Okay, so omfg i'm sorry for such a late update - i usually do it every Sunday so I was hoping for that but I was, admittedly, sort of drunk so I couldn't really get the effort into uploading or else it would be like this "i insn and ahrthur kithshsed ermlyin on hhthe lips" because that's how i type when i'm intoxicated~

ANYWAY, so not as many reviews for last chapter, but that's okay i guess. it's a new story and sometimes people lose interest and that's coolio. Thank for for all you guys for continuing to read and enjoy this c:

CHAPTER 4 - ARTHUR'S BANE: PART 2

"You were cold as the blood through your bones
And the light which led us from our chosen homes
Well I was lost."

- 'Below my Feet' by Mumford & Sons.

Gwaine was shaken awake by the blue creature to the sounds of warning bells in the distance. Naught a word was said between them, but they both understood what was happening; he smiled, then, at the realisation of it all. All he could think of was Merlynn - Queen Merlynn - and her husband. They had come for him, for all of them, as he had always known they would. Footsteps padded across the floor toward them from the entrance of their hiding spot, and he lightly pushed the creature back, reassuring him, her - them - that they would be safe. He lifted his fallen sword and crept over to the rock that concealed them, listening to the sounds of the intruders coming toward them. Two, from what he could hear. As they loomed closer to the spot where he stood, he swung around and shouted as he slammed his sword down.

It was blocked by a firm hand wrapping around his arm, preventing the sword from lowering any further. Arthur's amused face was right below the blade's sharp edge, eyebrow raised. "Trust you not to be doing any work," he remarked.

Gwaine could only laugh. "It's about time!" he said, grinning. He turned toward the creature that had saved him; with him standing, the creature was at least nine feet tall, and too slim for any human anatomy. "Don't worry, they're friends. Good friends." It merely shook it's head and clambered away, up into another hidden section of the cave that would have taken much longer to climb for a normal sized human.

"What was that?" the king asked, shocked.

"I'm not exactly sure. But I owe it my life," he admitted, shaking up his hair. Gwaine saw Merlynn standing a few feet away, smiling at him; he returned it, and pushed past Arthur to lift her high up in his arms, kissing her head with a loud smack. She laughed at his behaviour, playfully pushing and squirming away from him, feet kicking against his shins. He set her down and hugged her again; life was torture without her in his life, no matter what role he had to play to be a part of it. She was his best and first friend, and he cared more about her than his own brothers, the knights.

"Come on, let's not dilly-dally," Arthur announced abruptly, and took her hand, pulling her away from him. Even now, after he had truly taken her as his, he was still not convinced his feelings were platonic. He chuckled and wandered behind them, out from their hiding spot and into the main working area, where he remembered being beaten and forced to toil and mine for hours.

"Something is wrong," he heard Merlynn mutter as they entered another tunnel. "The Saxons - where have they all gone?"

"First there are too many, now there aren't enough. Are you ever happy?" Arthur retorted, and sent her a teasing grin. She rolled her eyes and let go of his hand, yet not unkindly; she lagged behind, letting him pass, eyes focused on a place in the distance.

Merlynn froze, then, stance rigid. "What was that?"

"What?" Gwaine asked. He watched her husband roll his eyes, but he knew better than to laugh at her gut; her gut had kept him - all of them - alive countless times. She moved ahead of them in a daze, her feet barely touching the ground. There was fear on her face, fear and concern. His grip tightened on the weapon in his hand.

Then, he heard it. They all did. A dull roar echoed through the narrow shaft and warm air washed over his face, blowing his hair back from his face. Arthur stumbled back alongside him, but not once did the queen move. She remained where she stood, staring straight ahead into the tunnel as if she could see the mysterious thing.

"Feel the wind," she mumbled.

"That wasn't the wind," he said, snatching her arm.

