Man, I thought the last chapter was late. So sorry! But I did swear to finish this, so here's the next part. Next will of course be Arthur, as well as all the stuff I skipped from the second month. PLEASE SEND PROMPTS! I'm losing my mind over this one because I never do well with the little things in stories like this.

Mordred knew the moment he stepped into the hallway with Arthur that Emrys would be listening.

He wasn't wrong.

…

Three Months Ago

Emrys gave him looks that made Mordred terribly uncomfortable, and he'd forgotten what it felt like to be under constant surveillance but now he was beginning to remember. But the gazes weren't as threatening as they used to be, merely more intense in a different way.

"How are you feeling, Emrys?"

The warlock gave him a sharp look. "Don't call me that out loud," he snapped. Mordred raised his eyebrows and the warlock sagged into his bed, sighing heavily. "I want to go back to work," he said.

There was a knock on the door before Mordred could reply, much to his annoyance. "Yes?" Emrys called, a bite to his tone. The door swung open, and Emrys' mouth dropped open in shock. "Mother!"

Hunith was a short woman compared to her son, wearing a green dress with an apron and a headband. "Merlin," she said, a breath. She rushed forward and the two embraced as best they could, with Emrys still bound to the bed. She pulled back first, a hand on his neck, gazing at her son, taking him in. Her face was relieved, if concerned. Mordred felt like he was intruding, so he made to leave.

"I heard that you went missing quite some time ago and just got the news that you'd been found- oh, Merlin, I came as fast as I could…"

Mordred clicked the door shut behind him and leaned against it, the low murmur of voices behind it soothing his headache for a moment. He shook it off and hopped down the stairs, heading to his own chambers.

People flinched whenever he walked by, frightened of his magic, and he tried not to let it get to him too much. He just wished that Arthur would get a move on. Especially, he mused, since he had to watch things like servants dropping full plates, glass shattering and food hitting the floor as soon as he came into sight. His mouth twisted in distaste, and, knowing he would not be welcome if he tried to help, he swept past them.

…

Mordred didn't go to training anymore. Arthur never reprimanded him for it, never called him out on it, so Mordred just didn't bother.

He didn't want to win when his opponent was only allowing it out of fear. That wasn't fair, nor was it helpful, which was the entire point of training in the first place.

And so, because he didn't go to training anymore, he had plenty of time to spend with Iseldir and the other druids.

If he was honest with himself, he didn't really want to do that, either. He wanted to help Emrys, but the man would never let him close now that they were home, so he didn't try.

Leaning against a tree, he sank to the ground, digging his fingers into the dirt as he let his head fall against the bark behind him. He didn't care that he tore a hole in the Camelot cloak. He just closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, listening.

He heard the birdsong, the wind in the treetops, the water falling from the leaves from the night before. He felt the magic in the earth, surging up to meet him, a welcome heat to soothe his nerves.

The only good thing about all this was that he got to reconnect with the world, remember what it was that had made him a druid in the first place.

He hoped his father would be proud.

…

"How are you?"

Gwaine, Mordred mused, was scarily perceptive when he wanted to be. Mordred smiled thinly at the other knight, who didn't look reassured in the least. "I'm quite alright, thank you, Gwaine," Mordred said warmly, but Gwaine merely frowned at him.

"I see the way you're looked at," he said. Mordred flinched.

"They are afraid. I cannot blame them."

Gwaine raised his eyebrows and looked him slowly up and down, making Mordred squirm under the scrutiny. "But you do anyway," Gwaine stated, like it was fact and not a guess.

The druid shook his head. "That does not matter," he said softly. "They are afraid, and they will remain so, no matter what I do, so it is easier to play ignorant."

"I want you to know that I don't care about the magic thing," Gwaine said flippantly. "And I don't think you should be blamed for something you never had a choice in being."

Mordred blinked at him, shocked. "I- thank you," he stuttered, "Thank you."

Gwaine nodded, grinning wildly. "You up for the tavern tonight?"

"My magic tends to lash out when I drink," Mordred admitted, flushing. "So I think I shan't."

"Then don't drink," Gwaine said. "Just join us."

"Who is us?"

The knight's grinned widened. "I think you'll like the collection."

