sins of the father :: part three
Title: Sins of the Father
Author: darkmagic_luvr
Warnings: Consensual incest, consentual sex between minors, age gap flirting, main character death, angst, Merlin’s tears…cliffhanger? Sequal foreshadowing.
Summary: There are some sins that cannot be forgiven; these sins of the father.
Disclaimer: In the beginning there are lines taken from the actual episodes of Sins of the Father. I do not own them, the characters or the original plot line for this episode.
back
Mordred had been given free reign of the castle, with the exception of the grounds, as a precaution, without the escort of a knight, Morgana, or Arthur himself. He felt so much a prisoner with the walls of the castle pressing in on him. He wanted to be back in the woods, the only thing he wanted pressing in on him were the towering trees and the night sky.
As Mordred wandered the halls of the castle, he ignored the awkward bows and nods the servants gave him as he passed. He didn’t care that Arthur had announced him as his heir, didn’t much care that people were starting to call him ‘My Lord’ and ‘Prince Mordred’. Honestly, hearing his name out loud was more bothersome than ‘My Lord’. The Druids had always kept his name silent, preferring not to talk to him directly if ever.
If he wanted to stay with Morgana, though, he would have to get used to it.
A rustle of fabric around the corner caught Mordred’s attention and he slowed his pace, moving toward the wall silently, pressing his back against the stone. He peered around the corner and relaxed, seeing Aglain standing by himself looking out the window across the city. Mordred turned the corner, opening his mind to greet the older Druid, only to find himself frozen. He blinked wide eyes at Aglain who turned his head slowly, a cold look in his eyes.
The corner of his mouth twitched, his lips pursing and snorted. “Oh, the look on your face.”
Aglain stepped forward. As he did his appearance changed. His skin grew lighter; his stature turned shorter, the scruff of a beard grew along his jawline; his eyes turned green. Mordred found Alvarr standing in front of him, in Aglain’s robes, a twistedly pleasant smile on his face.
“My Lord,” said Alvarr mockingly, bowing ridiculously low and taking a knee. “Fancy seeing you here.”
Alvarr. The older Druid smirked. What are you doing in Camelot? What happened to Aglain?
“Aglain was unable to come,” said Alvarr simply. “I came in his place.”
Mordred had a sinking suspicious that Aglain was unable to come because he was dead, but he said nothing of it, just nodded at Alvarr’s words. And you’re hiding in his appearance? Why?
“Morgana trusts him,” said Alvarr. To Mordred it made sense. Morgana would not have trusted Alvarr unless the other Druids approved of him, which they did not and Arthur wouldn’t have let Alvarr into Camelot if Morgana didn’t trust him. Coming in Aglain’s skin was the only way Alvarr could be in the city.
But why did you come in the first place?
“Because,” breathed Alvarr reaching out to take Mordred by the shoulders. “Because you cannot trust Arthur, Mordred.”
Morgana says otherwise. And I trust Morgana.
Alvarr shook his head. “He is nothing but Uther’s son.”
That’s not true, he saved me once. He didn’t have to but he did.
“Mordred, listen,” whispered Alvarr harshly, his grip tightening on Mordred’s shoulders. “The only way for our people to be truly free is if one of us takes the throne. Arthur’s announced you as his heir and if he dies, you will take the crown.”
You plan to kill the King, Mordred stated, giving Alvarr a look. He is not naïve; in fact he’s almost expecting someone to try to assassinate him. It will not be easy for you to do. Alvarr’s eyes glittered in anticipation, silent, waiting. Mordred blinked. Me? Me kill him?
“You are his son,” said Alvarr, barely suppressing the excitement in his voice. “He will never expect-“
He is served by Emrys, interrupted Mordred. I would never get away with it.
“Then we’ll kill him too.”
Mordred shook his head slowly, not finding an acceptable plan in his plot. Alvarr shook his shoulders slightly, breaking his thought process.
“Mordred, you do not trust Arthur, I can see it in your eyes. We will usurp him, and the Druids will rule Camelot under you. We will make peace in this land the way the Pendragon’s have not. Do I have you?”
For a moment, Mordred thought of saying no, no that he wouldn’t betray Morgana’s trust in him by killing Arthur. But peace in Avalon, a peace he could help create… He nodded and a smile broke through Alvarr’s face. The older man clapped him on the shoulder and stood.
“Then let it begin.”
t w o . m o n t h s . l a t e r
Mordred had been right when he told Alvarr that getting close to Arthur would be next to impossible. And what was more, Merlin was starting to notice a pattern in the failed attempts on Arthur’s life (not that the King noticed, Merlin had always thwarted them long before they could cause Arthur any harm). He kept looking at Mordred with considering eyes. What was more, Mordred could tell he didn’t trust Alvarr’s impression of Aglain; he constantly shadowed Arthur whenever the two were supposed to have contact in private, leaving little time to actually attempt to kill the King.
Mordred hesitated slightly when he came down for breakfast one morning, seeing only Arthur sitting at the head of the table, looking over a scroll while playing with his oatmeal around the bowl with his spoon. He didn’t glance up until Mordred pulled out the chair next to him and sat down, sparing his son a smile in greeting. A maid brought him a plate of meat and fruit and bread, placing a goblet of water at its side. He was still wondering if the servants in Camelot didn’t use some sort of magic, because without fail, every time he sat down, something he wanted was brought for him. He could ask for nothing.
“How are you adjusting to Camelot?” asked Arthur, looking up from the scroll in his hands to look at Mordred who was picking at his breakfast. He froze. They’d never actually spoken together at breakfast, at least not directly. Morgana would usually be there to make conversation, or Merlin to provide amusing commentary while Arthur rolled his eyes and tried his best to ignore him. Even Gaius had appeared whenever the tension was too thick between them. Arthur had never openly asked him anything in the two months Mordred had been living there. Mordred suspected his father had wanted to give him space, time to adjust, to trust him.
Mordred cleared his throat. “Well enough….Father.” Arthur started at the use of the word ‘father’. There was silence between the two of them, Mordred was nearly finished with his food when Arthur shifted in his chair, looking up at Mordred and pinning him still in his chair before he had a chance to escape.
“You don’t have to call me Father,” said Arthur softly, not looking straight at Mordred, but more at the crust of bread still clutched in his hand, halfway to his mouth. “It’s not like I’ve earned it.”
Mordred considered his words. Arthur was right, he hadn’t earned it, but then again, he hadn’t had a very good role model when it came to parenting. Mordred could, he suppose, forgive him for that. But was this his way of telling him that he was going to start being a father? If so, Mordred didn’t know if could handle that. It had been so much easier to accept Morgana as his mother; he’d already felt so close to her.
Mordred thought back to the night Arthur had helped him escape, when Merlin had flaked out on them and nearly gotten them caught. Arthur had drawn his sword, ready to fight his own knights if it meant protecting the boy he was helping escape. Mordred still hadn’t seemed able to grasp Arthur’s actions as fatherly towards him, at least not as easily as he had accepted Morgana’s saving him. But maybe he was starting to. After all, two months ago he would never have allowed himself to sit alone with King Arthur, doing something as vulnerable as eating breakfast.
Not yet, thought Mordred, earning a sharp look from Arthur. Mordred managed a grin at him and pushed himself away from the table, stuffing the rest of his breakfast unceremoniously into his mouth and leaving the room. If Arthur was going to be his father, he’d better get used to the mental connection.
He adjusted to the mind connection far quicker than Mordred would have thought. Occasionally, Mordred would catch him off guard, but usually, Arthur was ready with a quip along the lines of ‘use your words, Mordred.’ or ‘find out if Merlin’s done my laundry.’ and he found it…amusing. No one in the druid camp had bantered with him; they’d left him to his practice or meditation in peace. Mordred found himself grinning every time Arthur and Morgana would tease each other over the table at meals, or when Merlin would sass Arthur and the King didn’t even punish him for it but retaliated in kind. Or sometimes with playful abuse.
He was just getting used to sleeping in a bed, when The Nightmare came. Mordred had never dreamt before in his life, not really. If he had, it was never a dream he could remember. But this, this was something that had to be capitalized. It was a Nightmare, it was terrifying, it had him jolting awake and flying up in bed, cold sweat clinging to his skin, his shirt damp. He’d nearly screamed.
He’d watched Arthur die under his hands, his father’s blood coating his fingers, staring up at him with dead eyes. Morgana was standing further away staring at Arthur‘s prone body, her eyes wide and accusing and filled with tears.
“What have you done?”
Mordred swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat, raising a shaky hand to his face to wipe the sweat out of his eyes. He climbed out of bed, forgoing his cloak and left his room. He had intended to go to Morgana, she’d had nightmares, especially of Arthur, she would help him to get through this (because it had to be the lack of magic surrounding him that brought on the nightmares. He’d obviously inherited his mental magic from Morgana, and without the constant thrum of outside magic pressing in on him, his birthright was becoming more prominent in other ways besides projecting his thoughts to others), but he found himself turning down the less familiar corridors toward Arthur’s chambers.
He’d only been there once or twice, never for Arthur though. Mordred’s hand shook slightly from the cold as he pushed open the door, peering around into the room cautiously. Arthur was asleep in bed, his sheets pulled halfway up his body, even in the cold of the night. The moonlight was streaming through the windows, giving Mordred ample light to see by.
His feet stuck slightly to the polished floor as he entered the King’s chambers, closing the door behind him carefully, so as not to startle the sleeping man. Mordred made his way up to Arthur’s bedside and stopped.
Up close and asleep, Arthur didn’t look nearly as impressive. He was almost pretty, making Mordred wonder if that was why he himself looked so innocent; he had Arthur’s unassuming blood running through his veins.
He wasn’t the king for nothing, however, and after a few more minutes of staring Arthur startled awake. Mordred’s heart beat sped up. What if he thinks I’m here to assassinate him?
“M-Mordred?” mumbled Arthur, peering sleepily through the darkness. Realizing Mordred was standing over him, his vision sharpened, taking in the boys thinly dressed attire and pale face. “God, you’re shaking. What’s the matter?”
The matter? The matter is that you are going to die. I’ve magic and you still wanted me, you kept me in your home, by your side, me and Morgana both and you’re going to die because of it. That’s the bloody matter of it! And I don‘t…can’t you see I don’t want you to die?
“Nightmare,” said Mordred softly, his voice sounding wrong out loud, as it usually did. Arthur stared at him and for a brief, terrifying moment, Mordred feared he’d given Arthur his thoughts. The fear spiked suddenly as Arthur sat up and reached out to him. He may have flinched, but if Arthur noticed he said nothing, merely pulled Mordred onto the bed next to him and against his chest, binding an arm around his waist as he lifted the covers to cover them both.
“I will never allow harm to come to you,” said Arthur into the dark, his voice thick with sleep. “Not while I’m alive. Understand?”
Mordred blinked into the darkness. Never allow harm to come to him? That’s right, Arthur had helped him escape from Camelot, he’d nearly let him escape with Morgana the night before. Arthur had told him he’d felt a connection with him, the same one Morgana had tried to explain. They had known he was their son, before they found out or were told, they knew. They felt…that watching him die would kill them.
Mordred nodded in understanding, but he’d been silent so long that Arthur had fallen back asleep, his arm still holding Mordred against his chest. There was a warm, safe feeling spreading through him, and not quite reluctantly, Mordred let his body relax and closed his eyes.
This time the nightmare failed to return.
.
Morgana woke as she did every morning (less tired and anxious than usual, thanks to the healing bracelet from Morgause), dressed and left her room to see to Mordred. He was usually up and about, reading usually, and would go to breakfast with her when she came for him.
So when Morgana opened her son’s chamber door and found his room empty, she was confused. His bed was slept in, but his cloak was still hung on the rack near the door. For a brief moment, she panicked, wondering if something had happened to him, if someone had taken him in the night (she was sure it would happen, she was just waiting for an attempt). She left his room and went looking for Arthur to voice her concern before completely losing her mind. She entered without knocking and felt a knot in her chest ease, seeing Mordred in Arthur’s bed.
Arthur caught her eye as he pulled his trousers on and sent her a smirk. Morgana folded her arms across her chest, leaning her shoulder against the doorframe, eyes flickering between watching Arthur dress for the day and watching Mordred sleep.
“He slept here?”
“He had a nightmare,” said Arthur offhandedly. “One of yours, I suspect.” Morgana blinked, startled by the information. “Seems I’m the cure for all magical nightmares.”
“You’re pleased with yourself,” said Morgana, unable to keep the grin out of her voice. Arthur hesitated a moment before glancing her way and shooting her a cheeky smile.
“A bit, yeah,” he glanced over his shoulder at his son, sleeping soundly as new light played across his face in thin lines. “I don’t want to scare him.”
“Please Arthur, we’re his parents. I doubt anything frightens him much.” snorted Morgana, earning another grin from Arthur. It froze and faded from his face. Morgana blinked at his sudden mood change, uncrossing her arms and stepping into her King’s room. Arthur started shaking his head slowly.
