A/N: I'd just like to apologize/warn you guys: I wrote this while very interested in experimenting with different styles. In this episode I was playing with the idea of telling a story by showing two different time frames in parallel. I'd already written a huge portion of this Ep before my Beta informed me that that is friggin' confusing. Sorry! (expletive deleted) The future-ish time frame is clearly marked as it was in the last chapter... if that helps?
Chapter 2: Dark
"I'm not sure how I'm supposed to fight a being of such power," Merlin admitted, watching Mordred pour himself a drink of water from the pitcher resting by his bedroom window.
"I would advise you not to," the Druid answered pragmatically. "It would be wisest for you simply to avoid a confrontation if at all possible, even a sorcerer as powerful as you, has his limits."
"This Fae has broken into the citadel, attacked a knight-"
"A novice," Mordred idly corrected him, gesturing with the hand holding his cup.
"He's likely the one who killed that guard after we broke Morgana's curse."
"This one's actually a she- Walker's body notwithstanding," Mordred amended, taking a sip of water before adding. "And she only attacked me in order to learn all that I knew about you."
"Stop interrupting me, Mordred," Merlin admonished, irritated.
"Sorry. I am fairly certain that I am beginning to feel the after effects of her intrusion, which is going to be very dangerous... It isn't nearly as unpleasant as I feared."
"What are you afraid of?" Merlin asked. Now that he took a closer look at the younger man, he could see the Clairvoyant no longer appeared quite so lucid. His eyes were fever bright and an odd giddiness was peeking out behind his usually mild expression.
"Oh, quite a lot actually, but mostly myself," Mordred replied enthusiastically. "I was horrified when she came for me. I tried to call you, even though you still want me dead- I act like I don't know, but I do. I thought that we might get along better if you thought I didn't- Still, she could've killed me. I mean, I always figured that I would die young. I have accepted my fate," Mordred blew out a sarcastic scoff. His strange, carefree air was not affected in the slightest by the darkness of his admission. "Not that fate!"
Merlin stared at him with his mouth hanging open slightly and his brows pinched together. His expression was a perfect blend of shock and incredulity. "Sir Mordred?"
"I shouldn't have said all of that aloud. I'm losing my inhibitions. I could do anything, no matter what it'll do to me and I'm not even as bothered by it as I should be," Mordred rambled on.
"That sounds bad." Merlin stood up and walked over to face the chuckling teen. "Will it last? Put that down!" Merlin pulled the intoxicated novice's hand away from the lit candle he'd begun to toy with.
"You should stop me."
Merlin considered him seriously for a second, weighing his options. Mordred's hand gradually slipped into the candle flame again, hovering mere inches from the sword beside it. "Stop that." Merlin yanked the rebellious limb back out of harm's way.
"What is Arthur doing in the library at this hour?" Mordred pondered randomly as Merlin pressed his palm to the delirious druid's temple.
"Onslæp nu!" he muttered and caught Mordred's limp body before he could hit the floor. "Wait. What did he just say?"
Bran picked his head up off his front paws to regard the warlock.
"Arthur is in the library?" Merlin let out an amused breath, depositing his sleeping burden in the bed before he left.
It was too early in the morning when Arthur first crept down to meet with Lord Geoffrey in the candlelit library for the second time that week, but that was the very reason they were meeting now. It was just before dawn, early enough that even a manservant like George would not have thought to wake his King for a good hour or so. The old record keeper had been putting off this second meeting with excuse after ever flimsier excuse and Arthur was done indulging him. It was obvious that the old man knew the truth about Morgana's hidden pregnancy and he was likely complicit in Uther's deception.
"Lord Geoffrey, thank you for agreeing to meet with me at such an unusual hour," Arthur greeted, walking up to the other man's text-and-parchment-strewn desk.
"As you bid me, Sire. I have searched for the records you requested. However, I must reiterate: such a request is utterly unprecedented…" Geoffrey trailed off, noticing Arthur's stony expression.
"I know you have the proof that I require. I feared that my father may have ordered it destroyed." Arthur paused for a moment to fight back a wave of conflicting emotions regarding his father's betrayal and the other man took it as an opportunity to council him.
"You must understand - whatever you may think of your father, he only did what he thought he must for the sake of Camelot's future."
