Leon was on edge.

The previous night, after Arthur had promised to put together a plan and made Leon promise to keep silent, he had kicked Leon out of his rooms.

There wasn't anything left for Leon to do but wait until Arthur acted.

Well, maybe there was one other person he should speak to, if only because no one seemed to have managed to speak to him properly yet.

He knocked on Gaius' door, a rather rare occasion since they usually just barged in whenever someone got hurt. It was Merlin who opened the door and his guard went up the second he saw Leon. By the table, Gaius paused in eating his porridge to see who came in.

"Leon," greeted Merlin, "What can we do for you?"

"I just wanted to chat. Can I come in?"

"Of course, of course."

Soon, Leon was seated with the two physicians and a porridge bowl of questionable consistency. Still, he didn't want to seem rude, so he ate it in small spoonfuls.

"So, what takes you to our quarters? An injury?" asked Gaius.

"No, nothing like that. I meant to speak with Merlin about... you know. Have you spoken to the king about it at all?" The last question he directed to Merlin.

Merlin pursed his lips.

"Not exactly. I'm just glad he let it go. We don't need to talk about it."

Leon wished Merlin weren't so defensive. Arthur was more open to magic and the Old Religion than Merlin seemed to believe, even with the public display Arthur was putting on for Emrys. If Merlin weren't so afraid, maybe he would see Arthur would accept his magic. As far as Leon was concerned, he already had.

"You're a good man, Merlin," said Leon, "Everyone knows that and you've proven your loyalty time and again. The king would never allow anything to happen to you. You know that, right? You can't stay silent forever."

Merlin snorted and ate his porridge in silence to make his point.

Gaius sighed at his nephew's childish behaviour.

"It may be time," said the old physician.

"The law hasn't changed," argued Merlin, "Just because Arthur chose to look the other way once doesn't mean he'll do it twice."

Gaius didn't have an answer to that, but Leon did.

"Arthur can change the law. It won't be easy, but he is king."

"I don't think he will, Leon," insisted Merlin, "Not anymore."

Just like when they fought in the council room, there was a wrongness to Merlin not having faith in Arthur that made Leon squirm uncomfortably. The implication that Merlin had hoped for the return of magic wasn't surprising, but that he had given up on it made Leon wonder how long he had been waiting.

How long had Merlin been practicing magic, anyways? He was powerful, sure, but that didn't necessarily reflect how long he had been studying it. Some sorcerers who had been studying for years could only manage a couple of spells and others became more skilled over shorter periods. Morgana, for example, had become a true threat within a few months of studying under Morgause.

Leon couldn't imagine the clumsy boy who first came to Camelot as a powerful sorcerer. At what point had he turned to it? Enough sorcerers had passed through the citadel for him to find basic tutelage from and, though pardoned, Gaius was a former practitioner himself. There were too many possibilities for Leon to pinpoint how Merlin had found magic.

"How long have you been waiting?" he asked, "How long have you been practicing magic?"

"My whole damn life."

Wait, what? Did Merlin just swear?

"What do you mean your whole life?" asked Leon.

"Since before I could walk. Mother says I was a troublesome child," said Merlin.

Now Leon had to rebuild his world view to accommodate a younger Merlin as a powerful sorcerer. Oddly, it was easier than Leon expected. It certainly explained all the times he had found Merlin acting cagey.

"So you've been... this entire time... Why would you come to Camelot?!"

Merlin shrugged.

"I didn't want to be recruited into the army. Gaius was in Camelot and he knew a bit about magic. This was my only chance to get ahold of my magic while staying free."

"Weren't you afraid of the pyre?"

Merlin gave him a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Cenred's sorcerers were little more than tools of destruction. I'd rather burn than become such a man."

The layer of accusation in Merlin's voice didn't come as a surprise. Leon had, after all, acted as Uther's sword against sorcery. It was the risk of swearing fealty to a lord that their orders might be unjust. Turning traitor would have been worst, Leon knew. Turmoil within a kingdom always lead to its downfall and to suffering for its people. It had been the price to pay for order.

What took him by surprise was the bitterness in Merlin's voice. In his mind, Merlin would always be that clumsy, cheeky boy from Ealdor. And sure, he had magic. And yes, Leon realized there had been a mountain of fear and lies behind the facade. But when had that boy from Ealdor become so angry?

"What happened to you?" whispered Leon.

Merlin didn't answer. He angrily shovelled down the rest of his food and quickly excused himself to bring Arthur his breakfast. Leon found himself alone with Gaius and his judgmental eyebrow.

"You know," began Gaius, "I've been here the whole time and the late king did consult me on magical matters."

