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WARNING: Spoilers for season 5 episode 7.

Mordred pushed the door open, entering the hut he'd come to know very well. Morgana stood at a wooden table, working. Recognizing the look of intense concentration on Morgana's face, the young man closed the door behind him and stood silently, waiting for Morgana to finish.

The sorceress tied a string round the object in front of her, and set it down. Now she turned to face Mordred, flashing him a small smirk, the one that Mordred recognized as her smile of triumph. This made sense, as it was the first time they'd met after her capture of Guinevere.

"Hello, Morgana," he greeted.

"Mordred," she returned. "How does my dear brother?"

"He mourns for the loss of Sir Elyan, as we all do, but rejoices in the return of his wife."

"Excellent," said Morgana, her smirk growing. "He does not suspect, then."

"He suspects nothing," he assured her.

"As I thought. Arthur is too stupid even to know when his own wife despises him," she sneered.

"The Queen is an impressive actress. She has fooled everyone. No one suspects."

"Good. That is how it must be if she is to ascend peacefully to the throne."

Mordred took a moment's pause to steel his nerves. He had decided before coming tonight that he would speak with Morgana about certain matters, but it made him nervous. He was always afraid that he would say the wrong thing around Morgana, and that would be the end for him.

But he had to try, and there was no more time to waste. Elyan's death had shown him that; it had been a wake-up call. A more direct approach was needed than the one he'd been taking thus far.

"Morgana… what is your plan?"

Morgana's eyebrows rose. "Arthur will die, and when he does, Guinevere will remain Queen. Through her I will regain my rightful throne," she stated, thinking that the answer was quite obvious.

"Yes, but what do you mean to do once you have control of Camelot?" he asked. "You have taken over in the past, and I do not believe it turned out well."

"Last time I did not have the loyalty of the knights," snapped Morgana. "This time will be different. The knights will give their loyalty to Gwen."

"Even so, even with the knights on your side, there is the whole of Camelot to consider," Mordred pointed out. Morgana threw him a sharp glance. "I do not mean to upset you, Morgana, but if you wish to rule Camelot, you will need the support of its people. Without the people, there is no Camelot."

"The people will happily accept Guinevere as their Queen."

"Guinevere, yes, but if you ever mean to sit upon the throne as Camelot's ruler, where you belong, the people will be difficult to win over. The knights trust Guinevere, and will trust her always, but not all the people know her as we do. They do not all trust her unconditionally."

"So what is it you suggest?" asked Morgana, her scathing tone indicating how little she was taking the conversation seriously. But Mordred saw a flicker in her eyes that betrayed her.

"You must learn to take care of all those who will live in your kingdom. You must be a fair and just ruler, as Arthur is-"

"Arthur is not a fair and just ruler!" was the angry, snarling interruption. "How can you say that, Mordred? After what he has done to our kind?"

"And that is why you will be a better ruler than Arthur. That is why I believe in you and the world that you will create," Mordred replied fervently. "When it comes to magic and sorcery, Arthur is stubborn, ignorant, and destructive. But in all other matters, he is a good king. Most importantly, he cares for his people, and they know this. You must learn to care for them as well. It is Arthur's compassion for his people that is his best kingly quality."

"Why should I care about any of them?" demanded the witch snidely. "How could I? They may not hunt us down themselves, but they are happy to let their King do so. They would gladly see me dead, yet I am not supposed to feel the same?"

"There is no point in winning Camelot if you are happy to kill all those who live within her borders. You must see, Morgana, that it is not their fault."

"No? I don't see any of them fighting for what is right, fighting to protect magic and those like us, who practice it. They are as guilty as Arthur."

"There are more who fight for magic than you know."

A crinkle in her brow, Morgana shot Mordred a sharp look, her curiosity spiked by his confident claim. Taking advantage of her silence to change the turn of the conversation, Mordred continued.

Gently, he said, "Morgana, you were lucky enough to be born with gifts, and to have a sister who could show you the truth about magic. But what if you had not been so lucky? Raised as Uther's ward, surely you would have forever believed that magic is evil. It is just the same for Camelot's people. They do not know any better."