"So he told me," Arthur said quietly, more a reminder to himself than anything else. The last conversation he had shared with his father's specter a couple of months back had put a few things in perspective for him.
"Pardon?"
"You have the documents with you?" Arthur prompted rather than clarifying.
"Please, King Arthur. I must advise that you reconsider…"
"Geoffrey. I have known you since before I could remember. I know you to be a good, and honest man," Arthur stated earnestly, his voice gradually rising out of frustration as he continued, "Which is why I am having so much trouble understanding why you would so stubbornly persist in this injustice. I know what my father did to my nephew and his mother. It was a cruel and callous act. All that I ask is that you help me to make it right. Why do you continue to resist?!"
The sound of the door shutting unexpectedly jolted them out of their confrontation.
"Who's there?" Arthur demanded, only to relax his shoulders in relief at the sight of Merlin wandering into view looking apologetic.
"Sorry. I-er- I couldn't sleep," he shrugged, giving them a lopsided smile as he trudged past Arthur towards the far shelf. Arthur sighed long-sufferingly and caught his arm.
"Sit down, Merlin. You might as well hear this now anyway."
"Sire. Do you think that's wise?"
"I do," Arthur replied in a tone that brooked no argument. "So tell me then, Lord Geoffrey, why do you find it of such dire importance that we deprive Sir Mordred of his birthright? And don't bother telling me that he's a Druid; I'll not condemn him for that and neither will you."
"Because, Sire, Mordred's coming was foretold shortly before his birth. His own people spoke of a Druid Prince who would rise up to bring vengeance upon those who had wronged his kin. In the words of the Seer herself 'this leader born of two warring peoples would wield a great power and influence, such that he might bring the kingdom to its knees'."
There was a beat of heavy silence while Merlin watched Arthur consider the old Council member's warning words. In contrast with the outright dread that the prophecy brought to Emrys' heart, the Once and Future King's reaction was difficult to gauge until he opened his mouth to reply, with a pinched expression usually reserved for hassling Merlin. In retrospect, it shouldn't have been a surprise.
"Of course he has that power; he is heir to the throne." Arthur shrugged the warning off with more than a hint of irritation. "Since when do you listen to the ramblings of a Seer?"
The record-keeper blinked incredulously and flashed Merlin a pleading look. The manservant, however, was tilting his head to one side as he reflected on his friend's unexpectedly insightful observation.
"You know, he has a point…" he thought aloud, feeling more than a little unsettled by the implications of this new perspective on Mordred's destiny.
"Of course I do, Merlin. That so-called foretelling is obviously nonsense," Arthur dismissed. "I can't imagine that my father would truly fall for it. 'Bring the kingdom to its knees…' Honestly! You have met Mordred?" Arthur shook his head at the absurdity of the idea.
"But his vengeance is said to-"
"Geoffrey," Arthur cut in firmly, clarifying in clipped tones reminiscent of a disappointed parent, "I am his kin." He stretched out his hand and Geoffrey tentatively surrendered two finely made scrolls that he'd kept tucked away in a locked compartment in his desk. "Thank you." Arthur perused the first scroll that verified his nephew's identity and lineage. He proceeded to skim over the next, only to glare at the last paragraph as if the it had wronged him personally somehow. "For what crime was his father put to death?"
"Sorcery, Sire. On the grounds that he had bewitched the Lady Morgana."
Merlin squeezed his eyes shut, mourning the loss of yet another of his people. If the man even had been. The incident did sound eerily similar to the charges that Uther had tried to pin on Gwen when he learned of Arthur's feelings for her.
"What did Gaius have to say about it?" the blond royal questioned. It appeared his thoughts were running along the same lines as Merlin's.
"He was not consulted on the matter, Sire."
Arthur grimaced and pushed the documents into Merlin's arms. "I see. Thank you, Lord Geoffrey. You've done the right thing in sharing this with me." Arthur's smile was strained, and Merlin clearly heard him mutter "Finally," under his breath on his way out.
