sins of the father :: part five
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
“You don’t have to keep still like that; magic is meant to flow through you, it’s nature and nature is changing. Harness the change as you feel it moving and you’ll learn to react before it does.” Merlin was instructing Morgana in a more private section of the training grounds, the early morning sun barely casting light over Camelot, mist still hovering over the ground. Arthur’s eyes flickered back to Morgana as she tried the spell again, more fluidly this time. Whatever happened, Merlin seemed pleased with the results. Arthur dropped his forearms against the stone wall and leaned over the edge. He’d woken up at an ungodly hour and come outside to think, he found Merlin and Morgana practicing instead.
The stone dog between Merlin and Morgana shifted into flesh, and barked at Merlin twice. He cheered, and Morgana beamed at her success.
“He’s taught her more in an hour than I have in the last year.” Arthur turned his head to find Mordred standing a few feet away, staring over the wall as Morgana pulled Merlin into a hug. He glanced at his father. “I never really wanted to teach her in the first place though.”
“Why?” asked Arthur in surprise. He’d always thought magic was something Mordred and Morgana bonded over. Mordred shrugged.
“She’s my mother, and magic can be dangerous. It takes its toll.”
Arthur nodded in understanding, if it was his mother he’d want to keep her as far away from his world as possible. The two went silent, watching Merlin’s lips move and the tree just to the left of Morgana animated, branches moving to a very crude waltz, dead leave falling to the ground. Mordred leaned against Arthur’s arm for warmth against the morning air and tapped the surface of the stone wall with his fingers.
“Do you regret anything?” asked Mordred finally, pillowing his cheek against Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur looked down at him and frowned, and Mordred shifted under his gaze. “I mean…becoming king. Do you regret that choice?”
“I didn’t have much of a choice,” sighed Arthur, turning back just in time to see Morgana whack Merlin across the back of the head. “Camelot needed me to be King, and I needed Uther gone.”
“Why don’t you call him father?” asked Mordred. “I’ve only ever heard you call him Uther.”
“A father would never hurt their children the way he’s done,” replied Arthur, a hint of bitterness in his voice. He snorted and looked down at Mordred. “What’s with all the questions?”
“I’m building up the suspense,” shrugged Mordred.
“Oh yeah? For what?”
“The big things. Like why you’re not with Morgana when the two of you are clearly one good spat away from snogging-”
“Okay-!” Arthur interrupted, twisting his arm around Mordred’s neck and pulling him into his chest tightly. Mordred struggled, laughing breathlessly. “You’re mother and I have a very good reason why we’re not together-”
“Is it because you’re ashamed of me?” asked Mordred, and Arthur pulled away abruptly.
“What the hell makes you think that?” he asked seriously, frankly a little angry that Mordred would think so.
“I don’t know, it’s just a thought.”
Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “Liar.”
Mordred snickered and shook his head, looking back down at the training ground. He pointed at the pair of sorcerer’s. “What about Merlin?”
“What about Merlin?”
“Do you regret being friends with him?” Arthur followed Mordred’s gaze, staring down at Merlin as he turned a sword in his hand nearly invisible.
He used to consider Merlin his friend. One of his only friends, at least the only one who would give him shit when he was being a prick. Gwen had gotten better when Merlin was around, but something with her had changed. She was different now, reclusive around him; like she was hiding something. She didn’t tease him anymore, she wouldn’t stay in the same room as Mordred ever, and it was her idea for Morgana to practice her magic out of the way. He’d heard Merlin talked to her yesterday from Mordred, and that it hadn’t gone very well.
Merlin’s magic was the cause of his inner turmoil. He used to think that if Merlin had just told him, he’d be fine with it, and everything could be okay. But the more he thought about it, after the sting of hurt had faded, he started to wonder if he wouldn’t have just handed Merlin over to his father. Merlin told him years ago that magic was only as good as the thing it was used for, if he really believed that he would have practiced it. Morgana’s research into the supernatural had uncovered many, many familiar situations he’d found himself in during Merlin’s stay in Camelot, which said enough about what Merlin used his magic for.
If he had to admit it to himself, Arthur had forgiven Merlin a very long time ago.
“MERLIN!”
Both Morgana and Merlin startled and looked up at Arthur and Mordred. Morgana huffed and placed her hands on her hips in annoyance.
“Sire?”
“I expect you to be a better advisor than you were a servant!” Merlin frowned up at him.
“Advisor?”
Arthur rolled his eyes. “Three years and you haven’t gotten any cleverer. Really, Merlin. Council meets at nine, I expect you to be more prepared.”
Arthur turned away from Merlin and Morgana, trying to bite back the smile growing on his face. Mordred had his eyebrows raised knowingly.
