Hi all! sorry for the longer then normal wait...I was not happy with teh outline I had written out for this story and had to go through it and make a few key changes. Because of this, this chapter is sort of filler-acting as a bridge to get to the next few chapters where things will finally start to happen and get the plot moving along. Hopefully it is not too horribly boring!

Anyway read and enjoy...oh and review pretty pretty please ;) (ps this chapter is divided into two parts similar to Lavender blue, this is part one)

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Chatper 12: One for Sorrow: Part 1

"A secret's worth depends on the people from whom it must be kept."
― Carlos Ruiz Zafón, The Shadow of the Wind

When he had been a young boy, listening to his father's wise words woven and delivered in the form of fantastical stories and tales, he had never once questioned whether or not he would become the hero or the villain of such tales.

Of course when one was a child, hero vs. villain was still a black vs. white concept with easy to find morals and a simply understood definition of evil and good. True life, it turns out; was not quite so simple.

At least that was what Mordred had learnt over the past few years*. The same years that had made him question whether or not there really were such things as villains or heroes in real life. Perhaps there were only winners and losers…..

And Mordred had decided long ago, after watching his father pay with his life for a crime that he had never committed or shouldn't have even been labeled as a crime to begin with, that he would not be the final loser in this story. He would be on the winning side….even if that meant siding against those he had once counted as allies.

If Emrys refused and continued to refuse to do the right thing, not for Arthur, but for those who were being persecuted for their gifts, well then, Emrys would no longer be regarded as the legendary figure held up in shining awe but would become the enemy instead. An enemy that needed to be crushed and disregarded like all enemies were. If that meant temporarily working with people such as Morgause….well so be it.

The task he had been given was simple enough….in truth, it wasn't even a task that he really minded. Morgana after all had been nothing but kind and motherly towards him, and if Morgause wanted him to influence her views and bring her over to their side, 'the winning side,' well then it would be his honor to do so. It was a shame that doing so, meant turning her against Emrys and Arthur, but he had watched from the shadows for months and it was clear to him that both were far to lost under the power of Uther to ever truly become assets to Magic's fight.

He still held some hope that they would see the light before it came down to death and war but sadly it was a small smidgeon of hope. He could not afford to waste too much time on either of the men….not when there were other, far more influential and important players to concentrate on.

And no; oddly enough he was not referring to Morgause or even Morgana—no matter how important (or so they thought) they were in this fight.

And wasn't that a surprise? That a new, and virtually unknown player would show up in Camelot with powers (admittedly still not completely understood or known) that could make or break their side. The even more ironic part was the fact that he was apparently Emrys half brother, and that Emrys himself—prophesized the strongest warlock of the century—had no idea that his own kin had magic at all!

If that wasn't a clear sign that the prophecy of Emrys greatness was flawed, well Mordred didn't know what was.

He had spent the last four days trailing (at a distance of course, it would not do to get caught by the unassuming warlock) Henry Emrys, trying to gauge how best to approach the man and he was no closer now than before to reaching a decision.

He had heard rumors that Henry was close to the prince, yet he had yet to see an evidence to say the same. Still, he had not survived his childhood by being foolish or hasty….just because he had yet to witness any relationship between the two did not mean that it did not exist. What he had been able to garner from his observations was that the boy was strong.

And not the typical kind of strong that Morgause or even himself embodied, but a different, possibly unstoppable type of strength. It was no question that Mother magic favored the young apprentice.

The question that remained was whether or not the young warlock would return her favor?

Mordred could be patient. He would wait to make his final judgment on the man. And then he would go to Morgause…and Henry would be brought in, or taken out. The choice was his really….hopefully, unlike Emrys, he would make the correct one.

-o—

"I need you to do this for me Morgana"

Morgana just barely held back her urge to cringe at the wheedling, cajoling tone that Morgause had taken. She hated when her sister did this…..

And yes, she could hardly believe it either when she first found out. She had a sister—well half sister (which was the same thing really), what was important was the fact that she had family outside of her adoptive father and Arthur….she had a sister.

A sister who had been ripped away from her—had been denied growing up beside her by the same man who proclaimed to love her like his own blood. It always came back to him, no matter how Morgana tried to open her mind and excuse him…..it was always Uther.

Uther was the cause of every wrong ever done to her; Uther was the one who persecuted those like her, whose prejudice forced her to hide….forced her friends and family to hide in fear for their lives. If there was no Uther then Mordred would be safe, Henry would be safe, Morgause would be safe, she would be safe.

Life would be so much better without the current king of Camelot. If she had to do a few unscrupulous things in order to make that happen….well it was for the greater good, wasn't it?

And usually she could reconcile Morgause's ideas and plans in her head, knowing that while some might seem harsh or even evil….they were needed; A necessary evil. But this time…..