He saw the thing, a large, grey-ish blur, charge at them from the other end of the tunnel, listened as it roared and panted. Arthur grabbed her by the collar and tossed her behind them, then he slung Gwaine's arm over his shoulder to help him run, the torch forgotten on the ground. There was a crevice nearby, a hiding spot for them - Merlynn shoved the both of them inside and jumped in with them in a tangled mess of arms and legs as the creature raced passed them with another shout. As it disappeared around the corner, Gwaine lifted himself up, ignoring the warm weight that rested atop his chest.

"Was that what I think it was?" he breathed, mouth agape.

Arthur, too, sat up as Merlynn got to her feet. "Where did Morgana get a dragon?" he barked in disbelief.

"I've no idea," she said, an odd look on her face. She turned to them; she looked quite determined, jaw set, eyes ablaze with something he could not decipher. "Get Gwaine back to Percival," she demanded. "I'll lure the dragon the other way."

She was grabbed by the back of the collar again by Arthur, who had long since pulled himself up. "Merlynn, you've done some stupid things in the past, but nothing this stupid," he argued. Then, she turned to him and, as if Gwaine wasn't in the room, shared a long, lingering glance; it wasn't one of romance, no, but of understanding. Arthur said nothing, but released her collar and clenched her jaw. She sent a smile to him, and Gwaine, then raced off after the beast.

"What was that about?" he inquired.

He sighed. "Nothing. I'm going after her, though. Fat chance I'm leaving her alone with that dragon."

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Merlynn hadn't expected to see Aithusa again. Some nights, she called for her, beckoning her to their field where they had once met. But, she never came, nor did she even get a call back. It was as though she had disappeared - if Aithusa died, Merlynn knew she would feel it. Aithusa was hers; what was she doing with Morgana, of all people? The dragon was huddled in the corner when she reached her, and she found herself with a loss of breath. Aithusa had once been a healthy creature, with thick muscle and a strong belly; now, she was horribly deformed, mutilated by something, whether it loss of food or, perhaps, torture.

"Aithusa," she gasped, tears stinging her eyes. Her Aithusa had her head low, broken and jagged claws digging into the earth as if she would bring her harm. With a snarl, she breathed fire at her, but Merlynn deflected it easily. "Nun de ge dei s'eikein kai emois epe'essin hepesthai!"

A Dragontamer's word was law over the dragon they wielded, and Aithusa was submissive beneath her orders, whimpering like a child would when punished. She crouched low, reaching out toward the beasts head, which was pulled tight across her skeleton - she was but four years old and the size of a Wyvern, but she was emaciated and sickly. As her fingers made contact, she whimpered and nestled close to her master. "What happened? Who did this to you?"

A pause, then Aithusa began to grumble a series of things; it was as though she was trying to reply, but it did not make sense. Kilgharrah spoke in perfect English, but Aithusa's words were like a childs, incoherent and nonsensical.

"What does that mean?" The dragon shook her head and crawled back a little, further away from Merlynn's touch. "You can't speak," she whispered in realisation.

"Merlynn!" Arthur shouted in the distance.

"Go!" she hissed, watching Aithusa glance at the sound of his voice, then back at her. Merlynn didn't want her to leave as much as she did, but there was nothing she could do. She made a noise again, trying to tell her something. "Ithi!"

Aithusa ran, then, clambering up and away from their place. She wept freely, not caring if he saw her sobbing over the dragon, not caring that she could be attacked by a Saxon any second. After a few moments, she knew that she was left alone in the section of the cave system. All she thought of was Aithusa, of what sort of punishment she had been put through to become what she was - had Morgana tortured her? The thought made her breath sharply through her nose and her nails to dig deep into her thighs.

She was going to kill Morgana the next time they fought. Merlynn had to search for Arthur but, if she were to run into Morgana, secrets be damned. For hurting Aithusa, she deserved the most horrible pain imaginable. She raked her fingers through her hair and raced off in the direction of Arthur's voice; knowing him, he had deserted Gwaine to find Percival himself and went on a mad hunt for her. He could never trust her, could he?

Rolling her eyes, she searched, searched and searched until she could hear him shouting, "And yet with all that, you choose to do nothing but hate!"