“He’s eight, Morgana. He was scared,” started Arthur. “He used his voice, like he didn’t trust himself to connect with me mentally.”
“I am glad he’s started that with you,” confessed Morgana.
“I wanted to kill him when I found out what he’d done,” he said softly, startling Morgana, until she realized he was speaking of Uther. She shook her head and stepped further into Arthur’s room.
“He’s done so much, to me, you, to us. He’s a hypocrite and a liar and Camelot is better off without him,” Morgana said as she reached for him. He turned his frown onto her, but it softened as she spoke. “We’re better off without him.”
Arthur was spared from speaking by Mordred shifting in bed. Morgana left Arthur’s side and sat beside her son, placing her hand on the side of his face as he woke.
“You had a nightmare, love?” Mordred blinked groggily and sat up, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. His gaze held on Arthur for a long while before he looked at Morgana and nodded. She ran her fingers through his hair. “What of?”
I don’t want to talk about it. Morgana frowned.
You can tell me anything, you know that don’t you?
Of course, Mother.
“Good,” whispered Morgana. “Breakfast then?” her face brightened when Mordred nodded, pushing the bedcovers off himself and climbing out of Arthur’s bed. He hesitated a moment as he passed back Arthur, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth before he left with Morgana. Arthur raised an eyebrow at him in question.
Thank you. Startled, Arthur only nodded in reply. Morgana was looking back at them as she cross the room to the door, paying them all her attention as she opened the door. She felt her heart stutter in her chest when she found Gwen standing on the other side, hand poised to knock.
“Oh!” gasped Gwen, startled by Morgana’s appearance in the doorway. She curtsied hastily, averting her eyes from her lady. “My apologies, I didn’t know Arthur had company.” Mordred appeared at the doorway next to Morgana, and Gwen’s face colored slightly.
“It’s alright, Gwen,” said Morgana offhand, not noticing the insinuation in Gwen’s words that Morgana had been with the king all night. “Did you need something?”
“N-No,” said Gwen, shaking her head and backing away from the door. “It’s trivial. I can come back later.”
“Alright,” mumbled Morgana, watching Gwen hurry off, her dresses billowing around her legs. “She’s been acting strange.”
“She’s jealous,” said Mordred, rolling his eyes, annoyed with the servant girl and her pettiness over Arthur. She wasn’t as guarded about her feelings as she would like to believe. Morgana hummed in acknowledgement, but didn’t understand what her son meant by it. Mordred raised his eyebrows, looking up at her. “Breakfast?”
“Yes,” said Morgana, still staring at the corner where Gwen had disappeared behind. “Breakfast.”
Gwen was suppressing tears, blindly taking stairs until she found herself in front of Gaius’ chambers. She knocked twice and entered without being asked, startled when she found Aglain and Gaius’ talking together over a table.
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I didn’t mean to intrude-“
“Of course not, Guinevere,” said Gaius, beckoning her inside. He frowned at her in concern. “Is something wrong?”
“N-nothing,” said Gwen, stumbling over her words, lifting her wrist to wipe tears from her eyes. “Just…Morgana and Arthur were together last night.”
Gaius frowned at her words, mentally refuting them. “That seems unlikely.”
“No, I saw them together,” said Gwen. “I knew they’d been…because of Mordred, but I thought he and I had-“
Gwen closed her mouth with an audible click, turning her head away as a fresh wave of tears broke. She shook her head. “I thought he loved me.”
Gaius sighed, wishing his King could have shown a bit of tact when dealing with women and moved closer to Gwen, placing his arm around her shoulders. She buried her face into his chest, lifting a hand to cover her mouth and muffle the sobs she couldn’t hold back.
“What I know of love,” began Gaius. “Is that it’s possible to love more than one person.”
“It hurts seeing them together,” said Gwen, pulling away from Gaius. “I hadn’t thought it could so much.” She shook her head. “And I don’t trust Mordred. Magic has done nothing good for this kingdom.”
“Arthur wants to bring the end of suffering for his people,” said Gaius. “Bringing back magic is how he believes this will happen.”
Gwen shook her head slightly, lips pursed and eyes red. After a moment she sighed, dipping her head low. “I’m sorry I interrupted your conversation with Aglain, Gaius.”
He waved the apology away, while Aglain shook his head in forgiveness as well. “Quite alright, Gwen.”
She nodded and stepped away, clearing her face with the corner of her sleeve, taking her leave silently. Aglain watched her go, his eyes glittering.
Mordred, I must speak with you at sunrise.
The surprise in Mordred’s voice at being addressed so suddenly was amusing to the older man. What about?
I’ve found a way to kill the king.
.
Mordred was standing at the door of his room, his forehead pressed against the wood in as he weighed the consequences that stood before him. Aglvarr had a plan to kill Arthur, only Mordred wasn’t sure if he wanted him dead. He’d been kind to him, more than kind, he’d been a father. And going along with Alvarr’s plans had become increasingly difficult as it was.
Mordred sighed into his door, banging it softly against the wood to try and clear his head. Then again, if he were king he could free his people completely.
His mind made up, Mordred pulled the door open, and silently moved along the corridor to the meeting place just outside the castle Alvarr had set up in times of emergency. The older Druid was hiding in the shadows, but wasn’t hard to find. His smirk looked wrong on Aglain’s face.
“You’re late.”
I had to make sure no one was following.
“No one, meaning Merlin.” Mordred’s eyes flickered away for half a second.
Of course.
“To business, then,” whispered Alvarr, reaching out to clasp Mordred’s shoulder. He’d grown in the time spent in Camelot, reaching a few inches taller than he had when they first arrived. “The servant girl will kill Arthur.”
Mordred blinked at his words, stunned. His chest heated at the thought of Gwen, a friend of Morgana’s, killing Arthur. Gwen? How do you know Gwen will kill him?
“Because we’ll make her,” said Alvarr in hushed excitement. “We spell her to kill Arthur with a note confessing of her love, and then she kills herself. The tragic repercussions of a secret love affair.”
Mordred felt horrified at the idea. I refuse; she’s done nothing to wrong our people.
“But Arthur has-“
“He hasn’t!” Mordred was startled at the sound of his own voice and in the distance a dog barked at the disturbance. Alvarr’s face paled and his mouth twisted into a snarl. He reached out and grabbed Mordred’s arm, hissing.
“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” Mordred’s eyes narrowed.
Let me go, Alvarr. The older man swallowed and slowly released Mordred, taking a step back.
“This is a mistake, Mordred,” warned Alvarr. “Arthur is not to be trusted.”
“I trust him,” muttered Mordred under his breath, backing away and making his way back to the castle. He hadn’t gone more than a few paces when he turned a corner sharply and found himself staring straight at Merlin. He felt his blood go cold. Merlin blinked at him.
“Mordred. It’s early, what are you doing out of the castle?”
Mordred pushed his nerves away and replied coolly. Just out for a walk.
Merlin nodded, unconvinced, and stared at Mordred for a long time, waiting for the boy to break first. But, after figuring he knew better, shrugged and moved around him, stopping behind the corner Mordred had turned around. He’d heard everything, of course.
Merlin glanced around the corner after Mordred when he’d finally started back into the castle. He frowned, leaning his shoulder against the sandstone. Of all the meetings he’d overheard between Mordred and Alvarr, this one was different. Something had changed in Arthur’s son, and while he didn’t know what it was, he was happy for it. Merlin felt himself grinning and lowered his eyes to the ground.
He might have to start being nicer to him now.
.
“The request was absurd, Morgana,” Arthur was saying as Merlin walked into the hall where the family was having breakfast. Mordred sat up straighter when he noticed Merlin out of the corner of his eye, obviously thinking Merlin was going to tell Arthur then and there what he’d witnessed the night before. Merlin didn’t look at him, but stood patiently at the end of the table as Morgana and Arthur bantered.
“Well, share with the rest of us so we can laugh along with you,” insisted Morgana, the order barely masked by humor in her voice. Arthur looked at Merlin and rolled his eyes, earning a suppressed grin from his son.
“Remember when she used to be respectful and civil tongued? Yeah, I don’t either.” Morgana reached out and prodded Arthur in the ribs, pushing her demand. Arthur sighed. “Lord Bayard’s is offering a betrothal between Mordred and his youngest daughter, Isobel.”
There was silence for a whole five seconds before Merlin snorted. Arthur nodded. “That’s what I thought.”
“Is he serious?” asked Morgana, her eyes wide. Arthur opened his mouth to answer, when Mordred shaking his head caught his eye.
“No.” Mordred speaking out loud caused everyone in the room to blink. “Please, no.”
Arthur laughed openly, reaching out to clap his son on the shoulder. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you! Don’t look so horrified; I told him no.”
Mordred slumped in relief in his chair, his head falling against the back with a dull thunk.
“Merlin, you needed something?” asked Morgana, turning away from the conversation and addressing Merlin’s presence. Again, Mordred stiffened, but didn’t refocus his attention.
“Yes, actually,” began Merlin, his eyes flickering over to Mordred for a moment before returning to Arthur. “It’s about your hunting trip.”
“Is everything ready?” asked Arthur. Merlin nodded quickly.
“Yes, sire. But I was wondering if maybe Mordred would like to join. You’re not hunting any big game, and it might be…good,” he finished lamely. Arthur was frowning in consideration. Morgana looked aghast.
“He’s eight!”
“I think it’s an excellent idea,” countered Arthur. He turning to his son. “I’m sure you’ve hunted before. How’d you like to go with the knights?”
Mordred shot Merlin a look, which he didn‘t acknowledge. Is this a trick?
No. Merlin replied back with simply. Mordred’s eyes narrowed.
Explain.
But Merlin severed their connection, leaving the mind reader blinking in a mixture of confusion and outrage. Arthur reached out to touch his shoulder, trying to prod an answer out of him.
“You…wouldn’t mind me?” Arthur laughed, shaking his head as he rose from his seat.
“We leave in an hour.”
“Arthur…” said Morgana warningly. Arthur waved her off.
“He’ll be fine, Morgana. He knows the woods, and I’ll be there.”
Morgana still looked unconvinced, but she kept her mouth shut seeing Mordred looking somewhat pleased at the idea of a hunting trip. He swallowed the rest of his breakfast and excused himself from the table. Morgana gave Arthur a withering look.
“You’ll look after him?”
Arthur rolled his eyes, pushing his chair away from the table and standing up. “Of course I will, so will Merlin. Right, Merlin?” Arthur and Morgana looked at Merlin who grinned brightly at the pair. Arthur winced. “Okay, I will, at least.”
“Ha ha,” Merlin said dryly. “I’ll just get the horses ready then, shall I?”
Merlin took his leave as Arthur waved him off, only to stop seeing Mordred leaning against the opposite wall, his arms crossed over his chest. Merlin hesitated. “What?”
Mordred’s eyes narrowed. What are you playing? Merlin snorted inwardly and ignored him, turning to do his chores before the knights arrived at the stables. Mordred didn’t follow him.
You will tell me, Emrys. Merlin waved over his shoulder, not looking back. He released a long breath; it was going to be a long day.
“Are we ready, sire?” asked Merlin, shifting uncomfortably in his saddle. Arthur smirked at his discomfort.
“As we’ll ever be, I suppose,” Merlin grinned back at him and Arthur turned to his knights, giving them one last reminder to watch out for trouble (the thinly veiled threat to keep Mordred in their sights at all times went unnoticed by the druid boy) before taking the lead and riding them out.
Mordred kept careful watch on Merlin as the hunting party left Camelot’s walls (sure that at any moment Arthur would turn and arrest him for conspiring with Alvarr to kill him), and Merlin, feeling the intensity of Mordred’s gaze, kept trying to ignore him.
Emrys… started Mordred for what had to be the dozenth time that morning. Merlin didn’t even flinch at the volume, which was a little off putting for his counterpart. Emrys-
It’s not a trick, answered Merlin at long last his sudden response nearly causing Mordred to fall out of his seat. He didn’t (thank God, how embarrassing would that have been?), but the knight closest to him gave him a wary look and moved his ride closer to Mordred’s, just in case it happened again and the Prince was less than lucky.
What is it then? demanded Mordred, a glare that could not be confused with a pout creeping onto his face. He watched Merlin’s shoulder slump with a sigh in front of him.
It’s not anything. He said in a soft voice in Mordred’s head. It’s me…trusting you.
Trust me? Repeated Mordred, confused. You trust me? Mordred could practically see Merlin’s eyes roll. Why would you trust me?
Because you denied Alvarr, explained Merlin. You forced him to leave the castle and when we get back to Camelot we’ll reveal Aglain’s true identity to Arthur and he’ll deal with it.
Is that how you deal with the magic you discover around him? asked Mordred darkly, he’ll know I betrayed him, he knows I would have seen through Alvarr’s disguise and he’ll think the Druids are conspiring against him-
Shut up, Mordred, interrupted Merlin, the slightest growl coming from his form in front of Modred, earning himself an odd look from Arthur. Do you want Arthur dead?
