The first thing Arthur did when Mordred was finished explaining was rub his temples.
Mordred was practically dancing on his toes, waiting for their reactions. He'd just shared a huge secret with them! Well, the spirit had revealed itself first, really, but still! It was an exciting moment. He wondered if any of them would be up for exploring the forest together. Mordred wanted to know if anyone else was there with them. He wanted the spirit to speak with Arthur, to see that he wasn't his father. He wanted Arthur to see the beauty in magic. Maybe this could be the turning point, the crossroads where Arthur would decide to take a different path. If destiny had led them here, then surely-
"Let me get this straight," Arthur said, "We ran from an enemy army into the secret magic forest of an invisible creature?"
"Yes! A legenda-"
"Great. One danger for another."
Mordred's heart sank.
"I don't like being at the mercy of magic...Perhaps we could think of another plan," Leon suggested apprehensively.
He'd been stupid to hope that his friends would see this as the blessing it was. It was just...he was so excited. He wanted to share that with someone. But looking around at the others, he saw that they all looked a bit wary, save for Gwaine, who was perpetually insouciant.
"I've never heard any legends about a Forest of Emrys," Elyan said dubiously.
"You wouldn't have. The druids guard the secret of its existence with our lives," Mordred informed him.
"But you just told us," Percival pointed out. It had seemed so exciting that he had, too, just moments ago. He was so naïve...
"Yes."
Elyan stared, then threw his hands up in defeat and turned away.
"We should leave," Arthur said after a moment, "Magic can't be trusted, and Cenred's men are still behind us."
Mordred felt irritation bubble up in his chest. The spirit of Emrys had offered them safety, and Arthur wanted to leave? He'd rather be chased to death by an enemy army than spend a night in a beautiful forest? There were people who spent their whole lives dreaming of being in the exact position they were in.
"Yes, this place makes me uneasy," Elyan said.
Every comment they made felt like a sculptor with a pick, chipping away at Mordred's hope and elation.
"Where would we go?" Lancelot asked doubtfully, "This forest is the only cover from Cenred's men as far as the eye can see. We are too few to defeat an army, and we have no horses to outrun them."
"If we leave, we will not be able to enter the forest again," Mordred warned, "Nobody has ever been able to find it twice. We would be stuck out in the open, moving on foot."
"Can I meet this all powerful tree spirit?" Gwaine enthused, "I bet it's a real looker."
Percival rolled his eyes, but Gwaine's typical humour was comforting to Mordred. At least one of them was interested in the spirit itself, even if he was only joking.
"This is no laughing matter, Gwaine," Arthur reprimanded, "We're in danger."
"We're not in danger! They say-"
Suddenly, they heard a crash in the direction they had last seen Cenred's men. They all straightened, Elyan and Leon nearest to the sound shooting to their feet, hands on their swords. Mordred felt no alarm. Nothing would harm them here.
They heard the sound of men's voices shouting, but they were too distant for them to make out the words. Curious, Mordred rose to investigate. He swayed on the spot, and Gwaine frowned.
"Have you had wine?" he whispered. Mordred shook his head, confused by the sudden question, and started towards the sound. Perhaps he'd learn something valuable.
"Mordred!" Arthur hissed. Feeling emboldened by the power of the forest, Mordred ignored him. He deserved it for being so ungrateful.
Cursing, Arthur gave the signal for the rest of them to follow him. As they neared the edge of the forest, a unit of Cenred's army came into view. They were a good distance away and had evidently stopped to take a break, with quite a few men on the ground with their water skins. Mordred made sure to stop before the treeline, not bothering to crouch or hide when he knew Emrys would protect him.
"Bloody idiot!" Arthur muttered angrily, pulling Mordred to stand behind a tree. Mordred sighed.
"They won't see us. And even if they did, they can't hurt us."
"Magic is treacherous!" Arthur said, "You cannot be so trusting of it. You'll get us all killed!"