"Uther taught me well," Morgana's voice flowed like silk toward her. "Goodbye, Arthur Pendragon."

Merlynn's legs pushed faster and faster toward them, feeling Morgana's - and, to her surprise, Mordred's - magic buzzing in the room ahead. She screamed her husband's name, hoping that, in the next few moments, Morgana would be distracted enough by her voice enough to keep him alive until she arrived. As she reached the chamber where they all stood, she was tossed back by a hidden force, sent soaring into a large boulder behind her. She slumped against the rock, ears buzzing, head throbbing, vision blurred as though she was staring through a foggy window.

"Morgana...Please..."

"Don't speak, dear brother," Morgana was mocking him. "It's too late. Hine -" she cut off with an odd, broken wail. Merlynn opened her eyes, then, pushing through the urge to sleep to see what had happened. She saw Mordred, a look of resigned determination on his face, his blade buried deep in her side. "Mordred?"

Mordred slid the knife out and left her to collapse on the ground; he didn't spare Merlynn a glance, only wrapped Arthur' arm around his shoulder and helped him out of the cave. She groaned and weakly tried to call out to him, but not a sound left her parched mouth; defeated, she returned to the rock and rest against it. Morgana was but a few feet away, though she did not move once. She took a gasping breath, and tried to push herself up with her hands, but found her strength diminished by the blow she gained from the boulder.

A smooth hand touched her forehead and brushed her matted hair back. It was the blue creature that had run away from them before; now, she could feel its magic, pulsing and frayed at the edges, far more powerful than anything else. More than Morgana, than her own, than of any Druid or dragon she had ever come in contact with. This was the most powerful creature she had ever met. It was thin, too thin, and so tall with a coned head.

"Ic the thurhaele thinu licsar," it uttered in a scratched voice, which sounded slightly feminine. "Emrys. Lie still." Merlynn felt her wounds, the throb in her head, diminish beneath the creature's touch, and she gaped at it. "Much blood has been shed this day and all for something few wise men would ever want."

"You mean the Diamair?" she groaned. "Morgana never found it?"

"And she never will."

It was then that she knew. Merlynn had the sudden urge to bow before the creature, as she knew that she was in the presence of something far more superior than she could ever be. She was a queen and Emrys, but she could have been a speck of dirt in comparison to this. "Because it is you," she breathed, shifting so her weight was placed on her forearm. She stared at the Diamair with something akin to awe. "You are the Key to all knowledge?" The Diamair nodded; she could feel tears, uncontrolled and sudden, swell at the thought. "At times, I feel the weight of my destiny crushing me, but that is nothing to what you carry. I'm... so very sorry."

"It is both a blessing and... a curse," even her voice portrayed how old she - Merlynn guessed it was a she, but didn't want to be mistaken - truly was. The Diamair paused, and smiled at her. "Is there anything you wish to ask me?"

Merlynn was tempted beyond belief to ask she if, in the end, her husband died; though, she knew that a man, or woman, who knew the fate of themselves or someone they cared for, would be tormented with it until it happened. Handling the thought of the Vates vision was enough, but to know what lay ahead of Arthur's destiny would be too much. "No," she denied, shifting so she was sitting upright. "I don't think it would be very smart."

"You are wise, Emrys. Your wisdom will live long in the minds to men," she said, touching her cheek in a gesture of friendship.

A sudden thought came to her, and she was bold enough to touch the Diamair's hand. "Well, there is one question. If Mordred is not Arthur's Bane, then, who is?"

Her hand retracted from Merlynn's face and, then, the creature seemed almost sad as she told her, "Himself."

"Oh." She knew what that meant, but said nothing else about it. "Diamair -"

"I had a name, before I became the last of my kind. It was Euchdag," she admitted.

Merlynn grinned; the honor of it, to have the creature's true name, was surely something that was not bestowed upon many. "That's a lovely name," she remarked. "You know, if you do not want to stay in this fortress any longer, once all the knights return, I could come back and retrieve you, take you back to Camelot. There is a cave below the kingdom; it's safe, and not many know how to get there."