Mordrd looked away sharply, glaring at the path they were taking into the forest, concentrating on the dirt being kicked up by the horses. No, he replied firmly. Arthur is not a bad man. He’s fair to our people, and he wouldn’t send me away for trying to kill him and Morgana loves him-
Then don’t kill him, simple as that, reasoned Merlin, interrupting Mordred’s inner monologue. Mordred stared at his back, stunned speechless by his words.
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” he said out loud, breaking the silence among the knights. Merlin snorted, craning his head around to look back.
You’re welcome.
Mordred shook his head, but couldn’t help the slightest quirking of his lips. Merlin’s face brightened further and he turned back around in his saddle, looking at Arthur, who was trying not to ask what Mordred had meant.
“What are we hunting exactly?”
“Boar,” answered Arthur simply. “They’re over-populating the forest. There have been reports of sighting in the lower villages; destroyed property mostly, a few injuries.”
“Aren’t boars dangerous?” asked Merlin slowly to which Arthur nodded.
“They are. Which is why I didn’t tell Morgana, and why no one else is going to either.” The few knights around them snorted at their King’s confession, but agreed all the same. Because the Lady Morgana was scary.
The hunting party moved deeper into the woods on the path that would take them into the lower villages. They were well away from the castle, when one of the knights on lookout spotted movement in the underbrush.
“Sire!” Arthur turned his head and looked in the direction the knight pointed. Arthur held up his hand for silence, and the party ceased movement. They waited, unmoving, for less than a minute before second brush shook, indicating whatever it was, was on the move.
“We’ll go on foot from here on,” said Arthur slowly, dismounting from his horse and indicating that the others should do the same. Mordred dropped to the ground silently and moved away from the others, focusing his magic on the quadrupedal life forms around them. Arthur broke his concentration when he started giving out instructions.
“Keep an eye out for tracks and disturbed foliage. And for the love of God, don’t do anything stupid,” this he directed at Merlin, who help up his hands in self-defense. Arthur rolled his eyes as he turned away from his servant. He nodded at Mordred, beckoning him closer, placing his son just behind him to keep an eye out. Mordred narrowed his eyes as something blipped on his radar, his head swinging in the direction the beast they were hunting had moved in.
That way. Arthur clapped Mordred on the shoulder in thanks and silently motioned his knights to follow in the same direction.
What about traps? asked Mordred glancing at Merlin.
Arthur’ll set them when we find a higher traffic area of animals, explained Merlin. Mordred nodded and concentrated on his task, but there was something off about his senses; something was shadowing them, not enough for him to notice if he weren’t using his magic so much, but seeing as he was, there was something he could only describe as thick pressing in on him. He opened his mind to alert Arthur that they might not be alone, when something hot and electric cracked at his periphery.
“GET DOWN!” his voice reverberated through the silence, Arthur and the knights obeyed automatically, but Merlin’s eyes glowed at the concentrated energy sent at them. Mordred shielded his face with an arm as bits of woods rained down on him. He didn’t bother to spare Merlin an exasperated look, knowing it wouldn’t do any good. He clambered to his knees, shaking burnt wood out of his hair as he tried to catch sight of the sorcerer responsible.
“There are a dozen of them,” said Arthur, drawing his sword. “They’re in the trees. It’s an ambush.”
He was right, that’s why Mordred hadn’t noticed them immediately; he had been concentrating on the ground. With white hot rage thrumming through him, Mordred’s eyes flashed. He rose to his feet and murmured something inaudible, the incantation cleanly uprooting the dozen or so trees unfortunate enough to be in its radius. Roars of pain added to the noise, nearly drowned out by the felled trees hitting the forest floor. Arthur’s men were on their attackers in a moment, swords drawing blood.
“Merlin!” Arthur shouted at his servant over the chaos, grabbing Mordred around the waist with one arm and shoving him into Merlin’s chest. “Get him out of here.”
No! Mordred’s voice rang in Arthur’s head as he struggled against Merlin, easily freeing himself due to the momentary lapse of attention on Merlin’s part, too stunned at the force of which Mordred was heaved onto him. I can help, you know I can.
“Merlin,” warned Arthur, swinging low as he was attacked by a man wielding something wood at his legs. For what it was worth, Merlin did try to force Mordred to retreat, but there was no way he was leaving without even trying to help.
The knights can handle it! shouted Merlin, trying to force Mordred back and away from the fight. If you use your magic, everyone will fall, including Arthur-
What makes you think you know anything of my magic? Mordred snarled. Get off me and help them.
If Arthur finds out-
Then run, if you’re so scared of Arthur, run. With that, Mordred pushed Merlin out of his hand and off of his body, heading into the fray and towards the nearest duel. Merlin watched, horrified, as one of the knights forced his blade through the neck of his assailant, only to catch on fire before the sorcerer hit the ground. Mordred attempted to put out the flames, catching Arthur’s attention.
“MORDRED!”
Merlin closed his eyes tightly, jaw clenched, tears welling up behind his eyelids. He could save them all, but not without being noticed. Still…Arthur, what would his King do to him when he learned the truth? The screams of knights and the smell of roasted flesh filled his head. He forced his eyes to open; cold and gold with determination and magic.
“Háligreft forsuwung ofer ús.” The clearing went silent, the clash of metal dirks against swords becoming muffled, along with roars and incantations. Merlin could feel eyes on him as he lifted his arms, fingers curved into his palm slightly; he breathed in the magic around him and used it to fuel is own. “Ábégan ælfolc sendan!” a veil of silence over us ; put my enemy to death
Merlin felt lightheaded and boneless as sorcerers fell dead around them. He let his arm fall back to his side where it swung limply. He had muscle spasms and there was blood in his mouth. Mordred was staring at him expressionlessly, as were the rest of the knights.
And Arthur.
“What did you just do?” asked Arthur, his voice surprisingly steady for the horrifically shocked expression on his face. Merlin swallowed, grimacing through the strain of something as simple as that put on his body. Arthur took a step toward him, eyes wide. “Merlin…What. Did. You. Do.”
“Magic,” breathed one of the knights, lifting his sword in Merlin’s direction. “He’s done magic!”
Arthur waved a hand to silence him. Merlin tried to explain.
“Arthur-“
“Were you ever going to tell me?” asked Arthur, his voice beginning to rise. “Or were you hoping I never found out? I can’t believe this-” He stopped, hands on his hips and turned to Mordred. “Did you know?”
Mordred didn’t even have the decency to look mildly sheepish. Yes. To my people he’s known as Emrys.
“’Emrys’?” repeated Arthur, but he quickly waved it off, turning back to Merlin. “Who else knows? Morgana? Gwen, Gaius-?”
“Just Gaius,” interrupted Merlin, and then hesitated. “And…Lancelot.”
“Lancelot!?” exploded Arthur. He ran his hand over his mouth, looking away from Merlin in order to try and calm down. It didn’t work very well, because when he turned back his eyes were dark with rage. He shook his head. “Forget Lancelot. I’m not angry at Lancelot, I’m angry at you.”
“You have to understand why I didn’t tell you, Arthur,” said Merlin, his eyes feeling wet. “Uther would have killed me-“
“That is no excuse why you didn’t tell me!” roared Arthur, stomping forward until he and merlin were practically nose to nose. “I trust you, Merlin! With my life and my kingdom. I thought we were friends.”
“We are friends,” whispered Merlin hoarsely. “It doesn’t matter that I have magic-“
“It does matter,” snarled Arthur. “It’s who you are, it’s what you do; and you’ve been keeping it from me.”
“I-“
“No,” interrupted Arthur, shaking his head and backing off a step. He raised a hand, held up to stop Merlin from following. “I want you to go.”
“Arthur…”
“Go, Merlin,” Merlin shook his head, using his sleeve to scrub tears out of his eyes. He breathed deeply and opened his mouth to tell Arthur to shove off, but stopped, noticing something wrong.
“Where’s Mordred?” asked Merlin, frowning, looking around the place the boy had been standing. There was the body of the sorcerer, but no Mordred. Arthur turned, following his gaze. Merlin watched his face pale.
“Mordred?!” Arthur shouted his son’s name, then motioned for a few of the knights to start searching. He called again. “Mordred!”
Merlin opened his mind, searching for Mordred’s link, but found none. “He’s not here.”
“Obviously,” snapped Arthur savagely. “Where the hell is he?!”
Merlin felt his stomach drop. “Alvarr. Alvarr’s got him.”
Arthur frowned around a glare (which was impressive). “Who?”
“He’s a sorcerer, a bad one. He’s been posing as Aglain to try and kill you…” He didn’t realize what a bad idea it was to finish that thought until he had said it. Arthur’s face sobered and Merlin swore. “Damn.”
“Aglain’s been trying to kill me?” asked Arthur slowly. Merlin grimaced.
“Aglain is dead, I’m pretty sure. Alvarr’s taken over his image.”
“Tell me, Merlin,” asked Arthur, his tone setting off warning bells in Merlin’s head. “Why didn’t you think to mention this to me?”
“I was handling it, sire.”
Arthur shut his mouth firmly, shaking his head and heading backwards blindly the way they’d come. “We’re going back to Camelot,” he called out to his knights, sending them running for their horses. “We’ll inform Morgana and start a search for Mordred.”
“We should also-” started Merlin, heading after Arthur, only to stop and stumble backwards when Arthur whirled around.
“We are going back to Camelot. We are going to find Mordred. We does not include you.” Arthur backed off, turning and leaving Merlin behind. “You are not welcome back to Camelot.”
Merlin stared numbly at Arthur’s back as the King walked away. The other knights hesitated slightly, glancing back at Merlin before following their leader. Merlin didn’t see them, all he saw was Arthur retreating, Arthur leaving him.
“I’ll find him!” shouted Merlin, his legs tensing, his body wanting to go after Arthur. He held himself back, barely, but only because Arthur didn’t stop. “I will!”
He was left standing alone, his heart hammering in his chest with some emotion that he refused to place. His stomach rolled but he ignored the sharp sick feeling and closed his eyes, taking a breath. He needed to focus his energy on finding Mordred. He didn’t bother with spells, just focused on the world; the earth beneath his feet thrummed with a deep pulse, connecting everything together; the trees beat at a threaded pace, quick and thin, disappearing into the heavens; rocks vibrated with concentrated energy; animals flickered in and out with every touch to the ground, while Arthur’s horses raced deeper into the forest in the almost right direction.
Merlin’s eyes snapped open, gold bright in his eyes. Arthur had sent someone to Camelot while he and the rest of the knights went off in search of Mordred. But Alvarr had taken him in a different direction, close enough that Arthur wouldn’t realise but far enough away from make a difference. Merlin whispered a tracking spell under his breath and sent it after Arthur, then headed in the correct direction for Mordred himself.
.
In Camelot, Morgana sat at the head of the counsel table, back straight, eyes clear and hard, wondering why today of all days the lords of the kingdom needed to gather to see the King. She was holding them off quite well, answering their questions and insults with practiced cold ease. Arthur wouldn’t return for hours, and what was more she was starting to get woozy. It may have been the light glaring off the window panes into her eyes, or just the frustration of having to talk to these windbags; either way, she was starting to wish she had just called Gaius in to handle them.
Leon was standing at her shoulder, looking bored, when he sensed the Lady sway in her seat. He reacted immediately, grabbing Morgana around the waist before she fell out of her chair. There were murmurs from the old lords around the table, and one of them shook his head in disgust.
“Just like a woman to faint in the middle of something important.” Leon ignored the man, frowning into Morgana’s face, one hand cupping her cheek. She was pale and her breathing was shallow. He turned his head to one of the knight’s guarding the council doors.
“Send for Gaius.”
“He’s tending a man brought in from the pub-“
“Tell him that Lady Morgana has fallen ill and he’s needed immediately!”
The heavy doors had barely closed before Morgana was jerking awake in Leon’s arms, pushing him off her with a shriek.
“My Lady-“
“It’s Mordred,” she gasped, bracing her hand against the table and pulling herself upright, allowing Leon to steady her as she stumbled to her feet. “He’s been taken, by a sorcerer I’ve never seen. He was wearing Aglain’s robes.”
“The King is with his son,” said Leon, confused. “There’s no way he would allow-“
“I’ve seen it,” snapped Morgana, pulling herself out of Leon’s arms. The Council doors opened and Gaius came quickly in, concern etched into his face.
“My Lady, are you alright? I was told you fainted.”
“In the middle of our discussions,” groused the man who’d spoken before. Morgana was paying neither man any attention as she swept away from Leon in the direction of the doors. The doors swung open as she approached, the flames on the torches at either side climbing higher. The lords went silent in astonishment; Gaius looked aghast.
“Morgana-“
“Something’s happened to Mordred, I’m going to find him. Gauis,” the physician straightened his back when she addressed him. “Get these fools out of my kingdom.”
