For the Love of Camelot

by sunstarunicorn

Sergeant Troy Vio has a problem. His constables have started shunning his bomb tech and none of them will tell him why. When he goes to Lieutenant Parker for help, he sets off a chain of events that no one could have seen coming and gives one of Camelot's greatest foes a second chance. 73rd in the It's a Magical Flashpoint series.

6. Knights Of…

Chapter Six: Knights Of…

Even as their fellow constables traded skeptical glances, Leon and Percival met each other's eyes. Unlike the others, they remembered the modern world and not just in the context of their new lives. Lieutenant Parker hadn't mentioned their brief trip forward in time – Leon spared a moment to wonder if their future selves had ceased to exist during that trip – but the former knight could recall all too well how he and Percival had reacted to Team One's technology. Suspicion and fear, mixed with a touch of awe once they understood it wasn't magic.

As snarky as he was, the little dragon was right. Once technology reached a certain level, it could and was seen as magic, even though it was nothing of the sort. Frankly, Leon was heartily grateful that he hadn't met his future self during his 'visit' to the modern world; he probably would've suffered apoplexy at the very thought of living in the strange, foreign world of the future and never mind the sorcerers littered throughout the SRU.

Lancelot sighed, pulling attention to himself. The raven cocked his head to the side and inquired, "How would Uther react if he could see us now?"

"Have all of us burned at the stake for consorting with sorcerers," Elyan responded immediately, grimacing.

The other constable hummed, shaking his head. "Never mind the Auror Division," he instructed. "Forget that Mordred and I have magic. How would he react if he could see us in a typical hot call?"

Gwaine turned white, shuddering violently. "Don't give me nightmares, mate!" One finger swiped across his neck even as he spoke.

"He would not be pleased with any of our methods," Leon agreed, closing his eyes. He could almost hear the ranting and raving; Uther Pendragon had been very much a warrior king, even moreso than his son. He'd had no tolerance for anyone he viewed as violating the laws of Camelot and rarely offered mercy unless it was politically expedient. Even without magic as a factor, the old king would have been furious with anyone who negotiated with a criminal or tried to understand why they'd committed their crimes.

The same, Leon realized with a start, went for himself. He had been a Knight of Camelot; he'd had no sympathy for bandits or those who preyed on the innocent. As a knight, his response to a threat had been to draw his sword and brace for combat. Negotiation wouldn't have occurred to him – and even if it had, he wouldn't have done it. He would've seen it as weakness. Dishonorable. From his earliest days as a young squire to his final day of life as Camelot's First Knight, he had been a warrior skilled in one art. Killing.

And yet…even after he'd gotten his memories back, he hadn't seen any problem at all with his new life as an SRU constable. Sir Leon had become Constable Young, a veteran officer who looked up to Team One's almost legendary negotiator. Never had any issues with profiling or going less lethal or stepping back when a situation was over his head, only with magic. A shiver went up his back, but it was awe, not fear. His current identity hadn't changed as much as he'd thought or maybe… maybe this was always who he could have been. Knight and cop – were they really all that different when it came right down to it? Fleetingly, he wondered what it might've been like, if he and the others had been SRU in the days of Camelot. What would've changed? What would've stayed the same?

Percival chuckled and all of them looked at him quizzically. The big constable cast his teammates a smirk, then asked, "So how many of you just wondered what it would be like to go back?"

"What's that got to do with anything?" Gwaine countered in a mulish tone that left none of them in any doubt that Percival was right.

Elyan cast Gwaine a sharp glare. "It means we haven't changed as much as we thought," he replied. "None of us would even want to go back to our old lives."

"Isn't that changing?" Sarge ventured, wary and uncertain in a way that made Leon's heart ache.

"No," Mordred interjected. "It means we'll always remember Camelot, but we're still Team Four, Sarge."

"It's better here," Leon agreed. "I was proud of being a knight, but I could never go back to that. Not with what I know now."

Percival cast his team leader a sympathetic glance, but shook his head. "If we had to, we could go back," he pointed out. "We wouldn't just blindly go after sorcerers, but if Camelot got attacked, I'd fight just as hard now as I would've then."

