A/N: Here's some more Raime for you!


Raime grumbled under his breath, spouting off as many of his master's most unflattering qualities as he could possibly think of as he stalked down the corridor. And then he tripped over the trailing end of the invisibility cloak that refused to stay entirely in his arms and he cursed that too, just for good measure.

The Lower Priests hadn't even looked up from what they were doing when Raime had entered their workshop and it had taken him ten minutes just to get someone's attention. Once he had it, they had talked and talked and talked at him, so enthusiastic about their great and wonderful new invention, for another ten minutes before he had managed to escape with the invisibility cloak that Merlin had sent him there for. Raime had already been annoyed at Merlin's blatant dismissal of him, but dealing with the Lower Priests was always an ordeal and now he was just downright angry.

How dare Merlin just blow him off like that? He may have been the king and a very busy man with important matters of state to attend to, but Mordred was his friend and wasn't he important too? Didn't it matter that something was up with him? Hell, Raime was Merlin's friend! Or at least Merlin had said so. Didn't friends listen to each other when they had important things to say? But no, he just sent Raime off to fetch and carry and do servant things without listening to a word that came out of his mouth. It wasn't fair!

There was something wrong with Mordred. Raime didn't know what it was, but something about Mordred's behavior was definitely off and it had something to do with that Kara girl. Mordred would never have just suddenly changed his mind about Cecily; he loved her! And even if he had changed his mind where he and Cecily were concerned, he would never have been so tactless about the whole thing. Somehow all of this was Kara's fault, Raime was certain of that. But he didn't have any proof and he couldn't just go around accusing people of unspecified wrongdoing without at least some kind of proof.

Raime almost didn't see Cecily until he had walked right past her. She was tucked into a recessed alcove with a window that overlooked the meadows by the training fields. She didn't seem to be actually looking at anything, though, just staring blankly as she absently twirled the end of her braid around her finger. Raime backtracked.

"Hey," he said. "Are you alright? You ran off pretty fast earlier."

She looked up, startled. "I'm fine," she said with something that was probably meant to be a smile but wasn't quite.

"Are you sure?" Raime asked. "Because that thing with Mordred and the new girl was pretty harsh. I can't believe that he would just—"

"They clearly care about each other a lot," Cecily said. "If they had something before and they want to take it up again, I would never want to get in the way of that. Mordred deserves to be happy, no matter who he's with."

"But he was happy with you!"

"Well, he's happier with her," she snapped, her good will wearing thin. "Besides, there was never anything between me and Mordred. Not really, at least. I mean, I thought maybe there was, but he never promised me anything. Maybe I just misread the signals or something."

"No!" Raime said. "You didn't misread anything! There's no way Mordred would just stop caring about you in one day. He couldn't; he loves you!"

"Raime," Cecily said, sounding pained. "Please just...stop. It's not me that he's interested in, and that's fine. I wish him and Kara all the best, really."

"But he's not—"

"I need to get to the training field."

Cecily turned to leave. Raime watched her go, at a complete loss. Did no one in this entire citadel actually listen to him when he said things? Was everyone around him deaf and blind that they couldn't see that something weird was going on with Mordred? It wasn't until Cecily was already out of sight that he remembered that Merlin had asked him to tell her about their trip to the Cauldron. He called Cecily's name, running after her, but she was already out of sight.

Instead, he rounded a corner and caught a glimpse of blue skirt and white shawl turning down a side corridor, the one that led to the mages' barracks. Raime recognized that outfit; it was the one that Kara had been wearing earlier that day. Without stopping to think on whether or not it was a good idea, Raime ran after her, leaning around the corner to see where she was going.

She stopped in front of a door halfway down the hall, the one that Raime was pretty sure was Mordred's, and took the time to look further down the hallway to make sure that no one else was about. Raime ducked back to make sure that she didn't see him as she turned to look his way.

Why would she care if anyone saw her? Everyone knew she was Mordred's friend. Very suspicious behavior, Raime decided. She was obviously hiding something and someone needed to find out what it was. Luckily, Raime happened to have a fully functioning invisibility cloak in his hands.

He threw it around his shoulders, the fine, thin fabric falling around him in waves that shimmered ever so slightly. There was the strangest sensation, like a drop of icy water had just slithered down his spine, and Raime shivered. He glanced down at himself, but there was nothing different and he could still see himself. The Priests had said that it was functional, though, and who was he to question their good work? He shrugged and headed for the door that Kara had gone through.

She hadn't closed it all the way behind her. Raime leaned close, trying to peer through the crack, but he couldn't see anything. He gently put his hand on the door and applied the barest of pressure, inching it further into the room and hoping that it wouldn't squeak—it was times like this that made Raime wish that he had magic of his own; it would make sneaking around and spying on people much easier. Not that he did a whole lot of that.

Luck was on his side and the hinges didn't protest the movement. He slipped into the room on careful, quiet feet and nudged the door closed again as slowly as he could.

