Elyan's disturbance was the stone thrown in the river and the dissent spread like ripples. The knights shunned him after that and Arthur had to personally ask him to take a few days of rest. Elyan was perplexed over his own actions and swore over and over that he had no idea why he'd acted so ruthlessly. He pleaded to Guinevere to defend him to her husband and so she in turn was shamed when she too had no explanation. Mordred prompted the dissent as much as he dared. When he was asked his opinion he agreed that he should take a few days rest but during dinner he would listen to Leon's distaste and gently encourage it. He offered to take over some of Elyan's duties under the pretense of helping him rest but performed them so well that even Arthur had commented on his ability to multitask. When Guinevere wanted to visit the market he offered before Elyan was even called and she accepted, surprised but pleased. He walked beside her as she visited a few stalls and asked after the owner's health. She played the queen gracefully but Mordred noticed how tired it made her and how her smile started to strain. On the way back to the castle she asked him about her brother.

"I don't wish to speak out of turn, your majesty," he replied patiently.

"Please, I'd like to know."

He tried to look uncomfortable. "He told me that before he was knighted he travelled. I think perhaps he feels stifled here. I think he only stays for you."

Guinevere fell silent but he could tell that she was deep in thought. He guided his horse into the stables with his mood lifted. Later that evening there was an argument in the royal rooms and Elyan left that night. Guinevere sobbed but Arthur remained strong; he'll be back soon, he insisted, he just needs some time to cool down. After that Gwaine, Leon, Vidor, and Brennis stayed to themselves more and the banter between the king and his knight's soured.

Every night he reported the new developments to Morgana. He could've used ravens but he thought it might prompt questions among the court and also he liked hearing her voice too much.

The Lady Morgana was not forgotten in Camelot, even if their minds were elsewhere. Occasionally somebody would bring her up and they would discuss what they should do but no one could come to an agreement. She was still lurking out there, waiting for another chance to crush them, and they should not forget it. Arthur sent men out to scout the land around Camelot but they always came back empty handed. He even sent scouts to the north to see if they could gather any information but it seemed that Morgana had finally found a place to hide.

Mordred knew where she was. Morgana had taken a ship away from Camelot and was mustering an army overseas. She would not tell him much more than that but it was enough to know that she was safely away. Their discussions were always brief and to the point, but sometimes he thought he could hear a trace of amusement or relief in her thoughts. It was a struggle to have only these short exchanges with her when he wanted to touch her and feel her beside him. He spent a lot of time imagining things when alone, especially after a drink. There was no trust between them. It was understandable that she did not fully trust him but he could not count on her either. Her thoughts were unstable, her lust for revenge was always at the foremost, and she was obviously unraveling. He did not love her. They had both seen so much misery in their lives that the emotion was beyond them now, but something very powerful drew him to her. They were linked somehow.

He began to make his plans to seduce the queen. It was a shame that he had to use Gwaine as the knight had gone along so well with his schemes up until now and Mordred admired his bravado and the way he had built himself up from nothing. He snuck into Gaius's store room like before but for this spell he needed something belonging to both Guinevere and to Gwaine. Gwen was easy enough as she had many trinkets he could pinch but Gwaine was far trickier. He owned nothing to his name apart from his armor and crimson cloak. Eventually Mordred was able to slip into his room and he searched it for something he could use. Just as he plucked some hairs off his pillow the door opened and a plain looking boy came in carrying some clean clothes. When he saw Mordred he hesitated.

"Can I help you, Ser?"

Mordred acted impulsively. With a spell he knocked the boy backwards against the wall and he fell unmoving to the floor. He bent down to check but knew straight away that he was dead. The room started to spin but he gritted his teeth and remained standing. The boy would've told Gwaine what he was up to and he could afford no slip ups now. Still, if anyone found out about this he would be sentenced to death, knight or no knight. He checked the corridor and thankfully it was deserted. Moving the body was difficult but eventually he managed to haul him to the nearest stairs and he kicked him over the edge. He went back for the clothes he'd been carrying and threw them down as well to make it look as though he'd simply fell during his chores, and then rushed back to his room before he could be implicated.

He was halfway through conjuring the spell when he heard the first shriek but continued as though it was nothing. The necklace and hair hovered above the cauldron emitting a soft glow as he murmured the right incantation.

"Do ut facias, Guinevere e Gwaine."

The objects dropped into his outstretched hand and he smiled in triumph. Now all he had to do was wait and see what happened; the spell was potent enough, it encouraged desperation and love, and would weave its own magic on the two. He stored the cauldron and stores back beneath the broken floorboards under his bed and changed for dinner.