A few of them sputtered in indignation, while a few others chuckled in amusement. The few amused lords stood to take their leave, bowing to the others respectively, which prompted the others to rise. Sir Leon watched Gaius talk down the more offended of the lords, showing them out of the castle, chatting about herbs and the weather. Leon left the room down the servants’ door, taking the stairs down to the kitchens at a fast pace, his cloak snapping around corners. He nearly ran over two smaller maids carrying laundry, all the while thinking of what could happen with Arthur and Morgana out of Camelot.
“Sedition,” he muttered under his breath. The Druids who had felt safe enough to enter Camelot and make homes for themselves could very well be murdered on the streets. It was rumored that Cenred had sorcerers in his court watching the kingdom for weakness. If he saw that Camelot was without a ruler he would invade. If nothing else, the old lords who looked for any excuse to obtain power would surly have their sons and personal knights take the castle.
Leon pushed past one of the guards to the dungeons who tried to block his way, slipping a bit on a piece of wet stone as he made his way further under the castle. It was damp and cold and it would be a wonder if Uther wasn’t already dead. Leon slowed his pace as he neared the end of the corridor, where a spacious cell had been roped off from the others (the few rapists they had left alive in the bowels of Camelot and one or two men who fancied themselves warlords were the only company the once King of Camelot had). Arthur wasn’t a cruel man; he had left Uther with few luxuries: a bed, privacy and clean clothes once a week. Arthur considered that kind, Morgana considered it a waste.
Leon felt the cold eyes of his king on him as he unlocked the door to Uther’s cell, the catcalling and jeers from the other prisoners muffled at the far in of the prison they shared. Uther had one leg propped up on his bed (which was nothing more than a mattress and a blanket, but still more than the other cells provided), his head tilted back against the wall. He reeked of superiority and distaste, forcing Leon to revert back to his mental state of when the old king was on the throne. He waited for Uther to speak first.
But Uther didn’t, he stayed silent, watching Leon with a slowly growing smirk on his face. Finally, after an eternity of time wasted, he spoke. “Sir Leon, how nice of you to visit me in my humble prison.”
“My Lord,” mumbled Leon, averting his eyes. “I’ve come to release you.”
Uther’s eyebrows shot up, he stood from his cot with grace that could not be squashed out of him by a simple prison. “Oh? Under whose orders? Surely not Arthur’s, unless…” The King’s eyes widened slightly. “Has something happened to my son?”
“Nothing has happened,” said Leon quickly, his back straightening. “Both Morgana and Arthur have left the city, there is no one to stand for Camelot should we be invaded by an enemy.”
Uther nodded in understanding, moving closer to Leon and the door. “And you said you’re releasing me, I assume to stand as a figurehead-“
“Just until King Arthur returns,” interrupted Leon quickly. Uther waved the information away.
“Very well, release me.”
Leon hesitated but turned with a small nod. He braced a hand against the doorframe and called down the corridor to the guards stationed at the end. “I need the keys for the King’s shackles.”
Only after he said this did it occur to Leon that Uther was not bound. He didn’t have time to react before the discarded chains of Uther’s restraints were around his neck, pulling him back into the cell. Uther slammed his fist into the side of Leon’s face, dazing him.
Uther straightened, breathing heavily and pulled Leon’s sword from his belt. “Thank you, Sir Leon, for your absolute inability to think for yourself in a time of almost crisis.”
There was shouting from the guards down the corridor, getting closer. Uther straitened his spine and slammed the cell door, removing the key from the lock and tucking it into his belt. The two guards drew their swords on him as they neared.
“Sire-“
“Bring Gaius to my throne,” said Uther lowly, his eyes flashing dangerously. The knights looked taken aback, but held their stance, swords steady. Uther raised his weapon at the closer of the two, relieving him of his sword and running him through the shoulder. The knight fell to the ground with a cry, clutching his wound. He stared up at the other.
“What are you doing? Arrest him!”
“It’s the will of the King,” he replied, lowering his sword and turning to Uther. “My lord.”
“Gaius, now,” repeated Uther, raising his sword hand up to his eyes. He frowned at the blood shining along his arm. “And a towel for the blood, Sir Finneus.”
.
Morgana was breathing heavily as she raced through the wood. She’d neglected a cloak and the horse she’d taken from Camelot had to be abandoned the thicker the trees became. She’d been running for the better part of an hour, her snagging on what seemed to be anything she got too close to. Morgana stopped abruptly, her feet skidding on rubble as she reached the edge of a cliff.
Morgana swallowed, shuffling closer to the edge and peering over it. There was no way across, and scaling down the side would be too dangerous even with magic. Morgana pulled herself away from the cliff edge and turned.
She startled at the sudden presence of a woman on the forest edge, hand braced against the wall of a mountain Morgana hadn’t even noticed until just then. Morgana frowned in recognition.
“Morgause?”
The sorceress stepped forward, smiling brightly at Morgana. “You remembered my name.”
“Of course,” said Morgana, surprised. “You told Arthur who our son was.”
Something vile flickered across Morgause’s face that Morgana didn’t catch before the disarming smile was back. Morgause nodded toward her wrist. “The bracelet I gave you, has it worked?”
Morgana lifted her wrist slightly, glancing at it. “Yes it has, thank you.”
“I couldn’t bear the thought of you suffering,” explained Morgause without prompt, edging closer to Morgana. She gave Morgause a look and slid her foot back, intending to back away, but her foot caught the edge of the cliff, stopping her retreat.
Morgause gestured Morgana toward her. “I want to show you something.”
“Show me what?” asked Morgana.
“Trust me, Morgana. I know you do.” Morgana hesitated but finally relaxed and followed Morgause.
The older woman led her back into the forest a ways and stopped in front of a well-hidden cave, muttering a spell under her breath. Morgana watched in fascination as branches bended and separated, parting away a path into the cave.
“That was amazing,” breathed Morgana, following Morgause into the cave. “Can you teach me that?”
“I will,” said Morgause, stopping just inside the mouth of the cave and turning to the dark haired girl. “I can teach you now, if you like.”
“Not now,” said Morgana. “Something’s happened to my son, I have to find him…Come back to Camelot!”
Morgause shook her head. “I cannot.”
“Then I’ll return once-”
Morgause held out her hand toward Morgana. “Come with me now, Morgana. I can teach you anything you could possibly want to know.”
Morgana frowned at her, turning her body away slightly. “I have to find my son. Why won’t you let me leave?”
Morgause opened her mouth to respond, when she was interrupted by cracking branches and footsteps. The two women turned just as Alvarr broke through the foliage at the mouth of the cave, breathing hard with Mordred tucked under his arm, unconscious. Morgana’s heart sped up rapidly and in a flash of gold Alvarr was propelled backwards against the rock wall. He sputtered, dropping Mordred to the ground.
“What the fuck-?”
“You!” screamed Morgana, interrupting Alvarr, who blinked up at her in shock. “What have you done to him?!”
Morgause spared him from answering. “You are a fool, Alvarr.”
Alvarr pushed away from the wall, looking insulted “Priestess, I’ve accelerated our path to the throne-!”
“A colossal disappointment,” she snarled. “I told you months ago that your help would be nothing but a burden. Now look what you’ve done; you’ve abducted the Prince of Camelot.”
“And what were you doing?” countered Alvarr, glaring at Morgana. “You’ve been making friends with the Kings wife-!”
Morgana screamed, having heard enough of whoever this man was. He touched her son with the intent to do harm to him and she would do more than merely kill him. She didn’t know what kind of magic she had inside of her, but the moment she screamed Alvarr and Morgause were both clutching their heads in pain, bent over double. There was blood running out of Alvarr’s left ear and was beginning to stain his shirt before Morgana stopped screaming to gasp for air. Her vision wavered, causing her to lose her footing momentarily; Alvarr took the opportunity to pull a dagger from his waist and balance it on his palm. His eyes shone and the blade glowed, lifting off his hand shakily.
“Ábýg!” Twin voices shouting the same spell echoed around the cave, and the blade in Alvarr’s hand, torn between two commands of nearly equal power shot backwards, embedding directing into Alvarr’s forehead, killing him instantly. Morgause had recovered from her bent position and had started forward to disarm Alvarr when he pulled his knife. The second voice came from the mouth of the cave, through the opening Alvarr had created when he entered. Standing silhouetted in the flood of light was Merlin, flushed and sweating and breathing hard. Morgana stumbled back from shock, her hand flying to her throat. swerve
“Mer….lin?”
“Morgana!” said Merlin, relieved, starting forward into the cave, looking around. “Where’s Mordred? Is he al-?”
“Sníðung!” cut
Merlin’s inquiries were cut off as a scream tore from his throat at Morgause’s curse, an invisible force ripping through the shirt and skin at his ribs. His eyes watered in pain, but he stood steady, glaring at Morgause.
“I knew you had alternate motives in showing Arthur his mother.”
“Clever boy,” said Morgause slowly, almost contemptuously. “It seems you know all about magic as well. Very interesting.”
Morgana eyes on his drew his attention, and he found them wide and angry, boring into him as if she would rather like to cut him with her gaze. He swallowed, knowing how she was thinking of him. She opened her mouth barely to whisper. “You have magic?”
Merlin steeled himself, trying not to wince at the gash in his side. “Yes.”
“Then you…you lied to me.” Her voice was gaining volume, becoming accusatory. Merlin grimaced, turning his head to the side to deny it.
“It’s not that simple,” wheezed Merlin, his hand coming up to clamp firmly against the wound bleeding through his shirt.
“This whole time I’ve been all alone - and you’ve just watched me suffer?!” screeched Morgana, beginning to shake with rage, ignoring his attempt at an explanation.
“I’ve been alone always!” shouted Merlin, tears glassing over his eyes as his emotions built: his guilt for Morgana, his frustration with Arthur, his anger at Gaius for swearing him to silence and at Uther for letting it become so much more a burden to carry than a gift. “I wanted so badly to help you, Morgana, but I couldn’t risk it. Not if it meant my death and yours.”
Morgana opened her mouth to say more, but the slight shifting behind her caught Merlin’s attention, and he made a move toward Mordred to check on him. He’d been unconscious since being taken hours ago and Morgana’s raw expulsion of magic probably hadn’t helped. His path was obscured, however, but the fireball aimed for his face. He turned sharply to find the corners of Morgause’s lips upturned in innocence.
“I never would have thought that Arthur’s servant boy would possess so much power.”
Merlin shook his head slowly, facing toward Morgause completely. “You’ve no idea.” He paused briefly, expanding his mind out to Mordred, prodding his consciousness, waiting for any response.
I’m fine, Emrys. Mother will protect me and….father will come.
Merlin nodded in response, holding his arm out for Morgana to stay back when she tried to move forward. “Please, Morgana, I know what I’m doing.”
Morgause’s smirk widened. “Do you now?”
“You’re a priestess of the Old Religion,” said Merlin, digging his boots into the dirt to give himself traction. “You should know what happened last year on the Isle of the Blessed.”
He watched her eyes widen a fraction and took the moment to attack, breathing deeply and shouting his spell harshly. “Byreas!” strong wind
Wind filled the cave, kicking up dust and clothing; Morgause’s hair whipped around her face and neck. The screams of the wind bounced off the cave walls, pitching higher as the wind became stronger. Morgause’s eyes narrowed at Merlin, and her spell was almost inaudible in the gale.
“Þóþer sylfum bælfýr.” sphere of sacrificial fire
Merlin just managed to dodge the fireball, aimed very precisely for his face, taking Morgana to the ground as he did. Merlin thought quickly as his spell died with his lack of concentration on it, spotting thick roots growing down into the cave.
“Ymbseten beféh se drýicge.” The roots animated; creeping along the floor and curling up Morgause’s legs, immobilizing her lower body until she noticed. She struggled against them while Merlin helped Morgana back to her feet. surround the witch with vines
“Get Mordred,” he ordered, breathing heavily from excessive use of his magic. Morgana nodded and turned to held Mordred out of the cave. Mordred was already pushing Alvarr’s body away from him, struggling to climb to his feet through the fog in his head.
Morgause twisted her hand in the roots wrapped around her body, snarling. “Þóþer sylfum bælfýr.” A third fireball shot from her, but due to the awkward angle her hand was twisted in, aimed for the cavern walls just above Morgana’s head, sending a cascade of rocks down on her. Morgana screamed, instinct awakening magic in her. Fire caught to the roots around Morgause’s body. sphere of sacrificial fire
“Handseax áræmem ofsticende híe!” in the chaos of fire and falling rocks Morgause freed herself from the vines and spelled the abandoned dirk at Alvarr’s side; it elevated and shot straight at Morgana who, unable to react, froze in place. Merlin threw his hand up in instinct and shouted the first spell to come to mind. dagger elevate, stab her to death.
“Ábýg.” The blade vibrated in midair and, too fast for mortal eyes to see, it spun on the spot and shot away from Morgana though the blade clipped her hair, which was all the damage it caused her. Merlin sighed with relief, tension easing out of his shoulders. Morgana breath was quick and shallow; her eyes flickered to Merlin and her mouth opened, when she was interrupted by Morgause, who grunted and fell to her knees, her hand coming up to brace against her stomach where Alvarr’s blade had buried itself. swerve
next
Author: darkmagic_luvr
Warnings: Consensual incest, consentual sex between minors, age gap flirting, main character death, angst, Merlin’s tears…cliffhanger? Sequal foreshadowing.
