Chapter 4: Mum's the Word

Morgana knocked Sir Gwaine unconscious and carelessly dropped the cookware, then circled back around to her old friend's other side as the last vestiges of age retreated from her form. The rejuvenated sorceress leaned over Merlin, resting a hand above his heart. Magic danced under her skin as she prepared to cast her spell and trap him forever, too intent on her revenge to notice the Eye fragment slipping out from under the folds of her robe. It glowed faintly even as she smirked at her own imminent victory. "It's good to be back," Morgana purred. Merlin's eyes snapped open.

"Speak for yourself," he disagreed, hitting her with the discarded stew pot.

"Ah, you treacherous, snake!" Morgana swore, holding her injured shoulder. Her eyes flashed and Merlin only just rolled out of the way in time to avoid having his head blasted apart by an exploding stone slab.

"You don't - have - to do this, Morgana!" Merlin grunted as he dragged the unconscious knight out of the line of fire while Morgana scrambled to her feet. Then he darted out into the open, drawing the witch's wrath away from the defenseless man.

"Yes I do!" Morgana sent a blast of kinetic magic at his head, which he ducked with surprising ease. "You betrayed me!" He ducked another blast. "You poisoned me! Because of you my sister is dead!" Morgana let off another blast as she chased him up the stairs. Merlin sidestepped it without really breaking his stride all that much. In fact, he was pretty sure that even a normal human being would be able to avoid most, if not all of these attacks, which was… actually kind of strange coming from Morgana. Merlin wondered fleetingly if the world was somehow conspiring to drive him insane, what with the unwelcome reminder of his failings surrounding Mordred and his people, Arthur's random open-mindedness, and now this.

"I never wanted to be your enemy, Morgana!" Merlin snapped. "I did what I had to do; you were at the center of it all, and I couldn't save you! There was no other choice."

Morgana caught him in a web of invisible magic just short of the doorway and floated him half a foot off the ground, turning him around to face her with a graceful gesture as if pulling an invisible thread. "You think that you can just explain it all away and erase your guilt after everything that you've done," she sneered.

"I don't know why I'm telling you anything!" Merlin shouted back furiously. He was nearing that maddening threshold again just as he had been at the stream when he'd ranted at Arthur. He honestly didn't know what this was, but perhaps this was why there were always things that he simply didn't think about, the same things that had been bombarding him ever since Mithian's arrival. An idea struck him, and his rage melted away. He questioned almost philosophically, "Is this really how I'm going to die?"

His gaze locked with Morgana's, and he saw a strange and unreadable expression flicker through her eyes, laced with what might be the barest hint of doubt. She opened her wielding hand, sending him flying out through the archway and dropping him unceremoniously to the forest floor several meters below in a painful tumble of limbs. It took Merlin a while to reorient himself and by that time Morgana was gone. She could easily have finished him off just then, at least, from her perspective, and he still had no idea why she hadn't.

"Forget it, Merlin," he told himself, stumbling to his feet. "You've still got to save the prat."

Gaius sat, watching over his Clairvoyant patient, holding the Eye in his aged hands. The healer looked down at the metal workings marking each face, feeling all his many years of age acutely while he remembered the old rhyme.

'I am South; I burn fiercely, the heart of the wild.

My Sister, North's eye chills both warrior and child.

East's mind over matter sows storms of such might,

He dreads naught but the silence of West's fearsome night.'

The glaring warning in those words was something Uther had never let him forget. The four most potent and-as he saw it- dangerous breeds of magic user. The last two were worst of all; on that much Gaius was willing to concede that the late King might have had a point. He had never witnessed a Clairvoyant at the true height of their power, but he had heard stories. Mind over matter… The ability to enforce your will on others, to bend others' will or perception of reality to your own whim. It was a gift made all the more deadly by the inherent paradox: mental magic was neither destructive, nor arguably consequential on its own. A warlock, only half as potent as Merlin could call upon the magic lying dormant in nature, making his environment into a deadly weapon. A Seer could know an opponent's actions for days or even years in advance, and often possessed a knack for kinetic magic or enchantment- but a Clairvoyant dealt in intangible things: ideas, emotions, dreams. Their magic rarely had much direct influence on the world. For a long time Gaius had contentedly believed that made them less powerful. Then King Uther had started to hunt them, and before long Gaius had witnessed the horrifying power of a being who could take any person's strength and instantly turn it against them. He didn't want even to consider what that would mean if Mordred ever used such power against Merlin. When Gaius had first met Merlin, and watched the teen slow time in order to cushion his fall, he had been only a couple of years younger than Mordred's current age- another child born with magic. Kilgharrah had warned Merlin to kill this boy when they'd first met him, Gaius recalled. Upon Mordred's return, Merlin had confided in Gaius again.

"I can't ignore what I saw, Gaius. Mordred is going to kill Arthur on the battlefield. That Druid showed it to me for a reason!" He hadn't seemed to want to meet his mentor's eye during that disagreement, and under the circumstances, Gaius couldn't really blame him.