Leon frowned thoughtfully. Percival was still the quiet gentle giant he'd been in Camelot, which meant he didn't speak out much. Even within the team, his intelligence and quick mind were often overlooked, but when Percival spoke, all of them listened. He had a wisdom and a practical way of looking at life that had solved more hot calls than he would ever take credit for.

"It would certainly be interesting," the tall, curly-haired brunet conceded, tilting his head towards Percival in acknowledgement.

Then Gwaine acquired an manic grin that every single one of his fellow knight-constables knew – the team jester at his worst. "Can you imagine the look on Morgana's face if we'd had our gear when she attacked the castle?"

"Which time?" Elyan inquired, tone dry. "One of our shields might've been nice at the Dark Tower, though."

"Armor's better, mate," Gwaine argued back. "That sword wouldn't've gotten past your guard if you'd had our magic-side armor."

"Or you wouldn't have had to fight it at all," Percival offered. "If we'd known the truth about magic in Camelot, Merlin could've helped us even more than he did."

"I wish we'd still had Lancelot when we ran across that Lamia." All heads turned towards Leon and he flushed, ever so slightly, but refused to back down. "Merlin wasn't affected by it. Lancelot wouldn't have been either."

"You survived a Lamia?" Mordred blurted, wide-eyed.

"Only because Gwen and Merlin distracted it long enough for Arthur to kill it from behind," Leon replied. "If not for them, it would have drained all of us; as it was, it did drain Elyan, Gwaine, and Percival before knocking me out, but after it died, we recovered." He grimaced. "I remember Merlin and Gwen trying to talk sense into me long before it reached that point, but I refused to listen."

"Lamias are powerful," the younger constable murmured. "That Merlin could withstand its influence is impressive."

Gwaine frowned. "It should've affected him?"

Mordred considered and finally shook his head. "I don't know, Gwaine. I've heard of Lamias, but even during the Age of Camelot, their origins had faded into history. They were created by the ancient High Priestesses of the Old Religion as a weapon against the kings of that era, but I don't know much more than that. I was taught that they could ensnare any man, regardless of magical ability, but…" He shrugged. "I doubt any survive today."

"I hope not," Elyan whispered, shuddering; the rest of those who'd been enchanted by the creature heartily agreed with the sentiment.

"Did you ever met my parents?" Spyro asked in a hopeful tone, a wistful note in the young dragon's voice.

Leon almost choked; he probably had met Spyro's father, but it hadn't exactly been a good encounter. Not when he'd been the only knight to survive that night. Come to think of it, Merlin was probably the one who'd defeated the dragon in the end, not Arthur.

"I met your father once," Lancelot offered. "Most of Camelot knew him simply as the Great Dragon, but Merlin called him Kilgharrah."

Small wings flared with excitement. "Merlin knew him?"

The raven inclined his head. "It was a brief meeting, but they seemed to be very good friends. Kilgharrah saved both myself and Merlin from the Dorocha; our fire had burned down and the Dorocha sought to take advantage of that." A satisfied smirk curled the knight-constable's jaw. "They were not so confident in the face of a dragon's fury."

"What's a Dorocha?" Sarge questioned.

The team leader flinched. Explaining the Dorocha would've been painful even during Camelot, but now…

Lancelot sighed heavily, glancing over at their audience. Though their Sergeant had asked the question, the two brunet detectives and Lieutenant Parker were curious as well. Little Spyro had his head cocked to the side and Leon fancied the AI was listening intently. "In Camelot," the raven knight-constable began, every word spoken with care, "there came a time when Morgana le Fay used a blood sacrifice on Samhaine to tear the Veil between Life and Death. When she did so, the Dorocha were released." One shoulder hiked. "Supposedly, they were the spirits of the dead; whether that is true or not, the Dorocha could kill with a single touch and all their victims appeared to have been frozen to death."

"They feared daylight and fire," Mordred put in, shaking his head at his teammates' surprise. Gray darkened with old sorrow and he added, "The Dorocha did not just attack Camelot."