"They are like cattle, then," sneered Morgana, "following blindly in the path of others. And cattle are meant to be slaughtered."

"They are misguided," corrected Mordred, shaking his head. "They have been lied to, betrayed." Morgana's mouth snapped open to make a retort, but Mordred quickly said, "You yourself know the sharp sting of betrayal." Her jaw clenched shut and her eyes grew cold as they gazed upon Mordred. If he noticed, he did not show it. He continued.

"They cannot be blamed for this. But if you are a kind ruler, a compassionate and fair ruler, they will learn to respect you. They will see that magic is not evil. You must let them know you as I do. If you do, they will love you."

As he said this, Mordred stepped forward, placing a tender hand on the young woman's cheek, softly brushing against her pale skin. The gesture was purely platonic, but the touch communicated the friendly—perhaps even brotherly—love that Mordred felt for Morgana.

Morgana's gaze softened, and her eyes flickered confusedly as she struggled with an overload of emotions. She wasn't sure what to do, or even think. Should she be furious with Mordred for his words? Should she just take comfort in the fact that his words did seem to come, somehow, from a place of love for her? Morgana's thoughts continued to spin in a violent whirl as Mordred went on.

"But if you kill peasants on any passing whim, as you did before in trying to force the knights' loyalties, they will never accept you. They will never see that magic is not evil. And they will never love you."

Morgana froze, Mordred's cold, blunt words breaking through her tornado of thoughts. His words hurt her, but she certainly wouldn't be admitting that. Expression stiff, Morgana stepped away from the druid's touch.

"None of this matters," she said. "This time the knights will be loyal to me, and such measures will not be necessary."

"It is not so simple!" insisted Mordred. "If you do not prove to the people that you care about them—and you must sincerely care, for they will know if it is only a pretense—you will have a rebellion on your hands. And I do not believe that the knights of Camelot will be willing to stand against their own people. You would not stand a chance."

Mordred inhaled deeply, already regretting his next words, but knowing they could very well be needed to make the necessary impact on Morgana. After a second, he forced the words from his mouth, putting up all his defenses. If ever he'd needed his skills of deception to be perfect, now was the moment.

"Especially if Emrys is a part of the opposing force," was his concluding statement.

The name of her mortal enemy set Morgana's heart into a frantic gallop as her eyes shot wide open. "What do you know of Emrys?" she demanded.

"Only what you do, Morgana," Mordred lied smoothly. "Less, in fact, for I have never encountered him in the flesh, as you have. But I should think… I must think, that a sorcerer as great as Emrys would wish to see magic restored to the land just as we would."

"I wouldn't be so sure," remarked the witch bitterly. "Emrys has always thwarted my plans to dispose of Arthur in the past. Why should he protect my brother, who outlaws magic? It makes no sense!"

"Perhaps because he believes you to be incapable of anything but malice and cruelty and would rather keep Arthur on the throne than allow you on it."

A black cloud of fury crossed Morgana's expression.

In a rage, she seethed, "How dare you-"

"But I know better," was the steady interruption. "Still, though it pains me to say, I can see why Emrys would think such a thing."

"Is that so? Is that what you think of me?" asked Morgana, a dangerous smile on her lips and an even more dangerous glint in her searching eyes. "I'm beginning to wonder if your allegiance does not truly lie where you have said."

"It does, Morgana. Just hear me," said Mordred, attempting to calm her, though his own pulse was racing forward at a frightened pace. His speech quickened to match his quickened pulse.

"At heart, you are truly good. Your intentions are honorable and I would die fighting at your side to see your dreams come true, to see magic restored to the land."

This is good, she hasn't attacked yet, she still seems to be considering what I say, he thought anxiously, watching Morgana for any signs of an explosion. Perhaps I've placated her enough to get away with this…

"But over time you have become desperate. And in your desperation you have killed, and you have tortured. I understand why, but I cannot agree with all your methods. At some point, you ceased to understand the difference between necessary and unnecessary sacrifices. And what scares me the most is…" Mordred drifted off, the return of the anger in Morgana's expression stealing his breath away.

