Chapter 3: Unspoken Bond

At nightfall Merlin and company-mainly Merlin- set up camp in a small, ruined temple so old that the crumbling granite had released most of its magic back to nature. There was another, darker sort of energy hanging around the edges that Merlin was doing his best not to dwell on too much: the lingering imprint of violence and death. Doubtless, this place had been an early target during the Great Purge. Merlin was sitting on one of the crumbling benches around the fire pit, tending to the flames. Arthur had been sitting beside him since the start of their evening meal, and had neither spoken a word to his servant, nor touched his bowl of stew. Merlin was still feeling too guilty about his earlier outburst to break the silence.

"Mordred told you about surviving my raid on his camp..." Arthur swallowed and poked at his stew with his spoon. "I didn't even remember."

"He doesn't blame you," Merlin explained, both relieved and disappointed that Arthur had attributed his rant earlier to Mordred's confidences. "I don't think he wants to remind you of the things that King Uther made you do any more than he wants to relive them."

Arthur set his bowl down on the ground between them with a soft clink. "I cannot blame my father for every wrong that I have committed."

"Arthur..."

"I never questioned!"

"That isn't true, " Merlin cut in, feeling inexplicably defensive on Arthur's behalf.

Arthur shook his head. "I may have gone against Uther's will too save Mordred once, but I was so close. I almost let him die. I didn't learn from it! I ransacked that village on my father's word that they were a threat to Camelot, but he was wrong, again, and I didn't hesitate."

"Arthur, why are you telling me this?" Merlin asked tightly.

"Because you were right to remind me of that," Arthur clarified, staring into the fire. "I need to be certain that I am not going to make the same sort of mistake again."

Merlin considered his assertion for a long moment, then asked. "Why are you here?"

"I'm leading my knights. This is dangerous territory and we won't have long to reach King Rodor before Odin catches us."

"I know the goal of this quest, Arthur, but why are you here? If you are caught doing this - or worse, you could start another war. "

Arthur sighed with the hint of a wry smile. "Have you been talking to Guinevere?"

"No, but Odin did kill your father. If you're doing this for Princess Mithian, that is a noble thing, but if this is about revenge..."

"Could you blame me if it was?" Arthur hedged. He was still angry about his father's murder. A part of him craved retribution but…

"No. I wouldn't, Arthur. I'm just posing the question," Merlin told him honestly. "We left Mordred behind after someone silenced him, and it has something to do with this quest. I'm just making sure that you're certain of what you're doing."

"... Well, I couldn't just stand back and let her drag Merlin away. I grabbed up the sword and did my best to fight the creature off. Luckily, that was when Arthur arrived. He saved us really," Gwen finished her recounting as they reached the end of the hall to Mordred's room. "And that is quite enough adventure for tonight. I'll let you keep Bran with you this time, but you must promise that you won't get too impatient with George."

Mordred let out a little huff, but assented anyway, resting his hand atop the wolf's head.

"Goodnight, Sir Mordred. George," Gwen bid them farewell for the night. "Sleep well."

Mordred nodded, while his ever-proper servant bowed deeply.

Gwen turned to walk towards the royal bed chambers with Sir Patrick following dutifully behind her.

Mordred headed for his own bedroom with George trailing after him. However the Clairvoyant stopped abruptly in the doorway, reluctant to take another step. In fact, he was so unwilling to enter that he grabbed both sides of the doorframe to anchor himself when George accidentally knocked into him. He knew this magic, the energy that crackled over his skin and through his entire body like an intoxicating rhythm reeking of earth, and illusion, and nature. Mordred knew, not only from the teachings of his elders, but from personal experience that it is best to avoid the 'Folk if at all possible.

"Milord. Remember your agreement with the Queen?" George urged, with badly-masked disdain. He started to push past Mordred only to be stopped in his tracks by a low growl from Bran. He looked back at Mordred's wolf and noticed that the animal was not growling at him, nor either of the guards, but rather he was growling at the pitch darkness beyond with his fur standing on end.

Mordred turned and strode purposefully away down the corridor. After a beat George joined him.

A few minutes later Gaius looked up at a crisp knock on his door. When he answered it, George met him with a prim, closed-lipped smile.

"Good Evening, Gaius."

Mordred pushed past into the Physician's Chambers, trailed closely by his familiar, and sat down at Gaius' table to wait with Bran resting his chin on the enchanted teen's thigh.