The Diamair - Euchdag - did not look surprised at the offer but, she guessed, being the Key to all knowledge gave her the advantage of knowing the rest of their conversation. "It would be nice to not be alone."

"I promise you that, once this is all over, I will try and find a way to bring you back to Camelot. Nobody should be alone," she said, squeezing her hand.

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Mordred watched his Emrys. It was all he could seem to do now as he sat with the king and his knights. There was no doubt that she didn't trust him, not one single bit. The intensity of her distrust was addicting, to see her glance at him out of the corner of her eye, riddled with suspicion and anger and fear. Her fear was strong, he noticed, as after Emrys would look at him, she'd turn her gaze to Arthur and then return her attention back. He was not entirely sure why she feared him, though - he hadn't done anything to make her hate him, hadn't given any indication that he would harm Arthur. The worst he'd done was stand beside Ragnor as the fool bandit cut them down, and even then he protected them.

No doubt that getting caught in the trap was Emrys' doing, he thought to himself, watching with a flicker of amusement as she stumbled over a hidden rock in the depths of the snow. She hadn't spoken to him since she crawled out from Ismere and saw him among them, unharmed but distressed. The worst he had gotten since they began their journey back to Camelot were harsh glares and clenched teeth and barely concealed rage which he was all too pleased by. He had long since admitted his craving for her - everything about her, from her rage, to her love, affection, hatred, disgust... everything that focused on him. He wanted her to pay attention to him always.

He was in love with her long before he knew what love was and, when he was old enough, he realized that his consuming thoughts of her scent and her comfort and her warmth was a deep need for her. His Emrys. The last time he saw her he had promised to exact revenge on her and, for a little while, he was angry but then he was only sad. Sad because she would hate him, hate him forever. Alongside the sadness was satisfaction - she would be thinking of him often, his name a breathy whisper of her thoughts and a constant in her dreams.

Emrys had changed since he last saw her. Her eyes were old, older than they were when he first caught sight of them as a boy. He did not deny that it was her wisdom that made her all the more enticing, but it was also the mischief and youth that he saw hidden beneath that, even when he was able to catch her gaze. However, she had yet to stare at him again with kindness and soft promises of protection and love, though he would strive to regain it as he was now a knight of Camelot. After saving Arthur, the good king asked him if he wanted something in return for his assistance, and it was the first thought - a place in Camelot, a place by Emrys' side. The ceremony would begin once they got back, but the men were already bringing him into their group.

She stared at the men with the expression he craved... she cared for them, especially the brawny one and the smaller man with the scruffy hair, whom he discovered were Percival and Gwaine. His jealousy arose when she was around them, but he managed to conceal it with little smirks in her direction and 'accidental' brushes against her arm or leg. Her attention, the flare of her nostrils and the small tightening of her lips, it made his insides flutter as her suspicious eyes turned on him from time to time. He wished for her to eye him again in wonder, but he could not deny that her negative emotion was so much stronger, held far more passion than ever.

"Oi, Merlynn!" Gwaine shouted, gaining her attention. They stole horses from the Saxons and the animals were all too willing to escape the cold and isolating depths of the stables. She was ahead of him, near Mordred who managed to keep a few paces behind to keep an eye on her. He watched her turn to face Gwaine at the mention of her other name, the name her mother called her, though it was not her true name. It was always Emrys. However, she did not seem to mind her first title, and Gwaine didn't seem inclined to call her by 'queen' or 'your highness' though, on occasion since their ride back, he heard a few teasing honorable titles exchanged between them.

"What do you want?" she retorted, though her voice was not unkind. He didn't need to see her face to know that her eyes were sparkling and there was a grin on her face. Emrys had a fondness for the noble knight, from what he could see, and the man certainly cared for her. Gwaine was in love with his Emrys and, while Mordred was a little jealous - a little jealous was certainly an understatement - he understood. The extent of her magic brought with her an aura which drew all creatures, from humans to animals to creatures of magic, closer to her, made them want to be around her. She was his. He claimed her when their minds first connected, though at that age he had no idea what his feelings meant.

