Chapter 5: Gone
A tall, slender man in modest earth-toned clothing with a bag over his head was all but carried through a conspicuously empty hallway of Camelot's palace. The larger of the two knights manhandled their captive through a heavy, wooden door on their left and hauled him into the darkness beyond.
"Sit down," Sir Gwaine sneered, shoving their burden into a straight-backed wooden chair at one end of a simple wooden table. Percy closed the door behind them, then pulled the sack off of Walker's head. The only light in the chamber came from a small candelabra placed at the center of the table. It cast imposing shadows over the features of the King sitting in the darkness across from him.
"Arfur Pendragon," Walker nearly cooed, seeming inappropriately amused. "A' long las' we meet, again."
"You've been carrying out a killing spree on the people of Camelot, and attempting to incite unrest between local Druids and the native populace. It would seem that you were hired to encourage a very particular form of upheaval," Arthur stated grimly, surveying the mercenary with obvious distaste.
"Yezzuh woz," Walker confirmed, as if he weren't confessing to high treason in any sense. "Boida same Lord wot hoired me da end ya whoile back."
"I want his name."
Walker slouched against the back of his chair with a patronizing chuckle. "No. Ya a'ready 'ave it. You ain't dat slow. No you're lookin' fa proof, or be'er yet a contradiction. I go' da knowledge sure, but you're really lookin' for an easy way out. That ain't sumfin' I'll give ya."
"You are in no position to be evasive," Arthur reminded the convict. Walker's menacing grin was a clearer contradiction than any spoken words. "What gives you such confidence in light of the multiple death sentences held to your name?"
"Same thing dat's got ya in this pretty pickle," Walker almost purred, his grin seeming to sharpen with every word. "Royal blood." The knights standing in wait on either side of his back exchanged a look, and Percy let out a disbelieving scoff. Walker continued undaunted, mimicking Arthur's earlier statement, "Or rather you brung me down here, King Arfur, 'cause you're concerned wif da blood of one very particular royal."
Arthur's jaw clenched and he sat forward to lean against the table between them in silent anger.
"I know. Wha' a scandal!" Walker confirmed smugly, lounging back in his seat as if he owned the place. He ran his eyes appreciatively over Percival. "They don't know, do they?" He chuckled.
Sir Gwaine shoved him forward so that the front legs of his chair returned to Earth with a loud clack.
"Sire?" Sir Percival queried.
"No," King Arthur replied to Walker's question, stone-faced. "You said that you had information. You had better hope that it's indispensable enough to earn you your head."
"Ah, so ya do take after your father," the merc observed.
"Speak, now," the King warned with the hint of a growl slipping into his voice.
"Lord Rhideon is still a step behind ya, but only jus'. He knows 'bout your secret li'l Prince, but he don't know 'is name yet. 'e don't know dat he's a'ready got 'im." Walker explained. "You can rescue…" he flicked a wry glance over the knights flanking his seat. "The young LeFay, but it ain't gonna be simple. See until a week ago, I was workin' with Milord's heir, an' he ain't all too wise about the details but well, he ain't alone."
Arthur glanced up to share a look that spoke volumes with Sir Percival. The knight was still reeling from the epiphany regarding Mordred's true status, but was steadied once again upon the confirmation of their suspicions.
The next morning, Sir Patrick was humming idly to himself as he walked towards the armory when a massive, red and metallic form came seemingly out of nowhere to slam him against the stone wall to his right. He let out a pained groan, reflexively grabbing at the muscular arms holding his throat just a few inches too high up the wall for him to breathe comfortably.
"Sssckh-Ssir Perciv..." Patrick tried, eyes bugging out of his head slightly as he stared up into the glare of his attacker.
"We caught your father's errand boy. We know all about the break-in to Sir Mordred's quarters, how you've been roughing him up when other knights aren't around, and planting evidence for the sake of your father's plots," Percy informed the novice, going from mad to downright furious at the petulant defiance Patrick showed him in response.