Summary: There are some sins that cannot be forgiven; these sins of the father.
Disclaimer: In the beginning there are lines taken from the actual episodes of Sins of the Father. I do not own them, the characters or the original plot line for this episode.
back
Mordred had been given free reign of the castle, with the exception of the grounds, as a precaution, without the escort of a knight, Morgana, or Arthur himself. He felt so much a prisoner with the walls of the castle pressing in on him. He wanted to be back in the woods, the only thing he wanted pressing in on him were the towering trees and the night sky.
As Mordred wandered the halls of the castle, he ignored the awkward bows and nods the servants gave him as he passed. He didn’t care that Arthur had announced him as his heir, didn’t much care that people were starting to call him ‘My Lord’ and ‘Prince Mordred’. Honestly, hearing his name out loud was more bothersome than ‘My Lord’. The Druids had always kept his name silent, preferring not to talk to him directly if ever.
If he wanted to stay with Morgana, though, he would have to get used to it.
A rustle of fabric around the corner caught Mordred’s attention and he slowed his pace, moving toward the wall silently, pressing his back against the stone. He peered around the corner and relaxed, seeing Aglain standing by himself looking out the window across the city. Mordred turned the corner, opening his mind to greet the older Druid, only to find himself frozen. He blinked wide eyes at Aglain who turned his head slowly, a cold look in his eyes.
The corner of his mouth twitched, his lips pursing and snorted. “Oh, the look on your face.”
Aglain stepped forward. As he did his appearance changed. His skin grew lighter; his stature turned shorter, the scruff of a beard grew along his jawline; his eyes turned green. Mordred found Alvarr standing in front of him, in Aglain’s robes, a twistedly pleasant smile on his face.
“My Lord,” said Alvarr mockingly, bowing ridiculously low and taking a knee. “Fancy seeing you here.”
Alvarr. The older Druid smirked. What are you doing in Camelot? What happened to Aglain?
“Aglain was unable to come,” said Alvarr simply. “I came in his place.”
Mordred had a sinking suspicious that Aglain was unable to come because he was dead, but he said nothing of it, just nodded at Alvarr’s words. And you’re hiding in his appearance? Why?
“Morgana trusts him,” said Alvarr. To Mordred it made sense. Morgana would not have trusted Alvarr unless the other Druids approved of him, which they did not and Arthur wouldn’t have let Alvarr into Camelot if Morgana didn’t trust him. Coming in Aglain’s skin was the only way Alvarr could be in the city.
But why did you come in the first place?
“Because,” breathed Alvarr reaching out to take Mordred by the shoulders. “Because you cannot trust Arthur, Mordred.”
Morgana says otherwise. And I trust Morgana.
Alvarr shook his head. “He is nothing but Uther’s son.”
That’s not true, he saved me once. He didn’t have to but he did.
“Mordred, listen,” whispered Alvarr harshly, his grip tightening on Mordred’s shoulders. “The only way for our people to be truly free is if one of us takes the throne. Arthur’s announced you as his heir and if he dies, you will take the crown.”
You plan to kill the King, Mordred stated, giving Alvarr a look. He is not naïve; in fact he’s almost expecting someone to try to assassinate him. It will not be easy for you to do. Alvarr’s eyes glittered in anticipation, silent, waiting. Mordred blinked. Me? Me kill him?
“You are his son,” said Alvarr, barely suppressing the excitement in his voice. “He will never expect-“
He is served by Emrys, interrupted Mordred. I would never get away with it.
“Then we’ll kill him too.”
Mordred shook his head slowly, not finding an acceptable plan in his plot. Alvarr shook his shoulders slightly, breaking his thought process.
“Mordred, you do not trust Arthur, I can see it in your eyes. We will usurp him, and the Druids will rule Camelot under you. We will make peace in this land the way the Pendragon’s have not. Do I have you?”
For a moment, Mordred thought of saying no, no that he wouldn’t betray Morgana’s trust in him by killing Arthur. But peace in Avalon, a peace he could help create… He nodded and a smile broke through Alvarr’s face. The older man clapped him on the shoulder and stood.
“Then let it begin.”
t w o . m o n t h s . l a t e r
Mordred had been right when he told Alvarr that getting close to Arthur would be next to impossible. And what was more, Merlin was starting to notice a pattern in the failed attempts on Arthur’s life (not that the King noticed, Merlin had always thwarted them long before they could cause Arthur any harm). He kept looking at Mordred with considering eyes. What was more, Mordred could tell he didn’t trust Alvarr’s impression of Aglain; he constantly shadowed Arthur whenever the two were supposed to have contact in private, leaving little time to actually attempt to kill the King.
Mordred hesitated slightly when he came down for breakfast one morning, seeing only Arthur sitting at the head of the table, looking over a scroll while playing with his oatmeal around the bowl with his spoon. He didn’t glance up until Mordred pulled out the chair next to him and sat down, sparing his son a smile in greeting. A maid brought him a plate of meat and fruit and bread, placing a goblet of water at its side. He was still wondering if the servants in Camelot didn’t use some sort of magic, because without fail, every time he sat down, something he wanted was brought for him. He could ask for nothing.
“How are you adjusting to Camelot?” asked Arthur, looking up from the scroll in his hands to look at Mordred who was picking at his breakfast. He froze. They’d never actually spoken together at breakfast, at least not directly. Morgana would usually be there to make conversation, or Merlin to provide amusing commentary while Arthur rolled his eyes and tried his best to ignore him. Even Gaius had appeared whenever the tension was too thick between them. Arthur had never openly asked him anything in the two months Mordred had been living there. Mordred suspected his father had wanted to give him space, time to adjust, to trust him.
Mordred cleared his throat. “Well enough….Father.” Arthur started at the use of the word ‘father’. There was silence between the two of them, Mordred was nearly finished with his food when Arthur shifted in his chair, looking up at Mordred and pinning him still in his chair before he had a chance to escape.
“You don’t have to call me Father,” said Arthur softly, not looking straight at Mordred, but more at the crust of bread still clutched in his hand, halfway to his mouth. “It’s not like I’ve earned it.”
Mordred considered his words. Arthur was right, he hadn’t earned it, but then again, he hadn’t had a very good role model when it came to parenting. Mordred could, he suppose, forgive him for that. But was this his way of telling him that he was going to start being a father? If so, Mordred didn’t know if could handle that. It had been so much easier to accept Morgana as his mother; he’d already felt so close to her.
Mordred thought back to the night Arthur had helped him escape, when Merlin had flaked out on them and nearly gotten them caught. Arthur had drawn his sword, ready to fight his own knights if it meant protecting the boy he was helping escape. Mordred still hadn’t seemed able to grasp Arthur’s actions as fatherly towards him, at least not as easily as he had accepted Morgana’s saving him. But maybe he was starting to. After all, two months ago he would never have allowed himself to sit alone with King Arthur, doing something as vulnerable as eating breakfast.
Not yet, thought Mordred, earning a sharp look from Arthur. Mordred managed a grin at him and pushed himself away from the table, stuffing the rest of his breakfast unceremoniously into his mouth and leaving the room. If Arthur was going to be his father, he’d better get used to the mental connection.
He adjusted to the mind connection far quicker than Mordred would have thought. Occasionally, Mordred would catch him off guard, but usually, Arthur was ready with a quip along the lines of ‘use your words, Mordred.’ or ‘find out if Merlin’s done my laundry.’ and he found it…amusing. No one in the druid camp had bantered with him; they’d left him to his practice or meditation in peace. Mordred found himself grinning every time Arthur and Morgana would tease each other over the table at meals, or when Merlin would sass Arthur and the King didn’t even punish him for it but retaliated in kind. Or sometimes with playful abuse.
He was just getting used to sleeping in a bed, when The Nightmare came. Mordred had never dreamt before in his life, not really. If he had, it was never a dream he could remember. But this, this was something that had to be capitalized. It was a Nightmare, it was terrifying, it had him jolting awake and flying up in bed, cold sweat clinging to his skin, his shirt damp. He’d nearly screamed.
He’d watched Arthur die under his hands, his father’s blood coating his fingers, staring up at him with dead eyes. Morgana was standing further away staring at Arthur‘s prone body, her eyes wide and accusing and filled with tears.
“What have you done?”
Mordred swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat, raising a shaky hand to his face to wipe the sweat out of his eyes. He climbed out of bed, forgoing his cloak and left his room. He had intended to go to Morgana, she’d had nightmares, especially of Arthur, she would help him to get through this (because it had to be the lack of magic surrounding him that brought on the nightmares. He’d obviously inherited his mental magic from Morgana, and without the constant thrum of outside magic pressing in on him, his birthright was becoming more prominent in other ways besides projecting his thoughts to others), but he found himself turning down the less familiar corridors toward Arthur’s chambers.
He’d only been there once or twice, never for Arthur though. Mordred’s hand shook slightly from the cold as he pushed open the door, peering around into the room cautiously. Arthur was asleep in bed, his sheets pulled halfway up his body, even in the cold of the night. The moonlight was streaming through the windows, giving Mordred ample light to see by.
His feet stuck slightly to the polished floor as he entered the King’s chambers, closing the door behind him carefully, so as not to startle the sleeping man. Mordred made his way up to Arthur’s bedside and stopped.
Up close and asleep, Arthur didn’t look nearly as impressive. He was almost pretty, making Mordred wonder if that was why he himself looked so innocent; he had Arthur’s unassuming blood running through his veins.
He wasn’t the king for nothing, however, and after a few more minutes of staring Arthur startled awake. Mordred’s heart beat sped up. What if he thinks I’m here to assassinate him?
“M-Mordred?” mumbled Arthur, peering sleepily through the darkness. Realizing Mordred was standing over him, his vision sharpened, taking in the boys thinly dressed attire and pale face. “God, you’re shaking. What’s the matter?”
The matter? The matter is that you are going to die. I’ve magic and you still wanted me, you kept me in your home, by your side, me and Morgana both and you’re going to die because of it. That’s the bloody matter of it! And I don‘t…can’t you see I don’t want you to die?
“Nightmare,” said Mordred softly, his voice sounding wrong out loud, as it usually did. Arthur stared at him and for a brief, terrifying moment, Mordred feared he’d given Arthur his thoughts. The fear spiked suddenly as Arthur sat up and reached out to him. He may have flinched, but if Arthur noticed he said nothing, merely pulled Mordred onto the bed next to him and against his chest, binding an arm around his waist as he lifted the covers to cover them both.
“I will never allow harm to come to you,” said Arthur into the dark, his voice thick with sleep. “Not while I’m alive. Understand?”
Mordred blinked into the darkness. Never allow harm to come to him? That’s right, Arthur had helped him escape from Camelot, he’d nearly let him escape with Morgana the night before. Arthur had told him he’d felt a connection with him, the same one Morgana had tried to explain. They had known he was their son, before they found out or were told, they knew. They felt…that watching him die would kill them.
Mordred nodded in understanding, but he’d been silent so long that Arthur had fallen back asleep, his arm still holding Mordred against his chest. There was a warm, safe feeling spreading through him, and not quite reluctantly, Mordred let his body relax and closed his eyes.
This time the nightmare failed to return.
.
Morgana woke as she did every morning (less tired and anxious than usual, thanks to the healing bracelet from Morgause), dressed and left her room to see to Mordred. He was usually up and about, reading usually, and would go to breakfast with her when she came for him.
So when Morgana opened her son’s chamber door and found his room empty, she was confused. His bed was slept in, but his cloak was still hung on the rack near the door. For a brief moment, she panicked, wondering if something had happened to him, if someone had taken him in the night (she was sure it would happen, she was just waiting for an attempt). She left his room and went looking for Arthur to voice her concern before completely losing her mind. She entered without knocking and felt a knot in her chest ease, seeing Mordred in Arthur’s bed.
Arthur caught her eye as he pulled his trousers on and sent her a smirk. Morgana folded her arms across her chest, leaning her shoulder against the doorframe, eyes flickering between watching Arthur dress for the day and watching Mordred sleep.
“He slept here?”
“He had a nightmare,” said Arthur offhandedly. “One of yours, I suspect.” Morgana blinked, startled by the information. “Seems I’m the cure for all magical nightmares.”
“You’re pleased with yourself,” said Morgana, unable to keep the grin out of her voice. Arthur hesitated a moment before glancing her way and shooting her a cheeky smile.
“A bit, yeah,” he glanced over his shoulder at his son, sleeping soundly as new light played across his face in thin lines. “I don’t want to scare him.”
“Please Arthur, we’re his parents. I doubt anything frightens him much.” snorted Morgana, earning another grin from Arthur. It froze and faded from his face. Morgana blinked at his sudden mood change, uncrossing her arms and stepping into her King’s room. Arthur started shaking his head slowly.
