A/N: Thank you to everyone for being so patient for the previous chapter! Like I said, life got in the way and I had to put Forever and Always to one side until I had the time to work on this story. I do hope that you enjoyed it! I wanted to give Mordred a more boyish characterisation, and make him a little more vulnerable than his characterisation in the series.

IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters, although I do love them very much. These characters belong to the BBC and the relevant production companies. Any characters that are of my own creation will be listed below.

OCs: Alara, Gaheris, Meilyr

TW/CW: There's some light description of a broken limb and a compound fracture in this chapter. If this makes you uncomfortable at all, I would skip that.


CHAPTER THREE

Morgana stared out into the frozen wastes. It had been months since she arrived and yet there was no sign of her spy returning. If he was dead, he was dead. No matter, she could always get a hold of another one. There was always someone who wanted to make their mark, a weasel of a youth who would promise her that they would not fail, that they would work hard to get the information that she required.

Her army was hard at work, training and readying themselves for the impending battle against Arthur, and more importantly, against him. The one who evades her, the figure that haunts her nightmares. Emrys.

"My lady?" A guard approached.

Morgan turned. "Yes?"

"Whilst on a patrol this morning, we found a rider coming with news from Camelot."

"Where is he?"

The guard led her to the courtyard, pointing to the dark horse that was being led to the stables. There was a small flag with the Pendragon insignia tied to the saddle. "He's in there, Lady Morgana."

The figure tied up in the stable was the very spy that she was thinking about. He seemingly rose from her thoughts like the stink from a pile of dung. As the young man opened his mouth, she stopped him. "Save the whimpers and the apologies. What can you tell me?"

He gulped. "A girl has arrived in Camelot."

"A girl?" She sneered. "What's so special about a girl arriving in Camelot?" She turned to leave, disappointed.

"I don't know. All I know is that she's the sister of Arthur's advisor."

Morgana froze. Maybe this spy wasn't so useless after all.


Merlin had another nightmare, yet this one was different to all the others. Alara was caught in Mordred's crossfire, being struck down the same as Arthur. Their burgeoning friendship had worried him; she needed to be told who Mordred really was. But would she believe him? He didn't want to dwell on the thought of breaking Alara's heart, but it was something that had to be done eventually.

"Is everything okay, my Lord? You look troubled." Gareth, his man-servant, asked.

"Hm? Oh. Uh, yes, I'm fine, thank you Gareth." Merlin answered. "There's going to be a feast tonight. Could you have my clothes laundered and ready for the celebration this evening?"

Gareth bowed. "Of course, my Lord."

As he exited his chamber, there was raucous laughter as Gaheris was chased by Alara, who grasped onto the younger prince Meilyr. "Having fun?"

"We're on our way to breakfast." Alara said.

"Well then," Merlin smiled. "I hope I don't impede your appending arrival."

He watched as the three turned a corner, Gaheris' laughter rebounding off the castle walls. Rolling his eyes, Merlin made his way to the council chamber - there was a meeting today between Arthur and the captain of the city guard - there had been a spy in Camelot, and he had just evaded their searches.


"What do you mean he just 'vanished'?" Arthur demanded. "He isn't smoke! He's a tangible person. How on earth did you lose him!"

The captain, Lionel, stood before Arthur, not meeting his blazing stare. He wrung his hands together and stumbled over his words. "We were tracking him, sire. Most of the lads had been suspicious of Bors' actions over the last few months. So much so that we had to keep him under watch."

"That's not good enough!" Arthur bellowed. "He could have had access to any sort of intel about our soldiers and now he's gone! You have put all of us at risk because of your stupidity!"

Arthur was being unduly harsh, but his anger was directed in the right place. Merlin stepped forward as Arthur stopped to take a breath and relax his shoulders. "The king is correct, Lionel. It may sound like he is being harsh, but your mismanagement is the reason that Bors has evaded persecution."

"I cannot apologise enough, my king," Lionel took a knee. "I humbly take whatever punishment you deem fit for me."

Both Arthur and Merlin sighed. Moments like this were never easy, and they never seemed to become any easier. "Lionel," Arthur finally spoke. "I chose to relieve you of your position as captain of the guard. I thank you for your years of service, as you have served under both myself and my father."

Lionel stood and bowed. "I take my leave, sire." He exited the chamber, shoulders stooped in anguish.

Arthur waved off the other advisors, leaving only himself and Merlin. "What do we do?"

"Well I'll have to look into the guard and find a suitable replacement as soon as possible." Merlin said. "We don't know if Morgana is sending anymore spies our way, or if there are any more hiding away in the city."

Arthur nodded. He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled deeply. "How can I govern my people effectively if I'm unable to get my guards to do their jobs?"

