Author's Note: A big thank you to all my reviewers! Your support is hugely appreciated. Please remember to leave a review after reading, everybody. Any and all comments, critiques, etc. are encouraging and helpful. I'm happy to answer any questions you may have as well (though you have to ask them from a signed-in account so that I can PM you). Thanks for reading! Enjoy this latest installment.
The rest of Merlin's tale shocked, pained, and outraged Mordred in turns. To hear of Morgana's attack on the warlock, which Merlin had been unable to repel because he was taken by surprise, made his stomach twist anxiously. He found this rather absurd, seeing as Merlin was clearly fine now, but he couldn't help it. It hurt to hear of Merlin in that situation.
The description of Arthur's betrayal by Mithian was painful as well. But then, hearing of Merlin's miraculous save in the nick of time, Mordred was filled to the brim with incredulity.
"A sudden earthquake just happened to occur at the perfect moment, a few seconds later you show up, and Arthur still doesn't even guess at the truth?" he said, dumbstruck. Merlin just chuckled a bit.
"Trust me, you get used to it. He's always been this blind. It's certainly not anything new."
Merlin continued, telling how they ran for it, how their group broke apart and Arthur confronted Odin.
"But what became of Morgana?" interjected Mordred confusedly.
"Back in the tomb, she tried to follow us, so I sent her flying backwards into the wall. She was knocked unconscious, certainly. It was a pretty hard blow."
Mordred nodded and allowed Merlin to continue. He responded with the appropriate level of enthusiasm at Merlin's triumph in getting Arthur and Odin to make a truce. When Merlin spoke of how easily Arthur had forgiven Mithian, Mordred made his considerably less forgiving sentiments known, claiming that no matter what he said, Arthur would never have acted the same in her place. Merlin's lips may have a twitched a bit then, but altogether he was much more sympathetic with the princess than Mordred was willing to be, especially since, as he pointed out, she did in fact try to warn them.
But through all this, Mordred's mind stayed fixed on Morgana.
Based off what Merlin had said of her aging spell draining her power, followed by the formidable physical blow Merlin had dealt her, Morgana had to be exhausted. She would have to spend some time regaining her strength, of both a magical and physical nature. Even better, with the new truce between Arthur and Odin, she had lost her most recent ally. If Mordred sought her out now, she would be alone and quite helpless. Perhaps the time had finally come.
Excitement at the prospect raced through him. Ever since the simurgh had deposited a very specific memory of Morgana's hideaway cave in his mind, he had been searching for just such an opportunity as this one. It was nigh on impossible to catch Morgana at a time when she was both without an ally and too weak to attack. This seemed to be the perfect moment.
Tomorrow, Mordred would make his move.
A knock at the door woke Arthur from his musings. He frowned. His first thought was, Merlin just left, why is he back already? But when the person outside his chambers didn't enter without permission, his confusion cleared. It obviously wasn't Merlin. He should have guessed as much just based on the fact that the person was knocking at all.
"Come in," Arthur called out. The door opened, admitting his youngest knight. Arthur's eyebrows rose in silent surprise. Mordred came to stand calmly in front of his King.
"If this is about yesterday's mission-" Arthur began cautiously.
"No, milord, it is not," interrupted Mordred. "Though I would like to apologize for my behavior. I should not have acted as I did. I only wished to be of service to you." Mordred's contrite tone brought a proud smile to Arthur's face. At times, Mordred displayed maturity far beyond his years. Arthur liked that about him.
"You're forgiven, Mordred," he assured. "You are shaping up to be an excellent knight, and I admire your ambition. Trust me, I remember well how it was when I was still too young for my father to allow me on similar quests. I promise, your chance is coming."
Mordred smiled graciously, offering humble thanks.
"My lord, I have a favor to ask of you," he said, straight to the point. "Will you hear me?"
"Certainly," returned Arthur politely. "What is it?"
A flicker of emotion crossed Mordred's face—embarrassment, if Arthur were to wager a guess. His brow contracted once more, wondering what could be unsettling the younger man.
"I… would like to ask your permission to leave the city, ride out into the forest for the remainder of the afternoon."
"Well I imagine that can be arranged. Why? Where is it you need to go?"
"Nowhere in particular, milord. It's just that…" Mordred's discomfort increased. "…ever since the incident with the simurgh, I've on occasion felt… less than well. I'm afraid it has left a bit of a mark on me."