Leon hadn't thought of asking Gaius. Trying to pry answers from the old man seemed like a waste of time. He was a bit like Mordred like that ; he knew how to sidestep questions entirely until you forgot you had asked them. The difference was that Mordred and Leon were on good terms so Mordred entertained him. Gaius had always been a neutral party and very private. Without being in his close circle, there would be no way to get answers from him.

But if Gaius was volunteering, then that changed things.

"I don't understand Merlin," said Leon, "He doesn't really think Arthur would turn on him, does he?"

Gaius sighed.

"Merlin... has had to make difficult choices, some of which still haunt him. Even I don't know everything. It isn't so much that he doesn't trust Arthur than he is reluctant to share those mistakes. He holds them close to his heart and will keep them secret if he can help it. He's quite proud."

Leon had never heard Merlin described as proud before, but it did fit. It might be why he could put up with Arthur for months and years on end : he had the pride to stick up for himself and damn the consequences. Leon imagined he would have been a nightmare to deal with if he'd been born noble. Especially with magic at his fingertips.

It hadn't happened so there was no use dwelling on the idea.

But if that pride stood in the way of him connecting with the rest of them, it could be a serious problem. More than that, if he wasn't talking to anyone about what must have been a rather stressful decade, then he would crack sooner or later. Everyone had to share their burdens with somebody. Arthur shared his troubles with Guinevere. Leon shared his burdens with his brother and with Mathilda.

Merlin had to speak to somebody.

A suspicion niggled at the back of Leon's mind.

"It isn't just embarrassment over some mistakes, is it?"

Gaius swallowed thickly.

"I have my suspicions, but we haven't spoken of it in many years. As a boy, he was prone to bouts of melancholia. Uther's views of magic were widespread even in Ealdor and they... affected him."

Uther's view of magic was that it was pure evil that corrupted everything it touched.

"Surely he doesn't view magic as evil," said Leon.

"Not magic itself, no," replied Gaius, "But he has always been harsh on himself."

And Leon didn't like the sound of that at all.

Attending council was, for once, not boring at all, if only because something reeked of one of Arthur's ill-conceived plans.

The king had put on a false expression of innocence that just screamed he was up to something. His plate of offerings, a handful of nuts with a tart this time, sat squarely in the centre of the table and he stared down anyone who gave him a sideways glance for it.

More importantly, and this Leon only realized once everyone was seated, there was an extra chair at the table.

He thought he saw where this was going.

"Our first order of business today," said Arthur loudly, "is an apology."

He turned to Merlin.

"Merlin, you may have forgiven me, but I must apologize here too. The Round Table is a place of equality and magic and I shamed you for being a servant and a sorcerer."

Gasps sounded around the table. Some nobles turned to the knights pointedly, but no one moved. Everyone who mattered already knew Arthur had forgiven Merlin his magic.

Arthur carried on.

"It was wrong of me and I owe Emrys an apology as well for disrespecting his tenets here. Furthermore, I have realized that at the true Round Table, you sat with us. You should have kept your place when we brought the Round Table here."

Merlin stood stock still for several long moments. Arthur made an exaggerated motion toward the chair.

With stilted movements, Merlin lowered himself into the seat between Gwaine and Arthur with a very straight back.

The table exploded into arguments.

"A sorcerer?!"

"Good to have you-"

"Sire, surely you jest..."

"-about time!

"-can't be trusted-"

"-haven't been consulted at all!"

That last comment came from Lady Rosalind, and she did have point. They were meant to vote on these kinds of decisions and Arthur grudgingly allowed the vote to go around.

Although there were a few naysayers, the knights, including Mordred, voted in favour, along with the royal couple, which secured Merlin's place.

Leon didn't think having Merlin there would change much. He'd always had Arthur's ear, more so even than the queen. It was the principle of the thing, he supposed. It did make for a rather elegant, two-fold apology. Leon had never taken Arthur for such poet.

Judging by the circles under Guinevere's eyes, it hadn't entirely been his idea.

"Now, for our second order of business" declared Arthur, "I know that someone in Camelot is secretly Emrys in disguise. Mordred, you know who. Tell us."

Mordred, who had yet to say much of anything, was jostled by the sudden attention on him.

"Emrys?" he echoed, eyes wide with a sort of panic that reminded Leon of a deer realizing there was an arrow trained on them.

"Emrys," confirmed Arthur calmly.

So this was the so-called plan. Just... call Mordred out during council. It was simple, but efficient enough. Mordred couldn't easily leave or dodge the question in front of so many people.

When Mordred sent him a pleading look, Leon felt guilty for setting the king on him. Surely this wasn't so important to warrant Mordred's clear panic. There wasn't much he could do at this point, though, and he did think it was important information to share.

He mouthed an apology that made Mordred frown in annoyance before composing himself.

"Right," he said, "Emrys is..."