At the time they had agreed -begrudgingly on the warlock's part- to give the boy a chance to prove himself. Had Merlin already known of his future enemy's power? Mordred was the son of a High Priestess after all. In truth he was not just Morgana's child, but also the son of a Druid shaman. His magic would be formidable even if it was no true match for Merlin's. He must have known, Gaius realized remembering the warlock's earlier sarcastic remark. Merlin had called Mordred 'a frighteningly-intelligent, Druid sorcerer trained from infancy'.

The dark thought crossed Gaius' mind again, equally dreadful as all the other times it had occurred to him over the past few hours. If someday this boy will turn on us, can we afford to allow him to reach his full potential? Mordred could easily become too strong for them to stop, long before he returned to his Mother's side. As powerful as Merlin is… can he stand against them both together? Gaius doubted it, despite himself. He stared at the boy's sleeping face. Mordred looked so innocent in sleep. He was truly defenseless in this state. It would be easy to stop his breathing right now- Gaius hated himself for thinking it. There were times when the young Prince reminded Gaius so much of his mother. In fact, he had already begun to fret over the boy's tendency toward night terrors. He had feared that perhaps it was a trait passed on from mother to son, but at the same time, Gaius found himself being reminded of Merlin's youth as well. It was not as frequent, nor so obvious. Still, the similarities between the two mages were definitely there, making it that much harder for the old physician to bear.

The clairvoyant on the bed before him suddenly flinched, almost as though he had taken a heavy blow to the chest, and his eyes fluttered open. They were glowing, not with the dark magic of the binding, but with his own.

"Nnno!" the boy mumbled. "Don't… Emr…" whatever he was exclaiming about faded into incomprehensible murmuring before Gaius could make heads or tails of it. "Ndon hhurt'm…" Then his eyes snapped open wide. "EMRYS!" His voice was sharp, resonating with raw power and the jars on the table closest to his bed shattered under the vibrations. Gaius' ears popped painfully and he clamped his hands over them in preparation for another, likely deafening scream. Instead, a violent ripple of dark magic rushed over Mordred's body and his eyes rolled back in his head. His whole body began to convulse and the bed under him shook as if caught in a non-existent earthquake. The glass in the room sang or cracked under the force of more, inaudible ripples of power. Then Mordred fell back onto the mattress and it all abruptly stopped. It almost seemed as if nothing had occurred at all, except for the fact that the patient was now flattened into the mattress by his utter exhaustion and panting as if he'd just run a marathon.

"I've been an old fool," Gaius realized, staring at the Druid Prince in shock. As well as he knew that he didn't have it in himself to murder a patient, Gaius knew that he shouldn't-couldn't save Mordred's life.

"We're almost there. It should be in this next clearing up ahead," Mithian directed, leading Arthur and his knights closer to their doom. She didn't want to bring them into the tomb, and had already debated with herself over and over the different alternatives while they travelled. They had to at least enter the tomb or her father would die. Mithian had to make sure that Morgana wouldn't realize her deception until they were ready for her or the mute boy would suffer. Not the Mute. Mordred. His name was- is Mordred, she reminded herself.

"There, I think I can see it," Percival announced and the Princess looked up from her self-hating glower at the forest floor to see the tomb gradually coming into view. Arthur clasped her shoulder in a brief attempt to comfort her.

"Stay close and trust me, we'll have your father back in no time."

Mithian nodded but stopped short at the edge of the clearing and grabbed his wrist. "Wait, Arthur. You need to know something. I-I…" she jumped. Her bracelet had just flashed ember hot for a split second. A hooded female figure stared at her from across the clearing at the King's back, where she was leaning against a she vanished in a whirl of smoke. "I should have told you sooner… my father's injury. I don't think that he'll be able to walk out of here," Mithian improvised, refusing to acknowledge the hopeless tear that fell from her eye as she spoke.

"We'll carry him out if we have to," Arthur promised her. "Trust me."

Mithian nodded, feeling like she almost wished the witch would just burn her up right then and there and be done with it. Then she remembered Morgana's taunting words when they woke that morning, 'Their lives are in your hands, Princess'. She steeled herself and led Arthur and Percival into the tomb while Sir Leon and Sir Elyan hung back to guard the entrance. When they reached the inner chamber, Arthur grabbed her shoulder.

"Wait," he whispered sharply, resting his other hand on the hilt of his sword. "Something's not right. Can you see your father?"

"No," Mithian replied, fighting to hold back tears. She couldn't believe that she was really going through this, betraying Arthur like this after he had been nothing but kind.

"Wait here," Arthur told her, signaling to Sir Percival. "We'll make sure it's safe."

Mithian nodded mutely, unable to look at either of them. They didn't deserve this. None of them did. Arthur crept into the chamber looking for any sign of a threat, or any sign of Mithian's wounded Father, even a speck of blood. He glanced questioningly back at Percy, who looked equally perturbed.

"I don't understand," Arthur said, shifting his inquiring eyes to Mithian.

"I'm so sorry," Mithian confessed tearfully. "It's a trap."

As if on cue, men in dark armor flooded into the chamber, surrounding them. Percival and Arthur both leapt into action, fighting Odin's men off for as long as they could just on principle, but once Arthur was disarmed and held with a blade to his throat, Percival relented for the sake of his King's life.