"I see," said Arthur. "I apologize, I did not realize that any ill effects still plagued you."
"Please, there is no need for you to apologize!" assured Mordred fiercely. "You jumped in front of that beast for me. Rather, it is I who should apologize to you for any injuries you sustained in my place."
"It's no longer of any importance. Let us leave the matter behind us." Arthur gave a friendly smile, and Mordred responded with one of his own, a bit timid, as usual. "Back to these occasional pains, have you gone to Gaius?"
"I do not believe that Gaius would be of much help to me," said Mordred quietly. "My pains are of a much more mental nature, and the only physical effect is slight sickness. Some days are easier than others and I… well, being a druid, I know that it would set my mind at ease to be within the cover of the trees, even if just for a short time. I am at present feeling particularly unwell, and a short ride would bring me peace, I am sure of it."
"Of course. I understand, Mordred. Wear your uniform so that the guards will let you back into the city after dark, in case you do not return by nightfall."
"Thank you, Arthur. This means a great deal to me."
"Just try not to stay out too late. And when you come back, I would like you to see Gaius about this. He's capable of doing more than you might think."
Mordred bowed his acceptance and started towards the door. He paused with his hand on the handle. "There is… one more thing I would ask of you."
"Yes?"
"If… my absence is noted… could the true reason for it remain between us? I do not wish to appear weak to my fellow knights."
Arthur smiled fondly at the soft-spoken, shy young man. Wanting not to appear weak was a concern he could empathize with. "You have my word. Though… I don't think anyone here could make the mistake of thinking you weak."
Surprised eyes flashed to Arthur, and Mordred quickly nodded his head, evidently too surprised or overcome by the subtle praise to say anything more. Soon, the quiet druid knight had slipped out the door, leaving Arthur alone with his thoughts again.
Mordred inhaled deeply. The forest truly was like a home to him, and he reveled in the smell of the damp leaves and the tug of the wind on his cape as the horse galloped across the land. The druid knew that it would still be more than an hour before he arrived at his destination, but he didn't mind. He was content merely to ride and surround himself with all the pleasures of nature. Morgana's location was locked firmly in his mind, courtesy of the simurgh and Mordred's previous knowledge of these woods. It would be easy to find her.
Soon enough, Mordred found that he had come to the end of his journey. He slowed the horse to a steady walking pace as he stared at the moss-covered exterior of the cave. Sadness washed over him that Morgana had been reduced to hiding in such holes.
Taking a deep breath, Mordred rode into the mouth of the cave.
Morgana added a few more sticks to the fire. Doing such menial work made her growl with frustration, but it was a necessity. She wished to build up her strength as quickly as possible, and that didn't allow for using her powers to start and maintain fires, not when she could do so easily without magic.
An unfamiliar sound at the cave's entrance made Morgana's head snap up. If push came to shove, she was sure she could handle any opponent, but she'd rather not be forced to: it just might drain her of all her magical reserves. Besides, her concentration was rather shot to hell due to the ringing headache she'd had since being hurled against a wall the day before.
The now discernible clatter of echoing horse hooves seemed to vibrate in the air around her. Morgana hurriedly stood, facing the direction of the intruder. A moment later, a horse and rider appeared from around the turn. Recognizing the face instantly—it had, after all, been prominent in both her dreams and nightmares of late—Morgana was flooded with intense hurt, rage, and, though she tried to ignore it, fear.
"What are you doing here? How did you find me?" snapped the sorceress.
"I came to see you," the man replied simply. Mordred dismounted, and Morgana's sight focused in on his blood-red cape.
"A knight of Camelot now, I see," she sneered.
"Arthur rewards those who are loyal to him."
Mordred walked forward, coming closer to Morgana's fire. A crazed look swam in her eyes.
"If you come any closer, you'll die," she threatened viciously. Controlling her fear, a characteristic smirk flashed across her face. "In fact, I may just kill you from here."
"Please, don't try, Morgana. You're still weak," said the knight calmly. "But why are you threatening me?"
"You tried to kill me," was the cold answer.
"No… I could have killed you, but I meant only to wound you. I succeeded."
"What do you take me for, a fool?"
"I did it for your own good."