Mordred's eyes darted from points on the pillars around them to the others seated around them and bouncing between Merlin and the king. He drew out the pause. Whether it was to buy time or for dramatic effect, Leon couldn't tell.

"Dragoon," said Mordred stiffly, "The Great."

The silence that followed was only broken by Merlin's hand meeting his own forehead.

Arthur blinked and tried to compose himself.

"Dragoon the Great?" exclaimed the king, "The sorcerer who murdered my father?"

Someone nudged Leon. He inclined his head toward Percival who whispered.

"Who?"

"A really old warlock with a long beard. Rude but powerful. About yea tall. He's the one who knocked us out once out in the field," Leon answered back at a stage whisper.

"Oh, him."

Meanwhile, Mordred was valiantly trying to field Arthur's questions.

"I don't know much about his interactions with the late king," said Mordred vaguely with an odd look in his eye, "I suppose he could have, but I thought Morgana had killed him."

"It was that definitely Dragoon," insisted Arthur. "I should know; I was there. And here I thought Emrys was supposed to be on my side! Why would he kill my father?"

"The gods can be difficult to understand."

"So you have no idea whatsoever?"

"Well," ventured Mordred, "I suppose he might have been a bit upset about having his people slaughtered like cattle for two decades and his cult driven into near extinction."

Leon had to suppress a snort.

"Do you know where he is?" demanded Arthur.

"Camelot, certainly," answered Mordred, "But he is a trickster god and can pass as a common man. He would be hard to find."

"How can you be so calm? He killed the last king!"

However amusing Mordred's answers were, the tension was palpable. Leon had to interfere.

"Enough," he said, "Leave him be. Mordred isn't responsible for Uther's death. Stop taking out your anger on him."

Arthur flushed a deep colour, but Guinevere put hand on his shoulder in a soothing motion that seemed cool it down. Merlin said something low which made Arthur take in several deep breaths.

Once he had returned to a more normal shade, he spoke again.

"You're right, Sir Leon. My apologies, Sir Mordred, and thank you for telling us. Since no one had seen Dragoon in years, there isn't much point dwelling on it, I suppose. Let's move on to our third order of business."

By the time council was over, Leon was exhausted. Arthur had come in with a plan that had left everyone reeling. Between bringing in Merlin and grilling Mordred, the meeting had gone on for far longer than usual.

When Leon made his way out of the room, Lord Melrose caught up to him and brought him to an alcove.

"Is something wrong, Melrose?" asked Leon.

"Of course something is wrong! A sorcerer has joined the council. Surely the king is enchanted."

Leon tried not to glower.

"Merlin has proven his loyalty to the king time and again. He may be a sorcerer, but he is Arthur's."

"Magic is against the law," insisted Melrose, "You are a reasonable man. Surely you see that a criminal should be brought to trial, not council."

There were some things that would need to be spelled out for this man.

"As far as I am concerned," said Leon, "the word of the king is the law. If he does not want Merlin tried, then he won't be. King Arthur has been more forgiving of sorcery than Uther ever was. If he brought a sorcerer onto the council, he's likely thinking of reworking the law with someone who has knowledge of the topic."

Melrose froze.

"I thought were an upstanding man, but Benedict was right about you," he said, "You don't have any thoughts of your own. You're just... a blindly obedient puppet for whichever king comes along."

"Careful," warned Leon, "You're speaking treason."

Melrose hacked up a glob of spit that landed right in Leon's face and stormed off.

With a handkerchief from his inner pocket, Leon wiped it off his face. He clamped down on his indignation as best he could. Were Melrose a younger man, Leon would challenge him, but it was in poor taste to duel a man of his age.

Leon settled for glaring at his back. He took a deep breath and decided not to dwell on it before going on his way.

He had more important things to do today.

Mordred wasn't answering the door.

Leon frowned and knocked again, but still, no answer. Leon was right on time, but maybe Mordred had forgotten about their appointment.

He tried the doorknob and, when it opened without resistance, Leon's worry spiked. It was unlike Mordred to ignore a knock and even more uncharacteristic of him to leave his door unlocked.

Something about this reeked. As Leon carefully went in, his fingers brushed over the space where he kept his sword when he was on duty. He wasn't on duty now and his sword was locked away in the armoury.

Mordred's room was relatively dark. There was only a small flame in fireplace, fuelled by paper remnants. It illuminated the room enough for Leon to see Mordred seated at his desk a few feet away, watching the fire.

He hadn't noticed Leon come in.

Without wood or kindling, the flame consumed the remainder of the paper and died out, leaving them with nothing but the moonlight filtering in from the window as lighting.

Mordred, pale in that soft light, took a paper from his desk and crumpled it. He tossed it into the ashes of the fire that had just burned out.