"Odin," Arthur begrudgingly acknowledged.

"Arthur," the older King returned acidly.

"I still don't understand, Mithian. What wrong have I ever done to you?" Arthur demanded, glaring at the miserable woman, whom he'd thought was his friend.

"Nothing," Mithian whispered, cowering in her corner.

"It is you and I who have blood between us, Arthur Pendragon," Odin growled, pointing his sword at Arthur's throat.

"Oh, you always were slow on the uptake though, weren't you Arthur?" A familiar creaky voice taunted as a black clad, hooded woman strolled in behind King Rodor. "Please, your Majesty, I only want what is best for my Princess. I must serve Milady," Helga's voice said mockingly before Morgana pulled down her hood, dispersing any remaining shred of illusion.

"Father!" Mithian exclaimed as her father stepped past to rejoin her, pulling the old man into a tight embrace.

"You've done your part, Mithian. I release you," Morgana stated with a dismissive wave and the enchanted bracelet dropped off of the Princess' wrist with a soft clang.

"Morgana, I never thought it would be you," Arthur said bitterly, "I should have known."

"Yes, well, you never were a thinker," Morgana agreed with a smirk, while King Rodor tried to lead his daughter away from their tormentors, only to find her stubbornly anchored to the spot.

"Wait. What about the boy?" Mithian said firmly, pinning the High Priestess with a determined stare.

Morgana blinked incredulously, turning to look at her previous captive. "What?"

"Boy? What is-" Odin began to grumble but Morgana held up a hand and he fell into an angrily expectant silence.

"Mordred," Mithian said flatly, "What about Mordred? You promised me that no more harm would come to him. I want him released."

"Oh, Morgana," Arthur breathed, looking utterly disgusted.

Morgana opened her mouth to speak - or more likely scream - at her brother in response, but was cut off by an unnatural rumble that sounded almost like thunder surrounding them. If that were even possible… but no, there was a creaking underlying it, like something stiff stretching and rattling- a whole lot of it.

"What is that?!" Odin voiced the question plaguing everyone in the tomb, regardless of their allegiance. There was a soft rustling sound from the pathway behind Morgana and she whirled round to search for the source, leaning an arm on the edge of the stone archway as she peered into the darkly shadowed passage. There was a muffled clatter and a couple of Odin's men shifted to point their swords at the opening. "See to that," the old King ordered. The soldier standing on Morgana's right gestured to his comrade as if to say, 'you're closer'.

"Coward," the other one muttered and stepped cautiously into the shadows. There was another rustling and a strangled grunt as the last part of the soldier left visible, his booted foot, was yanked out of sight.

"What the…" Percival wondered aloud.

"Priestess?" Odin asked.

Morgana frowned into the darkness, then muttered, "Forbærne," striking a fireball in her right hand to use as a light. However before she took the first step forward, a deep green tendril poked out of the edges of the abyss. The vines were growing into the chamber at an impossible rate, as though reaching for the people contained within. Morgana flinched away and yanked her forearm out of the questing tangle of greenery. That was what had made the rumbling sound - the plants. She hurled her fireball into the darkness, only for it to fizzle out with a soft hiss as it entered the shadows. Morgana took a step back. "No!" She sounded simultaneously petulant and frightened, as the vines changed course, now clearly reaching for her and the soldier standing next to her, who began to edge away from her. Arthur felt a chill run down his spine. He couldn't remember the last time he'd heard his sister actually sound truly scared.

"We should go," Arthur pointed out.

"I'm not letting you go anywhere, Arthur Pendragon, not when vengeance is within my grasp!" Odin denied.

"We can stay here and die together, or we can run and you might kill me later," Arthur responded, ignoring the scolding looks that statement earned him from Percival and, rather unexpectedly, Princess Mithian. "Which would you prefer?"

"Go!" Morgana agreed, casting another ball of flame forward, this time using it to burn away the invading vines.

"Lady Morgana-" Odin began to argue.

"Now!" She snapped at him as she hurled yet another fireball. This time the vines moved out of the way and kept coming, while Odin's men began to file out through the other passage. "EMRYS!" Morgana shrieked, fed up, and shouted "Beswencan!" sending a cloud of eerie, poisonous light into the shadows. It coalesced around a graceful hand and was tossed straight back at her. Although she easily sidestepped it, two vines wrapped around her arm and waist and yanked her up against the wall.

"Mithian!" Arthur called back as Odin hauled him out past the Princess.

Mithian watched Morgana struggling, and hesitated for a beat before darting forward and yanking the Eye fragment off of the distracted sorceress with a firm tug. "Run!" she advised, kicking Odin hard in the side and hurrying out through the exit with Arthur and her father.

"...Hit's me little boy, your Majesty. Well, me sister's boy. E's alls I got left now that she's gone. We tried everythin' to 'elp 'im but 'is fever's gettin' worse heach day!" The peasant woman kneeling before the throne pleaded, desperate for aid.

Gwen sat on her throne, transfixed by the other woman and the inappropriate feeling of déja vu invoked by her plight for a fleeting moment. "I will tell the Court Physician to see that your nephew is given the best care possible," she reassured her subject. The peasant woman cried tears of joy and thanked her profusely before taking her leave.