Shortly after breakfast, Queen Guinevere held a small court for older and more elite residents of Camelot who seemed to be growing restless of late. Sir Mordred, Sir Percival and Sir Gwaine had gotten the short end of the stick this time and were called to accompany her. Mordred was becoming suspicious that someone was fixing the draw as this was the fifth time in a row that he'd been assigned to this task, not that he minded. It was the unlikelihood of it that bothered him more than anything… until now.
"Lord save us from the rich and entitled," Sir Gwaine lamented just loudly enough that Mordred who was standing immediately to his left, closest to the throne, could hear him. Sir Percival who was standing on Gwaine's right and slightly behind him, gave his roguish friend a warning nudge. Mordred glanced back at them, allowing himself a fleeting hint of a smile when his eyes met Sir Gwaine's. The rebellious noble grinned at the victory. When Mordred returned his attention to the proceedings he noticed they had missed the latest introduction. The man looked well-off but not noble. Ah, Mordred flickered his focus through the man's consciousness to find he was a brothel owner and son of a dishonored foreign Duke. Not uninteresting, yet not incredibly relevant until-
"I come to you with but a minor concern for your gentle ears, your Majesty," Elton, Son of Ellis began with a pompous sort of modesty. "It is a concern nonetheless. I have heard troubling rumors. There is talk of a witch's spawn prowling the streets of our town. I have heard worrying stories from my girls, one of whom swears the creature sought to bewitch her…"
Mordred only noticed that his shoulders had started to tense when the man's beetle-black eyes swept briefly over him. Their gazes locked for only a fraction of a second but Mordred was all too familiar with the judgment he saw in Elton's sharp eyes. He breathed out the tension and pushed his discomfort away, unwilling to allow this man the slightest impression on his countenance.
"The use of sorcery upon a citizen of Camelot is a very serious accusation to make. Do you have any evidence of such a crime being committed?" Queen Guinevere asked. She didn't sound cold, nor did she show any obvious disapproval. That being said, Mordred couldn't remember hearing the kindhearted woman's tone so absent of sympathy.
"Alas, I do not. I come to you merely out of concern for the safety of my fellow citizens," the 'rich and entitled' simpered, his eyes flickering over Mordred as he spoke the last word.
"Your concern has been noted, Son of Ellis. I do hope that your 'girl' recovers herself in time," Gwen replied politely, not gently.
"I understand, my Queen. I will be sure to speak to her of your encouragement," the man replied slyly, giving a short bow before strutting gracefully out. Gwen looked up at Sir Mordred, more uncomfortable than the druid himself felt.
"How many more wish an audience today?" she asked Lord Geoffrey who was standing on the other side of her throne.
"Lord Marian and Lord Sameth await your attention, your Majesty. Do you wish me to delay them?"
"Only a brief recess, Lord Geoffrey."
The aged scribe nodded patiently and stepped forward to speak with one of his peers standing beside the nearest column. Gwen got up and crossed over to speak with one of the servants lingering along the edge of the room. They seemed to know each other. Going by the woman's age, Mordred would not be surprised to learn that they had once worked together. He felt Gwaine prod his shoulder and turned expectantly as the smiling servant poured the Queen a drink.
"You still with us, Mordred?" Gwaine said teasingly.
"Yes, unfortunately. These audiences usually aren't quite this boring," Mordred replied easily overlooking Percival's lingering focus on him. They were getting along almost the same way they used to before the tattoo incident, although Mordred still hadn't gotten around to apologizing.
"Boring is a good thing. The people of Camelot have nothing to complain about," Sir Gwaine stated, smiling at a disapproving courtier who was clearly listening in for the sake of making a judgment. "Hello there. Having a good day, are ya?"
Mordred watched with open amusement as the other knight walked over and struck up an impromptu conversation with the would-be eavesdropper.
"He was talking about you, wasn't he?" Percival queried softly, drawing Mordred's attention away from Sir Gwaine's flustered prey. "Because you're a Druid."
"I cannot help but wonder how word of my origin managed to reach them, but yes. It seems that some of the villagers know about me," Mordred confirmed, matching his lowered tone.
"I didn't tell a soul, Mordred. You told me you didn't want the others to know."
"And they still do not. Percy, I know that you haven't betrayed my trust," Mordred reassured him as he surveyed the courtiers milling about before them. He turned back to his brother-in-arms. "I never thanked you for that. You've treated me kindly, and been a true friend despite the way I've acted towards you."
