Chapter 4: Wicked Dealings
"Honestly, he never took the hint! You should've seen the look on Mordred's face when she kissed him! It'd drive a doe to envy!" Ragnor chuckled at the memory, drawing a faint smile from his captor too, despite their gloomy surroundings.
The cell door was pushed open by a uniquely massive silhouette. "Lady Morgana."
Morgana pushed herself away from the wall to glare at her trusted Knight. "I told you that I did not wish to be disturbed!"
"Your wolves have returned. It appears as though they were sent back in pairs."
Morgana let out a huff and walked over to face the open door, peering past Melwas. "Aglæcan, come!"
The wolf trotted up to sit on the step before her, watching his Mistress expectantly.
Morgana lowered to her knees to face the wolf, mouthing the well-practiced spell that she cast in her mind in order to commune with her pack. "I should have known. They're headed back towards Annis' lands. They're bringing Mordred with them."
"My Lady, I must remind you: we are in no state to challenge anyone. It would be best if we moved on," Melwas said in a muted tone. "Perhaps later an opportunity will arise, but-"
"Caerleon?" Ragnor asked, keeping his eyes glued to the wolf. Morgana looked back at him, slowly rising to her feet. "You spoke of Queen Annis, am I right?"
"Yes," Morgana confirmed, watching him with interest. "What of it?"
A smug grin spread over the slaver's battered face. "Opportunity has already presented itself. That is, if you have a local connection..."
"I spy with my little eye, something that is..." the cart jolted and Merlin paused to catch himself on Arthur's sleeve. Arthur grabbed his arm reflexively, figuring that his clumsy servant was likely to fall out the back without help.
"Were you going to say green again?" Mordred guessed, picking up his dropped knife to resume whittling.
"No..." Merlin answered unconvincingly. "Are you sure that's such a good idea?"
Mordred eyed the man seated across from him, noting his obvious discomfort. He stopped whittling and tucked the knife back into his boot.
"Were you spying another tree?" Arthur continued the freed slave's former train of thought.
"No, Arthur, I was not spying a tree again. You two are terrible at this game," Merlin complained. "No fun whatsoever."
"I don't know. I'm enjoying it," Arthur countered, playfully nudging his servant's arm. The cart slowed to a halt and Merlin popped up onto his knees to see what was going on up front.
"We've reached the city gates," he observed, settling back down on his pile of mats.
Mordred set his woodcarving down in the wagon bed and jumped out of the cart, vanishing around the side before either of them could react.
"Wait! Mordred," Arthur called after him, but it was pointless and he knew it. "Damn stubborn... Help me up."
"You should be resting," Merlin protested.
"I have been resting for long enough, Merlin. Help me up."
Merlin surrendered and hopped down, helping Arthur out of the cart. Arthur gave him a grateful pat on the arm and strode off after Mordred. He caught up to him round the front where he was having a polite disagreement with Sir Gwaine. Well, Mordred was being polite.
"We've been over this, Mordred, I'm not letting the bloody wolf out!"
"With all due respect, my Lord, I am leaving you at the gate," Mordred reasoned, looking anxious to get this over with.
"Oh, is that so?"
"Yes, and even if he weren't thoroughly trained, Bran can hardly threaten you once we are both gone."
"Mordred?" Arthur said, more to make his presence known than to ask a true question.
"Sire, may I please have my pet back? We won't trouble you any longer," Mordred assured, walking over to face the King with one hand leaning on the cage.
"Don't poke your fingers in," Gwaine muttered irritably.
"I've told you Mordred, you are always welcome in Camelot." Arthur watched the graceful, silver wolf lift his head and calmly lick his master's fingers. The wolf appeared to be more bored than dangerous. Mordred was giving the King a very potent pleading look with big, dewy blue eyes when Arthur shifted his gaze back at him. "Unlock the cage, Sir Gwaine," Arthur relented.
Gwaine grumbled unhappily while he complied, not at all pleased with his King's decision.