Gwen looked to Lord Geoffrey who was standing solemnly to her right.

"Are there many more seeking audience with me this afternoon?" she asked, doing her best to mask her distress.

"No more today, Ma'am."

"Thank you, Lord Geoffrey," the Queen looked at the group of attending councilors for a beat before concluding. "In that case, the court is dismissed." She stood and passed the scroll in her hands back to the record keeper, and headed out of the throne room. The men were mostly Uther's old advisers anyway, they hardly ever had a constructive note to spare for her.

"Your Majesty, if I might speak with you about a troubling rumor..." Lord Matthew requested, intercepting her halfway to the exit.

"Later," she promised, allowing him a polite smile, then fled to the courtyard, doing her best to ignore her protective shadow.

Gwen sat down beside the fountain and watched her people passing by, oblivious to the danger threatening their royal family. The Queen was under no illusions. Mordred was obviously a secondary target of Morgana's, if that. It was likely that Arthur was facing her right now, trapped out of reach of aid in Odin's lands. Gwen could lose everything today, and there was very little left that she could do to stop it. She looked down at her hands, absently realizing that she'd been toying with her fingers while she fretted, an old, nervous habit that she'd managed to suppress until recently.

"Excuse me, Milady. Do you mind if I join you?" an old woman's voice inquired.

Gwen looked up, inclining her head in assent before she was fully aware of what was happening.

"I thought so. You did look as though you might need some company," the old woman told her kindly, taking a seat beside her.

"I'm sorry, but who are you?"

"My name's Nuala, Your Majesty. I do hope I'm not disturbing your thoughts."

"Oh no- Well. You are a welcome distraction. I am afraid my mind lingers more and more on troubles of late."

"Whatever it is, I am sure that you will handle it soundly," Nuala said with such certainty that Gwen couldn't help but stare at her. "You and King Arthur have brought welcome change to this Kingdom, even if some of our people are stuck in the past. There is still more that you have left to bring us."

"You expect much of us," Gwen observed, a bit overwhelmed.

"No more than you are willing to offer," the older woman amended. Her eyes narrowed. "Is there something that I might offer you, your Majesty?"

"I am afraid the issue that concerns me is not one so easily shared."

"This isn't to do with that young Knight of yours…" Nuala pondered.

"You know Sir Mordred?" Gwen asked, surprised. The young Druid usually seemed so shy and distant from people that he didn't already know well. She hadn't really considered that he might have friends outside of the citadel.

"Yes. He is a sweet boy. I don't know why anyone would start those nasty rumors. I can't think of a less deserving target than our Sir Mordred," Nuala reflected. "He often stops to check on me when he visits town. I do hope that he is well; this is the longest that I've gone without a glimpse of him since we first met."

"I'm sorry to say he is ill. The Court Physician's looking after him," Gwen informed her, distracted by the other woman's idle comment. "You mentioned rumors?"

"It's nothing worth much thought," Nuala dismissed. "Some rabble-rouser spread whispers that your new Knight was a Druid. You know how these things escalate. Now some of the old traditionalists want us all to take that to mean he's got witch's blood. Never mind that the ban on Druids in this land was lifted years ago."

Gwen silently digested this news before even considering a reply. "Mordred is loyal to us. Even if he were…" she stopped short, not wanting to encourage the gossip even slightly. "He has risked a lot for my husband's sake. As far as I'm concerned, he has proven himself more than worthy of his place here."

Nuala smiled warmly at her. "I couldn't agree more. Take it from a maid from the old days. In the time before the war started there was trouble from magic users, certainly, but I never saw it being brought on us by the Druids. Most of their lot just preferred to be left alone."

"You worked here before the Great Purge?"

"Before and during. I was a very different person back then. I waited on poor Queen Igraine for a few years until... Well. They were interesting times. It's a shame that so much of it is being forgotten," Nuala reflected, adjusting her cape. "Sometimes that's what comes with change."

"You were Queen Igraine's servant?"

"One of her Ladies in Waiting. She was a joy! Always nurturing others, or making things grow. I was one of only two of us maids who used to accompany her while she tended her roses. The others were too put off by the Eyes to enjoy it."

Gwen frowned, getting the feeling that she was missing something that should be obvious. "I don't understand, her eyes?"

"Oh, no. I thought you'd know, but of course you're too young. The Eyes of Wyrd, they seemed harmless ornaments to most courtiers, but the blasted things even drove King Uther to bar Queen Igraine from venturing into the garden once she was with child." As Nuala continued her recollection the current Queen became more and more tense with dawning dread. "They drain the magic from those who carry it in their blood. It was no danger to anyone benign, in truth. The Eyes only became lethal in the presence of an active working, you see," Nuala's lips turned down at the corners in response to a disturbing memory. "But to those who'd witnessed what they could do… Those Eyes are one of many things that I am happy to see lost in forgotten history!"

"These 'Eyes,' did they look like vases?" Gwen blurted out, the fear that the old woman's company had lulled to the back of her mind returning with a vengeance.