“Is that how you’re going to forgive him?” Arthur pulled Mordred into his side and steered them both back into the castle.
“He understands.”
It was seven by the time Merlin called quits to Morgana’s training. She tried to hide her exhaustion, but Merlin knew the wear magic put on a body and insisted they stop for the day. Besides, he had things to think about.
Ten to nine found Merlin sitting on a staircase with a vacant expression on his face staring into space. The only thing he managed to accomplish in the two hours he sat alone was that Arthur seemed to have forgiven him and he had forgotten something of vague importance that he would later regret forgetting. It was where Arthur found him, descending the staircase behind him and pausing in his stride. Arthur dropped onto the stairs beside him, arms crossed over his knees, and staring down the corridor in disconnect.
“It wasn’t Will at all, was it?” asked Arthur, his words sounding rhetorical. Merlin didn’t acknowledge him; Arthur turned his head and sighed. “Will didn’t save us with that wind, it was you.”
Merlin closed his eyes, swallowing the wave of grief as it moved over him. Arthur nodded in acceptance.
“I can’t believe you remember him,” muttered Merlin, his voice thick. Arthur’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.
“He saved my life, Merlin. I remember the people who save my life with sacrifice of their own.”
“Good,” said Merlin too loudly and too quickly; he looked over at Arthur, finally meeting his gaze. “That’s good.”
“I’m sorry,” said Arthur, and then amended when Merlin’s face screwed up in confusion. “That I sent you away.”
“I’m…not,” admitted Merlin, a small smile creeping up. “I’ve become someone that you can trust, Arthur. Better. Someone who won’t ever lie to you again.”
Arthur reached up to clap Merlin on the shoulder, smiling back. “Good. It’s been hard without you here. I never realised how many people had wanted me dead.”
Merlin made a face. “That’s not true.”
He shrugged. “The few that do surprise me.”
“Well, in lieu of my telling the truth from now on, I should probably mention that all those times I called you a prat I was totally serious. You are a fucking prat. And not just any sort of prat, a royal one-“ Arthur shoved Merlin hard, grinning widely as Merlin hit the opposite wall laughing.
Merlin.
“What?” asked Merlin, looking over at Arthur with a grin still on his face. Arthur shook his head and stood up.
“C’mon, we’ll both be late for the council meeting at this rate.”
“Aren’t you the king?” Arthur looked thoughtful and shrugged, hauling Merlin up by the arm.
“People have better things to do than to wait for me all day.”
Merlin.
“I suppose,” muttered Merlin, frowning at Arthur. He knew he heard his name that time, and it wasn’t Arthur. Then he remembered that something he really shouldn’t have forgotten. “I have to go.”
“What? Merlin-?”
“I’m sorry, I’ll be at the meeting as soon as I can, I just forgot something I should have done yesterday.”
“What is it? Tell me.”
“I will, I just-” Merlin stopped and turned to Arthur, placing his hands on his shoulders and looking him straight in the eye. “I can’t right now.”
Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “You will tell me?”
“Yes.” There was a beat of silence before Arthur nodded and stepped out of the way for Merlin to leave. Merlin clapped him on the shoulder as he went, jogging down the remaining stairs and around a corner.
How he had forgotten the dragon Merlin could only guess. He reasoned that news of Uther’s escape had pushed any thoughts of scaly beasties out of his head. He took the all too familiar trek down to the dungeons, past the guards and below the city. He lit his fingertips with silver light to guide his way and pushed down the urge to make shadow puppets off the walls.
He’d been alone far too long these past three years.
He raised his hand into the air as he neared the end of the tunnel, looking out into the dark cavern. Kilgharrah landed in front of him with a heavy beat of wings, glaring down at Merlin.
“You’ve returned.”
“Yeah, look I’m-“
“I wonder if I should be offended, that I’ve been forgotten in this godforsaken place, while you’ve been down that path that will lead you to great things,” asked the dragon, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Merlin rolled his eyes.
“You summoned me?”
Kilgharrah huffed. “Warlock, you made me a promise and you have not kept it.”
“Been a bit busy, what with the exiling…”
“Don’t insult me, warlock, I need my freedom as well as any other magical being.”
“Why aren’t you calling Gaius down here then? He knows you’re down here.”
“The physician ignores my calls, an unwise move given recent events,” Merlin’s eyes narrowed.
“You knew Uther wasn’t in the cell,” he accused. “And you said nothing?”
“If I did warlock, who was I to tell? The witch?” The dragon snorted. “Contrary to your beliefs, I do not in fact know everything.”
“Then stop acting like you do!” Merlin felt his temper rise, dangerous in the presence of a dragon, but he couldn’t help it. His eyes were wet with his building rage, he snorted and looked away. “Are we done here?”
“Not in the slightest.”