“He’s eight, Morgana. He was scared,” started Arthur. “He used his voice, like he didn’t trust himself to connect with me mentally.”
“I am glad he’s started that with you,” confessed Morgana.
“I wanted to kill him when I found out what he’d done,” he said softly, startling Morgana, until she realized he was speaking of Uther. She shook her head and stepped further into Arthur’s room.
“He’s done so much, to me, you, to us. He’s a hypocrite and a liar and Camelot is better off without him,” Morgana said as she reached for him. He turned his frown onto her, but it softened as she spoke. “We’re better off without him.”
Arthur was spared from speaking by Mordred shifting in bed. Morgana left Arthur’s side and sat beside her son, placing her hand on the side of his face as he woke.
“You had a nightmare, love?” Mordred blinked groggily and sat up, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. His gaze held on Arthur for a long while before he looked at Morgana and nodded. She ran her fingers through his hair. “What of?”
I don’t want to talk about it. Morgana frowned.
You can tell me anything, you know that don’t you?
Of course, Mother.
“Good,” whispered Morgana. “Breakfast then?” her face brightened when Mordred nodded, pushing the bedcovers off himself and climbing out of Arthur’s bed. He hesitated a moment as he passed back Arthur, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth before he left with Morgana. Arthur raised an eyebrow at him in question.
Thank you. Startled, Arthur only nodded in reply. Morgana was looking back at them as she cross the room to the door, paying them all her attention as she opened the door. She felt her heart stutter in her chest when she found Gwen standing on the other side, hand poised to knock.
“Oh!” gasped Gwen, startled by Morgana’s appearance in the doorway. She curtsied hastily, averting her eyes from her lady. “My apologies, I didn’t know Arthur had company.” Mordred appeared at the doorway next to Morgana, and Gwen’s face colored slightly.
“It’s alright, Gwen,” said Morgana offhand, not noticing the insinuation in Gwen’s words that Morgana had been with the king all night. “Did you need something?”
“N-No,” said Gwen, shaking her head and backing away from the door. “It’s trivial. I can come back later.”
“Alright,” mumbled Morgana, watching Gwen hurry off, her dresses billowing around her legs. “She’s been acting strange.”
“She’s jealous,” said Mordred, rolling his eyes, annoyed with the servant girl and her pettiness over Arthur. She wasn’t as guarded about her feelings as she would like to believe. Morgana hummed in acknowledgement, but didn’t understand what her son meant by it. Mordred raised his eyebrows, looking up at her. “Breakfast?”
“Yes,” said Morgana, still staring at the corner where Gwen had disappeared behind. “Breakfast.”
Gwen was suppressing tears, blindly taking stairs until she found herself in front of Gaius’ chambers. She knocked twice and entered without being asked, startled when she found Aglain and Gaius’ talking together over a table.
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I didn’t mean to intrude-“
“Of course not, Guinevere,” said Gaius, beckoning her inside. He frowned at her in concern. “Is something wrong?”
“N-nothing,” said Gwen, stumbling over her words, lifting her wrist to wipe tears from her eyes. “Just…Morgana and Arthur were together last night.”
Gaius frowned at her words, mentally refuting them. “That seems unlikely.”
“No, I saw them together,” said Gwen. “I knew they’d been…because of Mordred, but I thought he and I had-“
Gwen closed her mouth with an audible click, turning her head away as a fresh wave of tears broke. She shook her head. “I thought he loved me.”
Gaius sighed, wishing his King could have shown a bit of tact when dealing with women and moved closer to Gwen, placing his arm around her shoulders. She buried her face into his chest, lifting a hand to cover her mouth and muffle the sobs she couldn’t hold back.
“What I know of love,” began Gaius. “Is that it’s possible to love more than one person.”
“It hurts seeing them together,” said Gwen, pulling away from Gaius. “I hadn’t thought it could so much.” She shook her head. “And I don’t trust Mordred. Magic has done nothing good for this kingdom.”
“Arthur wants to bring the end of suffering for his people,” said Gaius. “Bringing back magic is how he believes this will happen.”
Gwen shook her head slightly, lips pursed and eyes red. After a moment she sighed, dipping her head low. “I’m sorry I interrupted your conversation with Aglain, Gaius.”
He waved the apology away, while Aglain shook his head in forgiveness as well. “Quite alright, Gwen.”
She nodded and stepped away, clearing her face with the corner of her sleeve, taking her leave silently. Aglain watched her go, his eyes glittering.
Mordred, I must speak with you at sunrise.
The surprise in Mordred’s voice at being addressed so suddenly was amusing to the older man. What about?
I’ve found a way to kill the king.
.
Mordred was standing at the door of his room, his forehead pressed against the wood in as he weighed the consequences that stood before him. Aglvarr had a plan to kill Arthur, only Mordred wasn’t sure if he wanted him dead. He’d been kind to him, more than kind, he’d been a father. And going along with Alvarr’s plans had become increasingly difficult as it was.
Mordred sighed into his door, banging it softly against the wood to try and clear his head. Then again, if he were king he could free his people completely.
His mind made up, Mordred pulled the door open, and silently moved along the corridor to the meeting place just outside the castle Alvarr had set up in times of emergency. The older Druid was hiding in the shadows, but wasn’t hard to find. His smirk looked wrong on Aglain’s face.
“You’re late.”
I had to make sure no one was following.
“No one, meaning Merlin.” Mordred’s eyes flickered away for half a second.
Of course.
“To business, then,” whispered Alvarr, reaching out to clasp Mordred’s shoulder. He’d grown in the time spent in Camelot, reaching a few inches taller than he had when they first arrived. “The servant girl will kill Arthur.”
Mordred blinked at his words, stunned. His chest heated at the thought of Gwen, a friend of Morgana’s, killing Arthur. Gwen? How do you know Gwen will kill him?
“Because we’ll make her,” said Alvarr in hushed excitement. “We spell her to kill Arthur with a note confessing of her love, and then she kills herself. The tragic repercussions of a secret love affair.”
Mordred felt horrified at the idea. I refuse; she’s done nothing to wrong our people.
“But Arthur has-“
“He hasn’t!” Mordred was startled at the sound of his own voice and in the distance a dog barked at the disturbance. Alvarr’s face paled and his mouth twisted into a snarl. He reached out and grabbed Mordred’s arm, hissing.
“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” Mordred’s eyes narrowed.
Let me go, Alvarr. The older man swallowed and slowly released Mordred, taking a step back.
“This is a mistake, Mordred,” warned Alvarr. “Arthur is not to be trusted.”
“I trust him,” muttered Mordred under his breath, backing away and making his way back to the castle. He hadn’t gone more than a few paces when he turned a corner sharply and found himself staring straight at Merlin. He felt his blood go cold. Merlin blinked at him.
“Mordred. It’s early, what are you doing out of the castle?”
Mordred pushed his nerves away and replied coolly. Just out for a walk.
Merlin nodded, unconvinced, and stared at Mordred for a long time, waiting for the boy to break first. But, after figuring he knew better, shrugged and moved around him, stopping behind the corner Mordred had turned around. He’d heard everything, of course.
Merlin glanced around the corner after Mordred when he’d finally started back into the castle. He frowned, leaning his shoulder against the sandstone. Of all the meetings he’d overheard between Mordred and Alvarr, this one was different. Something had changed in Arthur’s son, and while he didn’t know what it was, he was happy for it. Merlin felt himself grinning and lowered his eyes to the ground.
He might have to start being nicer to him now.
.
“The request was absurd, Morgana,” Arthur was saying as Merlin walked into the hall where the family was having breakfast. Mordred sat up straighter when he noticed Merlin out of the corner of his eye, obviously thinking Merlin was going to tell Arthur then and there what he’d witnessed the night before. Merlin didn’t look at him, but stood patiently at the end of the table as Morgana and Arthur bantered.
“Well, share with the rest of us so we can laugh along with you,” insisted Morgana, the order barely masked by humor in her voice. Arthur looked at Merlin and rolled his eyes, earning a suppressed grin from his son.
“Remember when she used to be respectful and civil tongued? Yeah, I don’t either.” Morgana reached out and prodded Arthur in the ribs, pushing her demand. Arthur sighed. “Lord Bayard’s is offering a betrothal between Mordred and his youngest daughter, Isobel.”
There was silence for a whole five seconds before Merlin snorted. Arthur nodded. “That’s what I thought.”
“Is he serious?” asked Morgana, her eyes wide. Arthur opened his mouth to answer, when Mordred shaking his head caught his eye.
“No.” Mordred speaking out loud caused everyone in the room to blink. “Please, no.”
Arthur laughed openly, reaching out to clap his son on the shoulder. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you! Don’t look so horrified; I told him no.”
Mordred slumped in relief in his chair, his head falling against the back with a dull thunk.
“Merlin, you needed something?” asked Morgana, turning away from the conversation and addressing Merlin’s presence. Again, Mordred stiffened, but didn’t refocus his attention.
“Yes, actually,” began Merlin, his eyes flickering over to Mordred for a moment before returning to Arthur. “It’s about your hunting trip.”
“Is everything ready?” asked Arthur. Merlin nodded quickly.
“Yes, sire. But I was wondering if maybe Mordred would like to join. You’re not hunting any big game, and it might be…good,” he finished lamely. Arthur was frowning in consideration. Morgana looked aghast.
“He’s eight!”
“I think it’s an excellent idea,” countered Arthur. He turning to his son. “I’m sure you’ve hunted before. How’d you like to go with the knights?”
Mordred shot Merlin a look, which he didn‘t acknowledge. Is this a trick?
No. Merlin replied back with simply. Mordred’s eyes narrowed.
Explain.
But Merlin severed their connection, leaving the mind reader blinking in a mixture of confusion and outrage. Arthur reached out to touch his shoulder, trying to prod an answer out of him.
“You…wouldn’t mind me?” Arthur laughed, shaking his head as he rose from his seat.
“We leave in an hour.”
“Arthur…” said Morgana warningly. Arthur waved her off.
“He’ll be fine, Morgana. He knows the woods, and I’ll be there.”
Morgana still looked unconvinced, but she kept her mouth shut seeing Mordred looking somewhat pleased at the idea of a hunting trip. He swallowed the rest of his breakfast and excused himself from the table. Morgana gave Arthur a withering look.
“You’ll look after him?”
Arthur rolled his eyes, pushing his chair away from the table and standing up. “Of course I will, so will Merlin. Right, Merlin?” Arthur and Morgana looked at Merlin who grinned brightly at the pair. Arthur winced. “Okay, I will, at least.”
“Ha ha,” Merlin said dryly. “I’ll just get the horses ready then, shall I?”
Merlin took his leave as Arthur waved him off, only to stop seeing Mordred leaning against the opposite wall, his arms crossed over his chest. Merlin hesitated. “What?”
Mordred’s eyes narrowed. What are you playing? Merlin snorted inwardly and ignored him, turning to do his chores before the knights arrived at the stables. Mordred didn’t follow him.
You will tell me, Emrys. Merlin waved over his shoulder, not looking back. He released a long breath; it was going to be a long day.
“Are we ready, sire?” asked Merlin, shifting uncomfortably in his saddle. Arthur smirked at his discomfort.
“As we’ll ever be, I suppose,” Merlin grinned back at him and Arthur turned to his knights, giving them one last reminder to watch out for trouble (the thinly veiled threat to keep Mordred in their sights at all times went unnoticed by the druid boy) before taking the lead and riding them out.
Mordred kept careful watch on Merlin as the hunting party left Camelot’s walls (sure that at any moment Arthur would turn and arrest him for conspiring with Alvarr to kill him), and Merlin, feeling the intensity of Mordred’s gaze, kept trying to ignore him.
Emrys… started Mordred for what had to be the dozenth time that morning. Merlin didn’t even flinch at the volume, which was a little off putting for his counterpart. Emrys-
It’s not a trick, answered Merlin at long last his sudden response nearly causing Mordred to fall out of his seat. He didn’t (thank God, how embarrassing would that have been?), but the knight closest to him gave him a wary look and moved his ride closer to Mordred’s, just in case it happened again and the Prince was less than lucky.
What is it then? demanded Mordred, a glare that could not be confused with a pout creeping onto his face. He watched Merlin’s shoulder slump with a sigh in front of him.
It’s not anything. He said in a soft voice in Mordred’s head. It’s me…trusting you.
Trust me? Repeated Mordred, confused. You trust me? Mordred could practically see Merlin’s eyes roll. Why would you trust me?
Because you denied Alvarr, explained Merlin. You forced him to leave the castle and when we get back to Camelot we’ll reveal Aglain’s true identity to Arthur and he’ll deal with it.
Is that how you deal with the magic you discover around him? asked Mordred darkly, he’ll know I betrayed him, he knows I would have seen through Alvarr’s disguise and he’ll think the Druids are conspiring against him-
Shut up, Mordred, interrupted Merlin, the slightest growl coming from his form in front of Modred, earning himself an odd look from Arthur. Do you want Arthur dead?