Nuala gave the Queen a funny look. "I suppose… Why do you ask?"

Guinevere swallowed and hastily stood. "Thank you for your company, Nuala. I'll be sure to give Sir Mordred your regards."

"Thank you, your Majesty…" Nuala watched the Queen all-but-run back into the palace with her bodyguard close behind. The quizzical expression vanished from Nuala's face to be replaced by an accomplished smirk. "What a nice girl. I do so love an open mind," she reflected approvingly.

"Arthur!" Merlin called, running towards his friends as they fled the old tomb. Percy slipped past him to help Gwaine, Elyan and Leon who were fighting off a lingering group of Odin's men.

"Merlin?" Arthur questioned.

"I'll explain later," Merlin promised. "You know the maid's-"

"Morgana, yes. She's still in there. Fighting a-Thing." Arthur informed him haltingly as they ran into the woods. The knights didn't need to be prompted to follow; they were clearly outnumbered.

"What thing?" Merlin questioned, feigning ignorance while he fought not to smirk. In reality he'd only just left Morgana hanging halfway up the wall in a net of vines.

"I'll explain later," Arthur echoed his earlier deflection.

Gwen hurried into the Physician's Chambers, startling Gaius out of his reading. George leapt to his feet as the Queen brushed past him making a beeline for Mordred's bed. The servant flinched in sympathy when Patrick stoically caught the door before it could slam shut in his face. The Knight nodded to him in greeting and took up a watchful stance by the door.

"Can I help you, My Queen?" George inquired smoothly, as if her behavior was not in the least bit perplexing.

Gwen brushed Mordred's sweaty locks away from his face and felt his forehead. "He feels too warm," she assessed, and called to Gaius without looking up. "Has there been any change?"

"Rest assured, your Majesty, he is being well-cared for," George told her.

"Gaius, what's happened?" Gwen rested a determined gaze on the Physician, seeing him hesitate to answer.

"He is developing some new, and unexpected symptoms. I am still confident, however, that I can manage them for the time being," Gaius admitted, not ready or able to confess that he was uncertain of whether he should counteract the symptoms, now that he knew what Mordred was capable of.

"What symptoms?" Gwen pushed.

"As you noted, he is developing a fever… and we have had to strengthen his sedation." Gaius looked back down at the tome he'd been scrutinizing, shifting uneasily.

"George," Gwen prompted. "What is it that he doesn't want to tell me?"

"There is no need to worry you-" The servant began, exchanging a loaded look with the man in question.

"Tell me, now."

"He has begun experiencing magically-erupting fits, Ma'am," George immediately obeyed her direct command, as she'd known he would.

Gaius sent him a withering look. "I am confident that we are close to an answer, your Majesty. We have successfully sedated him once more. I do not want you to worry about this."

"Erupting," Gwen echoed, thinking quickly. "Was it at all like what happened in the gardens?"

George inclined his head thoughtfully. "It was similar."

"The Artifact," Gwen concluded. "It's an Eye of Wyrd, isn't it?"

"Yes, that is one name for them…" Gaius confirmed.

"It's missing its face. What if that's why she left it? It isn't functioning the same way anymore, and now it's dangerous!" Gwen theorized, careful not to mention the part of her suspicion that might incriminate their patient. Gaius didn't look like he was buying it. She paced back over to her original spot beside Mordred, watching his eyelids flutter in his unconscious delirium. "He was improving, Gaius. It wasn't much, but he was getting better before he found the Eye, and now look at him. If you know any way to stop it, or contain it, we need to begin right now."

Gaius shook his head. "I am sorry, but the very nature of the relic would seem to contradict such a possibility."

"The Witch did it," Sir Patrick pointed out, startling the others, who had more or less forgotten that he was present.

"What?" Gwen said hopefully.

"Well, she'd have to, wouldn't she? She'd have to be able to touch the Eye in order to deface it, right?"

There was a tense silence while his words sank in.

"We need Morgana," Gwen stated grimly, looking as if the words themselves tasted foul on her tongue.

"That may be true. Regardless, I will continue to search for an alternative," Gaius announced, returning his attention to the old tome with newfound determination. If it did end up coming down to the possible threat posed by Mordred and the very real one that his Mother already posed, Gaius knew which evil he'd choose.

"In the meantime, I want that artifact secured," the Queen declared, picking up an unused rag from the nearest table and using it to cover her hands as she scooped the Eye of Wyrd up off of Gaius' worktable. "It will be kept locked and isolated in the palace vault until either I or the King himself orders otherwise."

"Yes, Ma'am," Sir Patrick acknowledged opening the door for her, and accompanying her out of the room.

Arthur skidded to a halt and ducked the hands of an attacking enemy knight. Two more jumped out on the party's other side as well, and fell into combat with Gwaine and Elyan. Arthur stabbed the man who'd failed to tackle him in the thigh, and knocked him out with the hilt of his sword, only to be successfully grabbed around the waist by a large, muscular one behind him.

"Arthur!" Merlin shouted, seeing the glint of a dagger in the warrior's rising hand, but before he could think to use his magic, a crossbow bolt went whistling past into the attacker's throat. Arthur stumbled forward a step and turned to watch his would-be-killer drop to the forest floor with a wet gurgle. He then turned to the older King.