"Magic is the only reason we have not been killed already," Mordred shot back with a little more vitriol than he'd meant to. Arthur looked at him like he'd slapped him. He felt a little surprised with himself too, but he didn't regret it. In truth, he was tired of Arthur treating Emrys so disdainfully even as it sheltered them. He was tired of being the only one to recognise the majesty of the forest. It was dampening his spirits to be in a sacred place with nobody to share his wonder with.
When Arthur opened his mouth to respond, Leon shushed him, somehow still managing to be respectful. (Mordred lived in awe of Leon's boundless ability not to offend.)
They all went deadly silent when the reason for Leon's shushing became apparent. Two of Cenred's men had seemingly decided to go for a leisurely stroll, and they were heading right for them.
"-thought Camelot outlawed magic?" one of them was asking, confused. The other shook his head in agreement.
"They did. Purged it, in fact. It's impossible Uther Pendragon's son even thought about using magic."
"Then how did they escape? They just vanished into thin air."
"I don't know, maybe there are secret tunnels under the ground."
"It was magic," the first man insisted, "What I don't understand is why anyone with magic would help a Pendragon."
The second man hummed in agreement, and the darkest, guiltiest part of Mordred twisted inside.
"Just look at your sister. All she does is ease the pain of childbirth, and in Camelot she'd be executed for it."
It was the greatest inner conflict Mordred knew - Arthur had a good heart, but what he did to Mordred's kind was the farthest thing from good. If he were to reveal his magic, would his friends kill him? Would he burn? The euphoria that had overtaken him since setting foot in the forest vanished. Of course his friends didn't appreciate the majesty of the forest. He was the fool helping his executor bring him to the pyre.
"They're barbarians, and the king is mad. I pity all that live in Camelot."
Leon bristled at the venom in the man's voice, while the others exchanged dark looks. The two men stopped not a foot from the tree line. Mordred noticed that Elyan was holding his breath.
"Me too."
"We'll be sent to the border if we don't find a trail soon, I'd wager. Sir Pelham won't want us chasing our own tails. "
"Pity. I'd love to find those bastards. I'd muck Pelham's stables for the rest of my life if he'd let me gut 'em."
Then, when the others were tensing like their discovery was imminent, the two soldiers turned and began to walk back to their group. Elyan let out a long, quiet breath.
Crack!
A twig snapped loudly under Elyan's feet as he shifted his weight. The two soldiers turned at the sound.
"Did you hear that?"
"Yeah...but where did it come from? There's nothing here."
"We should check it out."
"Let's go back for the others, first. Could be magic, remember?"
Crack!
This time, it wasn't Elyan. On the ground behind them was a little falcon, tilting its head curiously. It hopped around a bit, making noisy rustling sounds in the fallen leaves, then chirped. Then it seemed to focus on the two soldiers, hopping towards them with purpose. When it hopped past the treeline, one of the soldiers saw it, frowning in confusion.
"Where did that bird come from?"
The falcon took to the air, flapping its wings at them. Then, a curious thing happened. A strong wind enveloped the two soldiers, sparkling like water in the sunlight. They looked as if they were in a trance. When the wind dissipated, they opened their eyes and looked at each other uncomprehendingly.
"Let's go back," one of them said. The other nodded.
"Yes, I don't like it over here. There's nothing of interest. Nothing around."
"Nothing around."
This time, when they turned around, the two soldiers didn't falter as they returned to their comrades. The knights of Camelot watched in stunned silence.
"Woah…" Gwaine whispered, "I had no idea magic could do that…"
Mordred hummed in agreement, feeling his admiration of Emrys grow. How had that worked, with the falcon? Were all creatures in the forest imbued with magic? Could one imbue a regular animal with magic? Or was the spirit in the vessel of the falcon? Could he learn to do that? Would the spirit teach him, if he asked?
It was a clear message, in his eyes. The spirit really was protecting them, watching over them and using its powers to keep them safe. It would honour its promise, despite Arthur's mistrust and disrespect.