Mordred was sitting on the edge of the bed in a tunic and trousers rather than his usual chainmail and Kara was perched very close beside him, holding his hand in both of her own. Mordred had that same bright smile on his face that he had earlier, an almost child-like sort of adoration shining in his eyes as he looked at her.

"You know that I've always loved you, don't you, Mordred?" she was saying, her voice low and sweet. "Ever since we were kids. You loved me then too, didn't you?"

"Of course I did," he said quickly. "More than anything."

"And you would have done anything for me, wouldn't you?" Kara said, and Mordred nodded. "Everything was so simple back then. Just the two of us, together, happy and carefree. Do you remember?"

"I remember," he said obediently.

The smile slid off of Kara's face, something harder taking its place even as her voice stayed soft. "But we were torn apart," she said. "Our home was destroyed and our people were slaughtered."

Mordred stopped smiling too and he reached up to cup Kara's cheek in his hand, looking like he wanted nothing more than to take away all of her pain. Kara pulled his hand down again and held it tight in hers.

"Do you remember that, Mordred?" she asked. "The way our camp burned? The screams as our friends and family were cut down where they stood?"

"Yes," Mordred breathed out, transfixed by her.

"The knights of Camelot did that," she said. "On the Pendragons' orders."

"Yes," Mordred said again. But then he blinked hard and shook his head. "On Uther's orders," he said. "That was Uther's doing, not...not Arthur's."

Kara's grip on Mordred's hand tightened until Raime saw her knuckles go white. "The Pendragons took everything from us, remember?" she said insistently, though she never raised her voice past a low murmur. "They murdered your father. You haven't forgotten that, have you?"

"No, of course I haven't," Mordred said, though he looked troubled, confused.

"Or how Arthur would have let you die?" Kara pushed. "He would have let his father execute you like he did your father. It was the Lady Morgana who saved your life then when Arthur would have killed you."

Mordred was nodding now, his brow furrowed. "Yes," he said, his tone dark. "Yes, he would have. And Emrys—he wanted me dead too."

Raime stared at him, open-mouthed. In all the months that he had known them, he had never heard Mordred refer to Merlin solely by his Druidic title instead of his given name. That was something that strangers did, not the people who knew him well, and certainly not his closest of friends. The address was nearly as shocking as what was being said. Merlin and Mordred had not told Raime the full story of their time in Camelot and he knew that there was much history between them that he had not heard, but he knew this wasn't right.

Kara pressed her lips to the back of Mordred's hand. "You were lucky to escape Camelot with your life," she said. "And just look at how far you've come! Your magic is stronger than they ever could have imagined. The Pendragons have always feared magic like yours; I imagine Arthur wishes now that he had left you to your fate all those years ago."

Mordred shook his head again, his expression twisted like his head was paining him. "No," he said. "Arthur saved me. He's my friend."

"That was before he knew that you had magic," Kara said. "Before he knew how much of a threat you could pose. We know how Uther always responded to threats like you and me."

"Must we dwell on past darkness?" Mordred asked suddenly. "I would rather speak of happier things in the here and now. I have so missed seeing you smile."

Kara's expression grew dark for a moment, angry and forbidding, but Mordred didn't seem to notice as he tucked a lock of Kara's hair behind her ear. Then she forced a smile on her face again and said, "Of course. I'm sorry. Let us talk of your work instead. Will you be returning to Camelot soon?"

"Yes," Mordred said, smiling now as though he hadn't been convinced of Arthur's ill intent just a few minutes ago. "I will go back tomorrow morning to check in with Arthur and see if he has any more questions for us."

"You could take me with you, couldn't you?" Kara asked.

Mordred hesitated then. "I don't know that they would be best pleased with me bringing strangers into the citadel," he said reluctantly.

"But I'm not a stranger, Mordred," Kara said, pressing closer against his side and threading her fingers through his. Her other hand went to Mordred's wrist again, rubbing at the bracelet there, and Raime was almost certain that he caught a glimpse of gold in her eyes. "You've known me forever. You trust me, don't you?"

All of Mordred's hesitation evaporated in an instant. "Of course I do, Kara," he said earnestly. "You know I do. It's only that—"

"I would hate for you to leave me behind," she said innocently, casting her eyes down in a way that was almost coy. "Like you did the last time."

Mordred looked nothing short of devastated. "No!" he cried. "No, I'll never abandon you like that again, Kara. I could never. I'm so sorry, Kara. You know that I didn't want to leave you there. Please forgive me!"

"Does that mean that you will take me with you to Camelot?" Kara asked.

"Anything!" Mordred said.

"Then of course I forgive you, Mordred," Kara said magnanimously. She brushed the curls off Mordred's forehead and placed a kiss there. "You and me, together forever, remember? No matter how many times the Pendragons try to tear us apart."

"You and me," Mordred repeated.

Raime backed toward the door, groping blindly for the handle. He yanked it open as soon as he found it, too horrified to care if they noticed something strange. He tripped over the hem of the cloak as he sprinted down the corridor, but he kept his feet and ran on.