"Thank you, Sire," Mordred acknowledged with a pleased glint in his eye, dropping to his knees so that he could greet the joyful canine properly the instant that Bran leapt out of the cage. Gwaine turned to regard Arthur with a meaningful look.
"A word in private, Princess?"
Arthur nodded but hesitated to follow, watching Mordred wrestle his wolf's slobbering tongue away from his face. Arthur already understood why his unruly knight was displeased with him this time. He also didn't want to leave lest Mordred slip away before he could try to talk him out of it. Arthur turned and followed Sir Gwaine out of earshot, doing his best to keep the boy in sight as much as possible.
"Is there a problem, Sir Gwaine?"
"You're not really letting him go now, are you?" Gwaine interrogated.
"Mordred's a free man. If he wants to part ways with us at the edge of town, I can't stop him," Arthur replied.
"He's a barely a man, and he'll have a target on his back now that he's helped us. There is no telling what Morgana will do to him once she finds him."
"If she finds him," Arthur amended, trying not to think about the odds.
"When she finds him," Gwaine insisted. "You and I both know that the witch has spies everywhere. Probably the only reason why she even let him get this far was because he's traveling with a group of knights. We're all still too close to her land. The moment that any one of us wanders off alone they become her prey."
Arthur tried to keep his calm front up, but it was already beginning to falter. He looked back at Mordred, then away at the rocky landscape, before admitting, "I have tried to reason with him, and I plan to try again if he gives me the chance," he reluctantly met Sir Gwaine's eye. "He isn't one of my subjects. I cannot order him to stay."
Gwaine glared at the ground, trying to think of a valid argument.
"If you have any better ideas..?" Arthur offered.
"Shove him in the cage?"
"I didn't think so," Arthur concluded and walked over to rejoin the boy and his wolf.
Mordred let his hand fall away from Bran's head and stood to face the King. Bran sat down, watching the two men expectantly. A palace guard was riding out to meet them at the gate, drawing Arthur's attention right when he'd been about to speak.
"It seems that I will be leaving you in safe hands," Mordred noted, but there was something strange about the way he sounded. His tone was devoid of any inflection, utterly controlled.
Alarm bells were going off in Arthur's head but he couldn't pinpoint any evidence of a threat himself. He looked past the rider, and noticed a glint of chainmail and a swish of dark fabric at the gate. A group of guards were gathered just beyond the threshold. Waiting. Something was definitely wrong here. He turned back to warn Mordred away, uncertain of where this urge to shield him was coming from, only to find that both the ex-slave and his wolf had vanished. Arthur was surprised, but shrugged it off, shifting his attention back to the approaching rider. He had seen the tanned and stubbled man somewhere before, but that could have been at Queen Annis' feast when they first passed through her territory. He observed while Sir Gwaine stepped forward to greet the guard. The man's face was definitely familiar...
"King Arthur!" The rider greeted as he dismounted. His voice was rough, almost a growl but not an unfrienldy one. "Welcome back. We thought that was you, but we had to be sure, Sire, considering where you're coming from."
"I understand. We were hoping to be granted safe passage through your lands. I only wish to lead my men home safely," Arthur told him, still keeping his eye out for any tells.
"That should be easy enough. Although, I am afraid I must request that you let my men inspect your procession," the guard responded. Then in response to Arthur's skeptical expression added. "No disrespect meant, your Highness. We've had issues with some scoundrels causing trouble in the upper town. I've got strict orders to closely monitor everything coming in from the North."
Arthur sighed tiredly and nodded his assent. "Very well."
"We won't take much of your time," the guard said, beckoning more men forward. Arthur remained outwardly relaxed and complacent, but he had not missed the way the unnamed guard had not moved his hand from the hilt of his sword since dismounting. He exchanged a look with Sir Gwaine while the five guards spread out to 'inspect' them.
Gwaine stepped closer to him, speaking in an undertone. "Sire..."
"I know. Keep a close watch on their actions. Whatever this is we will let them make the first move. Just be sure you're ready when they do."