“Get on with it then! I don’t have time for this-”
“Fine,” interrupted Kilgharrah, lowering his head until he was eyelevel with Merlin. “I will put it plainly: Arthur may be king, but Avalon is a long ways away. Many things will happen before it is brought to life and not all of them known to me. I can tell you for certain, warlock, Mordred is not to be trusted.”
“Are you still on this?” asked Merlin under his breath, running his hands through his hair exasperatedly. “There isn’t- There is nothing wrong with Mordred!”
“Mordred will betray the city.”
“You don’t know him!” shouted Merlin. “He’s not the persecuted little boy with a black heart anymore. He’s different, he’s good. He will not betray Arthur!”
“Forgive me, young warlock if I do not believe you, but my advice is sound. Keep wary of the druid prince. He is a traitor-!”
“HE’S NOT!”
“SOMEONE IS,” roared Kilgharrah, his voice shaking the walls and sending debris down onto them like snow. Merlin froze, breathing hard to collect himself and calmly as he could spoke again.
“What?”
“There is a traitor in Camelot, one who is loyal to Uther alone. The traitor has alerted the priestess and the old king of your arrival to Camelot. Do not waste time with games, Merlin or Camelot will not survive. The Druid prince is not to be trusted.”
“You can’t believe that! After everything you’ve seen the past three years. Mordred is Arthur’s son and Camelot’s prince. They do not fear him-“
“For once Warlock, heed. My. Words!”
“Enjoy. You’re. Tomb!”
Kilgharrah growled behind him as Merlin stormed off. Probably not the best words to leave with, but there were some things, human emotions, that Merlin knew didn’t translate to a dragon. Kilgharrah would never know the conflict behind Mordred’s eyes between his heritage and his inheritance, and that Morgana just wanted to protect her people. They weren’t evil. The dragon wouldn’t understand because he didn’t feel as a human did, the only emotion remotely resembling a humans was his rage for freedom.
Merlin ignored the very odd look he received from a guard stationed at the dungeon entrance, just waved him off and told him it was court business. Funny how he could do that now, explain any suspicious behavior away as court business. What he would have given to have been able to use that a few years ago.
He took the quickest route he knew to the counsel room and found Gwaine and Leon leaning against the closed door, probably in charge of guarding the counsel’s privacy. Gwaine spotted him first as Melrin neared them, grinning broadly in greeting.
“You’re a bit late.”
“Unfinished business to take care of,” said Merlin, looking away. He was still angry about the dragon.
Gwaine shrugged at his reasoning, but Leon frowned at him, slightly put off. Gwaine swatted him away from the door and opened it for Merlin, touching the crown of his head cheekily as he passed through the doorway. An older druid man, the one Merlin had seen the day before with Arthur stopped mid-sentence and looked up as he entered. The doors behind him shut loudly, leaving Merlin alone with Arthur’s Druid counsel.
Three of the seven seated at the table stood quickly at his entrance, each one nodding respectively to him. Merlin fought back a sigh. It was the same wherever he went. People heard of him, of his magic and of his destiny with Arthur and treated him like he was a messiah. It grew tiring. Mordred was sitting at Arthur’s right, being both a druid and the king’s son giving him privilege to such meetings.
“Sorry, Arthur,” Merlin muttered, glancing at the older Druid who had been speaking. Arthur waved the apology away.
“Sit, Merlin.”
There was only one seat available, on Arthur’s left. He quickly moved to the open chair and sat down, feeling all eyes on him. The old Druid man narrowed his eyes at him briefly before turning back to Arthur and resuming his speech.
“As I was saying, my Lord. There is no proof that Morgause and Uther are plotting against you, we would have surly seen such a thing.”
“I believe differently,” said Arthur with an indifferent lift of his shoulder. “Merlin, what do you-?”
“Merlin?” interrupted the Druid, eyes snapping onto Merlin and pinning him to silence. “As in the sorcerer known as Emrys?”
“I really prefer Merlin,” he muttered, glancing at Arthur. “We need to talk.”
“Well-“
“Privately.” Mordred leaned forward to look at him around Arthur, frowning.
What’s happened?
I don’t trust these people.
Arthur does.
That doesn’t mean I have too.
“Stop,” interrupted Arthur before Mordred had a chance to reply. He spared a look for his son and then turned to Merlin. “We’ll speak now.”
Merlin opened his mouth to object to talking about a traitor in a room full of Druids he didn’t know, but Arthur interrupted him by standing from his chair. The Druids inclined their heads in respect for their king instead of standing. Arthur gave Merlin a subtle jerk of his head and started out of the room, expecting him to follow. Merlin gave a small wave to the remaining occupants at the table and quickly went after Arthur.
“Are you going to tell me what was so important that you couldn’t tell me about earlier on the stairs?”