"What?" she snapped. Mordred took a second to steel his nerve once again, breathing slowly.

Timidly, feeling much more aware of his youth and inexperience than usual, Mordred answered, "Sometimes I worry for you. Your hatred of Arthur I can accept. I can see why you want him dead, and why the thought gives you joy. But when I see that joy present when others have died or been hurt, it frightens me. The Morgana I knew once would never have been happy to see anyone, no matter who they were, die unnecessarily, in the crossfire of a battle that did not belong to them."

"The Morgana you knew was young and naïve," retorted Morgana harshly. "I grew up. When you do the same… you will understand. You will see things my way."

"No. I won't." Morgana stiffened unhappily at his confident claim. "Please, think on what I've said. I love you, Morgana. I always have and I still do. I only ask that when next you consider killing, you choose mercy. That you spare those who do not need to die. That's all. I hope you do this. For me."

Mordred ended his soft plea, searching his companion's face anxiously, trying to read her feelings. No matter what happened now, nothing would be the same between them anymore. He just hoped that what happened next wasn't his execution at the hands of an enraged High Priestess.

Morgana was quivering with restrained emotions. A few seconds passed before she gained enough control to growl, "I want you to leave. I want you out, gone, now!"

Complying, Mordred turned away, leaving the hut quickly. He sent silent prayers up to the gods that Morgana had not attacked him, and wondered if it was because she cared too much for him to attack or if he'd guessed correctly that she wouldn't wish to start a fight inside her hut, where all of her things could easily be damaged. Either way, the young man considered himself rather lucky for escaping unscathed.

Later that night, Mordred stood by his open window, murmuring words of a spell out into the darkness. It did not take long for a raven to fly to him, landing on the windowsill.

Whispering yet more words, Mordred attached a rolled-up piece of parchment to the bird's leg. When he was finished, the raven cawed and flew away. Mordred watched it go before shutting the window to keep out the cold air.

Three nights later, after three days of fretting anxiously over the matter, the druid received a reply, via the same black bird.

Hurriedly reading the parchment, Mordred smiled.

"I must be misunderstanding you," said Mordred calmly. "You cannot truly mean that the King intends to bring you along when he and the Queen go for a ride to celebrate their marriage anniversary."

Merlin grinned, pulling off Mordred's gloves. "I'm telling you, Arthur is helpless without me. In fact, if it weren't for me, that man wouldn't make it through a single day, I'm sure of it."

"Arthur certainly does give that impression," agreed the knight.

"And as for this anniversary, not only did Gwen remind him of it last month and not only did I remind him of it today, but I'm willing to bet that when the day actually comes, two days from now, I'll have to remind him again."

"Then it is lucky indeed for the King that you never abandoned him in favor of herding sheep."

Merlin laughed appreciatively and nodded.

"Arthur has no idea how grateful he should be to me," he agreed sassily.

"Perhaps you should tell him."

"Nah, I think I'll just keep stealing bits from his food and occasionally tripping him with my magic. Much more fun."

Laughing merrily, Mordred replied, "I imagine so. In that case, Merlin, keep it up. We must keep our King humble. And we certainly wouldn't want him to get fat."

"I know! That's exactly what I told him. For some reason he seemed angry with me afterwards."

Mordred laughed again, and Merlin smiled back at him. They continued their playful conversation until Merlin was done helping Mordred undress, at which time they parted amiably.

Morgana was certainly displeased that her latest plan to dispose of Arthur had failed, but there was a part of her that, though she wouldn't admit it aloud, was silently proud and rejoiced in the fact that her half-brother was not such easy prey. It would have been disappointing if Arthur had succumbed to such a weak plot. The King of Camelot should, after all, be able to hold his own against two hired thugs with swords.

Besides, poison was a much more fun way to go: it would both increase his suffering, and dying at the hands of the one he loved was so… poetic. An intimate death was much more satisfying to the witch.