Gwaine nodded and slipped off to warn Percival. Arthur strolled over to join the unnamed rider at the back of the cart. Merlin was hovering on the other side, looking agitated while the burly man sorted rather recklessly through their cargo.
"Arthur, what is going on?"
"Just an inspection, Merlin," Arthur informed him in a smooth, if tired, voice. "Let him get it over with."
Merlin walked around the guard to stand at Arthur's side. "An inspection? That's what you call this?"
"Calm down," Arthur said, keeping up the leisurely front. The suspect men were merely shuffling halfheartedly through the smaller items, their true intrest lay in larger crates and crannies. Spaces just large enough to hide a person. A muscle in Arthur's jaw twitched at the thought of Morgana's spies reaching so close into his allies' ranks.
"But Arthur, look at this! They're tearing through everything!" Merlin objected, watching the guard's gloved hand tear through the medicine bag that he had managed to scavenge, likely ruining much of the supplies inside.
"Merlin," Arthur said through clenched teeth, turning to pin his manservant with a sharp look. He forced his voice to sound more casual. "We have nothing to hide."
"Oh!" Merlin comprehended, hugging himself as he petulantly relented. Arthur wanted so badly to slap his idiot servant. Instead he faced the guard who stepped up to address him.
"Well, this seems clear enough. You mind my asking what that cage up front was for?"
"Not at all. One of Morgana's captives had a pet with him. It was being transported in the cage as a precaution," Arthur answered vaguely. Merlin was looking at him through narrowed eyes.
"They aren't with you anymore then?" The guard verified, his gaze a little too intent.
There it was again, that inexplicable urge to keep Mordred far away from these people. "He decided to continue alone." Now Merlin's stare was really boring into Arthur's skull.
"Hmm, all right. Let's get you lot moving again," the guard walked away to direct his comrades.
"Arthur, what was that?" Merlin questioned, sounding suspicious.
"I don't know. They're looking for something. I can't tell what for certain. They were also avoiding identifying themselves."
"You think they're imposters?" Merlin guessed.
"I think that they are doing something they don't want Queen Annis to know about. They haven't even referred to each other by rank, or name during the entire time they were searching us. They don't want to leave any chance for anyone to link this back to them," Arthur considered aloud.
"Why would they be searching for Mordred?" Merlin's non-sequitur pulled Arthur out of his thoughts as the procession began to move.
"What?"
"I was standing right next to you when you lied to that guard, Arthur. You didn't want him to know that Mordred was here," Merlin explained, impatiently.
"Quite to the contrary, Merlin, I didn't lie. I was with Mordred when the rider arrived. I turned my back and he was just gone. All I did was tell that guard what happened," Arthur justified. "Mordred did decide to part ways with us at the gate."
Merlin stared at him with an odd look on his face. Arthur couldn't make heads nor tales of its meaning.
"Shut up," he finally said. "See what supplies you can still salvage from the cart."
Merlin smiled and shook his head, vaulting up into the cart. "Yes, Arthur. I'll do my best."
Mordred jogged around the outer wall with Bran trotting along enthusiastically beside him. It would be difficult to escape Morgana's reach without passing through Caerleon, but Mordred knew those guards had been looking for him. He had crouched behind a boulder to watch them. Although he hadn't heard them mention him outright, he had overheard enough. Somehow, Morgana had exposed him as the Midnight Thief. He hadn't even known that his old guardian was so well aware of his past exploits, let alone that she would use them against him. Of course she will. You have stabbed her in the back. You're dead to her now, just like all the others. That thought almost physically hurt. Morgana had been like family to him, and a part of him had still wanted to believe that she loved him too. I was lying to myself. Morgana never wanted a family. She had laid a trap for him, alerting the proper authorities that he was passing into town. How Morgana had learned about this weakness of his was a mystery, but her use of that knowledge only served to further convince him of the sad truth: I can never go home.
Heavy footsteps marched closer up above.