"Ah." Lancelot inclined his head before continuing. "The whole tale would take a great deal of time to tell, but during our quest to the Isle of the Blessed, Merlin was injured and I volunteered to take him back to Camelot. The Dorocha attacked our camp and Kilgharrah drove them off before giving both of us advice as to how to end their rampage."

"What did he look like?" Spyro pressed, eager for all the information he could glean.

"Very large and very golden," Lancelot replied, wry. "He seemed well-spoken, though I believe Merlin once told me that he was quite fond of riddles." The knight-constable shifted back, thinking hard, then shook his head. "Most of what I know is second-hand, Spyro. If you truly wish to know of Kilgharrah, you must ask Merlin, not us."

Orange, bat-like wings sagged and the young dragon let out a lusty sigh. "What about my mother?"

"I met her," Mordred offered. "She had white scales, blue eyes, and Morgana called her Aithusa." He frowned, though not at Spyro. "She wasn't a hatchling, but I'm sure she was still very young. Most dragons are well…big…but Aithusa was maybe the size of a horse by the time I met her."

"Still lethal," Leon muttered, earning a nod from Mordred.

"I know Morgana took my sword and had Aithusa burnish it, but I'm not sure what happened after Camlann."

"Her growth may have been stunted," Lancelot offered. "Both she and Morgana were held prisoner in a small pit for two years by the Sarrum of Amata." His grimace made it clear that he, too, had been a prisoner of sorts, albeit an unknown one. "The Sarrum was a close ally of Uther's in the fight against magic and far more extreme in his methods."

On KITT's hood, Spyro went very still, distress plain. "He hurt my mother?"

Mordred moved, almost too fast for any of them to see, and ended up right in front of the little dragon. One hand reached out, gently patting Spyro's frill. "Hey, I know what it's like, you know. My mother, she died before I ever knew her, and my father was executed by Uther Pendragon." His voice hardened. "Some humans are cruel and hateful and they don't care how much they hurt other people or beings. They only care about themselves."

The purple dragon sniffled. "She's evil because they made her evil?"

"No," Mordred disagreed. "I don't know what Aithusa is, Spyro, but I do know this. All those years ago, she had a choice and she chose to stand with Morgana against the Dragonlord who hatched her. She's still making that choice even today. That's why you're one of the only other Old Dragons in existence, because she won't let Merlin near her eggs."

Lancelot shifted, but Mordred raised a stilling hand towards his teammate without even glancing over. "I know something else, too, Spyro. Your father, the Great Dragon; he was imprisoned beneath Camelot for twenty years. He could've chosen to hate Camelot for the rest of his life and refuse to ever help Camelot again, but instead, he taught Camelot's greatest defender."

Wide purple eyes lifted. "He did?"

The Druid knight-constable nodded sharply. "Yeah, he did. Your parents, they made their choices and you have to make your own, Spyro. We can't make that decision for you; only you can decide who you're going to stand with. You can even decide you don't want to stand with any of us and go somewhere else."

Spyro blinked and cocked his head to the side. "What about you? You stood with Morgana, didn't you?"

Leon studied his teammate, catching the flash of pain that darted across Mordred's face before he sighed and nodded. "I did, Spyro," Mordred whispered. "I did choose Morgana and I died believing in her cause."

"But you don't anymore?"

Dead silence hung as the whole group waited for the reply. Mordred swallowed hard, ancient grief a living thing on his face as he wrestled with emotions that Leon feared he understood all too well. Then the Druid partially turned, a sliver of hope glowing beneath the fear and shame and dread. "I wish… I wish that I could've been accepted for who and what I am. Morgana accepted my magic, but not my knighthood. Camelot accepted my knighthood, but not my magic. For one instant, I believed that Kara would accept all of me and I was enraged when she was taken from me." Tears trickled down, shining with Mordred's regret.

It was Leon's turn to lift a quelling hand and he stepped towards the man who'd once been such a promising young knight. The First Knight's chin rose and his voice hardened. "You betrayed us."

Mordred quailed at the harsh, biting tone, but gave a clipped nod and assumed an almost military stance, hands interlocked behind his back and staring down at the ground as he waited for the rest.