Morgana had been annoyed at the apothecary for asking such a high price for his wares, but she reckoned it was a small loss in comparison to gaining all of Camelot, so she paid it. It was when the blathering idiot demanded more money, in order to ensure his silence, that Morgana became truly unhappy with him. A very different, and much more permanent, solution to ensure his silence quickly came to mind.

Morgana stopped. Perhaps… perhaps she need not kill this, admittedly moronic, man. She could hardly kill all the stupid people in the land, she simply didn't have the time. And if she did, there would be too few people left alive. So why kill him? She did have a little more money to spare, after all. His death wasn't… necessary.

Besides, more importantly of course, he could be useful to her in the future! Who could know what services she would require of him later on? If she killed him now, Morgana would get no more use out of this man.

Rather frustrated, with both the apothecary and herself, Morgana tossed more gold coins onto the floor before sweeping out of the shop.

It all seemed to happen so quickly.

First there was the attack on Arthur while he was out riding with Gwen and Merlin on his anniversary. Then Tyr Seward—Tyr Seward of all people—was accused of plotting regicide and was thrown in jail, sentenced to execution for being a traitor. That very night Tyr was murdered in his cell. Shortly after, it was the King himself on his deathbed, with Gaius, Merlin, Guinevere, and many of the knights all crowded about him, the room full of tension and worry.

"Is there no hope?" Gwen asked the physician.

"The poison is a deadly one, milady," was the morbid response. "There may be a way to arrest its course, but I cannot guarantee it."

Merlin could feel his world crashing down around him. He was no fool. He knew what Gaius meant. With Arthur in this state, Merlin was his only chance. But looking at Arthur lying there, near dead, was not inspiring Merlin with much hope. The warlock felt sick.

On top of this, Merlin was filled to the brim with anger. He couldn't stand this innocent act of Gwen's. Already he'd suspected her, and after finding the evidence of her dress, Merlin knew that Gwen was the real culprit. While she feigned unparalleled distress, she must truly be feeling an abundance of triumph. The thought was revolting.

"One thing I know for certain. Whoever did this lives among us. Whoever did this has betrayed us all," announced Gwen, looking shocked and heartbroken. Merlin clenched his teeth. The answer was Gwen herself, but obviously she wouldn't admit that, so where was she going with this? She must have some sort of plan, otherwise it made no sense for her to point out these things. "Someone who is free to roam this citadel as they please, someone who has access to the king's stables, the king's prison… even the king's food. There is only one I know of."

Gwen turned around, and Merlin had the smallest moment to grasp the turn of events before the condemning word left her queenly lips.

"Merlin."

Two of the knights marched past, Merlin being pulled roughly between them. Their destination was the dungeons.

Stepping out into the hall to watch them go, Mordred quivered with anger and astonishment. This was ridiculous and insane. Anyone who knew Merlin could not honestly believe that he was behind this. Gwen would never have believed it, had she been herself. Mordred, of course, knew him better than all others, and was surer of Merlin's innocence than that the sun would rise in the East. He even knew the true culprit, not that the knowledge would do him any good. He could hardly reveal Gwen.

As Gwaine started to walk past Mordred, the young knight grabbed his arm. Gwaine turned to him, startled.

"We need to speak as a matter of urgency," whispered Mordred. "Come to my chambers as soon as you can. Bring Percival and Leon with you."

Gwaine gave a sharp nod and walked off at a brisker pace. Mordred glanced round himself, reassured that the only people in sight were other knights: the Queen hadn't been within earshot.

Spinning about, Mordred headed straight for his chambers.

The door creaked open and Mordred turned to see Gwaine and Percival entering into his room. His brow creased, and he opened his mouth to speak.

"Couldn't get Leon," explained Gwaine preemptively. Mordred closed his mouth. "He decided it was best that he stay with the Queen in Arthur's chambers."

Mordred nodded his acceptance.

"So what's this about, then?" prompted Gwaine. Percival looked at the druid knight expectantly.

"It's about Merlin," began Mordred. The older men both looked at him with surprise. "Merlin being accused of poisoning Arthur is… is… it's simply impossible. Both of you must know this as well."

Percival looked conflicted but Gwaine's expression hardened and he nodded in agreement.