"Bran! Síos!" Mordred whispered and pressed himself flat against the wall while a group of guards passed over them. The wolf crouched down in the tall grass by his ankles. The guard had changed their rotation and routes since he had last passed through. Mordred briefly considered whether he'd had a hand in that. Probably. There could be a ground level patrol joining him at any minute. Mordred took a calming breath and hastened his pace, clicking his fingers so that his wolf would follow closely. Relief washed over him when he saw the rusted metal grille he'd been looking for. "There's always another way..." Mordred intoned with a slight smile.
"Arthur," Queen Annis greeted as Arthur, Merlin, and Sir Percival were led into her Throne Room by her own most trusted Knight, Sir Allan. She rose from her throne and strode over to clasp Arthur's forearm in greeting. "I am glad to see that your quest was so successful."
"Thank you Queen Annis, I know that you have already done me a great favour by allowing us safe passage into Morgana's territory-" Arthur began but the older woman held a hand up to stop him.
"You are loyal allies, King Arthur," she responded with a hint of humor lacing her use of his title. "You and your men will be given the hospitality befitting such friends. You do not need to ask." Her expression sobered while she took in the young King's appearance and the tension in his manservant's stance. "Any more injuries I should alert my Court Physician about?"
"Merlin?" Arthur differed to the physician in training.
"Only three more with serious injuries, and yes, Sire, I highly suggest that you join them as well," Merlin dutifully informed the two leaders.
Annis nodded to one of the servants posted near the door, and he left to inform the local healers.
"I don't recall asking you for personal advice," Arthur remarked, not really that irritated.
"No, that was just me doing my job. Taking care of your royal arse," Merlin replied. Queen Annis ignored their characteristic banter while settling the immediate arrangements with the two Knights present.
"Oh. Is this what it's like? You're usually so lazy that I hadn't noticed." The King turned to face his friend while he spoke and there was a beat of silence while they both assessed each other.
"You need to rest," Merlin pointed out, again.
"You need more training," Arthur responded, before turning back around to face Queen Annis.
"Perhaps you might like to have a drink and discuss your journey while the servants sort out your rooms?" she offered.
"Yes, thank you. That sounds perfect," Arthur accepted, giving Merlin another token order to help the knights in the courtyard before he left. Queen Annis didn't push the reflective silence that had come over Arthur as he walked with her to the royal dining chamber. He paused at the end of the table rather than sitting and stared sightlessly at the polished wood. Annis regarded him interestedly.
"Is something troubling you?"
"If you don't mind my asking, your guards mentioned that you'd been having some disturbances in the upper town." Arthur accepted the goblet she handed to him, watching her pour their wine.
"Did they?" Annis' dark eyes narrowed slightly.
"Is there any connection with the villages attacked along the border? I thought it might have something to do with Morgana, seeing as it's only travellers from the North that you have been treating with such scrutiny," Arthur explained, noticing the Queen's unease mounting the more that he spoke. "I was merely wondering what had happened. What exactly are your men looking for?"
"There were a few reports of break-ins recently, nothing to trace back to the witch. We've already caught the man who's likely responsible. These guards whom you spoke with, what were their names?" Annis inquired, mulling the suspicious news over as she drank her wine.
"They didn't say," Arthur replied, studying the older woman's face. "They identified themselves only as members of your palace guard."
The Queen sat down facing him with a crinkled brow, turning her goblet between her palms. "I did not send them."
"Your Majesty... Is there something troubling you?" Arthur asked, pulling out his chair to join her at the table.
She gave him a weary smile. "There have been whispers. A powerful Lord from a neighboring kingdom. He is consolidating his power, enlisting allies within my court. I did not want to qualify him with my acknowledgement. It is beginning to seem that that was a mistake."
"You think that the rumors are true, that he means to invade."
Annis shook her head. "I believe that he is searching for a vulnerability that he can prey upon. My reign is still strong enough to survive some young upstart and his machinations..."
Arthur saw the meaningful way in which the Queen was eying him, and took another draft of his wine. "Those weren't the only whispers you've heard I gather," he remarked into his goblet.