This time she was having trouble.

The task itself that Morgause asked of her, was really not all that bad, no, the reason why she was hesitating was because it involved someone she respected. Someone who had done nothing but help her so far….she wasn't sure whether or not she was ready to stab him in the back for that.

"Please Morgana we need to know what side he is really on. Who will he support when it is time to place bets? If he is as true and noble as you say he is…. if he is a true son of magic, then you have nothing to fear! You will be simply confirming what you suspect. But if he is with Uther….if he turns out to be like your traitorous half brother Arthur, then we need to know. He is powerful and because of this he either has to be with us or we have to eliminate the threat he poses" Morgause continued, making sure to keep steady eye contact with her waffling sister. She needed Morgana to do this. It was the best chance they had at finding out whether or not Henry Emrys would be a threat or not.

She was after all rather close to the apprentice. Not that you would know that considering how little information about him Morgana had parted with so far. She didn't know whether or not Morgana simply didn't know anything about her alleged friend or if she was being purposefully evasive.

Neither option was what Morgause considered good.

She needed to shake her sister up, make her question her loyalty to the boy….at least enough make her agree to spy on him. They needed more information after all, and she was their ticket in.

"I want to believe for your sake that he is who he says he is Morgana…..I do" Morgause started again, being careful to keep her inner—less charitable—thoughts from showing on her face. "But what do you really now about him? Where did he come from and what is his real reason for being here?"

Morgana looked as though she was going to offer up a protest in her friend's defense before pausing. Morgause watched the assuredness wilt out of the witch with well concealed glee, moving to place a sympathetic hand on her sisters frail shoulders as they slumped in defeat.

"I don't know…." She finally admitted quietly keeping her eyes directed at the ground, not willing to meet her sister's knowing gaze.

"Well….in my travels I have heard things sister. Ominous things, fanciful things, ludicrous even…..and I have heard stories about a boy—man out there….one whose physical description matches surprisingly well to your new friend…." Morgause began letting her mouth curl at the corner when she noticed Morgana had stilled and leaned forward as though anticipating her next words.

"This boy I have heard about…..well according to some circles- and not the socially polite ones at that- he goes by the name of Myror"

-oo—

"…followed by the third shift, which once again, reported that there were no disturbances of note and all were secure." Arthur finished dutifully relaying the last 48hours worth of surveillance and security to his father.

Uther continued to focus almost solely on the egg soaked sweet bread in front of him, not so much as twitching to show that he had heard, let alone listened, to Arthur's report. Arthur fought not to show his irritation just barely keeping himself from grinding his teeth together.

Finally after several long drawn out minutes, Uther finally deemed the suspense 'built up' enough, pushing his breakfast plate back with a grimace of disgust and a muttered complaint before allowing his gaze to fall on his impatiently waiting son. He waited for another long few seconds to pass, taking his time to study the young man in front of him—not at all worried about his heirs growing annoyance. He was king after all; everyone, including the crowned prince, adhered to his schedule…not the other way around.

He found himself mentally frowning at the picture Arthur presented because while yes, Arthur was as well dressed and put together as ever (that in itself a damn miracle considering how useless his son's manservant was) there was something all together off about the boy. Uther noted the shadowed groves under Arthur's eyes—a clear sign that the boy was not sleeping well or long enough—and how any sign of joviality was absent in the prince's expression.

Many might accuse Uther of being an uncaring, hard, and selfish man, father and king—and for the most part, they would be right. That did not mean however that he did not love or care for his children….at least in his own way. He may not show it, but he kept tabs on Arthur and Morgana; true, sometimes his duties and work stopped him from keeping as close of tabs on them as he would have liked, but he was still observant enough to note when something was truly wrong with one of them (and yes, he was aware that Morgana had been more and more out of sorts as of late; but for the time being he was writing it off as some sort of 'coming of age' rebellion on her part). And there was no question about it, something was wrong with Arthur.

At first he had put it down to the whole Princess Vivian debacle (something that had, without a doubt, further proven just how devious and dangerous witchcraft was to everyone involved!). He figured that despite the fact that Arthur had been magically induced into loving the girl that the fact that he had felt so deeply (even if false) for her had to have unnerved his heir. He had done what he could to avoid bringing the subject up further (no matter how much he wanted to turn it into a lecture—Arthur and the little twit had almost ruined peace negotiations after all!) hoping that time and distance would lend the young man a bit of perspective.

However so far that had not happened. If anything the routine that he had assigned Arthur (to help him get back to his norm) had only further exacerbated the prince's unhappiness. Because the boy was unhappy; deeply so, no matter how he tried to hide it. It left Uther in a bit of a bind.