“I…well…”
“Merlin.”
“Arthur, there’s a traitor in Camelot,” hissed Merlin, dragging Arthur by the arm as far out of the way as possible. Arthur frowned at him as he was pulled into a servant’s passage.
“A traitor? In Camelot?”
“That is what I said.”
“Are you certain?” asked Arthur leaning closer to Merlin to keep their voices as low as possible. “Who?”
“’M not sure,” muttered Merlin. “My source of information wasn’t…all that clear.”
Arthur looked skeptical. “You have sources? Who?”
“Erm…it’s a secret?” Arthur rolled his eyes. “It is!”
“I think the reason I don’t trust you Merlin, is because you don’t trust me.”
Merlin felt his skin go cold. That was absolutely not true, he trusted Arthur with his life. He was just…he’d just been conditioned his whole life to keep his magic a secret and that was a hard habit to break. Just because he didn’t tell Arthur everything didn’t mean he didn’t trust him.
Except, he knew that was a lie. He really didn’t trust Arthur did he? Not about magic at least.
“Now is not the right time,” said Merlin, looking away. “The traitor is important. All I know is that they’re working for Uther and they know I’m here.”
“Why is that bad?”
“Because I am the greatest sorcerer to ever live,” said Merlin bluntly, making Arthur blink. “And I’m on your side.”
“Are you?” asked Arthur seriously. Merlin stared at him straight in the eye for a long time.
“I am.”
“Then help me find him.”
.
It was just after supper that Mordred found himself alone in his sanctuary to practice magic. Where Morgana had an airy room in a tower to practice her spells, Mordred had a windowless one in the dungeons. The darkness pressed in on the single lit candle in the room, like living shadows trying to put out the light. He preferred the dark to perform his castings, and the thick stone walls kept out the noise above from interfering with his thoughts. That said he kept his mind open for any passersby who might disturb him.
Standing immobile in the dead center of the room, Mordred closed his eyes. His arms stayed at his sides, tensed for anything that might go wrong. There were three stones placed in a semicircle at his feet, they brightened and illuminated a beat after the stillness in the air shifted into wind, causing shadows to flicker across the room.
The spell remained active after Mordred opened his eyes, exhaling the breath he’d been holding. He wiggled his fingers experimentally and the light of the stones flickered in response, making him grin. Inventing spells was a tricky, dangerous process, made easier only by how unhelpful the results turned out to be. Stones that lit up when he moved would only be convenient to light up dark hallways or as a subtle alarm warning for intruders, but it could be useful.
Feeling a bit giddy from his first success with this spell (there was an awkward month in which he burned his eyebrows off, Morgana had not approved) he ignored the feeling of eyes on the back of his neck and passed it off for his magic going a bit wonky from the new spell. He raised his arms out in front of him and plucked his fingers metrically to a tune he knew, watching the lights dim in and out. A shadow caught his eye on the wall facing him, one that hadn’t been there all night. It was a person.
Something heavy and made of stone struck him across the temple before Mordred had a chance to even turn around to see their face. His last thought before everything went dark was: Gwen.
.
Mordred came back to consciousness slowly, wondering groggily why he was sleeping upright. Breathing was difficult, and he could feel the pull of his hair matted to his face. The air didn’t smell like it did in Camelot and absently acknowledged that he’d been taken out of the city. With a jolt, he remembered being hit over the head. He held a snarl back in his throat; there was only one person he could think of who would actively see him harm, though Gwen hadn’t done anything like this before, she was the only person who came to his mind.
He snapped his eyes open, ignoring the sudden nausea that came with it. He was strapped to a chair in the center of a throne room, moonlight streaming in through the large windows. Candles littered the hall, from the rafters to the floor all glowing brightly. There was sage burning somewhere out of his line of vision, and the irritated clicking sound of someone pacing behind him.
Mordred turned his head slightly, not bothering to attempt to look over his shoulder when he knew he wouldn’t get a look at his kidnapper. The pacing stopped and he felt eyes on his neck. Fingers snapped and the footsteps resumed, coming closer to Mordred’s chair. “Morgause.”
Mordred straightened as best as he could when Uther Pendragon walked in front of him; older and gaunt with nothing but rage in his eyes. Quick footsteps behind him signaled Morgause’s entrance and she took Uther’s side, staring down at Mordred with an almost concerned expression.
“So this is my sister’s son,” she said thoughtfully. “I never did get a good look at you when you came to me last.”
“Bastard child,” snarled Uther, he stepped closer to Morgause and hissed in her face. “Be done with it, witch.”
“Patience, Uther,” said Morgause, her face turning bland as she turned it toward Uther. “He is your grandson.”