It looked as if the youth wanted to spit, but considered the action too far beneath him.
"He is our brother-in-arms!"
"He's a Druid," Sir Patrick snapped, as if that were something inhuman. "Witch's sp-ckk!"
Percival's hands flexed around the younger man's throat, causing him to choke and sputter as Percy dragged him away from the wall. "Sir Patrick, son of Lord Rhideon, you are under arrest for high treason, and conspiracy against the Crown. Don't expect your family to save you from this, either."
It took the younger knight halfway to his cell for the realization to hit him.
"High treason...?" he echoed, trailing into shocked silence.
He didn't get any form of reply until he was being locked away next to Walker's current prison cell.
"Ya didn' really think ya dad'd care 'bout some random druid boy, did ya?" Walker laughed... No. He giggled, a sound that didn't suit him in the slightest. It sounded a little too feminine, almost like music.
Two hours later, Arthur sat tensely in the throne room with his wife seated beside him and Merlin standing silently at his opposite shoulder. The manservant's disapproval was obvious, at least to the King, but this was the only way. None of them approved.
"Lord Rhideon, your Majesty," the page announced the expected arrival, prompting a muscle to twitch in the King's jaw. He nodded in acknowledgement.
The double doors opened to allow in their 'esteemed guest', and Lord Rhidian strode in confidently along with his own manservant and bodyguard. Both underlings looked sideways at Sir Gwaine and Sir Elyan standing on either side of the portal. One, understandably, masked his alarm much better than the other. Merlin eyed them with contained anger, recognizing the two men as the brutes that he'd seen lingering around Mordred's cell: his torturers. Lord Rhideon surveyed the near-empty court with a discerning eye, not yet sharing the agitation of his followers. He shifted his fleeting glance from the two Round Table members where Guards would normally be stationed, to Sir Leon who stood impassively to the side near the Queen's throne. Sir Percival passing by on the other side of the doorway, shut the doors behind them with a clack that reverberated through the large stone chamber. There was no sound for a moment but his purposeful steps in the corridor.
"King Arthur, this is an honor. It is not often that a man is granted such a private audience with both the King and Queen," Lord Rhideon greeted almost casually.
"It is not often that a long held ally to my family behaves as you have of late, Lord Rhideon," King Arthur replied, his voice just as steady, if not as skillfully controlled.
"I understand and apologize for the upset that my men and I have caused by taking custody of one of your knights in training. Our grounds for the arrest were clearly shared, as you surely recall. You have seen the charges brought lawfully against him, Sire, and I am sure that your men have had ample time to verify them by now. Loyalty is a well-respected trait of such honorable men, but the facts remain."
"They do," King Arthur agreed. "I must say, my knights' findings were quite illuminating."
"Yes, then you have no doubt seen the extent of young Mordred's guilt. From what I understand he is indeed a clever young man, exceptional for an urchin," Rhideon replied, certain of his victory. "It is a shame that such a mind as his has gone to such waste. In any case, I only wish to do my part in meting out justice, for the sake of the Crown."
"We have no doubts regarding your intention," Queen Guinevere put in graciously.
Rhideon's eyes narrowed ever so slightly in reaction the Queen's words, belying how kindly her countenance appeared. There was a light tap on the doors.
Lord Rhideon raised one bushy grey eyebrow as if merely intrigued by his ally's antics, as Percy allowed the castle guards to deliver a shackled Sir Patrick, and a more thoroughly-chained Walker in to kneel in front of Sir Leon to the side of the throne.
"My son," Lord Rhideon acknowledged a tad raspily, taking a step towards them as the guards filed out. His lackey's hands moved to their weapons, but were stopped before they could more than grasp them by the ringing sound of the three knights swiftly drawing their own swords. "What is the meaning of this?"
"That is quite enough," Arthur intoned evenly. "I suggest that you remind your men to remain civil. This is not the time to test my patience. As I said, Lord Rhideon our investigation into your claims has been quite illuminating."