"I do not judge you, Arthur. The crown can weigh heavily on a young leader, especially during the first years of rule. I know this better than most. Regardless, we both know that, without an heir, it is only a matter of time before your reign is challenged. This Lord will only be the first of many," Annis advised.
"I have plans of my own underway. I won't allow Camelot to remain vulnerable," Arthur declared.
Mordred stepped quietly through the dark passageway with Bran following close behind. The Druid was relying heavily on Bran to remain alert to incoming danger while he felt beyond the rows of bars on either side of them with his magic. So far they were bearing interested or suspicious perusal, but no one was about to complain about someone breaking in to this hellhole.
A scruffy, strawberry blond man about Arthur's age looked up from his staring contest with his patched up leggings to scrutinize Mordred. The Druid stopped in his tracks and looked back at him, or rather, into him.
"You," he decided. "You're the new thief." He frowned thoughtfully down at Bran. "Then those guards hassling King Arthur's men..."
"King Arthur, a'ready? I mean, who are ya and whot are ya doin' down 'ere?" the Prisoner asked.
"You were hired to steal those things, weren't you?" Mordred inquired, bypassing the man's incredulity. The thief's expression was confirmation enough. "Was it a neighboring Lord?"
"Whadja think?"
"No one's coming for you. He's just using you to do his dirty work," Mordred flicked his eyes over the prisoner's wiry frame. He didn't have a trustworthy face, but he wasn't necessarily dangerous. A self-driven man.
"You're the otherun, yeah? The one 'oo refused."
"And you took my place. Arthur is his real target," Mordred looked around nervously. The other prisoners were becoming restless. "You know this isn't right. Help me fix it."
"Right an' wrong are noblemen's words. I might 'elp. Depends whot you're askin'."
"What was your mission here?"
"Draw you out. 'Is Lordship says ya're a loose end, wants ya captured."
"And Arthur?"
"I'd feel more talkative wivout the cage. You leave me in 'ere an I give you nofin'."
"You were sent here to frame and kidnap me," Mordred pointed out.
"Gran'ed, we go' trust issues. Offer me a bargain."
The Druid paused for a moment to carefully weigh the pros and cons. He couldn't just walk away, but this man was dangerous. He deserved to be jailed. "You must promise to do no harm to King Arthur, or his men. You will tell me what you know of his Lordship's scheme, and in return... I will sneak you out through the southern border, and pay you for your time in gold once we are free," Mordred explained, silently praying to Gods above and below that he wasn't making another terrible mistake.
"That dog o' yours 'ad be'er not bite me, or you'll be payin' 'is weig' in coin."
"Agreed. Unless you try to doublecross me," Mordred allowed, looking down at Bran. The wolf licked his chops and swallowed, as if in agreement.
"King Arfur's safe for now." The mercenary reached his forearm out through the bars. "We 'as a deal."
Mordred clasped arms with him then pulled the knife out of his boot and used it to pick the lock. He took his chance to whisper a spell while his new partner was making rude gestures at the prisoner across the way.
"Unlūcan." The door drifted open with a click. Mordred slipped the knife back into his boot and began to lead the way out of the dungeons. A few of the other prisoners began to make a racket.
"Typical innit," the thief sneered. He grabbed Mordred's shoulder and pulled him around a corner as a couple of guards came down to see what all the fuss was about.
"Gimme ya knife." The older man didn't even spare Mordred a glance, placing his hand between them in expectation.
Mordred's mouth tightened at the corners as he whispered back, "No."
The closer of the two guards was getting a little too near to their hiding place. The mercenary huffed derisively, causing Mordred to to turn his head sharply away. The man's breath was reminiscent of rotten cabbage. Mordred covered his partner's mouth as he looked back up at him, raising a finger in warning.
"Am I interrupting?" the guard quipped, pointing his sword at them, mostly the thief.
Mordred smiled apologetically at him. "You'd better shield your face."