"Thank you," Arthur said, receiving a silent nod in acknowledgement. There were far more soldiers coming out of the trees around them, and soon they would be upon them. "We need to split up. King Rodor, my Knights will escort you back to our camp. Merlin and I will loop around from the north and join you later."

"Arthur…" Mithian objected.

"Getting King Rodor to safety is the very purpose of this quest. I have no intention of failing now," Arthur preempted.

"This is my fault. Let me help you-"

"This is between me and Odin. You needn't take part in it any further," Arthur disagreed. "Go."

"Arthur," Merlin warned. The oncoming soldiers were getting too close for comfort.

They parted ways with the rest of the group and Arthur ran for a rocky ravine that would cut through to the temple ruins while providing them some decidedly limited cover from assault. King Odin seemed to be thinking along the same lines, unfortunately, and his men crowded out of the shadows to block their escape once Merlin and Arthur were far enough inside. They turned and started to run back anyway, but the pursuing soldiers had already caught up with them and blocked them in.

"Terrific," Merlin breathed, trying to catch his breath. He took a hasty step back away from the multiple blades coming up to point at their throats. "I don't much like this plan. You think we could try another one?"

Arthur spared him a fleeting, skeptical glance before King Odin answered for him.

"No! I want to do this myself," he ordered, drawing his sword as he walked to the center of the ravine at their backs. The group of soldiers retreated.

"Please don't," Merlin muttered resignedly.

"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur sighed, spinning on the spot to block the other King's slashing sword with his own. They were locked in battle for a good few minutes, but it was still apparent who held more natural advantage. As vicious and deadly as every attack King Odin levied upon the younger swordsman was, his reflexes were slower and his style was less streamlined, putting far too much reliance in his greater physical strength and the force of each thrust. He nearly landed a blow to the side of Arthur's throat that would've definitely killed him, but just as Merlin was fighting a full-bodied flinch, Excalibur swung gracefully upward to sling the other sword aside. Odin dropped down to slit open Arthur's stomach but Arthur swiped down with more speed and aggression than he'd previously displayed and disarmed him. In the next blink of an eye King Odin was on his knees with Arthur's blade pressed to his throat.

"No! Arthur, stop," Merlin warned in that authoritative voice Arthur rarely heard him use. "Consider what it is that you are about to do."

Arthur stared down into his enemy's eyes still breathing fast from the exertion of fighting, still looking like a predator preparing for the kill. Then he blinked.

"Are you certain this is right?" Merlin reminded him more calmly.

Another tense beat of stillness. The silence was only broken by the sound of the warriors breathing, then Arthur relaxed his grip and retreated a step.

"What are you doing?" Odin ground out, looking more trapped than he had just a moment before.

"He's right."

"Finish it. Finish it and be done," King Odin demanded.

"And then what? It will not end here," Arthur reasoned. "Your men will come to Camelot in pursuit of revenge. Maybe they'll kill me, my people will rise against them in turn and there will be more bloodshed. A war without end. Is that what you want?"

"That is how it must be," King Odin dismissed.

"I will spare your life. In return you will restore Rodor to the throne of Nemeth."

"That solves nothing Pendragon! What about us?"

"A truce, binding our Kingdoms to peace."

The old King let out a bitter scoff.

"Never!"

"Is this what you want!?" Arthur snapped, leaning down almost nose-to-nose with the petulant leader. "To die, knowing that you condemn all our people to suffer?!"

"You killed my son," King Odin spat.

"You killed my father!" Arthur said straightening up reproachfully. "We have both lost much at each other's hand. We stand to lose so much more. I am asking you to end it!" He threw his own sword aside so that it landed out of reach stabbed into the dirt, then held out his hand. "Take it."

King Odin glared up at him for a moment, then at his hand. "So be it." He growled and begrudgingly allowed the other King to lift him to his feet.

Merlin let out a sigh of relief and smiled, only for it to falter as his gaze wandered to Excalibur sticking up out of the thick mud on his right. I'm going to be up all night polishing that, now… Don't dwell on it, Merlin. Just enjoy the moment.

On the road back to Camelot with the castle towers just peeking into view, Arthur unexpectedly slowed to a stop.

"Something wrong, Sire?" Percival inquired drawing Mithian's notice.

"I'm not sure…" Arthur's words were nearly stolen away by a sudden burst of frosty wind whistling round the party. The horses fidgeted uncomfortably as the others halted as well.

"Arthur!" Merlin pointed into the woods on their left at a coal-black, lupine form bolting into the trees. Arthur watched it pad away, looking undaunted by their presence and slipped out of his saddle. "Wait. What are you doing?"

"Sir Elyan," Arthur called, waiting to see his brother-in-law's answering nod before continuing. "The rest of you stay on your guard. We're going to check on our newfound shadow."

"It belongs to Lady Morgana," Mithian warned anxiously.

"I know," Arthur replied, beckoning Elyan into the trees. They spotted the animal almost instantly just a few paces out of reach. It looked them over and let out an impatient sniff before trotting away again.