Rhideon eyed the younger man bitterly, but nodded to his men and they reluctantly conceded.
"Patrick?" Lord Rhideon asked roughly, his voice caught somewhere between the concern of a parent and an implied threat.
"Your son has taken an oath in service of Camelot. It would seem that he is more a man of his word than his own Lord and father," Arthur informed the internally seething Lord.
"Whatever the boy has told you, my King..."
"Has been verified by your paid acquaintance," Walker cut in, articulately, sounding faintly amused by his now ex-employer's predicament.
"Oi! Quiet until you're addressed," Sir Gwaine cautioned the prisoner half-heartedly. Gwen shot the knight a look.
"We know that you asked your son to plant evidence at the scene of one of Walker's fires, making it appear that Sir Mordred was present at the time of ignition," King Arthur informed Lord Rhideon. "according to Walker's confirmation. As well as the fact, confirmed by both men, and two separate witnesses, that your son has contacted the wanted criminal, Walker, on palace grounds, multiple times, on your behalf."
"Sire, with respect, these allegations... Our families have been allied for generations. These claims are nothing but mere words! Surely you do not believe a plot of treason on my part could be more likely the truth than the manipulations of a Druid urchin?" Rhideon attempted to dismiss.
"Your own son has made some of those claims, and confirmed others," King Arthur corrected, "What reason would he have to insinuate your guilt?"
"This is absurd!"
Arthur looked past the now furious older man. "I want the Prince collected and brought here at once."
Sir Elyan nodded with a faint smirk and popped his head out to relay the order.
"Prince? What Prince? You rule without an heir," Lord Rhideon wondered aloud, knocked off kilter by the shift in dynamics.
"We live in trying times, and with word of a neighboring Lord bidding to lay claim to this kingdom, and threats of war from the North," King Arthur explained. "I judged it necessary to entrust the knowledge of my successor only to those deemed worthy of my unquestionable trust."
"For a loyal ally, and friend who has just been accused of betraying the royal family you sound oddly preoccupied with the state of succession, my Lord," Queen Guinevere noted wryly. Walker snorted.
"Because those accusations are false and slanderous, your Majesty. It merely struck me as odd that I had not heard an announcement on the matter. Truly, all I have done is lawfully arrest a criminal within your ranks under the intention of punishment for the deeds that Mordred has committed against my people as well as yours. I was well within my right as a Lord under your rule to capture the Druid, and whatever lies he and this wretch-" Rhideon gesticulated toward Walker, "have concocted to muddy the waters is not worth our time to entertain! All there is left for us to determine is how that witch's spawn has entranced my boy into believing in such falsehood!"
Rhideon's rant was punctuated by the double doors behind him opening to reveal Sir Percival chaperoning a blood-stained, dirty, and still shackled Mordred into the room. The scheming Lord stared, at a loss, as Sir Percival supported the 'criminal' in question towards the throne with a careful arm around his shoulders.
"You were not worthy," Arthur intoned with a dangerous stillness as he gently drew his nephew closer with a hand on his wrist. "You went well beyond your rights, and pushed far beyond your bounds." His voice became more and more ominous with each word as he took in the cuts and bruises scattered over Mordred's face and arms, the painful hunch in his posture caused by the wound bleeding through the side of his shirt. "You and your cohorts have attempted to foment a rebellion within my kingdom, conspired against the King with a known assassin and have assaulted, kidnapped and framed a member of the royal family."
Mordred blinked up at the King - his Uncle, apparently - with his mouth slightly agape, looking as if he'd just been struck, while behind him, Rhideon objected.
"That boy is... He can't be the heir! But the Witch Morgana-"
"My. Family." King Arthur spat, so livid that Mordred very visibly flinched at the feel of it rolling past him. "Keys!" The King demanded pinning the three doomed men with his glare. The bodyguard tossed the keyring to Merlin as if releasing a white hot coal. Both hired lackeys looked sick with fear. "Get them out of my sight!" Arthur ordered not looking away from the shackles his servant was currently unlocking.