"I know," Gwaine admitted. The three knights shared looks, knowing that their discussion could land them in unspeakable trouble. "No one in their right mind, who knows Merlin and Arthur, could ever think Merlin responsible for this."

"Percival?" encouraged Mordred. Percival sighed.

"With all due respect to the Queen, I must agree that on this matter she is mistaken. I too believe Merlin is innocent," the large man said.

"I can't believe that Gwen could ever even think such a thing," said Gwaine, shaking his head with bewilderment. Mordred suffered a short moment of panic before Percival said,

"Her mind is overtaken with grief, Gwaine. It wasn't so long ago that she lost Elyan, and now, Arthur is near death's door himself. She just isn't thinking clearly. If she were, she would not have accused Merlin."

"I believe you're right, Percival," Mordred chimed in quickly. "Well, we all seem to agree. Excellent. Now we must devise a plan to get Merlin out of the dungeons."

"It can't be too hard, seeing as our prisoners always seem to be escaping or getting murdered," said Gwaine with a touch of bitterness.

"Now hold on," objected Percival, putting his hands up in a 'slow down' gesture. "We can't break Merlin out of his cell."

"He's done nothing wrong!" was Mordred's heated reply. "To let him suffer there, when we know the truth, is inexcusable."

"I understand how you feel, Mordred, but it just isn't the sensible thing to do."

"I'm with Mordred," said Gwaine. "Merlin's a good friend. He would never let one of us rot in the cells like this. He deserves better."

"Is it terrible that Merlin's been thrown in the dungeons on suspicion of poisoning Arthur? Yes," said Percival. "We all agree on that point of fact. But it is also a fact that there is one who is worse off than Merlin, and that's our King. Merlin wouldn't want us plotting ways to break him free, he would want us to be doing everything and anything we can for Arthur."

"But what can we do for Arthur?" pointed out Gwaine. "You heard Gaius. It's a deadly poison. Gaius is Arthur's only chance, not us."

"Perhaps, but we can seek out the true person behind all this," said Percival, his voice quiet, but filled with soothing confidence.

"We cannot just leave Merlin to stay in that cell until the Queen comes to her senses!" cried Mordred. He knew, after all, that she never would. Merlin would die in that cell or on a chopping block if they didn't get him out.

"But think what an advantage this gives us!" Percival remarked. "With Merlin in jail for the crime of poisoning Arthur, the real guilty person will feel safe. They will never suspect that they are in any danger. It will be easier for us to unravel the truth. Merlin would want that. He would support anything to help Arthur." Gwaine absorbed Percival's words, slowly nodding his acceptance, though seeming guilty and reluctant to do so.

"It isn't right," protested Mordred, but his fighting spirit had fled. Gwaine clearly recognized the wisdom in Percival's words, and Mordred could hardly admit that he knew their search for the truth would turn up nothing. No one would ever suspect Guinevere.

"No, I think we should listen to Percival on this one," said Gwaine softly. "Merlin can tough it out for at least a few days. He's dealt with worse. Hell, he probably deals with worse from Arthur every day!"

Gwaine smiled, attempting to inject the now deflated Mordred with a bit of amusement, but his smile faltered and vanished sadly when he saw that he had failed. Mordred was staring at the floor, looking completely empty and dejected.

He sure is taking this hard, thought Gwaine, somewhat surprised, This kid's got a real pure heart, always so determined to do what's right, no matter what. I hope he never loses that.

"Come on, we've got work to do," exclaimed Gwaine. He wrapped an arm about Mordred's shoulders, walking with him to the doorway. Percival followed. "There's a King who needs our protection. The sooner we figure out who's behind this, the sooner we get our boy out of prison."

"And don't worry about Merlin," said Percival gently. Now Mordred lifted his head, meeting Percival's eyes. "He's strong. He'll be okay."

This seemed to bolster Mordred's spirits a bit, and he gave a small smile.

"You're right. And, of course, Arthur is our first priority. I apologize. I just… hate to see a friend suffer."

Gwaine and Percival smiled in understanding, and the three friends left Mordred's chambers together to do their duty in protecting the King.