"I regret to say, Milord refuses to remain in his own chamber for the night. I do not know what has gotten into him. If you would be so kind as to allow us to stay with you…"

"I'll be kinder. You are in need of rest. I shall look after Sir Mordred for now. Go get some well-earned sleep," Gaius suggested. "You can consider it a night off."

"I am not sure…" George appeared to be considering it, so Gaius went ahead and sealed the deal.

"Truly, it is the best way to ensure that you will remain proficient despite the hardships caused by your Lord's current circumstances. In fact, why don't I make it Physician's orders? Take the night off to refresh yourself."

"Yes, I think I will. Thank you, Gaius." George began to walk away, then turned on his heel. "If Milord needs me-"

"I'll let you know," Gaius favored the man with a fake smile before shutting the door and turning to give Mordred the eyebrow. "This wasn't merely a ploy to be rid of George was it?"

Mordred shook his head adamantly and Gaius could see the anxiety in his eyes was genuine.

"Very well. You can stay in Merlin's bed for the night."

Mordred stood and gave Gaius' shoulder a grateful squeeze before darting into Merlin's room. He only truly relaxed once he was curled up under the thin blankets, surrounded by the residual traces of Emrys' magic that buzzed reassuringly over his skin. He knew that of all the places he could be this was the one she would not dare follow him into: the home of the one sorcerer in this world powerful enough to rival one of her kind.

Merlin got up from his seat by the smoking fire pit and headed up the crumbling stone steps of the ruins to see what the knights were up to. A trembling hand on his arm stopped him on the third stair.

"Merlin," Mithian said tentatively.

Merlin turned an inquiring look on the Princess.

"I've run out of water again. Perhaps if you're heading that way, you could refill it in the stream?"

Merlin's shoulders relaxed. "No need. Here, take this one. I just filled it." He unstrung his own waterskin from his waist and held it out to her.

"I prefer this one," Mithian said tightly.

"It's perfectly clean..." Merlin trailed off, seeing the determined look on Mithian's face. "Fine. No problem. I'll be back in a moment." He accepted the empty skin.

"Thank you," Mithian called to his disappearing back, noticing too late that she was being observed.

At the stream, Merlin knelt down and splashed some water over his face to help him remain alert before beginning to refill- Merlin's eyes narrowed. The Princess' waterskin was barely half empty. Now fully alert, Merlin looked around him. There had to be a reason why he was sent here. On a stone poking out of the shallow water to his left, he saw the reason. The name 'Morgana' had been scratched into the stone's surface with a piece of a broken buckle. Merlin sprinted out of the water towards camp only to be knocked off his feet by a burst of kinetic magic, two steps onto dry land. He landed against a tree and blinked the stars from his vision before looking up at his attacker, Mithian's imposter-maid.

"Morgana," he spat, letting his throbbing head fall back against the rough bark.

"Goodbye Merlin," she replied smugly, extending a weathered hand and then clenching it into a tight fist. Merlin instinctively struggled for breath as an invisible force cut off his air supply. His mouth opened and shut a few times in a pointless parody of gasps. He couldn't focus his will to block her magic. He couldn't speak to utter a spell. Besides, at this close proximity, there was a good chance that Morgana would see the flash of molten gold in his eyes when he tried to resist her, spell or not. This is ridiculous, the last Dragonlord internally scoffed. Then his mind calmed. She can't kill me like this. Merlin allowed his eyes to drift shut and felt the earth under him.

His head was propped up against an ancient tree. His fingers brushed its root as he allowed his limbs to go limp. Emrys followed his magic into it entwining his being with its ancient life force. He focused his very existence on that connection, allowing the tree to support him in the way that his lungs currently could not, and dropped into a deep, protective trance. Morgana stood over her brother's manservant as he lay still and lifeless-or so she thought- on the forest floor. The sight put an odd, unwelcome feeling in her gut. This was a vengeance that Morgana had dreamt of for years, but now that she'd done it, she didn't feel as victorious as she'd thought she would. Instead the sight of Merlin, pallid and still in a way that the man had no right to be, simply looked wrong. The High Priestess pushed her uncertainty away, to the far back of her mind and made a beeline for the camp, playing the part of the frightened maid who'd found a dead man.

Sir Gwaine didn't even wait for her to finish her sentence before he pushed past her on his way to the stream. Ever the caring friend.

"The poor boy must have slipped. I tried to help, but he isn't breathing!" Morgana added as Arthur and Leon descended into view on the far side of the ruins. Sir Percival and Sir Gwaine carried their downed friend back to camp and laid him by the fire pit.