"Huh?" the guard grunted right before Bran tackled him to the floor, knocking his sword out of his grip. Mordred pushed his partner away and stepped out into the open, catching the sword out of the air in the same movement. The second guard immediately attacked, but Mordred easily parried his thrust and returned with a shallow sweep, forcing his opponent back a step. The guard made to stab him in the stomach. He blocked it and lashed out at his oponent's shoulder. Mordred wasn't even bothering to hide his lack of enthusiasm, only moving to keep the guard from killing him without bothering to put any effort into a counter-attack. The escaping prisoner sneaked around behind the guard, headed for the stairs. Mordred let out an irritated sigh.
"Forgetting something?" he called.
The guard chanced a look over his shoulder. "Hey! Get back here!"
The thief ran for it. Mordred lowered his blade when the guard turned back to him.
"I can wait, if you like," he offered.
The guard straightened his posture, clearly skeptical. Mordred whistled twice in quick succession and Bran bolted after the escaped criminal.
"Ah! Ya son of a bitch!" They heard the traitorous blond exclaim.
Mordred let his sword hang, forgotten at his side while he looked questioningly at the guard.
"I'll need a good drink after this," the guard muttered, grabbing the teenager by his wrist and guiding him into the empty cell. He locked Mordred in for safe keeping before running out to collect his prisoner. (Mordred watches him go, then rolls his eyes, and pushes the not even fully closed door to the cell so that it drifts open. "I really shouldn't have done that," he reflects, striding out.)
Mordred crouched down beside the first guard, who was still being sat on by his loyal pet. "I was never here," he planted the suggestion, then quietly crept up the stairs, pressing himself against the shadowed wall by the door while the second guard returned. "You never saw me. You heard the prisoner muttering to himself as he escaped, that is what drew you outside. He disappeared. You do not know my face." Mordredslipped out just as the second man was coming out of his trance. The guard looked back at the space behind him, but found nothing there. He frowned, but shrugged away the strange feeling that he was not alone. He thought that perhaps his job was beginning to get to him.
Arthur strode into his guest quarters with Merlin trailing in behind him, and plopped down onto the foot of the bed.
"I need to change your bandages again before you go to bed," Merlin informed him.
Arthur peeled off his shirt and threw it at Merlin's face. "Draw me a bath."
"Oh, thank you."
Arthur slowly turned an accusing glare on his smirking servant. "Merlin, are you saying that I smell?"
"No. I certainly wasn't saying it," Merlin replied happily.
"Merlin-"
"I'll get that bath started now, Sire," Merlin declared, turning away to make his escape out the door before the situation escalated. When he got to the door, however the deep, reverberating ring of a bell stopped him in his tracks. Caerleon's warning bell was ringing. The two men exchanged a look, and Arthur crossed over to peer out the window at the frost-kissed courtyard below. A crowd of guards was dispersing in search of someone... A slender blonde man darted out of an alcove, prompting the guards to give chase. He was an escaped prisoner most likely, but it wasn't the man who drew Arthur's notice the most. It was the figure he was running towards. A darkly clad young man with a blue scarf covering his face and hair, and a familiar wolf sitting beside him. The convict's face was twisted in a scowl as he hooked an arm around the boy's neck and yanked him out of sight. Arthur frowned, uncertain of what he should think or do about the discovery, and closed the shutters.
"Do you still want me to draw you a bath?" Merlin asked hopefully from just behind the King's shoulder.
A/N: Okay, so yeah, I'm going to admit this upfront: I have Mordred speaking Gaelic to his pet. My justification for this? I wanted to show 'on screen,'as it were, that the Druids speak 'Druid' as they would, being a separate culture of their own rather than a cult. Unfortunately, the language usage on the show is somewhat scrambled, for instance: spells are spoken in Old English aka Saxon even though it's supposed to be 'the Old Language', so what the fuck are the Saxons speaking? Merlin speaks to his Dragon buddies in Homeric Greek for some inexplicable reason, and the people of Camelot all speak modern English; so why not have the Druids speak Gaelic? Anyway, that's my justification. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this installment. Special thanks to Agana of the Night and SpiderPig for reviewing.