It all starts with His Majesty's brilliant idea.
One morning Merlin walks into Arthur's chamber and stops.
It is barely sunrise, but Arthur is awake and sits at his desk, dressed. His face is tired and scrunched up in deep thoughts.
A perfect picture of the wise and shrewd young King.
Or at least it would be for someone other than Merlin. Merlin is aware that the covers on Arthur's bed are just thrown on it with a bunched up blanket and all underneath, the washbasin is overturned and dry as a dessert, Arthur's tunic, red and simple, is clearly from the mending pile.
Merlin is also aware that yesterday was a mission - the first one on which Arthur went as a King. Reports said it was the most ordinary home bred bandits, so Merlin didn't go. He stayed to help Gaius with post-winter inventory and now curses himself for thinking something ever could go smoothly with Arthur.
Merlin throws tray with breakfast on the floor beside the door and steps closer to the desk, gently, like a cat with its soft velvet paws. Arthur is unpredictable, but Merlin knows a tactic or two.
- What are you thinking about? Quails? - Merlin goes with clueless and ignoramus. - Wait a little and the hunting season will start.
If there's one thing Arthur loves the most it is sharing his unparalleled wisdom with his subordinates, who are in desperate need of guidance. And the more indecently this need manifests, the better.
If there's one thing Arthur hates the most it is being suspected of being not all noble and kingly and better than thou in actions and thoughts. Especially if thou are a lowly little servant, crude and uncouth.
Merlin gets what he wants. Arthur rolls his eyes and signs long-sufferingly:
- No, Merlin. Only the likes of you waste time dreaming about such low things. I'm thinking about our Kingdom's affairs.
- Oh?! - Merlin puts his most earnest and awestruck face.
Arthur falls for it the second time. He patronizingly puts his hand on Merlin's shoulders and guides him to a chair on the opposite.
- Sit, Merlin. I want to tell you something.
Merlin is all ears.
- You know about yesterday's mission, right? - Arthur levels him with the heaviest look. - It wasn't regular bandits. They were sorcerers.
Merlin limbs go numb. Ridiculous. Arthur is fine and there weren't any knights visiting Gaius yesterday. Really? Just the word "magic" from Arthur can send Merlin in a frenzy now.
Arthur sees and hurries to shrug it off:
- Not all of them, just a couple and they didn't use many tricks. We dealt with them quickly.
It's a knight's for killing.
Unwittingly Merlin flinches.
This time Arthur looks annoyed.
- But it is not the point. - he says somewhat bitterly and too fast. - There was a kid with them. Not magical. He didn't do anything even when... - Suddenly he becomes unsure. He does this thing when he looks up into the other person's eyes, unsure and trusting. Like a child. Merlin never has had the heart to say how it looks from the outside. For himself, he uncrosses legs to look more open. - Well, the thing is he's got no home, right? And if we give him to druids, he would just become corrupted with magic? So I ordered to take him with us. He'll be a new page in the academy. He is the right age too.
Merlin doesn't know what to respond to this kind of logic.
Arthur talks on and on about reforming traditions, saving lives, and making a change. Merlin tunes it all out.
This feels anti-climatic. It's nice Arthur doesn't drown druid's children as Uther did! But still, taking one druid child with no magic to train as a knight feels insignificant and remote in comparison to the image of the future Merlin wants. Also, he went by a couple of lessons at the academy and it is... Will would have a heart attack seeing this amount of pure indoctrination and monarchy propaganda. Pure kid probably would have a better chance at a normal life living in the woods.
But ultimately, this doesn't concern Merlin.
Oh, how he is wrong.
Merlin kind of forgets about the talk, he lives his normal life: doing chores for Arthur, doing rounds with Gaius, practicing spells.
Until one day Arthur brings on the training field a bunch of younger pupils and Merlin sees him.
There, between scruffy looking kids with their not quite right-sized tunics and not properly fastened random parts of armor stands the familiar figure with curly hair and gloomy face.