"My own good?" she cried incredulously. She released a mirthless laugh. "That is the most unlikely defense I've ever heard! And believe me, Arthur invented some utterly ridiculous excuses as a boy when he got in trouble with Uther."
"I'm telling you the truth, Morgana. I would never truly betray you," said Mordred.
"Oh, I must hear this," the witch laughed in bitter amusement. "Pray tell how sticking a knife into my side and saving Arthur's worthless life was for my benefit."
"If you had killed Arthur at that moment, you would not have made it out of Ismere alive, I can guarantee you that."
"Please. As if those knights of Camelot are any real match for me."
"Not the knights, no. But there is one who is," he answered. Morgana met his eyes confusedly, feeling doubt for the first time. She waited for Mordred to continue, but he did not, he merely held her gaze intently. Understanding—and fear—suddenly crept into her expression.
"Emrys." The low whisper seemed to fade away with the breeze.
The druid nodded. "He was there that day."
"How could you possibly know that?" demanded Morgana, anger seeping into her voice once more as her heart pounded in fright at the idea of her doom.
"I sensed his presence. Believe me when I tell you that had you succeeded in killing Arthur, you would never have seen another sunrise. I could not let that happen."
"Then why did you not say so? Why did you not warn me?" she snapped. "Rather than stabbing me, you might have just told me then what you are telling me now!"
"No, Morgana. If I had done that, I could never have earned Arthur's trust. I wouldn't be where I am now. Don't you see what you've gained? A spy in the royal house of Camelot, to replace the one you'd lost."
"What do you know of that?"
"And I am even better than she was," continued Mordred, ignoring her question. "I am a knight of Camelot. The king trusts me completely. I am much closer to him than your servant-girl ever could have been."
"How do you expect me to trust a word you say, Mordred?" she asked. Her intent was to sound dangerous, but she could not veil her sadness and pain. "You betrayed me, just like all the others."
Mordred was filled with compassion at her words, but he took care not to show it to Morgana. "There's a bond between us," he replied, "There has been ever since we met and you hid me in your chambers. I know you feel it too. Trust in that."
Morgana didn't speak a word. He was right; the bond was very present, and it cried for her to trust him, to trust the druid boy that she had once loved. But the betrayal was too fresh in her mind. She couldn't come to a decision.
"It hurts to be betrayed by someone you love, doesn't it?" Mordred said softly. "Just think, now you understand how Arthur has felt all these years." At this, Morgana's eyes flashed with a myriad of emotions. Mordred saw flickers of anger and hate, but promisingly, also a flicker of guilt.
"Not that it matters of course," he continued calmly, before Morgana could collect her thoughts well enough to make any sort of reply to that claim. "Arthur is our enemy now."
"My enemy," the High Priestess corrected scathingly. "Arthur is more a friend to you, I believe."
"Then you are wrong," said Mordred harshly. "You must trust me. I only want to help you. Why else would I be here?"
"How should I know? Perhaps you're spying for my dear brother," she returned briskly. As the words left her lips, it seemed that they were occurring to her for the first time. Her eyes widened and she straightened up. "In fact, that's exactly what you're doing, isn't it?"
"If Arthur knew where you were there would be an army of knights at your door, not me," the druid stated dryly, if a tad impatiently. "You know Arthur well enough to remember that he is a far cry from clever. He is not the sort of man to work through spies. He prefers direct confrontation. Combat. Metal over mind." His words had the desired calming effect.
"Very well. Not a spy then. But I still have no reason to trust you."
"I wish you would, Morgana," he said softly, allowing a hint of sadness into his tone. "I have only ever loved you."
Morgana was taken aback. I have only ever loved you… It had been so long since she had truly cared about anyone, and yet here was this young man, grown up so much since she knew him as a boy, and he was offering her his love. Mordred was one of the very few people that Morgana had still loved even after she turned against Uther and everyone else she had known in Camelot.
The feeling was overwhelming. She had completely forgotten what love felt like. But she could see its sincerity in Mordred's eyes. And she wanted to accept his love, she did, she truly did, and offer her own in return. It would be a blessing to once more have someone to care about, someone to be loyal to. There had been no such person in her life since Morgause had died. Such a long time…
"I believe you," she finally managed to say. The sweet relieved smile on Mordred's face forced a hesitant one onto her own as well. Yes. That felt right. Her smile broadened, and it suddenly felt as if nothing bad had happened between them. She felt just as happy to be in his presence as she had been at the Fortress of Ismere when she'd first spotted him.