Kara threw her pack on the nearest unoccupied table. She knocked a mostly empty tankard to the floor in the process, but she was too angry to care at the moment. Another of her missions was over and done with, everything having gone without a hitch. Another camp full of magic users slaughtered because of her. Honestly, she didn't mind all that much—most of them had been cowards anyway, traitors to their kind who refused to stand up for themselves or their kin—but there had been some fighters this time and she hadn't been able to save them without giving away her true loyalties.

It wasn't the first time that it had happened. It had been seven months since she had helped Morgana escape from Sarrum's hold and Kara had been sent on four infiltration missions in that time. There was always someone with a spine in those refugee hideaways, someone who hadn't grown up with the Druid's toxic influence to weaken their minds and their resolve.

A tankard dropped onto the table in front of her, the contents sloshing over the lip onto the table. Kara sent the clumsy serving wench a dark look and the girl scurried back to the bar in a hurry. Kara took the drink anyway, knowing that she wouldn't be charged for it. She was about to down it and call for another when something caught her ear from across the noisy tavern.

"Good riddance, I say," a large-bellied, red-faced man was saying very loudly to his audience of rapt drunkards. "I still think Sarrum shoulda killed her when he had the chance, but it's no matter now, innit?"

Kara left her drink behind and crept closer, slipping easily through the crowd of oblivious tavern-goers.

"One of her own did our job for us!" he was saying, raising his tankard high and scratching his belly. "If the magics wanna kill each other off, well then I say more power to 'em! Less work for us, eh?"

A cheer went up around him, people shaking their fists in the air and shouting their agreement. Kara shoved a man aside when his gesticulating fist nearly hit her in the face and stalked toward the speaker, who was basking in the attention and didn't see her coming.

"Who are you talking about?" Kara asked and the crowd went quiet around her, everyone taking a step back as recognition hit them. The fat man to whom she had directed her question paled when he caught sight of her but he didn't speak immediately. "I asked you a question," she said sharply.

The man gulped but smiled around at his audience, trying to look less frightened than he was. "Wot, you mean you haven't heard? You been livin' under a rock?"

Kara had a dagger in her hand and pressed against the man's cheek before anyone had registered that she had moved from her spot. "Speak now or lose your tongue," she hissed in his ear.

"Orright, orright!" the man shouted. Kara released him and he rubbed at his face, muttering, "Bloody damn crazy bint!" She raised her weapon again and he flapped his hands in a panic.

"It's that witch the king had locked up!" he said quickly. "That one with the dragon. The one wot escaped a few months ago."

"What about her?" Kara asked.

"She's dead!"

Kara nearly dropped her knife. She shook her head. "No, she isn't," she said stubbornly, refusing to believe it.

"A rider came through with the news a few days ago," the man said. "Caused a big stir in court. I thought everyone woulda heard 'bout it by now."

Kara had been out of contact for over a week, worming her way into the trust of the higher-ups at the magic users' camp so that she could find a way through their protective enchantments to let Sarrum's warriors in. She had come straight here after the raid, only stopping at a stream for a moment to clean her weapons of blood before going for a much needed drink.

She cast a look at all the people around her, each one eyeing her with obvious fear and caution. Many of them were nodding, though, corroborating the man's claim. Morgana was dead and they all knew it.

"Who did it?" Kara demanded, rage tinging the edges of her vision with red and making her magic surge through her whole body with a strength that she had rarely felt before. She kept a white-knuckled hold on her dagger, barely restraining herself from burying it in the fat drunkard's throat. "Who is responsible for killing her? Was it Pendragon?"

"Not him," he said, shaking his head and making his jowls flop around his thick neck. "He was there, surely, but it wasn't him wot killed her. No, it were some other sorcerer wot done her in."

Kara frowned, thinking she had misheard. "What?"

"Yeah, yeah, it were that bloke from that magic kingdom," he said, warming up to his tale once more. "Can you imagine? A whole kingdom all full o' the little beasts! And I hear none o' them much liked that witch neither. She went to them for support and they sent her packing!" He barked a laugh, the others laughing along with him now that it didn't seem like Kara was going to rip anyone's throat out. "There was this big battle, ya see, with her and them and Camelot and all of 'em."

"Pendragon should have kill him too," another man said, downing half his drink in one go. "That sorcerer that killed her. Two birds with one stone, eh?"

The crowd roared its approval again but Kara barely heard them.

A sorcerer had killed Morgana. She had been struck down by one of her own. An entire kingdom of magic users and they had sent her away. How dare they turn their backs on her when all she had done was fight for their right to live freely and without fear for their lives! Morgana had fought tirelessly for the sake of all magic users, so that they might live free of the tyranny of the Pendragon line.

Morgana had died in that pursuit, fighting to bring Arthur Pendragon to justice for his family's crimes, and Kara would not let her have died in vain. She would find a way to continue Morgana's noble work, no matter what she had to do or how long it took. One way or another, she would kill Arthur Pendragon and avenge her mistress.