Mordred doesn't notice him.
Afraid to move, Merlin sits at his table and watches Arthur try to not get an aneurysm. His left eye twitches somewhat desperately with each new look at his charges' pathetic excuses of armor.
At the back of his mind, Merlin laughs meanly. That's what you get letting a bunch of 12 years old living on their own. But then it must be a noble thing - he and Will were let to travel in other places to buy seeds alone at that age.
Merlin chuckles, looking away for a second, and when he returns his gaze to the group, he is met with the set of green eyes watching. They still have the same creepy, knowing expression that Merlin can't read to save his life.
The next second Arthur yells something and pupils scramble to do laps around the field.
Slowly Merlin pushes aside the shield he was polishing and chooses the moment when no one is looking to run to Gaius.
Sure, he most likely will get yelled for this, but the situation is serious. What if this is some evil plan to sneak into Camelot? Or to learn about all the secrets and then sneak into Camelot? Or it is Mordred's plan of getting closer to Arthur and then murdering him?
Merlin almost turns around, "Oh Gods Arthur's alone with him", but stops himself. How long ago Arthur said he found the kid?
His Majesty'll survive another couple hours.
Gaius does nothing to ease his panic. He meaningfully furrows his brows, musingly raises his brows, shifts and moves his brows but, as always, the only thing it tells Merlin is Gaius has his concerns.
Merlin looks into his face attentively, trying to decipher Gaius' thoughts or at least get some coherent answers, all in vain.
But one thing is clear - destiny threw some work at Merlin. Again.
Merlin apprehends the kid later that morning. From his secret alcove, he notices the group of young pupils heading to the washing room. Merlin waits and waits and when he yanks Mordred in the adjusting empty corridor no one notices.
The kid himself barely reacts to the action. Merlin glares at him, expecting... something.
They stay silent for a minute looking at each other and Merlin snaps:
- Why are you here?
The kid says nothing. But he does look eerie from under his forehead.
Merlin tsks. Mordred has the audacity to roll his eyes.
Finally, he says:
- His majesty brought me here. He saved me.
Suppressing the urge to barf at hearing someone call Arthur His Majesty unironically, Merlin raises his brow skeptically:
- Saved you? I heard he killed your group...
The kid flinches and Merlin steps aside, a little panicky, but continues:
- And then he took you here so that druids won't corrupt you with magic.
- Exactly! He wanted to do a good thing. He is an honorable man, that treats all people fairly, so he gave me a chance!
That has been the first human emotion Merlin has witnessed on the kid. Mordred checks are pinkish and his eyes have this adoring glow Merlin got accustomed to seeing on every younger and new knight that was trained by Arthur.
He exhales, still not convinced:
- So what? You want to stay in Camelot now? Be a knight all your life?
Mordred nods.
- And what about your magic? Do you think Arthur will still treat you fairly if he knew?
- Do you?
And Mordred is back on his weird adult thing. Merlin is not about to give up though:
- It's different. I have to be here; I have a destiny.
- Well, if the Emrys believes magic will be free again in this land, why can't I?
That curiously makes sense.
When Mordred sneaks back into the main corridor, Merlin doesn't stop him. Because truly, why? If not for Killgarah's threats, Merlin wouldn't be surprised if someone believed that with Arthur things will be different. Especially someone like Mordred. Arthur did save him that one time.
But then he also raided Mordred's camp when Morgana had run away...
Merlin shakes his head. He decides he can't know the truth by thinking about it. He needs to observe Mordred and then decide.
So Merlin observes. Mordred is diligently doing lunges at the morning practice, helps servants with other pupils to haul around heavy things, the actual knights never say anything about him besides usual remarks about his background. And Merlin purposely listens!
Everything is perfect.
Mordred - the little druid kid, in no way stands out among the bunch of educated, well off nobles.
Right.
On the other hand, the relief Merlin feels after he finishes his day without any magic-related incidents is uncountable. It helps him mentally prepare for the day when something will happen.