"S... Sire, I don't understand," Mordred's voice cracked around the words, not entirely due to the utter dryness of his throat. "You said..."
"I never wanted you to find out this way," Arthur stated, trying to rub some of the circulation back into his heir's pallid hands.
Mordred pulled away from his touch, holding his arms up against his chest as if to defend himself from the King's words. "No." He whispered.
Arthur let out a resigned breath, and turned to Merlin. "See these wounds are taken care of," he requested.
Merlin nodded solemnly and led the newly revealed Prince away to be treated in the Physician's chambers. "Come on."
Mordred did not venture out of the Physicians' chambers until suppertime, and even then he did so very hesitantly. Merlin had given him permission to recuperate in his room for as long as he needed to, while Merlin worked nearby for the rest of the day. He figured it was probably best for everyone involved if he kept a close watch over Mordred until the Clairvoyant's volatile emotions settled. They hadn't yet, although at least the intangible aura of hopelessness and shock was no longer diffusing the air around them. The pulsing headache it had given Merlin was still a lingering reminder of why not to upset Mordred. Also relevant to why he was so wary of the Clotpole's choice to have a family dinner so soon after Mordred's princehood debacle.
"I have decided it is best that I remove myself from the Night's Watch until further notice," Mordred announced, his throat still sounding muted and somewhat raw. "With your permission?"
The King's eyes locked with those of his nephew the very instant that Mordred glanced up from his dinner plate, making Arthur's blatant staring all the more obvious.
He nodded his assent.
"With that matter settled," Mordred shifted his attention back to his roast. "I intend to depart from Camelot at dawn tomorrow."
That snapped Merlin right out of his internal dialogue. Oh, no. Oh, no Arthur don't be an ass...
Arthur dropped his goblet onto the tabletop in offense. "You will do no such thing," he denied, just barely containing the urge to snap at the boy.
Dammit.
Mordred, in contrast, did nothing to hide the coldness in his expression, nor to keep the accusation from his tone as he responded, "With all due respect, your Majesty, am I your Prince or your prisoner?"
"You are my nephew, and my ward," Arthur corrected.
Gwen quietly placed her utensils down beside her plate, watching the two with growing worry.
"I never asked to be your ward," Mordred's soft voice snapped out the words with the swiftness of a stinging whip.
"I never asked to be your Uncle." Arthur's reflexive retort made Merlin flinch and left the table smothered by a heavy silence. Mordred bitterly averted his gaze to his empty goblet which he held out for Merlin to refill.
"Just don't throw this at the Prat, as tempting as it is. Don't actually drench the King," Emrys thought at the Prince, as if also reminding himself of this. It was precisely what Mordred needed to keep himself sane.
Arthur drew in a deep, weary-sounding breath and elaborated, "I'll not have you wandering off alone in your present state. No matter how much you may hate me, Mordred, our enemies are just waiting for a chance like this. You might as well ask me to deliver you straight to their doorstep."
"I am not 'wandering' anywhere, Sire. I am fleeing…" Mordred took note of the warning look the Queen was giving him, but continued regardless, "From you."
Gwen let out an aggrieved breath, and dropped her face into her hand. Then regrouped, turning towards him slightly, to plead for decorum. "Mordred, please-"
"Do you want me to lock you up?" Arthur reflected sarcastically.
Ass, Merlin thought rather loudly.
"Arthur!" Gwen scolded, looking utterly appalled by her husband's behavior. Mordred jumped up without another word and stormed out of the dining room. Arthur squeezed his eyes shut in silent self-recrimination, then started to get up, but Gwen caught his wrist before he could stand.
"Don't. That'll only make things worse."
Mordred charged into his chambers, slamming the door shut behind him with the strength of his whole body. He knew, intellectually, that he really needed to calm down before mirrors started breaking. In a rare moment of teenage rebellion and impulse, he went with the larger portion of his brain and hurled his pitcher at the wall instead. Bran let out a brief, unimpressed growl at the human pup's misbehavior.