Uther said nothing, but glared harder and turned away, stalking off toward the throne. Mordred’s eyes stayed fixed on Morgause, and held his breath when she leaned down towards him.
“Are you frightened…little prince?”
“I’ve been kidnapped by a mad king and a dark priestess; they’ve tied me to a chair in an unknown location and are asking me stupid questions. So no,” mocked Mordred, leaning his head against the back of the chair. “I’m not much frightened for myself.”
“Cheeky little brat,” breathed Morgause. “Who on earth taught you to speak that way?”
Would you prefer I thought it? Mordred retorted. Morgause winced and pulled away, eyes bright gold and narrow. Uther sat in his chair with his chin on his thumb, staring them both down darkly.
“I don’t find pleasure in torturing a child, Uther,” Morgause called over her shoulder.
“I find every pleasure in it,” Uther shouted back. “We need the guard stations, their rotations and patrol. I know the land as I know the back of my hand, we get-“
“Shut up, Uther,” interrupted Morgause. “I am absolutely sick of your blithering.”
“I’m not going to kill my father,” said Mordred.
Morgause tsked, reaching out to run her fingernail down his cheek, leaving a path of raised red skin behind. “You have always been destined to kill Arthur, just as he has been destined to rule. No matter how much you believe you will not, there will come a day when that little light he’s ignited inside of you goes out.” The scraped skin on Mordred’s face began to burn brightly; Morgause grabbed his hair at the scalp and jerked his head back to stare down into his eyes. Mordred didn’t jerk away.
“What do you want?” he asked, his voice hoarse from the awkward angel of his head. “To torture me? For what?”
“For your allegiance of course.”
Mordred scoffed. “Such demands. I have one of my own before you fail in your attempts to turn me from King Arthur. The one who took me from my chamber. Few know I practice my spells down there, I demand to know who you’ve enchanted under the kings nose.”
“Adorable, he sounds almost like a prince,” spat Uther. But he looked past Mordred and snapped his fingers. Morgause stepped aside as Camelot’s traitor slowly made their way in front of Mordred. His stomach dropped.
“Goddess have mercy.”
“Now,” began Morgause, raising her hand and placing her fingertips against Mordred’s forehead. “Let’s see what I can do to release you of this learned respect for your dear King.”
.
The next morning found Merlin outside the city walls, gathering plants for Gaius as he’d done years before. It wasn’t any more fun. He grumbled to himself as he kneeled deep in the weeds, scanning the undergrowth for anything that could be useful to the physician. A familiar essence signature caught the wind and alerted Merlin to someone coming down the road toward the castle. He turned his head, straightening against the breeze and narrowing his eyes down the road to make out the small dark figure headed for him. Merlin scrambled to his feet, leaving his bag of weeds behind and taking off at a sprint towards the child.
“Mordred,” muttered Merlin, skidding to a stop in front of Mordred and falling to his knees in front of him. There was a dark, nasty looking bruise across the side of his face, and his eyes were bloodshot. Merlin took the boys hands in his and to check him for any injuries and found rope burns around his wrists. “Goddess, what’s happened to you?”
Mordred stuttered brokenly, unable to form coherent words. His eyelids dropped dangerously and he swayed on his feet. Merlin placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him and waited until he opened his eyes to ask him again what had happened.
“S-somone took me from the chambers I p-preform magic in,” said Mordred. “How long have I been gone?”
“Just the night,” said Merlin quickly. “Arthur would have set up a search if you’d been gone any longer. C’mon, I’m taking you to Gaius.”
Merlin didn’t wait for a response, just swung Mordred up into his arms and bit back a swear at his weight. Mordred didn’t protest, which Merlin took to assume he was worse off than he appeared. He was lucky dawn was just rising, and the city was only stirring with life. A few people stopped to watch and whisper to each other when Merlin passed them carrying their unconscious and battered prince in his arms.
Merlin used to toe of his boot to kick open Gaius’ door, startling the old man at his bookshelf. He dropped the tomb in his hands to the ground when he recognized Mordred.
“Merlin, what-?”
“I don’t know,” interrupted Merlin, placing Mordred on the cot Gaius used to treat patients. “I found him outside the wall, someone took him.”
“Arthur and Morgana?”
Merlin gave him a look, telling him that Gaius needed to see to Mordred before anything. Without another word Merlin left Gaius to kneel next to the boy to check over his body for any further injuries. Gaius removed his shirt, prodding at the pale flesh underneath. Mordred winced and opened his eyes, turning his head to look at Gaius.
It was magic.
Gaius looked up at the boy and held his eerie gaze. “Magic?”
Yes. To look into my soul.
“And what did they find there, my lord?”
Nothing I didn’t want them to.