He was not quite sure what he was supposed to do to help his son get out of the self dug pit. He knew that his beautiful wife, had she still been alive, would have known exactly what to do and say to help her son. Sadly however, Igraine was long since dead—he had magic to thank for that—and Uther was left quite alone to try and deal with his child's depression. Or not deal with it as it was.

"Very good….it would seem that for the time we have gotten the message across. Hopefully the damn sorcerers will finally head our warnings and quit dallying with their demons. Are you quite alright Arthur? You look tired…." Uther stated matter of factly, letting no true emotion or worry seep into his voice. He might care about his son, but he was not about to become an effusive, blubbering sap about it for god sake!

Arthur's blinked—the only show that he was taken aback by his father's comment—before his former mask of polite indifference fell into place once again, "of course father. Why wouldn't I be?"

Uther allowed himself the small tell of pursing his lips as he scrutinized his son—not bothering to hide the fact that he was doing so—before giving a concise nod and turning allowing the topic to drop.

"Very well….if that is everything?" he asked his tone once again indifferent and cold.

"That's everything father" Arthur replied back his voice mirroring Uther's.

"Good….why don't you take the rest of the day then. I have no further duties that need you to oversee…go out and see that, your….well, go and spend some time with that serving girl of yours then Arthur. It might do you some good…" Uther stumbled slightly, before giving up trying to be elusive and just coming out and saying it.

Again, Arthur's eyes widened in surprise, though this time instead of falling back into his obedient son mask there was a trace of anger and despair before that too was gone.

Hmmm….something for Uther to ponder later….

"Thank you father. Perhaps I will take your suggestion into consideration"

Uther watched as his son spun on his heels before quickly retreating from the dining hall, his haste to get out of the room evident in his quick strides.

Yes….very peculiar. Uther would definitely have to think on this later. For now though….he had a servant to berate.

The eggs were truly despicable.

-oo-

Arthur didn't allow for his pace to slow until he was half way across the castle. He didn't allow himself to think until he was double that. Damn Uther, damn the dull, monotonous peace that the kingdom had fallen into, and double damn Henry.

And yes, he was aware of how completely unfair and hypocritical of him it was to think the last one. After all it was he not Henry who had come to the stellar decision of 'distance,' it was he not Henry who had made a complete fool and ass of himself by tripping over Princess Vivian shortly after said stellar decision (even if the latter was not completely his fault; he had still done it), and unfortunately it was he and Henry who seemed to be paying the price.

At least he selfishly hoped so. After all if it were only he who was pining over the distant apprentice then their past tryst had not meant what he hoped it had meant to the other man. So yes he did, however selfish and cruel it made him, hope that Henry was missing him just as much as he was missing Henry.

Because if that were the case, perhaps someday (not soon, no matter how much he wished it so) Henry would forgive him for his stupid ideas of right and wrong and take him back. Maybe someday, he would be able to make up basically tossing Henry aside. At least that was what he was trying to convince himself.

For now though, for now, he would have to suffer the consequences of his actions and continue to watch and want from a distance: both which he had found himself doing quite liberally as of late. The biggest issue was that denying himself any true interaction with his obsession had done nothing to improve his foul disposition and it was apparently starting to show (after all even Uther had picked up on it!).

It was obvious that this current method of coping was falling short, and the only solution to the problem that it presented was to change his method. One did not stick with a losing strategy and come out a winner.

No, he needed to be more to Henry then just a silent observer (stalker—he was sure Morgana would call it, though he would deny that fact) but as previously mentioned he could not expect to go up, apologize to Henry and resume what they once were. And even if Henry would instantly forgive him and take him back, the reasons for their spilt had not miraculously disappeared. It was no safer now, then it had been then for them to be together.

But that did not mean that he couldn't spend time with the man….he was friends (of sorts) with Merlin after all. Why shouldn't he be allowed to have the same with Merlin's brother? They could be friends without exposing the green eyed tempter to peril….

That is if he could convince Henry that friendship was still possible. Though after the events of the past few weeks he had a feeling that that would be a much more imposing challenge then it initially appeared.

But Arthur had never been one to back down from a difficult task- no if anything, a challenge just made him try harder. And harder he would try; though he knew that he would not be able to achieve his goal without some form of outside help.

Step one in Mission get Henry back (as a friend! He forcefully reminded himself…a friend!), find Gwaine.

Notes:

*Mordred is older in season two then he was in the canon….closer to the age of 14 or 15 then 8 or 10 like he was in the series canon.

Chapter title: taken from the nursery rhyme One for Sorrow.

One for sorrow,

Two for joy,

Three for a girl,

Four for a boy,

Five for silver,

Six for gold,

Seven for a secret,

Never to be told.

Actually thought to have its origins in superstitions connected with magpies, considered a bird of ill omen in some cultures, and in Britain, at least as far back as the early sixteenth century