"Slow down a little, will you? Enjoy the snow - hey, I'll even teach you how to make a snow angel," he said, adding a little saucy wink at the end. A giggle passed Emrys' lips, one that he had never heard before, and she shook her head in amusement.

Mordred clenched his jaw and nudged the horse closer to her - he needed her attention on him again, her anger and her irritation. Emrys must have felt the horse's breath at her knee as she turned to face him. Immediately, her smile dropped and her nostrils flared. Her distrust and her anger was a drug to him, and he did everything in his power to provoke her. A little cloud left her mouth as she huffed at him, straightened her shoulders and turned away. Her bared skin had turned bright red from the cold, and the rest of her flesh was almost white. She was obviously not dressed for the harsh weather that was a commonplace in the North.

"Give the kid a break," Gwaine teased her, catching up to them and poking her gently with his finger. "He hasn't done anything wrong."

Even Mordred smirked at that, though it darkened at the mention of him being a 'kid'. He was no kid, and he didn't want Emrys to think so - certainly not Emrys. He wanted her to think of him as the man that he was, no longer a boy; he would prefer her to think him a monster than a child. Emrys pursed her lips then blew out another puff of steam, and he knew she wanted to reply with a, if only you knew, but she didn't. His promise to her when she was among the bandits obviously kept a hold over her words and her actions. And, though Gwaine continued to eye him with curiosity, he knew he had gained his trust after defying Morgana to keep the king safe.

His loyalties changed. The thought crossed his mind when he first saw Morgana in all her madness. She was plagued by it, disfigured and ugly by the darkness she consumed into her every being. He remembered the girl in her silk dresses and long, glossy curls and a smile that was blinded with affection. How different she was now, dressed in her tight, black gown with hair like a robin's nest, pinned back to show her ghostly complexion and mad grin, even as she saw him for the first time. Mordred had to force that smile on his face to console her, to weave her into his plans once again - he had once thought her beautiful, though now he saw her for nothing but a shadow of what she had been.

Morgana had forgotten the power of love and of magic, but Arthur... he was still held-fast in his belief of honor and loyalty and it was an addition to why he decided to betray her. He didn't make his decision until he heard her scream Arthur's name and the mad High Priestess had thrown her against the wall - he reacted without thinking, and stabbed deep into her side. Mordred didn't kill her, though he probably should have. Merlynn was the catalyst to his change in plans. His original plan was to gain Arthur's trust and weave his way deep within the kingdom, then he would take it from the inside out. And now, the end step was diminished, swallowed by his thoughts of Emrys.

He wanted to keep her safe, keep her by his side. If he had to stay in Camelot, then he shall. He spent far too much time away from her, countless years of plotting and planning (which all went to nothing in the end), and all he wanted was to stay by her. Even if she was not his romantically, though it was what he wanted, he would take her any way she wanted - as a friend, or brother, or companion.

"Whatever, Gwaine. When we stop, want to make the snow angel with me?" she asked, turning her attention sorely on Gwaine, barely even giving Mordred recognition while he bristled beside her. No, look at me, look at me... don't look at him, look at me!

Later that evening, he spotted her. Everyone else was asleep except for himself and for Emrys. She removed herself from her post near Arthur, though he knew she was never asleep in the first place, and sat on the outskirts of the group. It wasn't as windy as it had been during the day, but it was absolutely freezing - even he could feel the icy sting of the cold through his layers of clothing. No doubt she was positively frozen beneath her thin tunic and coat. Mordred could see that she was shaking, even through her blanket. The snow was so white, so clear and so breathtaking in the large patch of snow where they had stopped to rest for the evening.

"It's cold," he said, though he cursed himself for uttering the words. That was a dumb thing to say, an obvious statement that would no doubt be retorted by his Emrys with a sarcastic remark.