The effect was not immediate although he observed the two speaking in the great hall with growing anticipation. He glanced up at Arthur and wondered what he would do once he found his beloved Guinevere in the arms of his loyal knight. Mordred had learnt of Lancelot and how Arthur had almost called off the wedding afterwards but eventually forgiven her. Just to make sure his rouse was realistic he had hidden a scarf of Guinevere's in Gwaine's room to further the suspicions. The boy servant had been found by a laundry maid and it had been declared an accident by all. Gwaine was troubled by the death but he did not think on it – accidents like that happened a lot in large households – and besides, he had other more pressing things to ponder about. Mordred watched as Gwaine suddenly frowned at Gwen and the two moved away from each other in confusion. Too close for comfort, he thought.

That evening he decided to walk along the battlements of the castle and eventually wound up in the castle gardens. The smell of grass and flowers was a welcoming scent after spending so long inside. He missed the smell of pine and dirt that came with living in the forest and the sound of the birds chirping in the trees above him. He was a Druid and so naturally felt more at home outside. He held out his hands and stood still for a moment, feeling the energy of the earth sink into his very being. He could feel the magic and let it wash over him in a rush. It felt so heavy now. He had been using only a fraction of what he usually did and he wanted nothing more than to release it. He felt it pent up inside of him. He was a Druid; using his magic felt as natural as breathing to him and resisting it was difficult.

"Mordred?"

He turned and saw that Arthur was watching him curiously. He dropped his hands. "Shouldn't you be inside, your majesty?"

"I needed some fresh air," the king answered. "What were you doing?"

"Just…" he struggled to think of an excuse but Arthur nodded knowingly.

"It must be difficult to live a mortal life after living with magic for so long," he said. "I do appreciate your efforts. Truly."

"It is an honor to serve as a knight of Camelot," Mordred lied easily. As though I could take off my magic like a cloak. "I wish for nothing more."

Arthur smiled at that and clapped him on the shoulder. Mordred was suddenly struck by how similar Arthur's eyes were to Morgana's. Warmer, of course, and honest but they were the exact same shade of blue. He looked into the face of his king and thought it odd that he should be smiling when he was secretly planning to steal his throne. He would crush this man one day, he was certain of that. He would be Arthur's final downfall. "When Morgana asked me to smuggle you out of Camelot all those years ago, I never thought I would be making a friend," Arthur confessed. "You are a true friend to me. I thank you for that. And I thank you for saving me from her."

I will see you dead.

He nodded to his king as though grateful and Arthur walked back inside.

Mordred.

He looked around, startled by how clear the thought sounded.

Mordred, help me.

It sounded as though she was close, but how could she be? He was inside the walls of the castle and though she had found a way into the city even Morgana could not sneak inside here.

Help me.

He followed the trace, rushing as she pleaded again and again for his help. The desperation in her voice made him worried. The trace led him back inside the castle and up to the highest northern tower. He came to a halt outside her old bedroom and then magically unbolted the door once more. There lay Morgana.

She was reclining back on the dusty bed, her head thrown back in obvious discomfort. Her body shook and her face was drawn up in pain. She was trying very hard to stay conscious. When she saw him she whispered his name.

"What's going on?" He spoke urgently, going at once to her side. She cried out as another contortion racked through her body.

"I was so very far away but I came. I travelled too far."

There were not many magical beings that could master teleportation but Morgana was one of them. This one journey, however, had robbed her of all of her strength. Her powers had been completely drained. Once he realised that she was not in any immediate danger he released the breath he had been holding and carefully lifted her in his arms. If she was discovered here in the castle she would be sent straight to the executioners block and she was not well enough to fight back. He used his powers to cloak them in a shadow and carried her carefully to his own room, thankful that it was late enough for the hallways to be empty.

Once inside he gently lowered her onto his bed and brushed the hair away from her forehead. She had fallen unconscious in his arms but her eyelids fluttered as though she was dreaming. He covered her with the silken sheets and took a seat beside her in case she awoke. In order for her to regain her powers she would need to rest which meant he would need to find a way for them to be undisturbed. The sun rose the next morning but she was still unconscious so he told his manservant through the gap of his door that he was ill and wished to be left alone.

She murmured things in her sleep and he half-listened as he sharpened his sword. There was not a lot that he could do while she was like this so was relieved when she finally woke at noon.

"Mordred?"

"I'm here." He sat beside her on the bed and watched as her gaze slid into focus. He had changed out of his crimson tunic during the night and was now dressed in a plain white shirt and dark breeches. He had removed her heavy furs before tucking her into bed and taken the liberty of unlacing her corset enough so that she could breathe more easily. When her gaze met his she smiled weakly. "You were foolish to come here. What on earth possessed you to make such a journey?"