That day Merlin is in the courtyard, he pats himself with the remains of the snow to freshen up after mucking the stables for the good part of the evening. The courtyard is empty, even the stray sounds from the kitchen don't disturb the calmness of the moment. With a small smile, Merlin turns east where setting sun already splashed the sky around with crimson. It's not the same magnificence as sunsets in Ealdor, where it seems that even the air caught fire, but it slowly becoming just as dear to Merlin.
"Emrys! Please!"
From surprise, Merlin nearly falls into the pile of dung he just cleaned from the stables.
The voice in his head is clearly Mordred's. And distressed. Behind the incoherent slugged word and noises, uncomfortably reminding Merlin about sobs, he could only distinguish his nickname and pleas for help.
It has started. Merlin isn't panicking, he is ready for action and even buzzing in his shoulders from all the work doesn't press down on him.
He looks around to check again that there is no one here and closes his eyes.
"What happened?"
"I don't know! It was an accident!"
The voice rings through Merlin's head. And, yes, the kid is crying.
"Relax, I'll deal with it. Where?"
"Emrys!"
Mordred can't say anything coherent from the tears and frankly, Merlin doesn't like it. Even that night in the tunnels the kid didn't sound like this.
He asks again, hoping his physician training lets his voice be both gentle and demanding enough.
"Mordred, where are you?"
Sobs stop for a second.
"The third practice room."
Merlin runs.
When he opens the door to the third practice room, he doesn't understand what's wrong instantly. It is dark, torches merely smolder. When he lights them, he can see circular marks around the holders and the walls beneath, the unmistakable footprints of a magical explosion. Mordred is not here, but seeing as there weren't any words that he is in danger, Merlin isn't that worried.
He looks around again and frowns. It is bad, but not hysterically crying bad.
Or maybe he is just practiced at getting rid of the evidence of magic.
Merlin locks the door and concentrates. A couple of minutes of chants and the bricks of the academy are as good as new.
He sighs. Then calls for Mordred again.
"I fixed the marks. No one will know."
Then after a second, he adds:
"Where are you?"
"The storage room... Near the dining hall."
Merlin runs. Again.
He finds the storage room quickly, even though the academy is out of his servant's competency. He enters. Mordred is sitting on the edge of a crumped dusty desk, legs on a stool. He is crying. Wretched childlike cry, not the creepy one he did years ago with immovable face and omniscient stare from under his forehead. No, his face is all scrunched up, cheeks bloated and red. The kid sobs heartbreakingly, trying and failing to hold all the emotions inside his little body.
That is the moment the weird thought blinks inside Merlin's head for the first time. Then he jumps. Carefully, as though nearing an edge of a cliff, he gets closer to the thought, considers it this way and that.
Yes, he is most certainly thinks that, no doubt.
"I have no problem with Arthur dying if it means not having the kid cry like this ever again."
Not waiting another minute, he shuts the door and in quick strides walks to Mordred. Merlin is unsure of "what now" when tiny hands desperately clutch his tunic.
He didn't think his heart could break more.
Merlin shushes reassuringly about "how he has taken care of everything and no one noticed and it's going to be fine" and rests his right hand on the curly head that instantly nuzzles into his palm as though the palm would disappear any second. Merlin's hand trembles a bit on that.
Merlin is good with kids. He likes them, they like him. He has no problems comforting them by hugging them and wiping their snotty little noses or scolding them, even creating silly punishment for disturbing societal peace.
With Mordred it is different. Mordred doesn't feel like a kid, always serious and inside himself, self-sufficient. Merlin doesn't feel like he has a right to pinch his cheek or wag his finger at him or take care of him. Like he doesn't have a right to do these things to Leon, for example.
But suddenly something clicks. The unnatural feigned maturity, refusal to act his age, unapologetic recklessness match so well in Merlin's head with the image of this Mordred crying from fear and yelling for help because Merlin is familiar with all of it.
Whether this discovery calms or frightens him, Merlin doesn't know.