"Oh, really? I hadn't noticed," she bit out. It didn't surprise him at all, her comment, and all it did was make him smile. He took a seat beside her and saw what she was seeing - from where she sat, huddled on a rock protruding from the snow, he could see the valleys and mountains in the distance, dusted with white. The North was rarely green, and faced harsh winters. Wolves were the dominant species - well, they were until Morgana came and began to assert her power in Ismere.

Mordred took a good look at Emrys, really looked at her. When he first saw her as a boy, she was too thin with long fingers and big ears and such an odd face - now, that he was able to see her again, he saw the changes in her. Her ears were still slightly out of proportion with her face and clothes were a bit baggy on her, but now she looked so tired and so weak with dark bags beneath her eyes and a tremor in her fingers. Did she ever sleep... better yet, did she eat? He had heard her complain about food a few times, but she handed her rations to Arthur and said nothing more. When he took them to Ismere she didn't sleep, and he wasn't sure how long it had been since she got any at all - consistent, or not. She was a queen, wasn't she? A queen should be fed more, be more replenished and healthy.

In addition to the lack of sufficient sleep and food, she was also sitting out in the cold. Freezing to death. The thought made him grit his teeth. "Damn it, Emrys," he hissed, unwrapping his cowl and shoving it over her head. "You're such an idiot."

"Hey!" she protested weakly, though she didn't make a motion to deny his offer. Mordred lifted his leather hood to protect him from the cold and sent her a little smile; she looked wonderful in his cowl, nothing but her nose and eyes visible beneath the dark material, the blue almost illuminated by the contrast in color.

"Why do you hate me so much?" he asked. He hadn't meant for the words to escape him, but he couldn't let it go now. "I don't intend to bring any harm to yourself, or to Arthur, and I've never done anything to hurt either of you."

She scoffed, but said, "Good, because I'll kill any man, woman or child who dares to try and lay a finger on him." Her loyalty astounded him; the destiny that unfolded to him as a boy, her destiny, changed her. She was sworn to protect Arthur, her husband and love, but he wondered on what sense, how, she fell in love. Through duty, through loyalty, or through natural compassion?

Mordred winced at the emphasis she used on the word 'child'. "I am no child anymore, Emrys." He stole her hands from beneath her jacket and interlocked his gloved fingers with her cold ones, tugging them closer to his warm body. She was married, but she was cold and he was so much warmer and he just wanted to touch her. Emrys didn't retract herself from him, instead clenching her jaw and glaring at their contact.

"You may not look like a boy, but you are still a child," he didn't need to look at her to know she was smirking. Her nails dug into the material of his gloves gently, and she shuffled closer; whether it was a conscious decision or not, he still smiled a little. "Why... why did you stab Morgana? I thought you two were allies."

"We once were," he admitted. Mordred began to play with her fingers, not to warm them but just because. "There was a time where I considered her one of my greatest allies, but that was because you refused to help us. Now... I don't want to be around her any more than you do. She has been poisoned far too much by her hatred to see the point of magic, or everything that's important. She's lost her sense of honor and love and Arthur seems to have all of that. My loyalty is genuine, Emrys."

"Is that why you stabbed her?"

"Yes...and no." He hesitated, before he said, "She hurt you." And it was the truth. The sudden burst of energy Morgana used to toss Emrys against the wall was enough to severely damage her back or head if she was thrown incorrectly. His blade was already drawn, ready to defend if needed but... then he heard Emrys let out a little whimper and he saw red. He didn't know that he had even stabbed her until the High Priestess turned to him with her wide, icy eyes, so full of fear and sorrow and hatred before she collapsed.

Emrys tensed in his hands and he glanced up to see her staring at him with disbelief. "I - I don't..."

"Emrys, I -" he cleared his throat.

"You've never called me Merlynn," she said all of a sudden, brows furrowed. "Not once, I think. Why?"

"I grew up learning of you. Before I met you, I knew more about you than myself." He leaned in close so she could hear him, forehead dangerously close to hers. Their visible breaths of air mingled together as he spoke. "You were a dream to my people. We all wished to serve the child of the Old Religion, to submit to the great and powerful Emrys, the wise woman who would save those who were of a magic descent. The Druids are taught about you from the moment they are old enough to speak the Old Religion. I only knew you as Emrys."