The quickstep echo of running feet reached Gaius’ ears, along with shouting between his nephew and his king. The door slammed open, and in a blur of silks and black hair Morgana rushed into the room. She practically glided to Gaius’ side, dropping to her knees and leaning over her son. He managed a grimace of a smile for her, and in return she ran her hand down the side of his face.
“Merlin told me as much as he could before he was out of earshot,” whispered Morgana. “I managed to make out ‘kidnapped’ before I took off running. Luckily he told me to see you before I went to war with an army at my back.”
“Lucky for all of us, my lady,” said Gaius he ran his index finger across the horizontal bruising across Mordred’s chest. “He’s been bound around the wrists and across his chest, but as far as I can tell there’s nothing seriously wrong with him physically.”
Morgana’s jaw tightened at the physician’s words, but her eyes remained on her son’s, a silent conversation passing between them. She only broke gaze when the door slammed open for a second time, and Arthur stormed in, followed closely by Merlin. Arthur stopped just inside the room, staring at Morgana with concern in his face and ire in his eyes.
“He doesn’t remember who took him,” said Morgana softly, looking away from her son and up at Arthur. “But I think it’s pretty clear.”
“We don’t know anything for certain,” said Arthur. “I’ll take the precautions necessary, but if he doesn’t remember…”
Gaius cleared his throat and after earning Merlin’s attention, gestured to his shelves of phials. Merlin nodded in understanding and walked to them, his fingers glancing over the fragile glass until he found a pale yellow coloured potion. Gaius held out his hand for it.
“This will help him sleep and heal.”
I don’t want it. Gaius gave Mordred a look, which had no effect, and sighed.
“At least consider it, sire.”
“He will be taking it, Gaius,” said Morgana pointedly, giving her son a look. “You have my word on that.”
“Thank you, my lady.”
“I’ll take him to his room,” said Arthur, moving further into the room. Gaius inclined his head and stood, backing away so Arthur had enough room to pick up his son. Morgana stood as well, holding out her hand to Gaius for the potion.
“I’ll make sure he takes it.”
Mordred refused the potion all day however, claiming there was nothing wrong, and that he would be fine. He snapped at Morgana when she wouldn’t stop pestering him about his health and stormed off to his room for the rest of the day. Arthur nearly had his chamber door ripped off after spending an hour shouting at Mordred for speaking to his mother in such ways. The castle was as tense and silent as their brooding king. Only Merlin didn’t walk on eggshells around him.
.
Darkness had fallen over Camelot hours ago, giving relief to the subjects in the castle. Mordred had remained locked in his room, dinner left outside his door by the servants, untouched. The prince had fallen asleep from exhaustion just after sunset, lying about his bed linens despite the chill in his room. He’d refused a servant to enter and light a fire for him and he’d been too exhausted to make one himself.
Mordred’s face was white against the moonlight steaming in from his windows, curtains left undrawn since the day before. A sheen of sweat covering his forehead shimmered, his dark hair slicked across his face.
The bell tower chimed to signal the hour, and simultaneously Mordred’s eyes snapped open; gold gleaming bright in them. Stiffly, he sat up in bed, swung his legs over the edge and stood. Barefoot, Mordred left his room silently; his eyes glazed over in an apparent trance.
He made his way down to the throne room without running into the guard patrol. He entered the completely deserted hall and stopped just inside. The doors behind him shut heavily, his eyes clearing almost immediately in response. Mordred blinked and turned around.
“Hello, Druid.” Mordred swallowed, watching the figure who had spoken move out of the shadows. Mordred had seen him with Uther and Morgause; he’d been the one to take him. What he didn’t know was why.
But he wasn’t the one who had to find out.
“Hello Leon.”
Arthur’s voice answered the traitors, and he moved out of hiding behind a pillar; his sword drawn. The moonlight streaming through the window to Leon’s right retracted and broke like glass, Merlin materializing in the pieces; eyes glowing and cold. Leon drew his own sword in response to their appearance, stepping away from Merlin instinctively, but keeping his eyes on the king. Mordred stared at Leon blankly.
“Did you expect me to forget what I saw? How utterly pathetic do Morgause and Uther think I am?”
e a r l i e r
Mordred regretted what he said the moment he turned away from Morgana. She might be overbearing but he knew how worried she was about him. It wasn’t the first time he was taken from her and it probably wouldn’t be the last. He was just so tired. He needed to heal, but more importantly he needed to talk to his father in private, and if that meant upsetting his mother just for a bit of peace alone than that’s what he had to do.
Mordred slid into the chair at the head of his chamber table, dropping his head back against the seat and closing his eyes. He replayed his memories from his time in the Fisher King’s palace behind his eyes, recalling as much detail as he was able. He was startled out of his recall by a fist against his door and Arthur’s voice following it. Loudly.
“Mordred, open the fucking door!”
