him but quickly fouz that he couldn't meet his eyes and looked down again. The guilt of what he'd done was too overwhelming and he could feel himself tremble. Merlin took his arm and led him over to a small cot on the side.
"We'll need to talk but I need to help with the wounded" he said, pushing at Mordred's shoulder until he sat down. "I'm sorry I have to do this." Mordred didn't react as his wrists and ankles were shackled, didn't bother trying to use his magic since he already knew that the cold iron would stop him.
"I deserve everything that's coming to me, Emrys." Merlin looked at him with an unreadable expression on his face and then turned to leave.
"Sleep, Mordred." And Mordred felt himself fall into a deep sleep, undisturbed by dreams.