"Answer me!" Leon barked.

"Yes, sir, I did," Mordred whispered.

"You betrayed your Oath and murdered your King."

The former knight flinched, but replied, "Yes, sir, I did."

"Why, then, should we give you another chance, Traitor?"

Mordred's whole body slumped and he forced each word out, trembling even as he spoke. "You shouldn't." Tears streamed down. "Once a Traitor, always a Traitor."

Parker made to move forward and Leon's eyes snapped to him for an instant, demanding that his superior officer stand down and not interfere. He knew what he was doing. "You will teach Lancelot all the magic you know. You will remain under his supervision at all times while on-duty. You will stay away from Merlin. If Arthur reappears, you will stay away from him. And if Morgana ever approaches you, you will not engage with her. You will report it to one of us immediately. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," Mordred rasped, gaze still fixed on the ground and dejection plain.

"Mordred." At the minute softening, the younger man dared to steal a glance upwards. Reaching out, Leon grasped his teammate's shoulder. "You wanted to be accepted as both a Knight and a Druid?"

"Yes, sir," the knight-constable breathed, the sound hardly audible. Only the barest remnants of hope still gleamed and that hope was dying even as Leon gazed into his eyes.

The negotiator pulled in a breath, then asked, "Will being both a Cop and a Druid do, instead? Knights don't seem to be very common anymore."

Mordred blinked and he cocked his head to the side in confusion. Then comprehension filtered in and Leon saw the instant his teammate understood. Gray lit up, briefly flashing a deep green as if his magic was just as elated. "You mean it? I can stay?"

"It will not be easy," Leon warned.

The elation faded into determination. "I won't let you down," Mordred promised.

"We will see." The words were cynical and yet, Leon truly meant them. It was not a total pardon, for he didn't feel capable of offering that. Not yet. It was, however, a real and genuine chance for Mordred to prove that he had changed. That he would not betray them or those they protected.

If Mordred was willing to abide by the restrictions he'd just set down, that would go a long ways towards convincing himself and the others that he was serious about choosing a different path in his second life. Trust would take longer, but a fresh beginning was an excellent step in the right direction.

---

If he'd had his way, then Team Four's bomb tech would've been given the trust that Greg believed he'd earned. However, given the knights' serious reservations regarding Mordred's past, the lieutenant decided he'd have to be content with the second chance. There were, however, still at least two more issues to deal with. One he'd already known about and one that had cropped up as he'd listened to the former knights' interactions. With any luck, he could deal with both at the same time.

Glancing at Sergeant Troy Vio, Parker restrained a tiny wince. Team Four's Sergeant was no pushover and knew how to adapt to changing circumstances on the fly – a necessity for any SRU member as well as a requirement for an SRU Sergeant – but you could only push a man so far before he shut down from overload. Judging by the blank expression of slack-jawed shock, poor Troy had hit that point several bombshells back.

"I think we broke him," Gwaine remarked, his tone somewhere between guilty and gleeful, as if the prankster couldn't quite figure out which he wanted to be.

"Shut up, Gwaine," several voices chorused, one of them Troy's.

Parker bit back a snicker at the automatic response; clearly, Troy was very used to telling Gwaine to shut up. While it wasn't a tactic he ever would've used with his team, Team Four was a close-knit team in their own way. They'd hit a rocky patch and it would take time to smooth things over, but the lieutenant was hopeful that the healing process was well on its way. If he could deal with that one last possible complication.

A complication that was about to rear its head as Troy's dark eyes cleared. The Sergeant's teeth ground together and he was breathing hard; Greg's hands shaped an order to keep quiet. In a strangled tone, Troy asked, "Parker, you got any other bombshells you wanna drop on me?"

"None for today."

A jerky nod. "So lemme see if I got this straight." Troy pointed at his team leader. "You and everybody else on my team used to live in Camelot?"

"Yes," Leon confirmed.

The finger moved to Mordred. "You killed King Arthur at Camlann?"

Shame and guilt blazed, but the bomb tech bowed his head. "Yes."

