Notes: so, it's been a while, but I am updating. Not only that, but it's actually, finally, finished. We have this (admittedly tiny) chapter, then another two, and an epilogue of sorts. My plan was originally to be done by the end of 2014, but oh well. Only a month and a half late… Expect the next one at the weekend. Px
XIII
Judging by the quality of the light and the gurgling of Mordred's stomach the next time he wakes up, midday has been and gone. Merlin is sat beside him and has clearly been awake for quite a while. He has Mordred's chain mail spread over his legs and is checking it for faults with the patient single-mindedness of a man who has performed a task so many times he's lost count; Mordred can picture him doing the same with Arthur's armour, cleaning away mud and blood and anything else that might cause damage, oiling the links carefully, adding the same tiny twist of careful, protective magic to every single loop.
That's Arthur, though, Merlin's friend and master, the other half of his being, and the protection is only to be expected. The fact that he's doing the same thing for Mordred causes a swell of emotion so huge it's almost painful.
"Hey," Merlin says softly, his attention caught by the tiny hitch in Mordred's breathing, eyes still glinting gold as he turns to look at him. "I didn't wake you, did I?"
No, Mordred lies, the final wisps of Merlin's magic still prickling against his skin. What time is it?
"Afternoon." Merlin shrugs, smiling. "Gwen sent someone up with lunch a bit ago, but since we're both capable of reheating it I didn't see the harm in letting you sleep a bit longer." His teeth tug at his lower lip, brow crinkling with uncertainty. "You don't mind, do you?"
"I don't mind," Mordred confirms, just a little too quickly, and the amount of feeling in it is enough that he wishes he'd stuck with non-verbal communication. "I am hungry, though," he adds, also too quickly, and it is with a tiny hint of a frown that Merlin stands up, placing Mordred's mail on the floor like it's something precious and returning with a tray holding bread, an array of cold meats, and two bowls of some kind of stew.
He leaves the tray hovering in midair while he sits down, waiting for Mordred to prop himself up against the headboard before lowering it onto their laps. The stew is steaming by the time the tray lands, and Mordred gets a good whiff of it, his stomach growling embarrassingly loudly.
Eat, Merlin says, smiling gently, handing Mordred the larger bowl; Mordred nods, deliberately brushing Merlin's hand as he takes it from him.
There's silence between them for quite a few minutes, both literal and in terms of their own, slightly more unique means of communication, until, "You know," Merlin says, "I never asked why you were in my room last night."
Mordred splutters on his mouthful of stew, somehow forgetting how to swallow, breathe, or possibly both, and if that wasn't bad enough he can feel his cheeks glowing redder than his cloak and Merlin's scarves put together. Merlin pats him on the back, waiting until Mordred no longer seems in danger of suffocation before continuing. "You don't need to tell me if- I mean, it's not a problem, I was just… wondering?"
I see, Mordred answers, not quite trusting his voice or his lungs enough to reply aloud. I was looking for you.
"I figured as much, yes. It being my room you were in, after all." Merlin grins at him, wide and easy, unsuspecting of Mordred's ridiculous, base motivations. "I was just surprised that you'd look for me there, instead of… talking to me."
It didn't seem important enough to bother you with immediately, Mordred lies, his smile the most guileless thing he can manage, even as he follows it up with something considerably less innocuous. And, anyway, aren't you glad I did? If you'd had to confront that girl on your own, you'd have had no choice but to kill her.
"There's always a choice, Mordred," Merlin says, his gaze not exactly cold but definitely unflinching. "But," he adds, then slides into silence, continuing slightly more cautiously. I'm not sure it wouldn't have been better. It'd hardly be the first time I've killed someone, and…
And what, Emrys?
Merlin puts his bowl aside, turning to give Mordred his full attention. If I'd known what I asked of you, I would have put more consideration into killing her.
I see, Mordred says, and if it sounds cold, it's only because he's determined not to let Emrys see how much that hurts; he'd believed Merlin yesterday, when he said he trusted him, and now…
"Mordred?" Merlin's expression is that of a kicked puppy, utterly incongruous for a man who can talk so calmly about murder. "What did I say?"
Nothing, Emrys, Mordred answers, and that is cold, too. Nothing I haven't heard before, at least.