"Forbearne," he said and a small ball of fire appeared between his fingers. It was only about as large as a marble, but it brought warmth to the room and threw broken shadows around it.

Mordred threw his hand forward.

"Acwele," he said and the marble of fire shot forward into the fireplace. The ball of paper caught fire and quickly burnt to ashes.

The room was lit by nothing but moonlight again.

When the crinkling of paper started again, Leon cleared his throat.

"Mordred?"

Mordred jumped at the sound.

"Sorry," said Leon, "You weren't answering the door. I was worried."

Mordred ran a hand through his hair.

"It's fine. I just... lost track of time. I didn't realize it was this late already. Let's get a fire going, shall we? It's gotten dark."

Mordred busied himself with getting the fire going. He tossed a log in and arranged some smaller pieces of wood. Soon, he had a flint in hand for a spark.

All of it without the magic he had displayed seconds earlier.

While Mordred got a fire going, Leon drifted to the desk to take a look at the papers Mordred had been burning. If he angled it right, the moonlight was enough to read the first paper.

Dear Mordred,

Rumours say Camelot has treated you well, and for that I am glad. I would never have forgiven Arthur hurting you. Still, I worry. Camelot has never been kind to those like us.

I wish you would come home, but if you insist on remaining in Camelot, remember to keep your wits about you and trust no one.

With love,

Morgana

Leon flipped to the next page.

Dear Mordred,

I cannot stand to see you in Arthur's grasp.

Though he and I share blood, he is as cruel as Uther had been and hunts down magic all the same. He is no brother of mine.

I found my family in Morgause and in you. With Morgause passed and you gone, I find myself quite alone with Aithusa. Though your betrayal hurts, I miss you too much to remain angry.

Please come home,

Morgana

And on and on it went. The pile on Mordred's desk was significant and Leon wondered how long Mordred had been receiving mail from Morgana. Or how, for that matter.

Parcels from Morgana were supposed to be stopped from entering the city.

Once the fire was going strong, Mordred stood and slowly approached the desk. He pulled the letters from Leon's hands.

"That's a lot of letters," said Leon, not quite sure what to say.

"It is," said Mordred simply. He took his seat and balled another letter to toss into the fire.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

"How about that drink I was promised then?"

That drew a tired laugh from Mordred.

"Sure. Help yourself," he waved vaguely toward the cabinet where he kept his alcohol and cups, but didn't move from his spot. He was staring into the fire.

The alcohol didn't seem so appealing if Mordred wasn't going to drink with him.

Leon pulled up a chair next to Mordred and tried to come up with a way get Mordred to talk.

"I knew her," began Leon, "Admired her, even. I wouldn't think less of you for any affection you hold for her."

Mordred didn't look away from the flames. He tossed in another letter.

"I knew she had turned down a dark path, but I believed she respected me enough to tell me the truth. She lied about Uther. All of it is just... lies."

Of all the things that could have been bothering Mordred, Leon hadn't thought it would be this.

"You miss her," Leon realized.

Mordred went on with burning letter after letter.

"Of course I do. We were close, but she isn't the woman I once knew."

Leon reached for the letters and carefully pried them for Mordred's fingers to place on the desk. Mordred looked at him curiously until Leon took Mordred's hand in his, hoping to bring him some comfort. The man tensed for a moment before allowing it.

"For what it's worth," said Leon, "I miss her too."

Mordred squeezed back.

"Can I...?" asked Mordred, and though he didn't know what Mordred was asking, he nodded.

Mordred brought his chair next to Leon's so that they sat right next to one another. He held onto Leon's hand and leaned into him. Soft curls tickled against Leon's neck when Mordred lay his head on his shoulder. He felt so warm against Leon like this.

Leon wished it was under happier circumstances.

"I don't know how to do this. How did you manage it?" asked Mordred, "With Uther, I mean. How did you handle it when he went mad?"

The situation wasn't the same. Uther had been king.

"There wasn't anything for me to do," said Leon, "At most, I could have turned against the king, but it wouldn't have done much good. No one else was in line for the throne. The kingdom would have been thrown into anarchy until someone slaughtered their way to power. There was nothing to do."

"Except wait for Arthur to grow older," whispered Mordred.

He was right.

They stayed like that, with their hands laced, making quiet conversation about Morgana, Uther and Arthur and all the kingdom of Camelot. Mordred worried so much about how to do right by everyone.

It seemed, to him, that there was no way through without betraying somebody.

Leon listened to his worries and gave the best advice he could. It wasn't really helpful, he knew. They were just words to say while he kept Mordred company. Mordred had a good heart and, in the end, it would serve as Mordred's guide.

Leon was just there to remind Mordred he wasn't alone.

They stayed like that until the fire petered out.