This was taking so long to write that I figured I'd cut it where I have it, and get to work on Arthur's part. Hope you enjoy
I think we've done it, Mordred.
He's been waiting two days for this news.
Heart in his throat, he swings around as his door slams open, and he throws his arms around Emrys as the older man buries his face in Mordred's hair. "We've done it," Emrys says again.
Mordred's eyes flutter closed. He presses closer to Emrys, drunk on his presence and the euphoria of the promise of freedom. He pulls in a breath, slowly, and rests his chin on Emrys' shoulder. "You did it," he objects. "It was all you."
"You stuck by me, by Arthur, steadfast in the face of destiny and fate for over a year. You did more than you think. Your loyalty has paid off, and you softened his heart to the idea of good people and good magic. You did so much, Mordred, just in your patience. Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you so much," Emrys mutters, holding tighter.
Mordred blinks back tears and just breathes. He feels like he could die in this instant without regrets.
Emrys pulls back, and Mordred loosens his hold to allow it. The warlock stares into Mordred's eyes, calculating something only he could understand. It feels like a test, and Mordred begins to hope that he passes.
Emrys leans forward and kisses him.
At first, he isn't sure what is going on, but Emrys becomes insistent, wrapping his arms tighter around Mordred's waist, so there is only their thin clothing between them. He pushes forward and Mordred stumbles backward, finally getting with the program as he buries his fingers into Emrys' hair and responds to the kiss. He feels his back hit the wall and Emrys moves his hands to Mordred's thighs and hikes him up. Mordred wraps his legs around Emrys' waist automatically, and something about this suddenly doesn't feel quite right.
He pulls back, panting, face flushed, and says, "No- no- wait, Emrys- stop. Stop."
Emrys, for his part, stops immediately, letting Mordred down to the floor. "What's wrong?" Emrys demands, cupping his face and tilting Mordred's head up so their eyes meet. His touch is gentle and worried, and so are his eyes, and Mordred takes in a breath and tries to remember why he was protesting everything he's ever wanted. "I- gods, Mordred, I didn't hurt you, did I?"
"What?" Mordred shakes his head, wrapping his hands around Emrys' wrists. "No, of course not. I just. What about Arthur?"
Because Mordred doesn't want to be a second choice. Not to anyone, but especially not to Emrys.
"Do you know what happened to me when Morgana showed up?"
Mordred blinks in mystification, and Emrys says, "The only thing I could think about was you. She was going to hurt you first. She was going to attack you unawares. She would hurt you. Arthur never even entered my mind, not until after we were under that rubble. And it scared me. I thought- dammit, Mordred, I thought I would lose you. My secret, my life, it didn't matter. It just didn't. You saved me, and when I realized that you had only been able to do so by revealing your secret, and that Arthur deemed your distance more important than my life, I realized I couldn't possibly go on loving someone like that."
Mordred grips Emrys' wrists a little harder, and a shaky smile touches Emrys' lips. "I'm not over him," he confesses. "But… I want to love someone who can love me back. I want someone who can give me what I need, without any hesitation or repercussions. I want someone who can accept what I can give and not hate me for what I can't." Emrys swallows heavily. "And if that person could be you, I could learn to love you very easily. I don't want to hurt you anymore, Mordred- you are my greatest equal and I want to find out what kind of people we could be together. I want to build Albion with you by my side."
It's hard to breathe. So he does the only thing he can think to do: he leans forward and Emrys meets him halfway, and this kiss is much more. His eyes close and he leans back against the wall, wrapping his arms around Emrys' waist and just letting himself feel.
…
"Morgana got away," Arthur says, and Emrys scoffs, sulking. Arthur ignores this easily, saying, "We can assume that she's gone back to the Forests of Wychwood, where she has likely has allies and a plan of attack. Any suggestions?"
"We have to draw her out," Leon says, leaning forward, gesturing for emphasis. "We can't fight her for as long as she's behind that fog."
"This is true," Arthur acknowledges, inclining his head in Leon's direction. "How do you propose we do that?"
Leon looks away, lips thin.
"Keep the ban," Mordred says.
Every face swings toward him in shock. Even Emrys seems too astounded to be angry, so Mordred uses this moment to say, "She knows now that you know about the sorcerers in your court. Send us to her under the guise of having banished us. Say publicly that you can't abide by magic, but for our years of loyalty, we can live. Just like you did to me before, only make it more explosive. Have a row in the court square, make some public announcement, whatever- just make sure that we have a reasonable cause for joining her. We'll take her out from the inside."
"She would never believe that I would leave Arthur," Emrys scoffs, but it's weak.
Arthur considers this, then says, "That might work. It just depends on how well you two can act."
"I've worked with her before, and I know she's still the same person deep down. She will sympathize with us, because she believes you've dealt her the same wrong."
Arthur mutters angrily under his breath, but nods. "I'll make the announcement in the morning," he says.