"Magic! Keeping us alive," Mordred said pointedly. Arthur glared, hackles rising. Out of the corner of his eye, Mordred saw Gwaine staring pensively after the two soldiers whose conversation they'd heard.
"We were almost discovered!"
"But don't you see?" Mordred shook his head vehemently, "Emrys proved to us that we are protected. That we were protected that whole time."
"Your precious Emrys was toying with us," Arthur snapped, "Making us think we were going to be caught for its own sick amusement. Showing us how dangerous it is. And you nearly delivered us all right into the hands of Cenred's men!"
"I understand your position, sire," Lancelot interrupted suddenly, "but we are currently under the protection of a sentient magical spirit, whatever its motives. It might be in our best interest not to offend it."
Arthur scowled and said nothing, not taking his hard gaze off of Mordred. The significance of the situation seemed much greater, suddenly.
Even faced with the benevolence of quite possibly the most powerful magic force in the land, Arthur refused to see the truth. Emrys had ample power and motive to harm Arthur. The prince had to know this. And yet, Arthur could not be civil or respectful, even for the sake of self-preservation. Not even for the safety of his men.
Late in the night, when he was alone with his thoughts, Mordred would often think about running away. Sometimes, he imagined running to find the Forest of Emrys. Perhaps this was a sign. If Mordred could no longer believe that Arthur could be convinced, why should he stay?
What if he didn't return to Camelot?
It was times like these when Mordred felt so very alone. Regardless of what he did, he would be off balance, adrift. Alone and free, or in shackles with friends. He glanced at the other men, looking for a reason to believe. Elyan and Leon were frowning at him, and Percival was looking away. Lancelot and Gwaine looked sympathetic, but said nothing. They always said nothing. Mordred had been saying nothing. Saying nothing and taking coin from Camelot as his kin burned at the hands of his silence.
Mordred took a breath, and made a decision.
"Your fear blinds you and your hatred makes you deaf," he said quietly, bitingly. Leon inhaled sharply, and Arthur clenched his jaw to bite down on his temper.
"Mordred," Elyan said reproachfully. Mordred didn't acknowledge any of their reactions. He simply turned back towards Cenred's men.
"Come get me! I'm over here!" Mordred bellowed at the enemy army. Elyan clapped his hand over Mordred's mouth a second too late, but it didn't matter. Not a single man even glanced in their direction. Mordred turned around and sneered at the horrified faces of his fellow knights, all clearly believing that Cenred's men would hear him even after Emrys' display.
"You are out of line, Mordred," Arthur growled, "This Emrys is clearly biding its time for its own nefarious scheme. The whole forest is corrupted by evil."
Mordred's mouth twisted into an ugly expression. Arthur Pendragon of Camelot was now dictating which places were corrupted by evil?
"This place has obviously cast some enchantment on Mordred's mind," the prince said to the others, "We must find the source and destroy it. Who knows what other magic is at work...We are no safer here than we were out there."
Destroy it.
Mordred's nightmares sprung to life. Images flooded his mind of Arthur setting fire to the forest, of a world drained of magic. It would all be Mordred's fault. He had asked the spirit to allow them to stay.
But, no. The spirit of Emrys was far more powerful than the knights of Camelot. Emrys would be protected. Arthur could not burn this forest down if he tried. If he tried. Because he would. Mordred felt sick, and the dark, guilty part of his heart grew a little larger. He was a sorcerer and a druid, gallivanting around wearing the colours of- what had the spirit called them? Butchers. He should walk out into the clearing and let the soldiers gut him.
"If you are no safer here than you were out there, then go," he said coldly.
"Mordred-" Gwaine started, placating, but Arthur interrupted him.
"The spirit is lying to you. You're being fooled."
"I was fooled," Mordred muttered to himself under his breath, turning on his heel. I was fooled into thinking one day you could become a better man.
All of a sudden, he was exhausted. He didn't wait to hear whatever else Arthur wanted to say. Perhaps he'd return later, once his rage had abated - he truly did care for each of his friends - but Mordred couldn't stomach being around them a moment longer.
He picked a direction at random. He walked away.