"Will you trust me then?" he asked quietly. Morgana grinned, nodding her head.
"Yes. Yes, I trust you, Mordred," she answered happily. Morgana was surprised, but not at all unhappy, when Mordred reached out and pulled her into a warm embrace. She held him just as tightly.
"Thank you, Morgana," Mordred murmured into her dark hair. He drew away and looked her in the eyes. "Regrettably, I must go now. If I'm not back to the castle soon-"
"I understand," interrupted Morgana kindly. "You should go." Mordred nodded gratefully.
"I'll be back to see you soon."
"I look forward to it," she promised.
With one last smile, Mordred mounted his horse and sped away towards the heart of Camelot.
Merlin slowly paced the floor of Mordred's rooms. He was beginning to feel anxious. Mordred had been gone all afternoon and it was now well into the evening, and Merlin had no idea why or where he had disappeared to. All attempts at reaching out to the druid's mind had failed, indicating that he was indeed well outside the castle walls. Merlin thought of asking Arthur, but he didn't care to risk Arthur noticing his particular interest in Mordred's whereabouts.
This was all just so strange. Where could Mordred have gone? Why wouldn't he tell Merlin first?
Merlin wanted to believe that he was only concerned out of love, worry for the wellbeing of the other man, but a deeper and darker part of his heart recognized the lie. He knew that, despite his agreement to forego all preconceptions of Mordred, and even despite the fact that he was unarguably in love with the druid knight, there was still that part of him, the seed of doubt in his mind, that distrusted Mordred. Even if, as Gwen had suggested, his heart trusted Mordred, and even if he hoped that his love would change Mordred's destiny, there was still the nagging fear that Mordred could, at any time, be in the middle of plots to betray Camelot and her king.
Merlin felt as though his soul was being doused with scalding water. It made him feel absolutely sick to have such thoughts about the man that he claimed to love—no, the man that he did love, and yet… he couldn't help them. Until he confronted Mordred about his destiny and came clean about the reason for his initial dislike towards the druid boy, that fear and doubt would never go away. Not until they discussed everything. And Merlin hated it.
Filled with self-loathing, but egged on by loyalty to Arthur and Albion, Merlin began to search Mordred's chambers. He didn't know what he was looking for. Anything seemingly suspicious, he supposed.
He desperately hoped that his search would turn up nothing.
When Merlin went to open the large wooden cabinet, he found it locked. One flash of golden eyes later, and it was unlocked.
Heart thumping nervously, Merlin opened the creaking doors. Ignoring the hanging clothes, he pulled open the first of three drawers. Inside was nothing more than tools for cleaning armor and the like. Pulling open the second drawer, he found towels and rags. The third drawer held something quite different.
A large stash of papers was located there, along with a folded cloth containing pieces of charcoal. Merlin grabbed a pile of parchment from the top and carried them to the table, laying them out to take a look.
Whatever the warlock had been expecting, this was not it. Perhaps he had expected to find documents, written agreements to partner with Morgana, detailed outlines of evil plans, something of that nature.
What he had not been expecting was drawings. And most certainly not drawings of himself.
Merlin's dumbstruck expression stayed in place as he let his eyes glide over the assortment of pictures displayed before him. Every single parchment carried an exquisite portrait drawn in charcoal. Some were of Arthur, or the other knights, or even figures that Merlin did not know but recognized as druids, but most were of Merlin.
Merlin sitting on the snowy ground, freezing in the cold. Merlin lying unconscious in the cave. Merlin smiling. Merlin carrying Arthur's armor. Merlin standing on the side of the banquet hall, looking tired. Merlin riding a horse. Merlin laughing. Merlin standing at the window. Merlin blushing modestly.
The detail was intricate and marvelously done, and every single black stroke was perfect in its representation of the real life thing. Merlin lost track of time as he examined every inch of the charcoal pieces of art.
"Are you impressed?"
Merlin jumped at the soft voice that shattered the silent and still air. Eyes wide, he could do little more than stare at Mordred as the knight closed his door and began to remove his uniform.
"Well, are you going to help me or just stand there?"