Shaking, Troy moved onto to Lancelot. "You died once, then got resurrected as a Shade, then died again?"

"Yes," Lancelot agreed.

"And, oh, by the way, you're Parker's ancestor?"

In the background, Roy and Giles choked in disbelief, but Lancelot never turned a hair. "My nephew was," he replied.

"Fine, whatever, same difference." Spinning on his heel, Troy pointed at KITT. "And now we got a half-magic talking car? Wasn't the dragon bad enough, Parker?"

"That is a gross oversimplification," KITT protested, "Although your basic premise is correct, Sergeant Vio."

"KITT," Greg warned. "Don't push it."

The Trans Am's scanner bar whooshed back and forth for a few seconds before he huffed in resignation. "As you wish, Lieutenant Parker." Displeasure rang, along with a touch of sympathy for Troy's plight.

The Sergeant glared at the black muscle car for an instant longer before he whirled back to his team, bristling. "So what? Now you're knights of Camelot come back from the dead and lemme guess, King Arthur's back for round two, too. Guess that makes me chopped liver, huh?"

"No." Leon stood even straighter, meeting his Sergeant's gaze with confidence. "I am just as proud to follow you, sir, as I was to follow Arthur."

"Right," Troy drawled, masking hurt and betrayal with sarcasm. "And lemme guess, that'll last right up until the man himself turns up, then it's so long, was great to work with you, have a nice life."

And there it was. Greg restrained a sigh as Leon and every other member of Team Four hesitated, confirming Troy's assertion. "Sergeant Vio," he intervened, stern and unyielding. "As Arthur Pendragon is not a member of the SRU, even if he should reappear, he has no authority to remove you from Team Four or demand that your men answer to him rather than you." Hazel shifted to the constables, going even harder. "Unless, of course, your men give him that authority."

Young swallowed hard, a thousand conflicting emotions racing across his face, but Mordred stepped forward, lifting his chin. "I won't answer to anyone but you, Sarge." All eyes turned to the former Druid-Knight, but he refused to back down under the glares from his teammates. Earnest gray fixed on Troy. "Arthur gave me the chance to be a knight even though he knew I was a Druid, but even then, he refused to accept magic. There was no place in Camelot for magic, either for good or ill."

Troy nodded tightly, waiting for the rest.

"You're different, Sarge," Mordred insisted. "You're surprised that I have magic, but you don't hate me for it." A faint smile emerged. "And you're not from Camelot. You have no idea how much that's helped since I got my memories back."

"I will follow you as well," Lancelot announced into the silence that followed. "In Camelot, I refused to use my magic, but I cannot do that now." The knight was pale, but determined. "I would rather follow someone who can accept my powers than one who was raised to hate my kind."

"So you're both betraying our king?" Elyan exploded.

Mordred flinched, but Lancelot frowned at his teammate. "How is any of this betrayal, Elyan? I have no intention of harming Arthur, should he ever appear. My vow to him as a Knight of Camelot expired at my death; I have made no such vow in this life, but I have made a commitment to the SRU."

"And the SRU accepts our powers," Mordred put in, hesitant, yet sure of his words. "Arthur wasn't as bad as the Butcher, but I can't see him ever being comfortable with magic."

Gwaine hiked a brow. "You'd say that even after all the times you claim Merlin saved his tail, mate?"

The nod was definite. "I would," Mordred countered. "Merlin never trusted or confided in me, but I have eyes, Gwaine. Do you remember when you and the others told me of how the Butcher died after a mysterious old sorcerer tried to heal him?"

Interest peeked out and Gwaine nodded even as Leon, Percival, and Elyan straightened.

Mordred sighed, shoulders slumping. "There were no guarantees, Gwaine. Magic is powerful, but it cannot save everyone. The only sure way to save the Butcher would've involved the Magic of Life and Death. Outside of that, any healing spell was a chance. No more, no less. From what you told me, his wound was beyond ordinary medicine, right?"

"It was," Leon agreed. "Gaius labored over the king for several hours, but his wound was too close to the heart." The team leader cocked his head to the side. "You are suggesting he was beyond magical healing?"