"Shut up," Mordred hissed.
Bran trotted over to sit meaningfully by the door, and Mordred ignored him to pace back and forth. He passed by the window and smacked the washbasin off its pedestal. Then walked back in the other direction, pausing almost pensively, and began kicking his chair to pieces. The wolf licked his lips and yawned, staring at the door's ringed handle.
There was a knock at the door.
"This is not a good time," Mordred rejected.
"Mordred, you have every right to be upset," Queen Guinevere called imploringly through the wooden barrier. "Please, can we just talk?"
Without a word, Mordred crossed the room and opened the door for her before returning to his pacing.
"Thank you," Gwen acknowledged, eyeing the controlled destruction the Prince had wrought and following the wolf's exit with an uneasy eye. "I know how horrible we must look to you now. Arthur isn't doing himself any favors at the moment... but he truly is trying to do right by you. You are his family. The only family that he really has left. As hard as it is to see right now, he was and is trying his best to protect you."
"I envy you your charitable outlook," Mordred said in a tone of insincere politeness. Gwen frowned, watching him prowl back and forth as she tried to figure out the right words to get through her nephew's betrayed temper.
"I know my husband; he cares a great deal about you. I believe that he kept the truth from you, in part because he did not wish for you to have to bear the burden of princehood any sooner than necessity demanded. When he was your age, being heir to the throne weighed heavily on his shoulders. We both want you to be happy."
"So, long as I serve my purpose?" Mordred muttered darkly. "In the end, perhaps, all Pendragons are the same."
"You don't mean that."
"I was a pet for Morgana, my moth-" Mordred shook the jarring idea from his head. "I was a scapegoat for Uther, and now I am a linchpin for Arthur's purposes," he continued, unperturbed; after making such a scene of freeing him they wouldn't immediately condemn him to the stocks. "I have never been safe, or free. If my 'family' has shown me anything, it is that I exist solely for the purpose of being used."
"Mordred, no..." Gwen began with that irritatingly sympathetic countenance, as if she could possibly relate to his plight. She actually looked as if she might cry.
"I stabbed her, you know? My- Morgana, I stabbed her in the back to save King Arthur because I believed in him and his Albion. I should never have followed him into this place. In a way, she is right, people like us cannot live in Camelot."
"You are nothing like your mother," Gwen corrected with utter certainty, venturing a hopeful step closer when Mordred stopped pacing to look at her. "I understand how you must feel-"
"You cannot possibly understand how I feel!" Mordred finally shouted at Gwen for the first time in his life. The glass in the windows behind him vibrated and exploded along with the nearby water jug as the Clairvoyant's roiling emotions finally overwhelmed their abused containment. Gwen was pushed back a step by an intangible force that rushed like a shockwave out of Mordred's core in the instant before he crumpled to the floor on his hands and knees, a marionette cut from its strings.
"I'm sorry!" the boy apologized in a rough, shaky voice. He'd gone paler than a ghost. "I didn't mean to... I'm sorry."
Guinevere stared down at him for a moment with her hands pressed over her gaping mouth.
"I would never hurt you! It just-"
"Oh, you foolish boy," the Queen breathed, crossing the distance between them and crouching down to look him over for cuts. "Of course not! Are you all right? Did any of the pieces hit you?"
"What? I don't know..." Mordred replied, suddenly sounding very small and lost. He hadn't necessarily expected to be dragged back to the dungeons straight away, but he certainly hadn't expected her to worry about his well-being.
"Oh, dear," Gwen reflected sadly. She looped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close as he finally broke down in tears. "Shh, you're safe. Nobody saw. We're both perfectly safe."
"I must say, your line does show an alarming propensity for throwing things," Gaius remarked, long-sufferingly as he bandaged the cut on the back of Mordred's hand. "I cannot even claim that this is only the second time I have had to treat a young Pendragon cut by his own shrapnel."