"No need, Mordred. We are friends. Besides, I never paid enough thought to the way some around here talk about your people, not to mention their treatment," Percival responded earnestly. A slight frown tugged down the edges of the blond's mouth. "Now that I do, it worries me."
Mordred's expression softened at the show of care. He was very gradually growing accustomed to the occurrence even if he was not yet certain how to cope. "I can weather the whispers of strangers. Life was far harder when I was a child; I could've been killed simply for being here. Now I am a knight who must ignore a few rumors and drunken threats. It's worth the bother when one draws a comparison."
Percival's brows drew together slightly at the mention of threats.
"I'm fine, really. The others haven't accepted the rumors as far as I can tell. As long as you all will accept me, I am satisfied." Mordred reassured him. It was almost entirely true. The rumors did worry him, mostly because he couldn't tell how anyone knew he was a Druid. He had been very careful to keep that information secret to all but a select few, all of whom he could count on one hand.
"You shouldn't have to hide for that to be so," Sir Percival protested.
"Since when has life ever been as it should be?" Mordred pondered, as Sir Gwaine returned to them.
"What's all this about?" Gwaine inquired curiously, noticing Percival's glum expression.
"Nothing that wouldn't bore you. You looked to be enjoying yourself," Mordred redirected, prompting Gwaine into an amusing tangent that chased any further questions from his mind.
Later after the two old, long-winded advisers had spoken their piece and gone, Gwen tiredly dismissed the court.
"That's that done with. Who fancies a drink?" predictably this proposal came from Sir Gwaine.
"I still have duties to attend to," Mordred declined. ("I don't," he confides.)
"As do we," Sir Percival stated pointedly to Gwaine.
"Just popping in to quench our thirst won't hurt anyone," Gwaine disagreed.
"Perhaps another time," Mordred consoled him.
"You always say that."
("I do always say that," Mordred agrees. "I absolutely abhor the thought of being exposed through something so foolish as intoxication. Self-control is vital and it is obvious that Sir Gwaine would endeavor to get me drunk.")
"We'll see you later, Mordred. We have to head into the lower town soon anyway. Wouldn't want to be late," Percival said, patting the teen's shoulder before he made his way out into the hall. Gwaine ambled out behind him with a wave. Mordred looked about at the handful of people still filing out the main exit, then moved to join them.
"Sir Mordred," Gwen called, and he doubled back to join the Queen by the great ceiling-high, stained glass window.
"Yes, Queen Guinevere?"
"I have been meaning to speak with you privately. If you have a moment?" Gwen looked over at him questioningly.
"Yes, Ma'am," he confirmed, folding his hands together behind his back.
"This isn't a formal request, Sir Mordred. You understand."
Mordred nodded, becoming intrigued.
"I'm curious to know where you were when Elyan came upon the murdered guard in your bedchamber? It was my understanding that Gaius had bidden you return there in order to rest for the night."
"Your Majesty, has my allegiance to you come into question?" Mordred asked, calculating different ways they could take this conversation.
Gwen turned to face him fully, her expression chagrined. "Mordred, if that were the case, do you think that I would be the one asking you this?"
Mordred studied her for a moment, then shifted into a more relaxed stance. "No, I suppose not."
"You're always so proper," Gwen assessed fondly. "I won't tell Gaius, either, if that is a worry of yours. I was merely curious."
"The woods," Mordred supplied truthfully.
"You went into the woods? In your condition?"
"It wasn't far. I grew up in the woods; there was little risk to it," Mordred downplayed, adding in response to the Queen's challenging stare. "I was meeting with someone. I did not want to miss her."
"Oh, Mordred," Gwen cooed, thinking the idea sweet now that the possibility of young love presented itself.
"I will not be likely to see her again for some time after today," Mordred added just for the sake of it. "She is only here for a short while. I would rather not have anyone else know of it."
Gwen sobered. "I understand," she said sympathetically. "Of course. I am glad that you see fit to confide in me. I assure you your secret is safe."
Mordred favored her with a grateful smile, "It is good to have someone in whom I can confide," he replied. "If there is nothing more that you need from me, your Majesty."