Mordrd looked away sharply, glaring at the path they were taking into the forest, concentrating on the dirt being kicked up by the horses. No, he replied firmly. Arthur is not a bad man. He’s fair to our people, and he wouldn’t send me away for trying to kill him and Morgana loves him-
Then don’t kill him, simple as that, reasoned Merlin, interrupting Mordred’s inner monologue. Mordred stared at his back, stunned speechless by his words.
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” he said out loud, breaking the silence among the knights. Merlin snorted, craning his head around to look back.
You’re welcome.
Mordred shook his head, but couldn’t help the slightest quirking of his lips. Merlin’s face brightened further and he turned back around in his saddle, looking at Arthur, who was trying not to ask what Mordred had meant.
“What are we hunting exactly?”
“Boar,” answered Arthur simply. “They’re over-populating the forest. There have been reports of sighting in the lower villages; destroyed property mostly, a few injuries.”
“Aren’t boars dangerous?” asked Merlin slowly to which Arthur nodded.
“They are. Which is why I didn’t tell Morgana, and why no one else is going to either.” The few knights around them snorted at their King’s confession, but agreed all the same. Because the Lady Morgana was scary.
The hunting party moved deeper into the woods on the path that would take them into the lower villages. They were well away from the castle, when one of the knights on lookout spotted movement in the underbrush.
“Sire!” Arthur turned his head and looked in the direction the knight pointed. Arthur held up his hand for silence, and the party ceased movement. They waited, unmoving, for less than a minute before second brush shook, indicating whatever it was, was on the move.
“We’ll go on foot from here on,” said Arthur slowly, dismounting from his horse and indicating that the others should do the same. Mordred dropped to the ground silently and moved away from the others, focusing his magic on the quadrupedal life forms around them. Arthur broke his concentration when he started giving out instructions.
“Keep an eye out for tracks and disturbed foliage. And for the love of God, don’t do anything stupid,” this he directed at Merlin, who help up his hands in self-defense. Arthur rolled his eyes as he turned away from his servant. He nodded at Mordred, beckoning him closer, placing his son just behind him to keep an eye out. Mordred narrowed his eyes as something blipped on his radar, his head swinging in the direction the beast they were hunting had moved in.
That way. Arthur clapped Mordred on the shoulder in thanks and silently motioned his knights to follow in the same direction.
What about traps? asked Mordred glancing at Merlin.
Arthur’ll set them when we find a higher traffic area of animals, explained Merlin. Mordred nodded and concentrated on his task, but there was something off about his senses; something was shadowing them, not enough for him to notice if he weren’t using his magic so much, but seeing as he was, there was something he could only describe as thick pressing in on him. He opened his mind to alert Arthur that they might not be alone, when something hot and electric cracked at his periphery.
“GET DOWN!” his voice reverberated through the silence, Arthur and the knights obeyed automatically, but Merlin’s eyes glowed at the concentrated energy sent at them. Mordred shielded his face with an arm as bits of woods rained down on him. He didn’t bother to spare Merlin an exasperated look, knowing it wouldn’t do any good. He clambered to his knees, shaking burnt wood out of his hair as he tried to catch sight of the sorcerer responsible.
“There are a dozen of them,” said Arthur, drawing his sword. “They’re in the trees. It’s an ambush.”
He was right, that’s why Mordred hadn’t noticed them immediately; he had been concentrating on the ground. With white hot rage thrumming through him, Mordred’s eyes flashed. He rose to his feet and murmured something inaudible, the incantation cleanly uprooting the dozen or so trees unfortunate enough to be in its radius. Roars of pain added to the noise, nearly drowned out by the felled trees hitting the forest floor. Arthur’s men were on their attackers in a moment, swords drawing blood.
“Merlin!” Arthur shouted at his servant over the chaos, grabbing Mordred around the waist with one arm and shoving him into Merlin’s chest. “Get him out of here.”
No! Mordred’s voice rang in Arthur’s head as he struggled against Merlin, easily freeing himself due to the momentary lapse of attention on Merlin’s part, too stunned at the force of which Mordred was heaved onto him. I can help, you know I can.
“Merlin,” warned Arthur, swinging low as he was attacked by a man wielding something wood at his legs. For what it was worth, Merlin did try to force Mordred to retreat, but there was no way he was leaving without even trying to help.
The knights can handle it! shouted Merlin, trying to force Mordred back and away from the fight. If you use your magic, everyone will fall, including Arthur-
What makes you think you know anything of my magic? Mordred snarled. Get off me and help them.
If Arthur finds out-
Then run, if you’re so scared of Arthur, run. With that, Mordred pushed Merlin out of his hand and off of his body, heading into the fray and towards the nearest duel. Merlin watched, horrified, as one of the knights forced his blade through the neck of his assailant, only to catch on fire before the sorcerer hit the ground. Mordred attempted to put out the flames, catching Arthur’s attention.
“MORDRED!”
Merlin closed his eyes tightly, jaw clenched, tears welling up behind his eyelids. He could save them all, but not without being noticed. Still…Arthur, what would his King do to him when he learned the truth? The screams of knights and the smell of roasted flesh filled his head. He forced his eyes to open; cold and gold with determination and magic.
“Háligreft forsuwung ofer ús.” The clearing went silent, the clash of metal dirks against swords becoming muffled, along with roars and incantations. Merlin could feel eyes on him as he lifted his arms, fingers curved into his palm slightly; he breathed in the magic around him and used it to fuel is own. “Ábégan ælfolc sendan!” a veil of silence over us ; put my enemy to death
Merlin felt lightheaded and boneless as sorcerers fell dead around them. He let his arm fall back to his side where it swung limply. He had muscle spasms and there was blood in his mouth. Mordred was staring at him expressionlessly, as were the rest of the knights.
And Arthur.
“What did you just do?” asked Arthur, his voice surprisingly steady for the horrifically shocked expression on his face. Merlin swallowed, grimacing through the strain of something as simple as that put on his body. Arthur took a step toward him, eyes wide. “Merlin…What. Did. You. Do.”
“Magic,” breathed one of the knights, lifting his sword in Merlin’s direction. “He’s done magic!”
Arthur waved a hand to silence him. Merlin tried to explain.
“Arthur-“
“Were you ever going to tell me?” asked Arthur, his voice beginning to rise. “Or were you hoping I never found out? I can’t believe this-” He stopped, hands on his hips and turned to Mordred. “Did you know?”
Mordred didn’t even have the decency to look mildly sheepish. Yes. To my people he’s known as Emrys.
“’Emrys’?” repeated Arthur, but he quickly waved it off, turning back to Merlin. “Who else knows? Morgana? Gwen, Gaius-?”
“Just Gaius,” interrupted Merlin, and then hesitated. “And…Lancelot.”
“Lancelot!?” exploded Arthur. He ran his hand over his mouth, looking away from Merlin in order to try and calm down. It didn’t work very well, because when he turned back his eyes were dark with rage. He shook his head. “Forget Lancelot. I’m not angry at Lancelot, I’m angry at you.”
“You have to understand why I didn’t tell you, Arthur,” said Merlin, his eyes feeling wet. “Uther would have killed me-“
“That is no excuse why you didn’t tell me!” roared Arthur, stomping forward until he and merlin were practically nose to nose. “I trust you, Merlin! With my life and my kingdom. I thought we were friends.”
“We are friends,” whispered Merlin hoarsely. “It doesn’t matter that I have magic-“
“It does matter,” snarled Arthur. “It’s who you are, it’s what you do; and you’ve been keeping it from me.”
“I-“
“No,” interrupted Arthur, shaking his head and backing off a step. He raised a hand, held up to stop Merlin from following. “I want you to go.”
“Arthur…”
“Go, Merlin,” Merlin shook his head, using his sleeve to scrub tears out of his eyes. He breathed deeply and opened his mouth to tell Arthur to shove off, but stopped, noticing something wrong.
“Where’s Mordred?” asked Merlin, frowning, looking around the place the boy had been standing. There was the body of the sorcerer, but no Mordred. Arthur turned, following his gaze. Merlin watched his face pale.
“Mordred?!” Arthur shouted his son’s name, then motioned for a few of the knights to start searching. He called again. “Mordred!”
Merlin opened his mind, searching for Mordred’s link, but found none. “He’s not here.”
“Obviously,” snapped Arthur savagely. “Where the hell is he?!”
Merlin felt his stomach drop. “Alvarr. Alvarr’s got him.”
Arthur frowned around a glare (which was impressive). “Who?”
“He’s a sorcerer, a bad one. He’s been posing as Aglain to try and kill you…” He didn’t realize what a bad idea it was to finish that thought until he had said it. Arthur’s face sobered and Merlin swore. “Damn.”
“Aglain’s been trying to kill me?” asked Arthur slowly. Merlin grimaced.
“Aglain is dead, I’m pretty sure. Alvarr’s taken over his image.”
“Tell me, Merlin,” asked Arthur, his tone setting off warning bells in Merlin’s head. “Why didn’t you think to mention this to me?”
“I was handling it, sire.”
Arthur shut his mouth firmly, shaking his head and heading backwards blindly the way they’d come. “We’re going back to Camelot,” he called out to his knights, sending them running for their horses. “We’ll inform Morgana and start a search for Mordred.”
“We should also-” started Merlin, heading after Arthur, only to stop and stumble backwards when Arthur whirled around.
“We are going back to Camelot. We are going to find Mordred. We does not include you.” Arthur backed off, turning and leaving Merlin behind. “You are not welcome back to Camelot.”
Merlin stared numbly at Arthur’s back as the King walked away. The other knights hesitated slightly, glancing back at Merlin before following their leader. Merlin didn’t see them, all he saw was Arthur retreating, Arthur leaving him.
“I’ll find him!” shouted Merlin, his legs tensing, his body wanting to go after Arthur. He held himself back, barely, but only because Arthur didn’t stop. “I will!”
He was left standing alone, his heart hammering in his chest with some emotion that he refused to place. His stomach rolled but he ignored the sharp sick feeling and closed his eyes, taking a breath. He needed to focus his energy on finding Mordred. He didn’t bother with spells, just focused on the world; the earth beneath his feet thrummed with a deep pulse, connecting everything together; the trees beat at a threaded pace, quick and thin, disappearing into the heavens; rocks vibrated with concentrated energy; animals flickered in and out with every touch to the ground, while Arthur’s horses raced deeper into the forest in the almost right direction.
Merlin’s eyes snapped open, gold bright in his eyes. Arthur had sent someone to Camelot while he and the rest of the knights went off in search of Mordred. But Alvarr had taken him in a different direction, close enough that Arthur wouldn’t realise but far enough away from make a difference. Merlin whispered a tracking spell under his breath and sent it after Arthur, then headed in the correct direction for Mordred himself.
.
In Camelot, Morgana sat at the head of the counsel table, back straight, eyes clear and hard, wondering why today of all days the lords of the kingdom needed to gather to see the King. She was holding them off quite well, answering their questions and insults with practiced cold ease. Arthur wouldn’t return for hours, and what was more she was starting to get woozy. It may have been the light glaring off the window panes into her eyes, or just the frustration of having to talk to these windbags; either way, she was starting to wish she had just called Gaius in to handle them.
Leon was standing at her shoulder, looking bored, when he sensed the Lady sway in her seat. He reacted immediately, grabbing Morgana around the waist before she fell out of her chair. There were murmurs from the old lords around the table, and one of them shook his head in disgust.
“Just like a woman to faint in the middle of something important.” Leon ignored the man, frowning into Morgana’s face, one hand cupping her cheek. She was pale and her breathing was shallow. He turned his head to one of the knight’s guarding the council doors.
“Send for Gaius.”
“He’s tending a man brought in from the pub-“
“Tell him that Lady Morgana has fallen ill and he’s needed immediately!”
The heavy doors had barely closed before Morgana was jerking awake in Leon’s arms, pushing him off her with a shriek.
“My Lady-“
“It’s Mordred,” she gasped, bracing her hand against the table and pulling herself upright, allowing Leon to steady her as she stumbled to her feet. “He’s been taken, by a sorcerer I’ve never seen. He was wearing Aglain’s robes.”
“The King is with his son,” said Leon, confused. “There’s no way he would allow-“
“I’ve seen it,” snapped Morgana, pulling herself out of Leon’s arms. The Council doors opened and Gaius came quickly in, concern etched into his face.
“My Lady, are you alright? I was told you fainted.”
“In the middle of our discussions,” groused the man who’d spoken before. Morgana was paying neither man any attention as she swept away from Leon in the direction of the doors. The doors swung open as she approached, the flames on the torches at either side climbing higher. The lords went silent in astonishment; Gaius looked aghast.
“Morgana-“
“Something’s happened to Mordred, I’m going to find him. Gauis,” the physician straightened his back when she addressed him. “Get these fools out of my kingdom.”