"Let me worry about the guards. You may be king but you can't control everything." Merlin sat in the empty throne next to his friend.

"In the last three years, there's been moments where everything goes right, and then something happens to bring it all crashing down." Arthur said. "I want to be as great as my father, I do, but I feel like I'm letting him down."

"Arthur, I'm going to be honest with you, your father, whilst he was a good king, was not a popular man. Look at what you've done to bring this kingdom to the heights it has reached - you bought in laws so people with magic no longer have to hide-"

"That was your doing, Merlin, not mine."

"But still, what you've done to this kingdom, what you've bought into law to make your people's lives better ... Arthur, you're going to be the greatest king that this land has ever known."


Mordred, with his afternoon duties completed and with nothing to do until patrol at sundown, made his way to Alara's chamber. He caught one of the maids as she left the room. "Is the Lady Alara present?"

"No, Sir Mordred. I think she's with the Queen and the young princes."

He considered that dressing down maybe more appropriate, as to not frighten the princes, but maybe it was better to stay as he was. If Meilyr starts crying then you only have yourself to blame, he thought.

Making his way across the castle, he thought about the time he has shared with Alara since her arrival; he more or less spent all of his free time with her, and he assumed it was the same with Alara. At least he hoped it was. Whenever she got close to him or laughed at something, he got this intense fluttering feeling in his stomach, and his heart would drop like a rock in a river. Mordred dared to mention this to the other knights - they would tease him relentlessly for it.

Mordred was too caught up in his thoughts that he didn't realise that he was outside the Queen's chambers. Taking a moment, he straightened his mail and bought back his shoulders, broadening his frame.

"I know you're out there, Mordred," Guinevere spoke. "You can come in."

Caught off guard, he entered, to be met with the shrieking princes. They were playing a game, although he couldn't figure out what, and they were running all over the room. Alara was sitting, with the Queen placed at the table. Wooden toys and cloth animals were strewn across the room, with a large blanket spread across a large empty space.

Mordred bowed. "Forgive the intrusion, my Lady, but I hoped to have a brief word with Alara."

"Of course, that's no problem." She smiled and went over to calm her wild children.

Alara dusted her skirt and tucked a strand of her sable-coloured hair behind her ear. Mordred almost melted on the spot.

"Is everything okay? Is something wrong? Does Merlin need me?"

"No, no. I just wanted to, uh, ask you, if, uh, you wanted to join me for ride." He spoke.

She bit her lip. By the Gods he wanted to kiss her there and then. "I would have to see if my Lady agrees. The princes have be rather troublesome today."

"We can go another time-"

"No, no. This might be the only chance we get."


Gwen gladly let the two go, claiming that both of the princes were being to tire themselves out.

The weather was chilly, but calm. They both wore thick woollen cloaks; Mordred's was a deep green colour, and Alara's was a burgundy.

The fresh smell of the damp earth and the sounds of the rustling trees gave the two adults a sense of peace. "There's a ravine just south-east of the city," Mordred pointed. "We can ride there, take a stop."

"I like the sound of that." She replied. Digging her heels into her mare, Alara gave chase, laughing aloud as she left small puffs of dust in her path. "Last one to the edge of the forest is a beetle!"

Mordred cried out - "I'll show you beetle!" He drove his horse forward, catching up with the young woman. He could hear her encouraging her horse as he travelled, edging his own one further and further.

There was a brief moment where he had almost caught up with her, but Alara was elusive, always with a trick up her sleeve. "Come on, slow-worm, catch up!" She exclaimed. Off again she was, just a canter away from Mordred.

She heard his horse whinny and Mordred cry out as he was flipped off of his horse. There was a nasty crunch sound as he crashed into the dirt path.

Alara halted her horse and jumped off, running to the fallen knight. "Gods, Mordred are you okay?"

He didn't answer.

"Mordred? Answer me, are you okay? Where does it hurt?"

Once again, he didn't answer.

She was able to roll him over and saw that his left arm was bent out of shape, with some bone sticking out of the skin. Mordred's head was badly cut, with blood welling at his forehead and a large bump starting to take shape.

In a panic, Alara started to think of all the things that her mother had taught her about basic healing. First thing is to make sure that the injured person is conscious, she remembered. She made an assessment of Mordred's breathing, putting her hand lightly over his mouth to feel for breath. "Mordred, it's Alara. You've badly hurt your head and your arm is severely broken."

Mordred groaned and tried to move. "Why does my arm feel funny?" He muttered.

"You've broken it. I need you to stay still, okay? I'm going to try and find something to keep your arm as straight as possible." She rolled up her cloak and placed it under his head.

Alara searched around for some long, robust-looking sticks. Finding a long branch, she snapped it in half; and that was the easy part. The next part wouldn't be as easy.