"He's alive," Gwaine announced. "Barely."

"What?" Morgana muttered, taken aback. Then silently berated herself for drawing Arthur's attention. "I was certain that he had stopped breathing." She added honestly, managing not to sound disappointed. Arthur shifted his inquisitive gaze away from her and paced over to his unconscious manservant while Sir Leon did his best to treat him.

"I don't think he has any damage to his skull. There's nothing broken that I can find," Sir Leon reported. "But I'm no physician."

"Merlin's our physician," Arthur stated flatly, looking like he really wanted to punch something.

"Does this seem familiar to anybody else?" Sir Gwaine suggested, recalling Mordred's 'accident' outside of Mithian's chambers.

"Yes. It does," Arthur confirmed, pacing back and forth while Princess Mithian and Sir Percival eyed him from their places by the fire pit. "Merlin was right, we're being sabotaged."

"Arthur..." Mithian began, her hands were shaking and she looked pale. The Princess seemed unable to keep her eyes off of the fallen servant.

"I know. I have not forgotten your father," Arthur reassured, turning to address his knights. "Sir Gwaine, you remain here with Merlin and Helga; the rest of us will head onward to Lothor's tomb."

"What! I must tend to my Princess!" Morgana protested immediately, making her voice sound as desperate as she could. Despite the fair acting, Arthur rounded on her.

"You are in no position to argue! We are in enemy territory with an unknown foe picking us off one by one! It all seems to happen around you and Mithian, and I. Don't. Know. You! Now you will wait here, Helga, or my men will hold you here." Arthur's blue eyes were filled with barely contained rage, more than his sister would have expected from him under the circumstances. Still, she knew when to concede.

"S-Sire-" Princess Mithian stammered uncertainly, afraid that the King might trigger the witch's wrath. Morgana bowed her head in false submission.

"Forgive me, Sire. I merely want what is best for Princess Mithian. She has been through so much already. "

"We will keep her safe," Sir Elyan assured, his eyes flicking between the servant and his King. Morgana flashed him a grateful smile and moved to sit on Merlin's other side.

Arthur frowned down at her thoughtfully before signaling to the rest of his knights to move out.

"We can't wait any longer. It's time that we found King Rodor and brought him out of this place."

Mordred wandered blearily out into the main chamber of the Physicians' Quarters and saw Gaius seated at the table, reading. There was a steaming bowl of porridge at the place across from him.

"Good morning, Sir Mordred." Gaius glanced up from his text to look at the porridge. "You'd better eat your breakfast before it gets cold."

Mordred took the seat offered him, complying with the old man's suggestion.

"I don't suppose there is any point in asking why you came here last night," Gaius speculated.

Mordred flashed him a closed-lipped smile.

"I have been researching that vessel you found in the castle gardens," Gaius explained.

Mordred paused between bites of the blandest porridge that he had ever tasted to recall the stone vase-like object they'd found atop a hidden pillar. It had embellishments on each of its four faces embedded with a different crystal. Although the faces looked far more like large artfully stylized eyes than anything else. The eastern face -or 'eye' as Mordred thought of them- had been pried off. Something about those rune-encrusted 'irises' on each face caused something primal within Mordred's core to coil defensively, but he had chosen to ignore that feeling. It reminded him too much of that feral madness brought by the strange, scar-like haze that had infected Morgana, and now him.

"It's a security measure of sorts. They were used in this kingdom for over a century before the Great Purge made them purposeless. Each face is designed to nullify one of the four most potent forms of natural magic," Gaius picked up the sphere and set it on the table between them, turning it to show the different iron embellishments and carvings. "When this was whole, it would simply have absorbed any spells attempted within the inner garden. I imagine that is what triggered your binding to react as it did."

Mordred stared at the empty space on the artifact, feeling the blood drain from his face. Gaius turned the sphere to show the face on the opposite side.

"For instance," he tapped the iron and silver web of knots and sigils encircling a carved onyx. "This would give Morgana no end of trouble. It would nullify her foresight completely, and this..." The physician turned the object to display its southern face, but stopped short at the clatter of Mordred's spoon falling into his porridge bowl. "Sir Mordred?"

Mordred stared wide eyed at the sphere while the image of Morgana's opal amulet ghosted over his vision. It wasn't an amulet at all. It was the missing eastern face. The Druid reached out a trembling hand and turned the empty space into view, looking imploringly at Gaius. He wanted so badly to be mistaken about this.