"A madness in our blood, I suppose," Mordred drawled, pouting.
"Actually I'd attribute the behavior far more to your Uncle," the aged healer pointed out. "Although, I am thankful that you have refrained from choosing a human target."
Mordred quirked one side of his lips in a fair attempt at his usual smirk.
"Finding that you have a family is not such a bad thing, Sir Mordred, despite the misfortune that brought that truth to light."
"I have no interest in being a Prince, Gaius," Mordred explained. "It is simply too much. I have been alone for a long time. It would fit me ill to have so many others look to me..."
"Perhaps that is fitting then," Gaius considered after a pregnant pause. "It will shield you from Morgana's folly. Further, if and when the King and Queen produce a child, you will not feel your position was stolen by the younger heir."
Merlin was leaning against the wall by the door, Bran curled alertly at his feet, waiting for Mordred to leave the Physicians' chambers. The sorcerer wordlessly pushed away from the cool stone and followed as the other magic user strode past, the wolf rising and falling in at his side.
"Are you watching over me too now, Emrys? I wouldn't want to become a distraction for you," Mordred said drily. Bran had the grace to lower his head, but kept trotting along.
"I'm just making sure that you don't do something you'll regret," Merlin responded truthfully. He could feel it like an oppressive cloud hanging over them: something horrible was threatening to break like an invisible tempest. Perhaps, they could still manage to let it pass on without harming them if he treaded carefully enough. Mordred slowed his pace so that his mentor could begin to catch up.
"I believe that you care now, Emrys. I'm not sure what it is that has changed, but I did start to think that perhaps we could be friends."
"We can- We are, Mordred," Merlin told him earnestly, and for once he actually believed it could be true. He could trust Mordred.
"Then as my friend, tell me honestly - did you know?" Mordred asked. The stoic mask that he usually wore was down for the moment, leaving him vulnerable. Merlin could see a pleading look in the Druid's eyes that made him hate himself a little.
Merlin's face tightened in a fleeting wince and his gaze dropped to the stone floor between them. He can't trust me, the warlock acknowledged the bitter irony to himself, overcome by a flood of guilt.
"Emrys." Mordred's tone had returned to a more characteristic formality, but there was a tension to it that had not been there before.
"I wanted to tell you."
Mordred let out a scoff and half-turned to leave.
"I'm sorry!" Merlin stepped forward and caught the fleeing Prince's sleeve. "Please, listen Mordred, you don't have to leave like this. You aren't safe; Walker is carrying a Fae, somehow; Morgana is still plotting to take the throne, and they are all coming after you. I can help you, but only if you stay here in Camelot."
Mordred's piercing blue eyes locked with his. "For that to work I would have to trust you, Merlin," he replied into Merlin's mind, prompting the Warlock to flinch internally at the use of his common name. It sounded so alien and impersonal, coming from the younger mage. "I'm not so sure that I can anymore." Mordred called the parting blow over his shoulder as he turned his back on his almost-mentor and left him alone in the dark.
A/N: Okay, so that's the end of that episode. We're almost to the actual Prince Mordred stuff although the next episode is going to be a bit of a free for all in terms of our little Druid's allegiances, as you guys can probably see. And oh, crap, the Fae is getting closer! Anyway, thanks for reading, and special thanks to Agana of the Night, catherine10, Isis Ma'at, and SheWalksAtDawn for their encouraging reviews. As always, I love hearing from you guys!
His Majesty's Secret Playlist
1. Someone Else's Dream-Laurie Anderson (Set the mood of this entire episode, and also provided all of the chapter titles.)
2. Up Past the Nursery-Suuns (This song is just the right level of creepy -to me at least- to underscore the fae-centric moments in this story. it kinda ended up serving as her theme tune. lol.)
3. Breathe me-Sia (Mordred's loss of faith not only in Arthur, but in Emrys, which to him, was much more devestating.)