"Oh, no. Go on. I wouldn't want to keep you too long." Gwen stopped him again once he reached the doorway, "Sir Mordred?"
He noticed a hint of sadness in her eyes. She was facing the windows again, but he got the impression that she was looking back at a memory rather than luminous colored glass.
"Be careful."
"Always," he accepted, making his way out of the court.
A golden-haired woman, in a green linen cloak waited idly under an old oak tree in Camelot's forest. A soft rustling sounded in the bushes across the small clearing and she looked up from the length of cord she had been weaving into a knotted pattern while she waited to see a silver wolf padding towards her. She smirked and tucked away the cord in her bodice, using the tree trunk to push herself upright. She schooled her expression just in time before Mordred followed his wolf into view.
"I was beginning to wonder whether you had forgotten about our meeting," she teased, stalking towards him.
"As if I could forget you," Mordred replied. His modulated tone was laced with affection as he hopped down off of a root formation to land in front of her. She stole a quick kiss before he had time to react. The sneaky peck on the lips drew the flicker of a grin from him. The girl smiled victoriously, even while the young knight took a conscientious step back.
"Still adorable," she informed him. Mordred didn't acknowledge the accusation, willfully reinstating his stoic front. His accuser giggled, only finding him cuter for it.
"Have you found it, Kara?" Mordred inquired, trying to stick to the business at hand. He didn't want to endanger his childhood friend, and sticking around him longer than she had to was likely to do just that if Mordred's experience had taught him anything.
"I asked around, even did a little searching for myself," Kara smirked again at Mordred's wide eyes in response. "No need to give me that look, no one saw anything. I am sorry, Mordred, but it hasn't come back on the market. As unlikely as it sounds, whoever took the statuette, they aren't trying to sell it. It must have been another sorcerer."
"That is profoundly unlikely," Mordred said flatly, looking away towards a swell in the ground and a warped willow that together created some very convenient cover.
Kara cupped his jaw, gently turning his face back to hers.
"I can take another day. Those new friends I am meeting with won't be expecting me for a while."
"I don't want to hold you back," Mordred declined, trying not to be distracted by how close her face was getting to his own.
"I wouldn't mind it if you did," she popped up on her tiptoes and kissed him again, properly this time. Mordred grabbed her shoulders intending to push her away, although her answering grip on his cloak made the attempt a bit problematic. Really, who could fault him for the lapse?
Once they parted Kara leaned close to whisper in his ear, much as a lover might whisper sweet nothings. "You were followed. We are being observed by a man behind that tree."
Mordred looped his hands loosely around her waist, playing along and closed his eyes for a moment, using his Clairvoyance to verify what he already knew. "It is nothing to worry about. I will handle him myself once you've gone," he informed his alert protector, adding out loud. "I am going to miss you."
Kara pulled back to look him in the eye. "You should come with me."
"Kara," Mordred chastened, not wanting to restart this old argument. At least before, he could admit her side had some merit to it - but now?
"We can be free," she insisted.
"Camelot is not as it once was. Druids are welcomed by Arthur's court."
"Both of us," Kara stressed her point with a light tap of her fingertip to his temple.
"I am free."
Kara scoffed and pulled away, trudging over to scoop up her bag from beneath the oak tree.
"I know that it is hard for you to accept," Mordred continued. "I do like it here. I am a knight now. The people here are kind to me. I have friends here."
"Those friends do not know you. Not the real you. If they did you would not be so quick to deny our offer."
"I have chosen my place," Mordred pronounced, watching her pace back towards him with open displeasure. "It is here. I do not expect you to like that, or even to approve, although I had hoped that you could accept it."
"You were right before. I shouldn't stay here any longer. I never enjoyed watching you do yourself harm," Kara stated coolly. "And I'll be damned if I remain in this place long enough to see you get yourself killed!"
"Do not leave me like this."
"Good bye, Sir Mordred," Kara replied, her anger fading from the forefront. "Do at least attempt to take proper care of yourself."
"For you, Kara, I will try," Mordred promised. The other Druid scrutinized him in search of some sign; he wasn't sure what. Then she nodded once, seeming to have found it.