Merlin jolted for a second time, and he rushed over to give Mordred a hand, mumbling, "Let me help you with that" more to himself than to the knight. An embarrassed pink tone colored his cheeks.
"You know, Emrys, it's dangerous to make a habit of searching people's rooms. One day it may get you killed. You're lucky it hasn't already," commented Mordred lightly.
A shock of fear struck Merlin in the gut. Well that wasn't good. You shouldn't be afraid of your lover, should you?
"Sorry, I… didn't mean to. I had no idea those were there. I was just…"
"Yes?"
"I don't know, I was worried about you!" exclaimed Merlin. "You've been gone for hours! You didn't give me any notice and I… I just wanted to see if maybe you'd left some clues as to why you were gone. I was scared that something had happened to you."
"You were worried about me… Well, I appreciate your concern, truly," said Mordred. His voice seemed friendlier now, more sincere. Merlin struggled to hide his overwhelming relief. "You don't know how much that means to me. But your worrying was thoroughly unnecessary, I promise. I asked Arthur for permission to take the afternoon off, to go for a ride in the woods. That's all."
"Why?"
"I told Arthur that the simurgh attack left a lasting impact on my mental health, and that a jaunt through the forest would settle my druid spirit."
"That wasn't the truth then, I assume?"
"No."
"Then what is? And why did you lie?" asked Merlin.
"You sound… suspicious, Emrys. Why?"
"I'm not!" Merlin disagreed immediately. "I just… don't know why you'd feel the need to lie to Arthur."
"It's not so complicated. I must keep up appearances," said Mordred calmly. "The other knights, they… see me as a child, still. As someone weak, shy, in need of protecting. I can play that part well enough. It suits me in some ways. It was easier to play into his expectations and give an excuse he would readily accept, rather than simply ask for a reprieve from the remainder of my daily duties for no reason at all."
"Then… there was no reason for it?"
"I needed the air. The trees. I may not have been feeling ill, but still… I do long for the forest at times. I like the home I have here, but I have a second home, and on occasion I wish to visit it."
"Was your day pleasant then?" Merlin removed the last piece of Mordred's uniform and went to put it all away. His heart was beginning to calm now, his fears quieting down. Mordred's explanations made sense. Merlin felt guilty for having doubted him, but mostly he was just happy.
"Yes… Yes, it was," replied Mordred, the ghost of a smile on his lips. He refocused his attention on the here and now. "So then. What do you think?"
"About what?" asked Merlin confusedly, facing the plain-clothed knight.
"The pictures."
Merlin's eyes flashed to his earlier find. He walked to the table. His fingers gently brushed against the papers. "They're… incredible, Mordred, really. I had no idea you could do this."
"This isn't just a hobby of mine," said Mordred, joining Merlin by the table. He wrapped an arm comfortably about Merlin's waist as he observed his creations as well. "It's practice."
Merlin's brow crinkled. "Practice for what?"
"Runes," was the answer. "Not a form of magic you use often, I imagine?" Merlin shook his head no, still looking confused. "I'm not surprised. It's much more common among the druids, though even there, few use them anymore. Runes can be very powerful. Having not only words but diagrams also, through which you may channel your energy, is a great power to have. But runes must be very precise. Not one stroke can be off, or your spell will be ruined and there could be severe consequences: a magical backlash of an enormous magnitude. That danger is one of the reasons that the art of runes has dwindled greatly in the world of sorcery."
"But you still use them?" said Merlin, more as a statement than a question.
"Yes. As I said, if harnessed correctly, the runes will add greatly to your own magic, and spells of tremendous power can be completed."
"And you said that these drawings are practice?"
"To be sure I always keep a steady hand," Mordred replied. "That I never miss a stroke. Precision, perfection, is essential. So I keep in practice by doing these."
"Why not just practice by drawing runes?"
"Never do that, Emrys!" warned Mordred fervently. "Runes are not for practice. That would be a dangerous game to play. This is much safer."
"I see… Then… why are so many of these pictures… well, why are they of me?"
"Because I love you," Mordred responded immediately, smiling.
A smile of Merlin's own blossomed to match the knight's. His heart began to pound quickly again, but this time the feeling was welcome. Mordred's stunning blue eyes stared deeply into his own, and Merlin wondered fleetingly if Mordred could see Merlin's soul reflected there. He felt rather sure that he could see Mordred's soul in the mischievous twinkle and intelligent depths of the young man's eyes. He liked what he saw.