"Mental magic..." Gaius straightened up, the epiphany striking just as Mordred began to hyperventilate. "You're a Clairvoyant! I did not think that there were any left!" Gaius let out a heavy sigh and rounded the table. "My dear boy, get a hold of yourself." He took Mordred by the shoulders and turned the panicking youth to face him. "Slowly, deep breaths."

There was gentle knock at the door, but Gaius didn't bother to look back.

"Come in."

"Oh, dear!" the Queen's gentle voice observed.

"Sir Mordred will be fine. We've just had another breakthrough," Gaius dismissed, getting up to fetch a bottle of tawny liquid from his work desk. Gwen immediately took up his place in front of Mordred, attempting to comfort him. Behind her, Sir Patrick entered and came to a halt a few paces away; the objects on the table beside Mordred were very gradually sliding away, repelled by an unseen force.

"Gaius?" he prompted in a tone that made the name synonymous with 'what the hell am I seeing?' The table began visibly to vibrate.

"I feared this might happen," Gaius passed the bottle to Gwen. "Here. Waft the open bottle under his nose."

Gwen uncorked the bottle and did as he'd instructed. The contents turned to vapor upon contact with the open air and Mordred collapsed into her arms like a life-sized rag doll. The Queen's shocked eyes locked on Gaius'. "What did I just do to him?!"

"Induced a deep slumber. I assure you, Your Majesty, it is entirely reversible," Gaius reassured, returning the bottle to its proper placement. "We have done him far less damage than he could easily have incurred had he remained awake."

"You said that you had made a breakthrough," Gwen prompted as Sir Patrick lifted Mordred off of her lap and deposited him on the nearby bed.

Gaius paused for a beat, realizing the problem he'd just caused for himself and Mordred. "This artifact. They were used in the time before the Great Purge as a means of negating magical influence within a particular location. I believe that that is what you witnessed yesterday," he relayed a hastily-edited version of their discovery.

"If this thing is meant to nullify magic, how come it isn't counteracting the binding?" Sir Patrick inquired.

"Its eastern face has been removed." Gaius turned the artifact, naming off each face, "North: the Prophet, South: the Guardian, West: the Trickster, and..." he presented the defaced, Eastern side. "East: the Mind's Eye."

"Mordred..." the Queen muttered under her breath, then added upon noticing Gaius' eyes on her, "His mind must be bound somehow. Whoever bewitched him seems to have gone to great pains to preserve their work."

"Indeed," Gaius concurred, satisfied by the pretext. "It does however, beg the question. What magic user could know the palace grounds so well that they could find this?"

Gwen considered the problem for only a brief moment before paling at the inescapable conclusion.

"Queen Guinevere?" Sir Patrick reached out to steady the faint-looking royal.

"It was Morgana!" Gwen breathed, horrified. She looked over at her comatose nephew. "Is this her revenge?"

Sir Gwaine finished scrutinizing Merlin's head-wound for the umpteenth time, paying little mind to the old woman across from him getting up to rummage through her bag. He figured that she had probably forgotten where she'd left her water skin again. She'd already done so twice since the had others left. The second time, the old bat had insisted that it had to be by the stream, only to find it moments later after arguing with him pointlessly over whether or not he should be the one to fetch it. Naturally, afterward she had pottered off to fill the empty vessel, mumbling to herself about how 'nobody respects their elders these days'. Gwaine wasn't sorry; he didn't trust the demented old woman anymore. Arthur was right, mad old woman or not, there was just something cautioning about her presence.

"He should have woken by now," Gwaine fretted, holding a hand out over his prone friend's mouth to reassure himself that Merlin was still breathing. "This wound didn't seem that serious. What if it is? What if he never wakes?"

"He won't," a familiar voice replied smugly from directly behind him. Sir Gwaine's eyes went saucer wide and his hand gripped the hilt of his sword, but Morgana knocked him unconscious with the stew pot she'd grabbed out of the saddlebag while he wasn't paying attention. She smirked.

"It's good to be back." The Priestess' words reverberated through Mordred and his consciousness focused to a sharpened point, his magic resurfacing in a rush of sheer will.

A/N: Happy holidays, Dear Readers! Here's an admittedly short chapter for your viewing pleasure. We are officially non-canonical now, so... yay? I hope it's a yay... I'm tired, so just ignore my strangeness. Thank you for reading this, and special thanks to Agana of the Night, DragonReader99 and catherine10 for reviewing.