"Good." With that Kara turned away and slipped into the trees, headed towards the path out of Camelot. Mordred watched her go, then turned back the way he'd come, readjusting his cloak as he walked. He whistled once sharply, prompting his familiar to come trotting up beside him expectantly.
The Druid's eyes flashed once and he smirked, directing, "Faigh sin."
Bran bounded away to pounce on the figure out of sight on the other side of the willow trunk.
"Ah! Bran, wait! Get off," Merlin protested. Mordred strolled over and watched the other mage failing to wrestle the happy wolf off his lap with unmasked enjoyment.
"Mordred, will you call him off?"
Mordred sighed and clicked his fingers twice. "Bran."
The animal relented, wandering over to sniff at a nearby shrubbery.
"Why are you following me, Emrys?"
"I wasn't. I was gathering herbs."
"Really."
"Yes. Really." Merlin held up his bag which did, in fact, contain many loose bunches of medicinal herbs. "I heard your voice and was curious to know why you would be out here."
"So you were spying on me," Mordred determined, not sounding bothered at all.
"I wouldn't… I guess I ended up spying. Accidentally," Merlin admitted awkwardly.
"I trust you, Emrys," Mordred replied as the older man fell into step with him on their way back to the castle. His striking blue eyes took on a mischievous glint. "Enjoy the show did you?"
"I wasn't- Honestly, Mordred!" Merlin noticed the teen's expression and shook his head, letting out a huff of a laugh. They fell into a companionable silence. Finally Merlin had to break it in spite of himself. "That girl, she wanted you to leave with her."
"Yes."
"You love her?"
"Kara and I are... complicated."
Merlin just looked at him.
"Yes, Emrys, I love her, but not in the way she loves me," Mordred confided. "I cannot give her that."
Merlin cast his gaze about for a bit. Surrendering to his own curiosity, he asked, "Why not?"
"She wants a lover, then a husband. That isn't my life."
Merlin paused, opened his mouth as if to dispute those words, paused again, then shut it.
"Hoping to be rid of me?" Mordred half-joked.
"Not really. Just thought you could be happy," Merlin told him honestly, foregoing the fact that yes, Mordred leaving would simplify his life quite a bit.
"It isn't my life," Mordred reiterated, hopping over a downed branch. "And as I told Kara, I do like it here. I am honored to hear you wish me well."
Merlin frowned slightly. "I don't hate you, Mordred, and I don't want you dead," he said, remembering the delirious Clairvoyant's rambling admission the night before. Mordred's open disbelief only caused his frown to deepen. "I never wanted you dead. Up to now I have only tried my best to do what I have to in order to protect Arthur."
"I am no threat to our King now, Emrys. I only want to help you to protect Camelot," Mordred assured him.
"I might be beginning to believe you," Merlin responded seriously. Mordred grinned at him.
"Do you still have more tasks to complete?"
"Not until Arthur finishes with the Council. Why?"
"I think I would like to show you something." Mordred decided as he said it. He needed to bridge this uncertain void they still had between them. A show of confidence would go a long way in achieving that goal. Merlin looked doubtful, but cooperated anyway. Stopping by the empty Physicians' chambers to drop off the herbs and allowing Mordred to lead him in the direction of the palace gardens.
Instead of heading towards the outer door, Mordred pushed his way through an old creaky doorway that opened into a water-stained and dilapidated spiraling stair.
"Um… Mordred? Are you sure that we're supposed to be doing this?" Merlin questioned, watching the young man jog up the stone steps.
"No. It is worth it. Trust me."
Merlin narrowed his eyes at Mordred's disappearing back then followed him up and out into the crumbling tower. He had to admit the view from up there was amazing. They could see virtually the entire extent of the palace gardens below. Mordred plopped down on the edge of the gaping hole left of a crumbling window, dangling one leg over the edge. After a beat of uncertain consideration, Merlin sat down on the other side of the gap, leaning his back against the cracked stone wall. He got the feeling that this place was important to Mordred and he was willing to regard it as the olive branch it represented. They sat there for nearly a half an hour, just quietly basking in the view. As they remained together separated by their own ponderings, storm clouds rolled in to hang ominously overhead. The ghostly behemoths blocked the cheery sunlight from earlier, mirroring the troubling haze that haunted Mordred's mind as much as they matched Merlin's mood. The latter sorcerer had found himself coming to like his possible nemesis in spite of every stubborn effort not to. If this leap of faith that he was contemplating backfired, it would only add to the tragic irony that seemed to plague his every decision. Yet, Merlin still found himself wanting to trust him. Finally, Mordred broke the silence.