"Oh," Merlin says, reaching out and resting his hand on Mordred's arm. "Mordred, listen to me. I don't think less of you after last night. If anything, I'm impressed."
It feels like that, yes.
"Okay," Merlin answers, responding to Mordred's sarcasm with remarkable aplomb, whatever irritation he may feel well hidden. "Right, did I or did I not stay here after seeing what you can do?"
"I-"
"No," Merlin interrupts, still not irritated but definitely implacable. "No arguments, just answer the question. Did I stay here last night?"
Yes, Mordred answers, sounding bolshy and petulant, feeling even more childish when he catches Merlin trying to hide a smile.
"Right. Was I with you when it happened?"
Yes.
"Did I feel what you felt?"
How should I know? Mordred answers, just as petulant, this time with an edge in aggrieved.
Merlin doesn't quite flinch, but it's close. "Well, I did. I was in your head, I felt exactly what you felt, and I can tell you absolutely that anyone who has ever judged you - including me - for what you can do is wrong. You are far stronger than I thought you were."
"I-" Mordred starts, then falters and continues in silence, looking anywhere but at Emrys. You don't mean that.
"Yes," Merlin says, slow and sweet, putting aside Mordred's half-eaten lunch before taking both of his hands in his own. "I do, Mordred."
Mordred tugs against his grasp, trapped by Merlin's hands around his, Merlin's gaze burning his skin with all the intensity of the sun. He tries, fights with everything but the final trick he has in his hand, the one move he has sworn to himself never to use against Emrys, because the only alternative to fighting is surrender and Mordred doesn't think he's capable of that. It's not a lack of trust, because Mordred has put himself at Merlin's mercy ever since he followed Arthur back to Camelot, but there's a difference between risking his life and risking what little heart he actually has; if he lets Merlin's words in now, it will only hurt more when Merlin later realises how wrong he is.
You can't mean that, Mordred presses, still fighting Merlin's hold on him. I know you read about what I can do, Emrys. It's not possible. It's not human.
"Mordred, I've been doing impossible things since I was born, usually without even knowing I wasn't supposed to be able to do them." Merlin's smiling, Mordred can tell from his voice, but he does halfway let go of Mordred in order to place a hand on his jaw, tilting gently until Mordred is forced to make eye contact with him. "Please, listen to me. What you can do is incredible, but even more so is that I practically had to beg you to do it. You could rewrite the whole world, and the fact that you don't… You are so very, very human, Mordred."
"I-" Mordred starts, and is silenced by Merlin's lips against his.
X
Merlin wasn't intending to start something when he kissed Mordred, was only really trying to make sure he wasn't going to keep arguing, but now that they've started…
It's not because he wants to (though he'd definitely be lying if he said he didn't), but because, for the first time since last night, since Mordred tore through Sefa's mind and Merlin almost drowned in the thrill of it, there's no reluctance between them. Maybe Mordred doesn't believe him, maybe Mordred doesn't even know how to believe him, but he's here, and when Merlin kisses him, he kisses back.
And, yes, they should be talking, Merlin knows that, knows that they need to talk about this, them, and about the future that will not be. They should be talking, because Merlin had his reasons for waiting, still has them, and they aren't any less real now than they were yesterday or the day before. The fact remains that the first time they got this close, Mordred believed himself a stand-in for someone else, believed it and didn't see a problem with that possibility, and even if he's okay with that Merlin isn't.
He pulls back slowly, reluctantly - because, even if his brain knows better, it doesn't mean he doesn't want this - until the only contact between them is the lingering press of his lips against Mordred's, and then even that is gone.
"I know who you are, Mordred," Merlin says, hushed and gentle, but so loud in the still silence of their room. "I know who you are, and what you can do, and I want to be here, with you. Okay?"
Mordred stares at him for an eternity or more, and Merlin is bizarrely reminded of Avalon, an entire world waiting just beneath the surface of the smoothest lake he's ever seen. Somewhere he's never been, will probably never go, and certainly not something he's ever going to understand, but made no less beautiful by that fact. That's the look Mordred is giving him, his enemy turned ally, his eyes like glass, holding a universe beyond Merlin's reach, and yet…
Merlin, Mordred says, never breaking eye contact, the thought little more than a whisper as he moves forwards into the space Merlin has created between them. There's nothing beyond your reach, Merlin. You need only ask.