"It's leading us away," Elyan noted distrustfully.

"She isn't trying to hide it either," Arthur pointed out, wondering what in the world his scheming sister could be up to now.

"A trap?" Elyan offered quietly as they continued after the animal regardless.

"I doubt it." Arthur said as they followed the wolf into a clearing with an old dilapidated hovel taking up the far end.

"You would, wouldn't you?" A familiar voice remarked from a few paces behind them. Both men raised their swords and spun round to see Morgana leaning back against the old oak tree they'd just walked past.

"Morgana I am warning you-" Arthur began, only to be stopped by the sorceress' dismissive wave.

"I'm sure you're both just dying for a chance to fight me, but you needn't bother." She reached out her hand and waved it back and forth through Excalibur's blade. The limb crackled blue and faded into whirls of black smoke, only to re-solidify, away from the interrupting object. "You need to talk." She locked gazes with the wary King.

Arthur eyed her carefully for a beat, then relaxed and sheathed his sword. "What do you want? I need to get this amulet back to Gaius before whatever curse you put on Mordred turns deadly."

"Please. You know that I had no desire to kill him," Morgana disagreed. "He has betrayed me, true-"

"But he is your son," Arthur cut in acidly. "Tell me what you've done to him!"

Both Elyan and Morgana were staring at him in shock for completely different reasons.

"You knew! You knew all along and you stole him from me!" Morgana screeched in his face, looking half-mad with rage.

"No," Arthur countered just shy of a shout.

"S-sire?" Elyan questioned, somewhat disoriented.

"You will speak of it to no one," Arthur commanded lowly, still staring down the furious sorceress with equal venom.

"You're just like your father!" Morgana screamed, stepping towards him threateningly, despite only being an intangible phantom. "You tyrant! You thief! You took my son!"

"He isn't safe with you!" Arthur finally shouted over her. "Now tell me what curse you have placed on him and how to undo it or I am done with you."

"Give him back to me," Morgana demanded, looking far from lucid. "He will only suffer under your rule!"

"We're done here," Arthur informed his knight before storming past the insane illusion and out of the clearing.

"The Eye of Wyrd." Morgana's voice stopped him short, just within the trees. "It is a wretched, twisted thing. That is a fragment of it you now carry under your armor. To my child it is poison! You must not let him touch it."

Arthur turned to look back inquisitively at the Priestess and watched her phantom dissipate in a dark whirl of fog.

The next morning Arthur, Merlin and Gaius were gathered around the strange artifact on Gaius' work table. The King turned the recovered Eye fragment over and over in his hand, trying not to show just how nervous he felt.

"You're sure that this will restore the artifact?" Arthur verified. Somehow his nephew's affliction did not seem like something that would be so easy to rectify. He glanced across the counter at Merlin to see the apprentice physician was lost in his own thoughts. Befuddled, as usual, the King noted internally.

"Once the Eye is complete it should return to its original function," Gaius answered calmly, although something in his demeanor didn't seem quite as relaxed. Maybe he was just concerned about Mordred's condition.

"You think the Eye will nullify whatever spell Morgana cast over him," Merlin surmised, his eyes flickering over his mentor's face with a hint of unrest.

"That was one of their original functions. I see no reason why this particular spell would pose any further difficulty."

"Right," Arthur accepted, unwrapping the broken face from its cloth covering. It was a little difficult for him to get a good grip on the thin metal with the leather gloves he was wearing. They were, however, a necessary precaution, considering that unknown magic was involved.

"Wait!" Gwen cut in abruptly, standing from her seat at Mordred's bedside. "This isn't right."

Arthur looked back at her with the piece held just inches short of its rightful place.

"Uther stopped using these for a reason. They're dangerous."

"The Eyes of Wyrd only serve to nullify magic, your Majesty. I have seen it for myself. They pose no threat to any normal person so long as they are treated with care," Gaius assured her.

Merlin's gaze sharpened in response to the clarification, boring into the old healer with new intensity.

"But it hasn't been treated with care! I have already seen this thing do Mordred harm, in spite of his innocence," Gwen argued, pulling her husband's hand back. "I told you, he was on the mend!"

"Gaius…" Arthur trailed off uncomfortably.

"Morgana never told us anything about what she did to damage this," Merlin considered aloud. "She didn't seem to think that fixing it would help."

"She's a witch, Merlin. Of course she didn't," Arthur pointed out. On the bed behind him, Mordred's shivering became hard to ignore. Merlin crossed over to check his temperature. Flickers of raw magic were escaping through the Druid's skin, and dissipating undirected into the open air. Merlin bit his lip, once again at war with himself about how to handle his would be enemy. I can't use my magic to help without risking discovery… or worse.

"We don't have much time," he announced out loud.

"Gaius?" Arthur questioned, resting the detached segment on the table, although he was not yet swayed enough to let it go. If Gaius was right, and the King didn't mend the artifact, he would be sealing Mordred's fate.

"She's still his mother," Gwen stated decisively. She grabbed Arthur's gloved hand in her left hand, and the mortar and pestle with her right and smashed the crystal before anyone could stop her. There was a brilliant flash of multicolored light that swept over them like an ocean wave.