"Yes," Mordred confirmed. "No matter what anyone tried, he might still have died. Yet Arthur blamed the old sorcerer for failing and grew ever hardened to the use of magic. It wasn't enough that the sorcerer risked his life to help a man who would kill him for existing, he had to succeed or Arthur would not give magic a chance." The knight-constable shook his head. "Why should I trust a man who will not allow for failure?"

Leon bristled, but Gwaine considered that point for a few seconds before nodding. "Point taken, mate." He moved to stand next to Lancelot. "I'm with you; the princess was a good leader, but I'll take someone who accepts my friends any day."

Percival sighed. "I don't think any of you are giving Arthur enough credit," he argued. "If he could see what we have, I don't believe he would cling to the hatred his father taught him."

"That isn't the question on the table, Constable Hopper," Lieutenant Parker interjected, stern. "The question is who all of you intend to be loyal to, when it comes right down to it."

For an instant, the big man hesitated, then he closed his eyes and nodded acceptance. "Yes, sir." Opening his eyes again, Percival moved to Gwaine's side, tilting his head towards his two magical teammates. Gazing directly at his Sergeant, he said, "Arthur was a man of honor. He understood duty and commitment. He was my friend and I am not betraying him, but you're my friend, too, Sarge. I won't betray you and Arthur would never ask me to."

Elyan chuckled and followed his teammate. At the quizzical glances, he remarked, "Can you guys imagine if Arthur showed up and tried? Gwen would yell at him; she likes Sarge."

Off to the side, Greg swallowed down a laugh at Troy's poleaxed expression. It was one thing when 'Gwen' was simply the sister of a member of your team. But now that Troy knew that 'Gwen' was 'Guinevere Pendragon, the Once and Future Queen', well…it was a whole different ballgame.

The amusement grew when Leon bobbed his head and tamely followed his teammates. At Troy's suspicious glare, he explained, "Arthur loves Gwen very much, Sarge. She won't allow him to treat you with any sort of disrespect and I don't believe she's nearly as suspicious of magic as he is."

"Is that so?" Troy questioned.

Leon tilted his head down in a nod. "Elyan was still away traveling, but early on in Merlin's tenure in Camelot, a magical plague struck the city. Gwen and Elyan's father was one of those who fell sick, but someone healed him and it was quite clearly done with magic. Gwen was arrested on suspicion of being a sorceress; fortunately Arthur and Merlin discovered the true source of the plague before she was executed."

"Gwen always insisted that whoever had healed our father could not be evil," Elyan put in quietly. "She believed that they'd left their poultice behind by mistake and never intended for her to be blamed." He met his Sergeant's eyes. "I don't know if she remembers yet, but even when she does, she won't reject magic, Sarge. She won't reject you, either." His smile grew stronger. "Might try to mother-hen you a bit more, actually."

Ahhhh, that type of queen. Very privately, Greg wished Troy luck; he knew two mother-henning females himself and heaven help anyone who fought against their maternal care. You were liable to end up scolded and tucked into bed along with a meal large enough to feed an entire army.

In the meantime, the lieutenant was satisfied that he'd gotten Team Four as straightened out as it was possible to be in one single afternoon. There would still be conflict and plenty of rough edges as the team worked through their issues and moved towards a new normal. Parker wasn't entirely convinced that he'd nipped the matter of authority in the bud. For now the constables were committed to their Sergeant and the SRU, but that would change when their king reappeared. Even Mordred and Lancelot would be conflicted, regardless of their perfectly reasonable statements that the SRU was more accepting of magic than Arthur Pendragon.

Greg suspected that Team Four's constables were convincing themselves that Arthur's reappearance was a remote possibility, but he'd left that sort of naïvity behind a long time ago. Merlin was in Toronto. The Knights of Camelot were in Toronto. The Once and Future Queen was in Toronto. Even Morgana le Fay was in Toronto. With all of those factors, Arthur Pendragon's return was a given. It was only a matter of when he reappeared and what fireworks would follow that reappearance.

Particularly since Arthur was very much his father's son – and thoroughly convinced that magic was inherently evil.