She looked so astonished, and it didn't surprise him. It would certainly come as a shock to him if he discovered that there were books written about him, that there were studies based around him. "But... how did you know it was me?"

"I'm not entirely sure. I called for whoever listened and then your mind matched mine and we connected. Our paths were intertwined from the moment you heard my cry for help," Mordred told her. Emrys swallowed thickly. "That was when I knew that you were Emrys - I dreamed of what you would look like."

"Oh?"

"In fact, for a little while I thought you'd be some sort of old hag," he managed to get a small laugh out of her.

"I've been an old hag before. It's not too great, being old," she confessed with the hint of a grin on her face. They were so close, now, facing each other, legs and heads almost touching, hands intertwined at his chest. He felt...content, even if the only reason she was near him was because he forced her too. "I had to. Uther was dying, and... it was the only thing I could think of."

Mordred furrowed his brow. "You turned into an old woman to save Uther Pendragon?"

A bitter smile formed on her lips as she replied, "I tried. Arthur... I wasn't going to let his father die. It - it wouldn't have ended well, and my plan would've worked if Morgana's right-hand man hadn't intervened."

"You risked your life for Arthur?" it was more of a statement than a question, if he was to be honest with himself.

"It's all I've done since I first met him," she told him wryly. "Protecting him is engrained in my very soul now." And she was willing, now, to get herself killed just to keep him safe - marriage, love, be damned. Arthur was more happy to sacrifice himself for the good of his people, for her protection. They were both going to kill each other in the end.

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Mordred, a knight of Camelot.

It was unexpected, indeed. Not his original plan, but a good one nonetheless; though even he was aware that there was no alternate motive behind his sudden transition. It was all about Emrys. Arthur asked him what he wanted, and he was ever so tempted to tell him but, instead, he insisted on serving the king of Camelot as a knight. He was a young man, but he was quick and strong and stealthy. The king already seemed to be keen of him already, so it only meant him becoming closer to Emrys - to Merlynn, as he had to address her in the presence of others.

She was held up on a pedestal so high, even for a queen. Each man, woman and child stared with such gentle care, such respect and loyalty; she graced them with the same kindness, he noted, on their ride in. She smiled and waved and even kissed a red-haired girl on her flour-dusted cheek as she was drawn close. Emrys - Merlynn - had been a servant before all of this and, to be queen, meant that there was a break in tradition, one that the people seemed to be more than happy to comply to. The knights, too, held tenderness in their eyes and their movements as they flanked her to the throne room for the knighting ceremony.

His knighting ceremony.

"Arise, Sir Mordred, Knight of Camelot," Arthur declared as the ceremonial sword was placed delicately on either one of his shoulders. He was under the eyes of all; the knights, the people, his Emrys. She had her jaw locked, tongue held between pink lips to keep from shouting. Mordred smiled at her secretly, and took delight in the rage in her eyes, barely concealed with her regal appearance.

He was excited to become a knight. To be a knight of Camelot was one of the most noble titles a man could ever have, and to have Arthur Pendragon as a ruler was even a greater honour. Mordred got to his feet and bowed at his king; the entire hall was dismissed, then, with that final address. The king and queen walked out first with their servants, hand in hand, and then he was given the chance to follow quickly after. Mordred was alone in the antechamber and he smiled, reaching to unbuckle his crimson cloak as he walked to the window.

The steel was cool beneath his fingers, but not as cold as the voice that he heard soon after. "Here, let me help you with that." Soft, yet rough fingers lightly touched his before her warm arms wrapped around his shoulders to touch the clasp. Shivers threatened to break through as his eyes started to roll back into his head from her touch; it was euphoric, her scent, enveloping him once again. Sweet and warm and so very powerful, her magic became a smell of its own. He wanted to turn around and kiss her, to finally have those lips somewhere else than his forehead or his hair - his first kiss.