She was unfazed by his words. "I thought you dead. I could no longer hear you."

"Perhaps you were too far away."

"No," she shook her head, adamant. "Someone was blocking it."

Merlin.

Merlin had obviously guessed that someone inside the castle was communicating with Morgana and had cast a spell to prevent it. The only thing that worried Mordred, however, was whether or not he knew it was him.

"So you came all this way to make sure I was alive?" Mordred smirked. "Your sentiment is touching."

Morgana ignored him but winced when she tried to sit up. He had to lean over and help her. She then noticed the stray laces of her corset and shot him a look that would've made any other man blush. "Have you been undressing me, dear Mordred? How very perverse of you."

"I was tempted to unlace you further."

Her lips parted into a grin and he felt himself respond. The sun was shining through the glass windows and fell across her raven black hair, making it look as soft as ink. He wanted to take her again then and there but instead rose from the bed. She questioned him. "I'll need to steal into Gaius's stores again if you are to regain your strength quickly. I'll make sure to lock the door."

He changed his clothes before leaving and was not modest about the exposed flesh. Neither had seen the other under their clothes before, even in their most intimate moments, but seeing as they never discussed those times he found it wickedly exhilarating to do so now. To her credit Morgana did not look away but then he hadn't expected her to.

He was tying on his crimson cloak when a knock came from the door.

"I'm indisposed," he called and out of the corner of his eye he saw Morgana tense.

"It's only me," a voice called back and it unmistakably belonged to Merlin. "Gaius has sent me with a tonic."

"One moment." Mordred went to Morgana and helped her to her feet. The only place she could hide was behind the window drapes and once settled he drew it across her. He suddenly remembered hiding behind her curtain all those years ago, while she had been the one to answer the door. He made sure that she was completely hidden before opening the door a crack. "Merlin."

"You're dressed. I thought you'd be in bed," he greeted curiously.

"I'm feeling a lot better now."

"Do you still want the tonic? Gaius just whipped it up."

"I'm fine," Mordred insisted, though somewhat more hurriedly than he expected. He disliked the idea of Merlin being so close to discovering Morgana and he couldn't just kill Merlin as he had with that servant boy.

Merlin regarded him for a moment before drawing closer. His voice was hushed, "Did you cure yourself? You know Arthur will kick you out of here if he finds out."

Mordred's tone suddenly turned icy cold, "I'll bare that in mind, Emrys." Merlin raised an eyebrow but did not reply. He passed Mordred the tonic and left without another word. Mordred locked the door behind him. The idea that he was supposed to stop using his powers while Merlin didn't always irked him. One day he too would be exposed and then see just how kindly people treated him.

He was still scowling when he drew back the curtain but when he saw Morgana's face it slid away. She looked as though she had seen Uther raised from the dead. He looked her up and down searching for any sign that something was wrong but she was holding herself rigid.

"Emrys," she whispered; her eyes wide with panic. "Merlin is Emrys?"

"It is the name my people call him," Mordred explained. She knows he has magic? "Why does that matter?"

"He will kill me. He is to be my death," she murmured and he was surprised to see unshed tears in her eyes. In that moment she was more human to him than she had ever appeared before. The look of fear on her face was disturbing; he had never seen his look this afraid before either. "It has been prophesised."

Her legs collapsed beneath her and she crumpled to the ground. Mordred immediately went down to his knees beside her and tried to hold onto her hands but she batted him away. "Morgana!"

"It has been seen!" she cried. "Mordred, you must get rid of him. He will kill me if you don't."

He pulled her close as she struggled wildly. Her face was against his chest and he felt her body shake as she tried to draw breath. "You must calm yourself," he urged quietly. "Emrys will not hurt you."

"The Cailleach warned me. I have seen him in my dreams."

Mordred cupped her face in his hands and lifted it so they were only inches apart. Her face was white and wet with tears. Her eyes no longer icy but wide and they darted across his face as though looking for something. He gave it to her. "I have sworn myself to you. I will not let him hurt you," he said calmly.

She looked at him so eagerly. "Kill him," she whispered. She leant up so that their cheeks touched and her voice was in his ear, whispering words as though she were a serpent. It still managed to send shivers down his spine. "Save me."

He adored the creamy white skin of her neck. It was as soft as satin. He lay a kiss upon it and murmured that he would do all she asked. He always would. He was completely and utterly her creature. She said nothing as he carried her to his bed but her eyes burned.

He did not touch her that night, but felt as though he had won a larger victory.