Merlin's eyes flashed gold, but it didn't matter much because time in the room had slowed to a near stop. The wave of countless magic users' compressed life force hit him like a ripple of intense pressure through the core of his being, and he fell forward onto Mordred's chest. He gasped and looked up to find the teen's body wreathed in layers of sheer indigo and amber. His aura, Merlin realized, noting the tightly wrapped layers of various fiery colors around his own forearm. Arthur and Gwen had them too, but more monochrome with less distinct layers. Mordred's looked more troublingly different though. The swathes of ultraviolet were sheer and thin. They looked so delicate, a distinction which could have been beautiful if not for the way the circles of brightness over his brow, heart and pulse points were slightly dimmer than anyone else's, or the ever-shifting, dissonant webs stretching up from the back of the boy's wrist and tapering off towards his shoulder. They almost looked like cracks or tears. This was a fleeting glimpse of the world as Mordred saw it, forced artificially to the fore by a cascade of suppressed magic. The seemingly timeless moment ended in the blink of an eye, and the world returned to its usual predictable solidity. There was a moment of silence while everyone recovered from the shock.

Arthur was still staring at his hand, causing Merlin to wonder fleetingly if he could possibly have seen it too, but no he'd watched the King freeze along with the rest of the chamber. Gaius was pinching the bridge of his nose to preempt a light-induced headache. Merlin and the Queen exchanged a weighted glance.

Mordred was lying so utterly still that Merlin might have thought him dead if he hadn't felt the Druid's heart beating under his palm. Mordred snapped awake with a gasp.

"Morgana!" he rasped out, sending himself into a coughing fit.

"Wait, relax," Merlin urged, catching the youth by his shoulders. "Don't try to get up. You're safe. You're in the Physician's Chambers."

Mordred's intent blue eyes assessed the other man's face before lighting with recognition; his tensed muscles relaxed.

"Yes, just me!" Merlin said with the faintest hint of irony belying his lopsided smile. Mordred shot the older man a look but didn't appear to have the energy to engage him further. Merlin felt the side of his patient's neck to confirm that he was recovering while Arthur moved to stand on Mordred's other side.

"It's good to have you back," Arthur greeted.

Mordred smiled slightly and nodded his agreement.

"Merlin?" Arthur questioned, seeing the servant's frown.

"His fever's gone."

"That's a good thing."

"Yes, and his heart-rate is back to normal…" Merlin said, checking Mordred's eyes. "It's as though he was never even ill." He noticed the curiosity in Arthur and Gwen's faces as they watched him, and disassembled, "It's just… Gwen was right, whatever Morgana did to that artifact, I think it was sustaining the curse." He caught his mentor's eye, adding, "It's lucky that she was here to intervene."

Gaius averted his gaze to the counter top, confirming Merlin's suspicions.

Later, after Mordred had been released to his own quarters and the King and Queen were off attending to courtly affairs, Merlin finally confronted his mentor.

"You lied. You knew that the Eye of Wyrd was draining him."

Gaius set their dinner down on the table and turned away to grab utensils, still not fully acknowledging the attempt at conversation.

"Would it have killed him?" Merlin pressed.

"Possibly. It may just as easily have absorbed his magic-"

"Why would you do that? I thought that we were trying to cure Mordred! What happened to giving him a chance?" Merlin asked, not sure what he was angry about. Whether it was the thought of Gaius setting his own patient up to be killed, or the fact that he was the one who'd convinced Merlin not to oppose said patient, it felt too personal.

"You didn't tell me what he was! Clairvoyants are dangerous, Merlin. There is no telling what Mordred will be capable of once he grows into his true potential. Once that happens, we might find that we have no chance of stopping him," Gaius slumped into his seat at the table. He added in a small, brittle voice, "You are not a killer." Merlin was gaping at him, but he snapped out of it quickly, taking his seat with an expression of stubborn certainty.

"Neither are you." It was stated with utter finality, signaling the end of the discussion for good.

Gaius hoped without much real belief that the matter could be laid to rest.

Elyan walked through the Knights' quarter only half aware, running over the past few days in his head. Mordred was a member of the Pendragon line. He was the lost heir to the throne for whom Arthur had sent them searching years ago. More importantly, he was Elyan's friend and for Mordred's safety, the King had bid him to lie. To his friend. About the boy's true identity. He wasn't so sure that he could keep doing something like that. He walked past the open door to Mordred's room. It had been left in a bit of a mess. Wait.

Elyan took a few steps back and looked at the uncharacteristically messy room, the door standing ajar, the small wooden chest lying abused and discarded atop the torn bedding. Everything that he was seeing was wrong. His hand went to his sword without a second thought.

"Guards!" he called, searching the room for signs of an unwelcome visitor. He found a dead guard lying face down on the floor on the other side of the bed. His uniform had been stripped off and stolen. Elyan turned the cold body over as the guards rushed into the room. The man's throat had been slit. "Alert the King. There is a murderer in our midst."

A/N: Okay, so there's the end f that episode. I hope you liked it. Thanks for reading, either way, and special thanks to Agana of the Night, Linorien, and catherine10 for their reviews.