Sorry this is so late! I had no muse today and then kicked myself into gear.
"More of magic, sire?"
Four Months Ago
"Yes, Gaius."
The old man nodded slowly, looking unsure. Arthur resisted the urge to sigh in exasperation. "Please," he said, and Gaius swallowed, clenching his jaw before he nodded again, more certain.
"Of course, sire. What did you want to know?"
Gaius' voice was steady, but his eyes portrayed something else, and Arthur had to wonder what exactly it was about him that could inspire such a reaction.
"…I want to know about Mordred's power."
Surprise flitted across his features. "Mordred?" The physician was incredulous. "I'm afraid I don't know the boy very well at all, except that he is a very powerful warlock."
Arthur furrowed his eyebrows. "Warlock?" he repeated. "What do you mean?"
"There is a very large difference between a warlock and a sorcerer, sire," Gaius stated plainly, "One of the major differences being that warlocks are born with a natural inclination toward magic, while sorcerers must be taught everything they know. Often, warlocks will display a certain talent in a branch of magic from a young age. Mordred is particularly skilled with the powers of the mind, though to what extent I am not sure."
Arthur nodded his understanding. "So Mordred- he didn't have a choice, did he?"
Gaius shook his head. "He did not, sire."
Now Arthur felt more like a fool than ever.
…
"Bandits, sire, closing in around the citadel."
Arthur grit his teeth at the interruption and the news, looking up at Leon, his First Knight. The man's hair was in disarray, his breath coming in hard gasps as he stood in the doorway, leaning on the wall. "They're moving as we speak, sire. They'll be here within the hour if we do not intercept."
He stood, and Leon looked relieved. "Morgana, do you think?" Arthur checked, and Leon shook his head.
"I doubt it, sire. They are much too scattered. Some aren't even heading to the citadel, but they seem to be coordinating somehow."
Arthur hummed in consideration. "Ready the horses. We ride in a half hour."
"Sire," Leon acknowledged, and dashed off.
Arthur paced to the window and wondered, watching his people wander about their daily lives, talking, laughing, and so alive. He loved them all, and he smiled as a young child raced across the courtyard, his older sister chasing after him, both of them beaming and crying out in delight. His eyes moved to the baker, how he watched the young lady with a needle and thread, and their eyes met. They looked away quickly, but Arthur knew what he saw. His grin widened.
Then it fell from his face as he reconsidered the situation.
He wondered if the bandits had Merlin.
…
The ride was quick, his most loyal knights- Leon, Elyan, Gwaine, and Percival- riding with him. They stopped once when Elyan caught a rabbit, and Gwaine managed to cook it for lunch.
Their conversations were quiet, worried. "What if…"
Arthur turned expectantly to Leon, who flushed, looking away. "Leon?"
"What if we run into Mordred?"
The king tightened his jaw, mind flashing to the dark-haired knight turned sorcerer. "I'm sure we won't," Arthur said, but his confidence was fake and they all knew it. They made no mention of it, however. "But if we do… I would very much like the chance to apologize."
"Finally decided to repeal the ban, princess?" Gwaine asked, tone somewhere between cheerful and threatening. Arthur shook his head.
"I cannot repeal the ban for one good deed when a slew of others have yet to be countered," Arthur said, throat tight. He was still undecided, he had no idea what to do and Guinevere was of little help, insisting that magic was nothing to be afraid of. She had no idea.
Gwaine scoffed and that was that.
…
"Hey!" Percival shouted, and the carriage came to a stop, three burly men hopping off their horses with swords drawn menacingly. There were two figures in the cage that jerked their heads up when they came to a halt, and only Elyan was close enough to see who they were. Arthur knew it couldn't be good that his jaw fell slack.
Arthur redirected his attention to the slavers, and dodged a blow, countering it with his sword. He flicked his wrist and the other man's sword clattered to the ground behind him, and Arthur quickly ran him through. The second man tried to catch him off guard, but Leon ran him through from behind before Arthur could get hurt. He nodded his thanks and Leon's eyes grew wide, giving Arthur just enough time to duck a blow from the third man, turning on his heel and plunging his sword into the man's chest.
He hated easy fights.
He turned, absently wiping his sword clean of blood, and got his first clear look at the first, healthier figure in the cage. "Mordred!" he called in shock, and the man edged away from the cage door.
Arthur's heart broke just a little, no matter how reasonable the reaction was.
Then, as the second figure pushed his way past Mordred, Arthur realized that his former knight had not backed away out of fear, but to protect the person behind him. Arthur's heart stopped as he got a clear look, and he realized why.
"Merlin!" he cried, voice breaking, and he jogged forward as Merlin's cold fingers, clearly having been broken in the past, clutched at Arthur's outstretched hand as soon as he got close enough.
Merlin looked awful, and though Mordred did as well, both of them covered in dirt and blood, Merlin was way worse off. He had a nasty gash on his forehead, yellowed and long, that needed treatment immediately. Arthur could see every bone in the boy's face, his wrist, arm, and Arthur wagered that if he could see, he'd be able to count his vertebrae and his ribs, too. But Merlin's eyes were bright, a fond, hopeful look all over his face, and Arthur smiled back automatically. "Merlin, are you alright?"
Merlin's smile widened, eyes lighting up even further, "I'll be alright, sire," he said.
There was something in his voice that made Arthur pause, but he barely let the moment consume him, instead stepping back and watching as Merlin's face fell for the slightest of seconds before the smile made its reappearance.