"I find you to be a more interesting subject to sketch than anyone else, even though it's always difficult to capture the light in your eyes and the free spirit of your smile." Mordred extended a hand and gently traced the lines of the older man's face as he spoke. Merlin felt his cheeks grow warm and he smiled shyly. "I'm afraid I don't do them justice. But I do my best. And of course, I know your face and figure better than my own now. It makes drawing you an easier task, in that way."
"Mordred…" the warlock murmured. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against the other man's. "I really love you. You know that, right?"
"I do," was the soft reply. "I marvel at that fact every day. Sometimes it still does not seem real."
"What do you mean?"
"You are everything to me, Emrys. You are, in my eyes, the very essence of beauty and perfection."
Merlin suppressed tears of surprised happiness. "You truly think that of me, don't you?" he stated softly.
"Of course. Why does this surprise you? Can't you see your own worth?"
"I… don't know. Sometimes I feel… I feel like I've got this weight pressing down on me, this destiny with Arthur, and… sometimes I don't think I'm the best man for the job. I mess things up, I get people hurt, I-"
"No. Don't. You may be a powerful sorcerer with a divine destiny, but you are still a man. The best man I know, yet a man still. You will make mistakes, and you must accept them. If you made no mistakes, you wouldn't even be human. Arthur likes you just the way you are. I love you just the way you are. It is the man with all his faults that is perfect to me. Were you unflawed you would be untouchable and cold. You, Emrys, are warm and gentle and all that is good. You have always done what is right, and what is noble, and there is no better way to live one's life."
Merlin silently shook his head, smiling in amazement. "How is it you always know what to say?" Merlin chuckled. "I'm lucky to have you, Mordred, truly I am."
"It's no more than you deserve. You deserve everything the world has to offer, and if I could, I would give it all to you. Yet sometimes this still does not seem real because I fail to see how you could ever want me, when you deserve so much more. I could never have thought that you would share these feelings. You are… Emrys. I'm only Mordred."
"There's no such thing as 'only Mordred'," was the firm reply. Merlin placed his hands on Mordred's cheeks, gazing directly into his eyes. "You deserve me just as much as I deserve you. You are the most… incredible, brilliant person, and you have to know that. You must always know that. I don't want you to doubt your worth. You are just as deserving as I am. Believe me. I love you, Mordred."
"…Thank you, Emrys," the druid said quietly, his eyes growing misty with joyful tears. "If I trust in anything, it's you. And that's why I do believe you. It's… a wonderful feeling. I've never felt so at ease, with myself. I've never truly been proud of who I am, but knowing that you love me… I know I have reason to be proud. I know I've done well." One solitary tear fell from Mordred's eye, trailing a slow course down his face. "I've never felt so… cherished. And I've never wanted someone this way."
"Neither have I," admitted Merlin, smiling kindly. "It's a bit scary, isn't it?"
"Yes. But I'm glad of it."
"So am I."
Leaning in, Merlin pressed his lips to Mordred's in a gentle kiss. Mordred's tear dropped onto the druid's lip and Merlin tasted its wet coolness as their mouths moved together.
The kiss was slow, but somehow undeniably more passionate than any kiss they had shared before. Merlin absorbed the heat of Mordred's body pressed close against his own, tasted the sweetness of Mordred's tongue, and felt the tender pair of lips moving against his own.
The warlock was overwhelmed by the strong feelings brought on by the contact: there was a fire in his veins like a chemical reaction to the touch, an aching for more in the pit of his soul, and then a mellow gladness in his chest, a state of perfect joy at the depth of emotion shared in the kiss.
A few tears of his own formed and tumbled freely down Merlin's cheeks, but the lovers did not break the kiss. Slowly, the two men made their way to the bed, only breaking apart to remove pieces of clothing along the way. They continued in this way, completely unhurried, taking the time to appreciate every detail of the moment. Bare chests, black hair, soft hands, pink lips, pale skin, warm flesh, blue eyes…
Merlin and Mordred drank it all in, drowning themselves in the pure connection of their hearts, souls, and bodies. The perfect moment, however fleeting, was proof of a love that they knew would last forever.
They only spoke one more time that evening.
"Stay with me tonight."
"Yes."