A few of them sputtered in indignation, while a few others chuckled in amusement. The few amused lords stood to take their leave, bowing to the others respectively, which prompted the others to rise. Sir Leon watched Gaius talk down the more offended of the lords, showing them out of the castle, chatting about herbs and the weather. Leon left the room down the servants’ door, taking the stairs down to the kitchens at a fast pace, his cloak snapping around corners. He nearly ran over two smaller maids carrying laundry, all the while thinking of what could happen with Arthur and Morgana out of Camelot.
“Sedition,” he muttered under his breath. The Druids who had felt safe enough to enter Camelot and make homes for themselves could very well be murdered on the streets. It was rumored that Cenred had sorcerers in his court watching the kingdom for weakness. If he saw that Camelot was without a ruler he would invade. If nothing else, the old lords who looked for any excuse to obtain power would surly have their sons and personal knights take the castle.
Leon pushed past one of the guards to the dungeons who tried to block his way, slipping a bit on a piece of wet stone as he made his way further under the castle. It was damp and cold and it would be a wonder if Uther wasn’t already dead. Leon slowed his pace as he neared the end of the corridor, where a spacious cell had been roped off from the others (the few rapists they had left alive in the bowels of Camelot and one or two men who fancied themselves warlords were the only company the once King of Camelot had). Arthur wasn’t a cruel man; he had left Uther with few luxuries: a bed, privacy and clean clothes once a week. Arthur considered that kind, Morgana considered it a waste.
Leon felt the cold eyes of his king on him as he unlocked the door to Uther’s cell, the catcalling and jeers from the other prisoners muffled at the far in of the prison they shared. Uther had one leg propped up on his bed (which was nothing more than a mattress and a blanket, but still more than the other cells provided), his head tilted back against the wall. He reeked of superiority and distaste, forcing Leon to revert back to his mental state of when the old king was on the throne. He waited for Uther to speak first.
But Uther didn’t, he stayed silent, watching Leon with a slowly growing smirk on his face. Finally, after an eternity of time wasted, he spoke. “Sir Leon, how nice of you to visit me in my humble prison.”
“My Lord,” mumbled Leon, averting his eyes. “I’ve come to release you.”
Uther’s eyebrows shot up, he stood from his cot with grace that could not be squashed out of him by a simple prison. “Oh? Under whose orders? Surely not Arthur’s, unless…” The King’s eyes widened slightly. “Has something happened to my son?”
“Nothing has happened,” said Leon quickly, his back straightening. “Both Morgana and Arthur have left the city, there is no one to stand for Camelot should we be invaded by an enemy.”
Uther nodded in understanding, moving closer to Leon and the door. “And you said you’re releasing me, I assume to stand as a figurehead-“
“Just until King Arthur returns,” interrupted Leon quickly. Uther waved the information away.
“Very well, release me.”
Leon hesitated but turned with a small nod. He braced a hand against the doorframe and called down the corridor to the guards stationed at the end. “I need the keys for the King’s shackles.”
Only after he said this did it occur to Leon that Uther was not bound. He didn’t have time to react before the discarded chains of Uther’s restraints were around his neck, pulling him back into the cell. Uther slammed his fist into the side of Leon’s face, dazing him.
Uther straightened, breathing heavily and pulled Leon’s sword from his belt. “Thank you, Sir Leon, for your absolute inability to think for yourself in a time of almost crisis.”
There was shouting from the guards down the corridor, getting closer. Uther straitened his spine and slammed the cell door, removing the key from the lock and tucking it into his belt. The two guards drew their swords on him as they neared.
“Sire-“
“Bring Gaius to my throne,” said Uther lowly, his eyes flashing dangerously. The knights looked taken aback, but held their stance, swords steady. Uther raised his weapon at the closer of the two, relieving him of his sword and running him through the shoulder. The knight fell to the ground with a cry, clutching his wound. He stared up at the other.
“What are you doing? Arrest him!”
“It’s the will of the King,” he replied, lowering his sword and turning to Uther. “My lord.”
“Gaius, now,” repeated Uther, raising his sword hand up to his eyes. He frowned at the blood shining along his arm. “And a towel for the blood, Sir Finneus.”
.
Morgana was breathing heavily as she raced through the wood. She’d neglected a cloak and the horse she’d taken from Camelot had to be abandoned the thicker the trees became. She’d been running for the better part of an hour, her snagging on what seemed to be anything she got too close to. Morgana stopped abruptly, her feet skidding on rubble as she reached the edge of a cliff.
Morgana swallowed, shuffling closer to the edge and peering over it. There was no way across, and scaling down the side would be too dangerous even with magic. Morgana pulled herself away from the cliff edge and turned.
She startled at the sudden presence of a woman on the forest edge, hand braced against the wall of a mountain Morgana hadn’t even noticed until just then. Morgana frowned in recognition.
“Morgause?”
The sorceress stepped forward, smiling brightly at Morgana. “You remembered my name.”
“Of course,” said Morgana, surprised. “You told Arthur who our son was.”
Something vile flickered across Morgause’s face that Morgana didn’t catch before the disarming smile was back. Morgause nodded toward her wrist. “The bracelet I gave you, has it worked?”
Morgana lifted her wrist slightly, glancing at it. “Yes it has, thank you.”
“I couldn’t bear the thought of you suffering,” explained Morgause without prompt, edging closer to Morgana. She gave Morgause a look and slid her foot back, intending to back away, but her foot caught the edge of the cliff, stopping her retreat.
Morgause gestured Morgana toward her. “I want to show you something.”
“Show me what?” asked Morgana.
“Trust me, Morgana. I know you do.” Morgana hesitated but finally relaxed and followed Morgause.
The older woman led her back into the forest a ways and stopped in front of a well-hidden cave, muttering a spell under her breath. Morgana watched in fascination as branches bended and separated, parting away a path into the cave.
“That was amazing,” breathed Morgana, following Morgause into the cave. “Can you teach me that?”
“I will,” said Morgause, stopping just inside the mouth of the cave and turning to the dark haired girl. “I can teach you now, if you like.”
“Not now,” said Morgana. “Something’s happened to my son, I have to find him…Come back to Camelot!”
Morgause shook her head. “I cannot.”
“Then I’ll return once-”
Morgause held out her hand toward Morgana. “Come with me now, Morgana. I can teach you anything you could possibly want to know.”
Morgana frowned at her, turning her body away slightly. “I have to find my son. Why won’t you let me leave?”
Morgause opened her mouth to respond, when she was interrupted by cracking branches and footsteps. The two women turned just as Alvarr broke through the foliage at the mouth of the cave, breathing hard with Mordred tucked under his arm, unconscious. Morgana’s heart sped up rapidly and in a flash of gold Alvarr was propelled backwards against the rock wall. He sputtered, dropping Mordred to the ground.
“What the fuck-?”
“You!” screamed Morgana, interrupting Alvarr, who blinked up at her in shock. “What have you done to him?!”
Morgause spared him from answering. “You are a fool, Alvarr.”
Alvarr pushed away from the wall, looking insulted “Priestess, I’ve accelerated our path to the throne-!”
“A colossal disappointment,” she snarled. “I told you months ago that your help would be nothing but a burden. Now look what you’ve done; you’ve abducted the Prince of Camelot.”
“And what were you doing?” countered Alvarr, glaring at Morgana. “You’ve been making friends with the Kings wife-!”
Morgana screamed, having heard enough of whoever this man was. He touched her son with the intent to do harm to him and she would do more than merely kill him. She didn’t know what kind of magic she had inside of her, but the moment she screamed Alvarr and Morgause were both clutching their heads in pain, bent over double. There was blood running out of Alvarr’s left ear and was beginning to stain his shirt before Morgana stopped screaming to gasp for air. Her vision wavered, causing her to lose her footing momentarily; Alvarr took the opportunity to pull a dagger from his waist and balance it on his palm. His eyes shone and the blade glowed, lifting off his hand shakily.
“Ábýg!” Twin voices shouting the same spell echoed around the cave, and the blade in Alvarr’s hand, torn between two commands of nearly equal power shot backwards, embedding directing into Alvarr’s forehead, killing him instantly. Morgause had recovered from her bent position and had started forward to disarm Alvarr when he pulled his knife. The second voice came from the mouth of the cave, through the opening Alvarr had created when he entered. Standing silhouetted in the flood of light was Merlin, flushed and sweating and breathing hard. Morgana stumbled back from shock, her hand flying to her throat. swerve
“Mer….lin?”
“Morgana!” said Merlin, relieved, starting forward into the cave, looking around. “Where’s Mordred? Is he al-?”
“Sníðung!” cut
Merlin’s inquiries were cut off as a scream tore from his throat at Morgause’s curse, an invisible force ripping through the shirt and skin at his ribs. His eyes watered in pain, but he stood steady, glaring at Morgause.
“I knew you had alternate motives in showing Arthur his mother.”
“Clever boy,” said Morgause slowly, almost contemptuously. “It seems you know all about magic as well. Very interesting.”
Morgana eyes on his drew his attention, and he found them wide and angry, boring into him as if she would rather like to cut him with her gaze. He swallowed, knowing how she was thinking of him. She opened her mouth barely to whisper. “You have magic?”
Merlin steeled himself, trying not to wince at the gash in his side. “Yes.”
“Then you…you lied to me.” Her voice was gaining volume, becoming accusatory. Merlin grimaced, turning his head to the side to deny it.
“It’s not that simple,” wheezed Merlin, his hand coming up to clamp firmly against the wound bleeding through his shirt.
“This whole time I’ve been all alone - and you’ve just watched me suffer?!” screeched Morgana, beginning to shake with rage, ignoring his attempt at an explanation.
“I’ve been alone always!” shouted Merlin, tears glassing over his eyes as his emotions built: his guilt for Morgana, his frustration with Arthur, his anger at Gaius for swearing him to silence and at Uther for letting it become so much more a burden to carry than a gift. “I wanted so badly to help you, Morgana, but I couldn’t risk it. Not if it meant my death and yours.”
Morgana opened her mouth to say more, but the slight shifting behind her caught Merlin’s attention, and he made a move toward Mordred to check on him. He’d been unconscious since being taken hours ago and Morgana’s raw expulsion of magic probably hadn’t helped. His path was obscured, however, but the fireball aimed for his face. He turned sharply to find the corners of Morgause’s lips upturned in innocence.
“I never would have thought that Arthur’s servant boy would possess so much power.”
Merlin shook his head slowly, facing toward Morgause completely. “You’ve no idea.” He paused briefly, expanding his mind out to Mordred, prodding his consciousness, waiting for any response.
I’m fine, Emrys. Mother will protect me and….father will come.
Merlin nodded in response, holding his arm out for Morgana to stay back when she tried to move forward. “Please, Morgana, I know what I’m doing.”
Morgause’s smirk widened. “Do you now?”
“You’re a priestess of the Old Religion,” said Merlin, digging his boots into the dirt to give himself traction. “You should know what happened last year on the Isle of the Blessed.”
He watched her eyes widen a fraction and took the moment to attack, breathing deeply and shouting his spell harshly. “Byreas!” strong wind
Wind filled the cave, kicking up dust and clothing; Morgause’s hair whipped around her face and neck. The screams of the wind bounced off the cave walls, pitching higher as the wind became stronger. Morgause’s eyes narrowed at Merlin, and her spell was almost inaudible in the gale.
“Þóþer sylfum bælfýr.” sphere of sacrificial fire
Merlin just managed to dodge the fireball, aimed very precisely for his face, taking Morgana to the ground as he did. Merlin thought quickly as his spell died with his lack of concentration on it, spotting thick roots growing down into the cave.
“Ymbseten beféh se drýicge.” The roots animated; creeping along the floor and curling up Morgause’s legs, immobilizing her lower body until she noticed. She struggled against them while Merlin helped Morgana back to her feet. surround the witch with vines
“Get Mordred,” he ordered, breathing heavily from excessive use of his magic. Morgana nodded and turned to held Mordred out of the cave. Mordred was already pushing Alvarr’s body away from him, struggling to climb to his feet through the fog in his head.
Morgause twisted her hand in the roots wrapped around her body, snarling. “Þóþer sylfum bælfýr.” A third fireball shot from her, but due to the awkward angle her hand was twisted in, aimed for the cavern walls just above Morgana’s head, sending a cascade of rocks down on her. Morgana screamed, instinct awakening magic in her. Fire caught to the roots around Morgause’s body. sphere of sacrificial fire
“Handseax áræmem ofsticende híe!” in the chaos of fire and falling rocks Morgause freed herself from the vines and spelled the abandoned dirk at Alvarr’s side; it elevated and shot straight at Morgana who, unable to react, froze in place. Merlin threw his hand up in instinct and shouted the first spell to come to mind. dagger elevate, stab her to death.
“Ábýg.” The blade vibrated in midair and, too fast for mortal eyes to see, it spun on the spot and shot away from Morgana though the blade clipped her hair, which was all the damage it caused her. Merlin sighed with relief, tension easing out of his shoulders. Morgana breath was quick and shallow; her eyes flickered to Merlin and her mouth opened, when she was interrupted by Morgause, who grunted and fell to her knees, her hand coming up to brace against her stomach where Alvarr’s blade had buried itself. swerve
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