“Hasn’t he been through enough today?” came Merlin’s rhetorical question, muffled by door. Mordred didn’t bother to stand, just lifted his hand and cut two fingers through the air. With a heavy shifting of metal, the lock slid back. Arthur pushed it open and stormed in, stopping in front of Mordred with his arms folded across his chest.
“Shut the door, will you?” ordered Mordred, speaking to Merlin who obeyed without even so much as an eye roll.
Arthur cleared his throat. “Care to explain?”
“I’m not taking that potion.”
“You damn well will,” snapped Arthur. “If Gaius-“
“If I’m not better by tomorrow, I’ll take it then,” interrupted Mordred. Arthur considered him for a moment before giving in with a sigh and dropping his arms.
“Fine. You’ll apologise to your Mother as well; she’s already accusing me of corrupting you.” Mordred didn’t laugh, but Merlin snickered into his shoulder inconspicuously. Arthur frowned down at his son for a moment, then dragged out a chair and sat down.
“Are you sure you’re alright, Mordred?” asked Arthur; Mordred sat in silence. Merlin shifted behind them both, leaning his head back against the door as he listened. Mordred finally looked across the table, the shadows under his eyes making him look sickly.
“No,” confessed Mordred. “I remember all of it. But they’re watching me-I can feel it.”
“Who?” asked Arthur and Merlin spoke for him.
“Morgause and Uther, who else would dare to take him?”
Mordred nodded and turned his eyes down to the table, chipping pieces of wood off with his fingernails. Arthur tried to catch his attention again with a snap of his fingers, startling Mordred. Arthur sighed sympathetically.
“And they stole you from the castle? You didn’t go wandering into the city-?”
“I was in the dungeons, practicing my spell work. He managed to get behind me unnoticed and…” Mordred trailed off, lifting his fingers to his face and touching the bruise left there.
“Who?” asked Arthur seriously, leaning across the table.
“It was Leon,” he said quietly, causing Merlin to straighten in alarm. “Leon brought me to them.”
“Leon?” snarled Arthur. “Leon took you from the castle?!”
“He’s the traitor,” whispered Merlin to himself, whatever colour there was in his face draining away.
“I don’t believe that,” said Arthur. “No, something must have happened. Morgause must have him under a spell. Leon wouldn’t betray me otherwise.”
“I thought it was Gwen,” admitted Mordred. “I thought she finally decided to get rid of me.”
“That’s nonsense, what would Gwen possibly have against you?”
“She’s protested the magic in Camelot right to your face, Father,” said Mordred heatedly, his eyes sharpening for the first time all day. “She hates me-”
“That’s enough,” interrupted Merlin as Arthur opened his mouth to defend his friend. Both Pendragons turned their heads to look at him, identical expressions of ‘who the hell do you think you’re speaking too?’ etched into their faces. Merlin continued. “Gwen doesn’t matter at the moment. Leon’s a traitor to the crown and to the city whether it is by magical means or otherwise. Morgause and Uther must have questioned you when Leon brought you to them. What about?”
Mordred shook his head. “They didn’t ask me anything. They tried to…get me to turn against Arthur,” he turned to his father. “Morgause said it was my destiny.”
“Where have I bloody heard that before,” snarled Merlin, glaring out of the corner of his eye in the general direction of the dragon’s keep.
“I wouldn’t!” said Mordred loudly, his eyes widening. “I swear to the Gods-“
“I know,” shushed Arthur, reaching out and placing his hand on Mordred’s shoulder. “But they tried to make you think otherwise.”
“Not just that, they…Morgause forced herself into my head.” Merlin’s face paled. He practically flew away from the door and dropped to a knee at Mordred’s side, batting Arthur’s hand away and placing both his palms against Mordred’s temples.
“What are you doing?” asked Arthur in alarm. Merlin ignored him, whispering words so fast even Mordred couldn’t make them out. His eyes burned gold during his spell and after a beat Mordred’s followed. Arthur’s hand hovered over Merlin’s shoulder, ready to jerk the sorcerer back if any harm presented to his son.
Mordred sucked in a breath through his teeth, moving his head back to try and pull it from Merlin’s grip. His fingertips only tightened into his skin. And then Merlin abruptly pulled away, resting an elbow on the table above him with an ashen face and curious eyes.
“She didn’t force you, not the way you think,” started Merlin. He glanced back at Arthur. “There are ways to pull information out of an unwilling person, but the subject always has a choice in what they say or how they say it. So even the truth-“
“Could be manipulated into a lie with the right words,” finished Arthur with a nod. “I know that, I just didn’t know that human will could hold up against magic.”
“Mordred is more powerful than Morgause,” explained Merlin, which earned a surprised look from Mordred.