She removed herself, and the cloak, from his person and he was cold again. It was as though Ismere had instead wrapped itself around him and pull him close as soon as she was gone. "Thank you," his reply was a mere whisper.

"Tell me something," she said, voice curt.

"Of course," he replied. Anything. Please, Emrys... Any question she would ask, he would answer.

Merlynn smiled unbelievably, shaking her head. "You saved Arthur's life," she made it sound like a bad joke. "Why?" Her eyes were glinted gold as she looked back up at him, as if to warn him of how powerful she truly was.

"Because Arthur is right," her expression turned into one of surprise. "The love that binds us is more important than the power we wield. Morgana had forgotten that." He was being entirely honest.

For a moment, she narrowed her eyes, staring at him with something that he could not decipher - more suspicion, speculation? - but then, she stepped away from him, her face blank of all emotion and walked away. He was left alone in the antechamber for a few minutes until he was joined by the rest of the knights. Perhaps there was hope for him yet.

[][][][][][]

It had become a tradition to dine with Gaius on a Sunday evening. Now that she was out of her small little room into the king's bedchambers, she didn't get to spend as much time with him as she would like. So, it became a 'thing' between them. The food was not as delicious as the food she usually ate, but she didn't care; it let her reminisce into her past, when she was but a mere servant girl, and, of course, she was able to speak to Gaius freely. Though, even now, his company could bring her no joy - she thought of the Druid boy sleeping or drinking nearby, gaining friends (her friends) and getting closer to Arthur.

"It's been a big day," Gaius said, and from the look he gave her he knew that something was troubling her. She pursed her lips and nodded. "You must be tired. Too tired for pudding?"

Finally, she looked up from her stew and, finally, a smile appeared on her face. "Is there pudding?" He only grinned and placed a large plate of pudding in the centre of the table. The smell filled her nostrils, sweet and warm and just delicious. "It's my favourite!"

He chuckled and cut her a rather large slice, then placed it before her. As she dug into the treat, distracted, he asked, "So, are you going to tell me what's troubling you?"

"Mordred," she admitted in frustration.

"People change. Perhaps we should give him the benefit of the doubt," he offered.

"That's not what you said about Freya," she said bitterly, her gaze sharp. Merlynn had never once forgotten about Freya, or the way she was treated by all those who came in contact with her - except for Merlynn. She was the only person who gave her a chance, a bit of kindness and compassion; they could have been best friends, if Gaius had not told the king of her whereabouts...

"That was different," he appeased and she laughed without humour.

"Remember what Kilgharrah said? Arthur would meet his end at the hands of a Druid, and I had a vision that confirmed it," she argued.

Gaius sighed. "You still believe that's him?"

"I believe that Albion's great trial has already begun."

And it had.

So, horrible ending. I'm sorry. :c

But more Mordred/Merlynn interaction, yay~~

Acklesaddict: omfg skfjfkjh i squealed when i got this because HELLO YOU! wow omfg it feels like forever since I saw your pen name? idk :s but omfg Mordred is everything (even if in the last episode he was a massive douche honky)

Nerdman3000: awh, thanks! and yeah, that's what i'm planning :3

Ausday Rose: I'm still thinking that Gwen would be brainwashed :c I haven't made that decision yet.

intensewhatever: that's what i'm thinking too :/ Merlin is Emrys, he should be badass and just kasjdskdjgh he just needed to do so much more!

Of Soul Fire: gah, i know! i really should have made each episode a chapter, but ugh can't really change it now, can I? and awhjdfdfkfh thank you so much, that's so nice of you to say!

It's Christmas Eve now, so Merry Christmas to you all! Hope you actually enjoyed this chapter - like a gift to you all? :s Wow can you believe it's been a year and a half since I started this story?! It's absolutely ridiculously amazing!

Anyway, I have plans for the future so i'm really excited for you all to read it. If you guys are still interested in it, i guess?

MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR (because idk if i'll upload on sunday)!

Love you all,

Khaleesi~