Bit shorter than I'd like, but the next part HAS to be in Mordred's point of view, so here we go.
Mordred pulled back with a shuddering gasp, and Arthur watched as Mordred collapsed, much to his alarm while Iseldir only sighed. "Poor thing never knows his own limits," he said. "He never has."
"What did he see?" Arthur demanded, standing as the druid did, and helping to get Mordred to the stone where the boy had been sitting earlier. Iseldir shook his head.
"That, I have no way of knowing. Did you see or hear anything, sire?"
"Just birdsong," Arthur answered. "Not helpful at all-"
"No," Iseldir interrupted, and Arthur was getting damned tired of being disrupted in the middle of his sentences, "That's quite helpful, actually. Morgana's magic is dark, twisted. Animals tend to avoid such magic, so that you heard birdsong means she was not there."
Arthur felt like he could faint with relief. "And you? Did you see anything?"
Iseldir shook his head, only saying, "Nothing of interest," quite evasively.
He remembered, very suddenly, why exactly he hated working with druids. They never were very clear.
His lips thinned but the chieftain took absolutely no notice, favoring to look after Mordred instead. And while Arthur couldn't fault the man for doing so, it would have been nice to be acknowledged. "How is he?" Arthur asked, kneeling next to his fallen knight.
Elyan, already pressing his hand to Mordred's forehead, said, "He's very chilled, sire," with worry leaking through his voice. He turned to Iseldir, "Why is he cold?"
The druid shifted, and said nothing, so Arthur pressed by repeating, "Why is Sir Mordred cold? All we were doing was staring into a crystal."
"With all due respect, sire, I was attempting to find your servant, which takes a lot more than just looking," Iseldir snapped, then paled. It appeared that Arthur wasn't the only one under high stress, though why the druid cared so much for Merlin was beyond him. He let it slide because Iseldir really was only trying to help, and to repay the man to whom he already owed so much with death wouldn't be right.
He ignored the obvious implication that Iseldir was doing magic and instead repeated his question again.
Iseldir regarded him silently for several long moments before he said, "Mordred has always been ready to throw his life source into dangerous things, sire. He is cold because he drained himself."
Arthur had a very terrible feeling, very suddenly, that he knighted a sorcerer.
He looked to Mordred again, the boy was lying against the wall, completely out of it, because Arthur had asked for his help. He had given it willingly, never questioning, never hesitant. And he had been doing so for well over a year. Arthur tried to swallow but his mouth was dry.
He loved Mordred like a brother, and the boy had never, not once, showed ill intent toward him, even when he was allied with Morgana. "He has used all his magic, hasn't he?" he asked Iseldir, voice even and flat. Iseldir flinched, barely visible and had Arthur not been looking for it, he would never have seen it. That was all the answer he needed. "Thank you for your help, but we will continue without him. When he wakes, inform him that he has been stripped of his knighthood and has been banished from Camelot. If I see him again, I will kill him."
He stood, and he walked out.
It took a while for the other knights to join him, but when they did, they were solemn and silent, and Arthur couldn't bring himself to feel anything.
…
When he told Guinevere what happened, she covered her mouth with her hands and started to cry.
"You banished him, just like that?" she demanded.
He whipped around. "Don't tell me you knew!" he shouted, and she winced at the volume. He calmed himself immediately, reminding himself that he was not his father and he would not be a tyrant. "I'm just happy I didn't run him through," he muttered.
"He's been so loyal to you, Arthur," she scolded. "And he's just a boy! How could he have any time to become corrupted?"
"He's also a druid-"
"The druids have been pardoned, don't you dare back down on that promise now, Arthur Pendragon."
Her hands were on her hips and he felt himself shrink under her fierce glare. "You had better find that boy and apologize. He never did anything to you."
"It's only a matter of time before he does!" Arthur cried, sitting down in a chair. He slumped forward and buried his head in his hands. "I can't bear to watch another of my friends betray me."
"And you really think Mordred ever would?"
His lips thinned. "Magic is evil, it corrupts-"
"And those are Uther's words, not yours, Arthur," Guinevere said sternly.
He glanced sharply up at her, eyes narrow. "And since when did you start caring for magic?" he demanded.
She shrugged helplessly, eyes going from fiery to sad in a heartbeat. "Mordred is not the only good sorcerer in the world," she said sadly. "There was the one who saved my father, after all."
"The actions of one do not excuse the rest of them-" he snarled, and she regained her passion with this sentence.
"And has it ever occurred to you that the sorcerers you meet are the ones who have nothing to lose by revealing themselves? That they are so desperate as to give their lives for their people? And those who wish only for peace are the ones who hide?"
Arthur stared at her, flabbergasted. "I- what-"
"Think on it, Arthur," Guinevere said tiredly. "This is the only time I want this conversation; you know how much I hate to fight."
He nodded as he stood, gathering her into his arms. He couldn't bring himself to stay angry. Instead, all his shock and feelings of betrayal bled out of him, leaving him feeling strangely empty.
He wished Merlin were here that he could inquire as to what the servant thought about magic. He never knew what kind of answers he would receive from Merlin when it came to that particular subject.
But for now, he just kept his arms around his wife and pondered her words.
…Those who wish only for peace are the ones who hide…
…
Four Months Ago
Though Arthur had tried to look, Mordred was gone like a fog after a sunrise.
And though he tried not to, he also felt wretchedly guilty over the whole thing.
He not only let go of one of his most loyal knights, he also let the only lead to Merlin slip through his fingers. He wanted to scream and cry in frustration. And Iseldir had not been welcoming when Arthur went back two days after Arthur had essentially thrown Mordred to the dogs. He had turned them away and sealed the cave from their eyes with powerful magic. He has not heard from druids since.
The other knights had taken not to speaking with him beyond what was necessary, and he couldn't even blame them. They had all been attached to Mordred and-
God, he'd been an idiot.
After his conversation with Guinevere, he decided he would consider giving magic a chance. Maybe.
She caved after he told her that.
…
"Gaius?"
The man in question looking up from his book, glasses perched on the end of his nose. "Sire," he acknowledged, pushing the books aside and taking the glasses off. "What can I do for you?"
"I-"
How could he say it?
But Gaius waited patiently, as if knowing that Arthur needed to gather his thoughts. "I want to know more… about magic."
Gaius' eyebrows receded into his hairline.
…