Odd.
Arthur shook it off, walking back over to the slavers, locating the keys and triumphantly bringing them back, unlocking all the doors and the chains. Mordred, Arthur figured, could handle himself, and he was proven right when the boy simply hopped right out of the cage, giving Arthur the impression that he'd been able to leave all along. So why did he stay?
He reached for Merlin, and the servant clung to him weakly as Arthur helped him down. He swayed a bit on his feet once he reached the ground, but smiled at Arthur when he moved to help, waving him off.
"I'll be fine," Merlin repeated.
…
Arthur deliberately ignored the sorcerer, watching him from the corner of his eye as Mordred watched Merlin, growing smaller and more withdrawn with every passing moment. It didn't stop Mordred from helping, nor from sitting next to Merlin around the campfire, wrapping an arm around the servant, who didn't even notice.
Guinevere had said something about Mordred. About his desperation, and his heartache, and how she'd caught him crying over Merlin more than once.
Arthur dismissed it at the time, but now it seemed so clear, the way the knight felt.
His heart went out to the boy, knowing all too well what it felt like to love someone and be afraid because of it.
…
It was dark.
"Arthur?"
Merlin.
He turned his head to the side, surprised when he found Merlin so close. "Merlin-"
There were lips on his mouth before he could say anything else, claiming the noise and his breath all at once. The kiss was soft, hesitant, and Merlin was clearly out of his depth, but his intent was clear. Arthur reached up and pushed him gently away. "What?" Arthur managed, heart racing, unsure what to feel or what to think.
"I'm still dying, Arthur," Merlin said quickly. His cheeks were bright red, and he wouldn't meet Arthur's eyes. Arthur couldn't help but feel sad for his friend, knowing that he couldn't give him what he wanted. "I had to do it at least once."
Merlin backed away before Arthur could say anything, returning to his bedroll and not facing him.
Arthur grit his teeth, frustrated. He looked around, and his eyes met Mordred's. The druid had tears on his face, more of them swimming in his eyes, ready to fall. His blue eyes were a dull gray.
…
Come morning, Arthur was exhausted, wondering how he got to be in a love triangle he never wanted to be in. He wanted to go home to his wife and leave those two to it.
But Mordred clearly wasn't about to allow that.
It hit Arthur that Mordred didn't know that Arthur wasn't angry anymore.
He ran to catch up, calling the druid back.
…
The seven of them rode back to Camelot, and it was silent.
Even Merlin couldn't bring himself to say anything, and Arthur became frustrated pretty early on. And so, when the citadel cam into sight, he couldn't help but release a quiet sigh of relief.
He rode into the courtyard and handed his reins to the stable boy, who took them all quickly and led the horses away as the knights also dismounted. Between Gwaine and Arthur, Merlin was supported, and Mordred tagged along behind the rest of them as they made haste to Gaius' chambers.
Mordred was there when Gaius first saw his ward, and he was there throughout the entire examination, as if he couldn't bear to leave.
The more Arthur looked, the more obvious it became, and the more guilty and sad he felt.
"Merlin, my boy," Gaius said again, and Merlin was sitting on the table, having his wounds tended, a pained expression on his face as Gaius rubbed dirt from whip marks on his back.
Arthur took that as his cue.
"Mordred," he said softly, and the boy jerked like he'd been smacked, looking away from Merlin for the first time since they got here.
"Sire?"
"With me a moment," Arthur said, guiding Mordred to his feet and escorting him from the room, into the hall. He could feel Merlin's curious gaze as they left.
"Sire?" Mordred repeated when they were alone, looking nervous. He could bolt at any moment, and Arthur, having long since become accustomed to this behavior from this particular man, took no notice to it. "Is something wrong?"
Arthur hesitated. "How well do you know Merlin?" he asked.
"Very well, sire, though I do not believe he pays me the same attention," Mordred replied, tone upset.
Arthur once again paused, and Mordred pressed, "Is this about the kiss?"
Arthur ran his hands through his hair, "Yes!" he burst out, distressed.
Mordred pulled back at little at the volume. "I had no idea he would actually act on his feelings, sire," Mordred said.
"So you knew?" Arthur asked, and Mordred nodded miserably.
"He told me in a fit of sorrow one evening by mistake. We never spoke of it again."
Arthur became tired very suddenly, and he sighed. "Is there any way that you may be able to… talk him out of it? I don't want him pining unnecessarily like some girl and hurting when there is no need for it."
"You mean, you want me to confess to my feelings, sire?" Mordred asked, voice small.
Arthur took a long look at the knight in front of him, folded in on himself and skittish, and while Arthur knew his nerves could get the best of the youth, he'd never seen him quite this bad. Slowly, Arthur shook his head. "That is entirely up to you," Arthur said. "I just-"
"Don't want to accept that your best friend is in love with you?"
Arthur gestured helplessly. "I don't know what to do, Mordred."
"Nothing, sire," Mordred replied sharply, standing slightly. "Merlin has lived with this for some time, and he is well practiced in concealing it and doubtlessly will continue to do so. If you leave him alone, nothing more will come of it."
He regarded the knight. "And you know this well." Mordred flushed, but nodded. Arthur sighed, "And what of you?"
"Me, sire?"
"You are like a brother to me as well, Mordred. I don't want you hurting anymore than I want Merlin hurting."
Mordred shook his head. "I will do nothing, sire. I am fine."
Arthur didn't believe that for a second.