…
Even knowing that Arthur never intended to banish them, Mordred feels a bit weak in the knees in the face of the king's anger, in the way he lets his pent up emotions out on he and Emrys. "You betrayed me, and Camelot, and for that, the penalty is death. But I must acknowledge your years of service, and therefore, you will be banished, not killed unless I or my guards or knights ever see you again. Get out!" Emrys is crying, and Mordred's not far from it as he takes Emrys' arm and runs.
They run until they can't, collapsing in the forest, taking in huge gulps of air. "Oh, hell," Emrys pants. "That was as bad as I always imagined it could be."
Mordred pulls him into his arms and says nothing, for there is nothing he could say. "I'm glad you're with me," Emrys murmurs, "Because I couldn't do this alone."
"We'll get through this together," he promises, resting his chin on Emrys' shoulder.
The setting sun seems more ominous than ever as he watches it from his place in Emrys' arms.
…
The Forests of Wychwood are welcoming to them, the fog eventually disappearing to reveal lush forest, with flowers of multiple colors and lengths bending to greet them. The trees are greener, the bushes more full, and the grass is softer under their feet. Mordred wishes Arthur could see this, see what good magic can do for the earth.
It is this beauty that he lives for, that he has devoted his life to. He makes a promise to the goddess that she will see this life bloom once again, soon.
"I've been here before," Emrys mutters, looking around. Mordred looks around, too, taking in the worn path under their feet, the plants and the birds in the trees, the deer not far from them, drinking from a stream. "I remember this place. Mordred, we have to turn around."
"What?"
Emrys turns to him, stopping him in the middle of the road. "We have to turn around, go back to Camelot, and come up with something else. This place is haunted, can't you feel it?"
Mordred blinks at him dubiously. "I only feel the life in this place, Emrys," he says, and Emrys shakes his head helplessly, clutching desperately at Mordred's sleeve.
"I was here, when they took me. I was tortured here."
"What?" Mordred repeats, his voice sharper now.
"Yes," he says, and points to a tree. "Can't you see the blood splatters? They do bad things to sorcerers here."
Mordred peers at the tree Emrys is pointing to, and upon close inspection, can see what Emrys is talking about. There are scratches like someone tried to claw at it in terror and desperation. The sap drips down the tree, smearing blood spots, and Mordred feels revulsion rise within him, and he takes a step back.
"That wasn't you, though," Mordred asks, and Emrys shakes his head.
"That was recent."
He nods in response, then says, "We've come this far, though. We have to kill her."
Emrys closes his eyes and swallows heavily. "I know," he breathes.
"It's the only way this can stop."
"I know," he repeats. "I just."
And Mordred understands, truly. "We'll be okay," he says. "We just have to have faith- in ourselves, in the goddess."
Emrys nods. "Yes. You're right, of course."
Mordred takes his hand and takes a deep breath. "Shall we?"
…
The building is right next to a mountain, surrounded by tents, just like from Mordred's vision, seemingly forever ago. Curious faces peek from inside the tents, and just as abruptly as they appear, they tuck themselves back inside. No one emerges.
"Morgana!" Emrys shouts into the night, "We've come to talk to you!"
"And what could you possibly have to say that I would want to hear, traitors?"
She's still injured, Mordred notes immediately, and Emrys gestures to the wound. "I will heal that for you if you hear us out."
"Why would you do that?"
"Because we've come to join you," Emrys says. "Arthur's lost his mind, in wake of discovering my magic. He banished us both, and so we turn to you to take down Camelot, to pave the way for our people."
"You speak pretty words, Merlin, but what proof do I have that they are true?" she sneers.
"I'll give you Emrys," he says, and her face falls in shock.
"What?" she whispers, eyes wide. "How do you know Emrys?"
He shrugs, leaning against a tree behind him. "Think about it, Morgana. Who has always been in the perfect position to ensure that Camelot stands with the Pendragons on the throne? As a servant I had access to everything in the castle, and as a physician I often had more plausible excuses to go into places I otherwise should not have been. As the king's servant, I could test his food, I could keep his saddles strong, his armor enchanted with protection spells. I was always at his side, on hunting trips where I could thwart bandits. I had access to his paperwork since it was always on his desk, so I knew everything about every noble in the country. Think about it, Morgana. I am offering you not only the power of the greatest sorcerer in history, but also the easiest routes to dismantle the kingdom piece by piece."
Mordred has to admit that even he had never thought of that, and Morgana seems even more stunned. "You would do that?"
"Of course," Emrys replies, stepping forward. "We were friends once, Morgana. I have not forgotten you. I could love you again."
"I was heartbroken when you betrayed me, Merlin, and you, Mordred. But you seem willing to atone. Perhaps this can work," she says, contemplative. "Come. I want to show you something."
"Let me heal you," Emrys insists, and she nods. He steps forward and presses his hands to her abdomen over the wound, and gradually it begins to mend.
"I never am able to heal myself," Morgana confesses. "I suppose even the greatest sorcerers have weaknesses," she says with a smile.
"Indeed," Emrys agrees.