A/N: Well I should be doing my Spanish HW, but since so many of you amazing people have already followed it, I decided to upload it anyway :D
#If I fail I blame you
This chapter follows directly after the first. And as some of you know, I already wrote this chapter on Tuesday but deleted it somehow :/ The original had more Merdred angst, whilst this one does not :P

"That does tend to happen." Merlin said dryly. He was too caught up in studying Mordred's arm to notice him roll his eyes. "How did this happen?"

"Uh . . . erm . . .Maybe the Knights were a little rough . . ." Mordred revealed uncomfortably.

"What?" Merlin asked, shocked. "The Knights did this to you?"

"They didn't mean to!" Mordred hurried to assure. "It's mostly my fault."

"If the Knights are hurting you, you have to tell them." Merlin said firmly, emphasizing his point by pushing his thumb into Mordred's arm.

"Ow!" Mordred cried. "Stop that!"

Merlin eased up. "Tell them. This won't heal for weeks, Mordred!"

Mordred nodded, though his eyes told a different story. He swallowed a few times before replying. "I didn't tell them before because I wanted to prove my worth."

Merlin stood, going back to Gaius' desk to make a poultice for Mordred. "You need to set your boundaries with them. If you don't tell them when to stop, they won't."

"But everyday my boundaries are expanding!" Mordred said quickly. "I want to get better. I can't if I'm not challenged."

"You won't get better if you can't even swing a sword!" Merlin snapped. He went back to reading instructions on how to make a poultice that would bring down swelling. Then he stood, eyes staying on the page as he moved to another small table where Gaius kept his ingredients. Gathering what he needed, Merlin went back to where Mordred sat.

He was halfway into grinding when a sudden thought occurred to him. "Wait!"

Mordred's eyebrows furrowed. "Yes . . .?"

"Why did you come here? You could have healed yourself."

Mordred's face turned from sheepish to blank in quick succession. "I took a vow."

"A vow?"

"Yes."

"From who?"

"Myself."

"For what?"

"I promised myself I would preform no magic inside the walls of Camelot." Mordred answered proudly.

"Stupid, but wise." Merlin murmured.

"Stupid? This is Camelot!" Mordred argued.

"Yes." Merlin agreed. "But what Arthur doesn't know won't hurt him."

"What are you suggesting?" Though Mordred's voice was suspicious, he was secretly glad of how normal Merlin was acting around him. It was as if he was speaking with someone familiar.

Merlin put down the poultice he was making and answered wistfully, "Heal your arm yourself and save me the trouble?"

"I can't." Mordred answered simply.

"What do you mean you can't?" Merlin asked.

"I'm not proficient in the art of healing." Mordred clarified. "It's ironic, really."

Merlin smiled grimly. "Yes, ironic indeed. A Druid who can't heal." As an after thought, he added, "Why is that?"

"After I escaped . . . you . . . I traveled for sometime. I knew of another Druid camp not too far away, and I traveled to them. They sheltered me and fed me. But none among them had magic." Mordred stopped, a faraway look in his eyes. "That camp was pillaged too. I and three others were the only people to survive. They died quickly from disease. What the Druids would have taught me was lost when they died."

"Oh." Well that certainly cleared some things up. Mordred must have taken refuge with the slave drivers after he had been desolated. And destiny had brought him to Morgana, and ultimately, Arthur.

To change the subject, Merlin said, "I might be able to heal your arm."

Mordred's face brightened. "You'd do that for me?"

"I've done it before." Merlin answered gravely. Both men remembered. "But I should let you suffer through it." 'I really should . . .' "But in the hopes of a new start, I'll try to heal your arm."

Mordred smiled slightly. "Thank you, Emrys."

"I only said I'd try." Merlin reminded him. "Healing isn't my strongest suite either." Merlin stood up. "So how to go about this . . ."

Merlin knew some spells for healing, but they never seemed to work out how he wanted them to. They were too basic, too vague. Merlin needed specific spells for healing specific things. And more importantly, he needed to learn how to correctly preform them. And then there was another variable, too. How would Merlin's magic react to Mordred's? Was Mordred's magic still the same, or had it expanded?

"Mordred?"

"Yes?"

Did the Druids ever test your strength?" 'Would using magic even be worth it?' Merlin's subconscious asked. Using magic would be more of a pain than not. And there was always the chance he could be caught in the act.

"When I was a boy, yes." Mordred said guardedly.

"What did they tell you?" Merlin gazed at Mordred, waiting with bated breath.

"They told me I was one of the 3 most powerful sorcerers to be born since Atlantis sunk." Mordred whispered. He could feel the power of his destiny pushing down on him, and knew this was how it was supposed to be. The wheels of destiny were slowly turning faster.

Merlin made sure to show no emotion on his face.

It was a while before he finally said, "I and Morgana are the other two."

"Yes."

After a moment of thought, Merlin whispered more to himself than Mordred, "The battle for Camelot is about to begin." Then louder, "Whose side will you chose, Mordred?"

"Arthur's." He said firmly and without hesitation.

Merlin nodded, but the wheels in his head were frantically turning. 'The vision I saw in that village . . . Mordred was fighting Arthur. But . . . maybe his destiny is changed?'

"So now to heal your arm . . ."

A/N: I have a little more already written, but I'll use that for Chapter 3. Thank you to everyone who followed this, and I hope it isn't too OC.