"When I stabbed Morgana down in the mines, there was a kind of infection in her aura that spread to me. I have seen it before, the madness that it can bring... I never learned much more about it apart from that I should never allow myself to become afflicted." Mordred let out a poor attempt at a chuckle as his gaze slid to the damaged ledge between them. Admitting his condition aloud seemed to make his inevitable fate somehow more real. "I have no idea how long I have left before it consumes me."
Merlin somberly absorbed the revelation, turning his head away from the breathtaking vista to face the condemned man beside him. "Is that what those rips are?"
Mordred's head snapped up to stare at Emrys, wide-eyed.
"I saw them when Gwen smashed the Eye of Wyrd. There were these flickering, sort of shadowy tears in the light around you. I wondered what they were," he admitted carefully, sensing that this was a fragile moment they were sharing. "It didn't look pleasant."
Mordred shut his eyes against the imagined picture of what he might look like by now, and turned to stare out at the gardens without really seeing them.
"Hold on, you said that Morgana has it too. Do you know how long she could've-"
"No," Mordred answered tightly. "I told you, I've always done the best I could to avoid it. I cannot be certain that I hadn't simply blocked it out early on so that I didn't have to let go. It doesn't matter anymore." Mordred lifted his right arm and watched the thin distortions webbing over his wrist. His hand was covered, the haze stretching past the halfway point toward his elbow.
"If we can identify it, perhaps there is a treatment. This might not be as bad as it looks," Merlin offered, trying to be positive. He knew that he really shouldn't let himself care too much for his future enemy's well-being, but it was getting harder to distance himself. They saw each other on a near-daily basis now after all.
"It is kind of you to try and soften the truth, Emrys. Only those gifted with Clairvoyance can even see it, and we are all but extinct," Mordred disagreed. "I doubt that any treatment for this affliction could remain within our grasp."
Merlin was clearly unhappy with this answer, but he didn't try to deny it. The point, however unwelcome, was valid.
"That is why I stayed. I intend to make the most of what time I have left. Perhaps something good might still come of it," Mordred locked eyes with the Guardian. "If you ever have need of a noble sacrifice. You will know whom to ask."
"I wouldn't."
Mordred's smirk did not quite reach his eyes. "You should," he countered, standing up and making his way down the tower stairs, leaving a conflicted Merlin in his wake.
Four Days Later
Mordred sat still as a statue with his back straight against the cold stone wall of his dank prison cell with his hands folded neatly in his lap and his eyes shut. He looked almost serene as he listened to the water dripping down from the ceiling above. The rain had stopped recently, but his patient meditation had not. The sky outside was black and blue, in spite of the fact that it must be dawn by now. The only light in the cell was leaking in from a torch just out of view in the hall where it provided illumination for the prison guards to gamble by.
One of said guards led a richly dressed man, in a black velvet cloak, with his white hair neatly combed back from his face to stand on the other side of the bars.
"Here he is, Milord. Don't know what good it'll do. He hasn't twitched a muscle since I started my watch," the Guard forewarned.
"I shall make do," the Lord's rich, imposing voice dismissed. He studied his prisoner through the bars until the guard had returned to his seat. "Sir Mordred, the Loyal. A fitting title, is it not? Like the punchline to a bad joke."
Mordred opened his eyes to gaze upon his once prospective employer. "Lord Rhidian. Do you do this to everyone who refuses you, or should I consider myself special?"
"You are in here because you do not know how to live as a decent man. You face charges of murder, theft, assault of a nobleman, immoral comportment in a public place," Lord Rhidian narrowed his eyes at the smile that last charge brought to the teen's blood-smeared lips, then continued. "And well you know your own sordid history."
"I seem to remember my past quite differently than you do, Milord. But then I suppose it is my word against yours."
A/N: Thank you for reading. Special thanks to Agana of the Night and catherine10 for their reviews. I hope you guys liked this in spite of the format. As always, I love to hear what you guys think of this.