Mordred, though wary, nodded. Gwaine let out a quiet cheer and clapped him on the shoulder, before he stood and took his leave, headed onto the training field.

…

Emrys and Arthur were at the tavern that night, sitting on opposite sides of the table and different corners, but they were there together, in the same room, at the same table, and Mordred felt like it was progress on Arthur's part. But he knew, just from a brief skim of Emrys' surface thoughts, that the warlock felt like it was a failure.

He isn't angry with you, you know, Mordred said, halfway through the night, when he and Emrys were the only sober ones left.

Though Mordred was watching Percival singing on the bar's counter across the way, feeling faintly amused, he could see Emrys jerk his head in Mordred's direction, finally, finally, tearing his eyes from the king. I know that. I heard you and him the night we got back.

Mordred grit his teeth. Yes, I know.

I- I want you to know that I-

"Merlin! Come here, mate!" Gwaine called, barely slurring, but holding onto a laughing Leon with a look of amusement and wickedness. "Help me get him to a room!"

"I'm barely allowed to even be here!" Emrys called back, gesturing to his body, still mostly a mess of bandages. "Get him there yourself! Honestly, don't be lazy like Arthur!"

"Me? Like the princess? Never!"

Mordred laughed quietly to himself and missed the look that Emrys shot him, unreadable, and Mordred didn't bother to reach out to the warlock again for the rest of the night. Emrys, in turn, didn't bother to finish his statement.

…

Emrys introduced him to Hunith the day before she left, and Mordred wasn't sure about the reasoning behind it.

But she smiled warmly and hugged him, much to Mordred's surprise. "So good to meet you, Mordred," she said. "Merlin has mentioned you in letters before."

"Has he?" Mordred questioned, eyes wandering to the figure behind her. Emrys wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Oh, yes," Hunith said. "Especially recently."

Mordred asked, Why? Even as he said that to Emrys, he said aloud, "Well, I do hope I have met your expectations."

"You've exceeded them," Hunith said.

He smiled at her, growing frustrated at the lack of answer from Emrys, and the man's refusal to even glance his way.

…

I was unaware that I was noticeable enough for letters.

Don't degrade yourself like that.

…

Two Months Ago

Mordred?

His eyes snapped open.

He sat up with a gasp, a strangled cry dying in his throat.

Morgana was in his head, calling to him. Mordred? Mordred… Mordred? Mordred! MORDRED!

He silenced the connection as much as it pained him to do so, and reached instead to Emrys, who recently was allowed back to work. As much as he hated to wake the older man because of his need to wake early in the morning, he did it anyway, Morgana's magic settling in his head. Emrys? Help me!

What? What's going on? Mordred?

Emrys' voice was clear as a bell, and it made Mordred wonder why the man was already awake before he dismissed it, instead telling him about Morgana.

I got wind of her magic this morning, Emrys said, voice contemplative. Can you meet with her?

Mordred felt a cold wave of fear settle over him. She sounds angry. She tried to kill me when I saw her last, he said.

Then never mind. Keep her out for now and we'll tip Arthur in the morning. Would you like me to stay with you?

It didn't occur to Mordred to wonder why the question was even being asked. He gave his assent and tried to ignore the battering on his mental shield.

…

Emrys arrived mere minutes later, looking worn and still too thin, but Mordred was more than happy to see him. The door was quiet when Emrys closed it behind him, and Mordred stood, unsure of what he was supposed to do or say, if anything at all.

The warlock crossed the room and sat on the bed, tugging Mordred down to sit next to him. "Rest," Emrys instructed, "I can't heal like you can, but shields are easy. Let me help you."

Mordred had no qualms about letting Emrys into his mind. "Alright," he agreed.

Emrys pulled at Mordred until he moved closer, and then Emrys guided the druid's head to his shoulder. "Sleep. It'll be easier that way."

Mordred swallowed, tense. He nodded and tried to breathe in that familiar sunshine and pine scent that still lingered on the blankets he kept in a magically locked chest by the bedside. He found it easily, and he felt a brush of magic on his forehead where Emrys smoothed down his hair, and was asleep within a moment. He did not dream.

…

One Month Ago

Emrys told him the truth.

And Mordred understood.

He understood everything.