“Am I?” he interrupted before Merlin even had a chance to open his mouth to continue.
“You’re young; it’s easier for magic to channel through you because you’re pliable and new. Morgause is a set course and rarely if ever deviates from it. If that makes any sense.”
“No,” said Arthur, while Mordred just nodded. “What does this have to do with you touching my son’s face inappropriately?”
“Morgause isn’t powerful enough to draw something out of Mordred against his will. That’s what I was looking for, breaks in his will.”
“You can see that?” Merlin shrugged.
“I did learn a few things while I’ve been gone. It wasn’t all romping about in the woods, merrily tripping over my feet ever thirty seconds.”
Arthur chuckled and looked away, falling quite. He was silent long enough that Merlin stared at him in concern. “M’lord?”
“What do I do about Leon?” Arthur asked finally.
Merlin stood. “You leave me to deal with it.”
p r e s e n t
Merlin and Arthur stood shoulder to shoulder with identical blank faces, staring at Leon shackled in a chair with Morgana at their backs. Uther’s torture chambers had been left locked during Arthur’s reign, they were only using them now for privacy. The whole kingdom didn’t need to know Sir Leon was a traitor. Morgana had come down to join them when Leon refused to answer any of Arthur’s questions. Mordred had been sent to Gaius for the night for his protection and a healing drought. He’d taken the medicine this time without protest.
“I don’t know how to feel about this,” said Arthur finally, staring Leon dead in the eye. “Torturing a fellow knight, no matter the crimes he’s committed, seems wrong to me.”
“Would you like me to handle it, Arthur?” asked Merlin, glancing at Arthur out of the corner of his eye. Arthur turned away from Leon and headed out of the room.
“Do as you wish.”
The door shut heavily behind him, leaving Merlin and Morgana with Leon staring blankly at them. Morgana took Arthur’s spot next to Merlin.
“You’re not surprised to see me?” she asked, looking over at him while he stayed focused on Leon.
“You wanted to learn from me.” Morgana nodded. “What then, do you think, would be the best approach to extract what information we need from Leon?”
“Force,” answered Morgana immediately. Leon didn’t flinch.
“There are far better ways to find the truth out,” started Merlin, breaking his stillness and moving behind Leon. He looked up at Morgana as he circled and spoke. “A few years ago, just when I left Camelot, actually, I found myself very, very lost in the woods. I was in Druid land; the air was so thick with magic I couldn’t sneeze without shooting a rainbow of sparks out of my nose. I wandered around in circles for three days before I stumbled into a cave. And I actually stumbled, sprained my ankle and everything.
“When I was in the cave something fantastically terrible happened. I can’t tell you what, in fact I will never tell you what, because what I learned should not be used by any man even in the most desperate situations. I was told it’s called Voice. A tricked used by the Druids hundreds of years ago to command men. It’s said the very first dragon lord was a master of Voice, so skilled that he could use his abilities on beasts as well as mortals,” Merlin finished circling and stopped right in front of Leon, staring down at him regretfully.
While he spoke, his voice changed, becoming deeper and layered; it vibrated through Morgana’s chest and if she had been sitting where Leon was she was sure she would have felt it in her soul.
“Tell me Leon, did you bring Mordred to the Fisher King’s palace?”
There was a moment where Leon’s body shuddered and his eyes fell shut. When they opened again, his pupils were blown and his hands were shaking beneath the cuffs around his wrists. “Yes.”
“And did you intend to deliver him to Morgause and Uther?”
“I did.”
“Tell me why.”
“Because King Uther asked it of me.”
“Why did he ask it of you?”
“Because I serve him loyally.”
“Bastard,” hissed Morgana. “Arthur has-” Merlin held up a hand for silence and continued his interrogation.
“You do not serve King Arthur the same way?” a beat of silence, then, “Why?”
“King Arthur is a foolish man to believe in the good of magic,” answered Leon. “What I know of magic is its lies. I have never witnessed any good to come from magic. You prove me right by using your magic against me now.”
“Would you have answered me truthfully if I were not?”
Leon hesitated, the same blank face staring back at Merlin even as he thought. “No.”
“Ask him what they’re planning,” insisted Morgana, coming up to stand next to Merlin. Leon didn’t even acknowledge her presence. Merlin shook his head.
“Have you ever known a king to tell his subject anything of any importance? If they have a plan Leon doesn’t know it.” Merlin’s voice was back to its normal pitch and Leon’s pupils were back to their normal size. Merlin lifted his wrist to his nose, wiping blood onto his sleeve. Morgana hadn’t even noticed.
“Using this spell hurts you?”
Merlin laughed ruefully and shook his head. “It’s not a spell. It’s a training.”
“Will you teach me?”
“Not even on pain of death,” said Merlin darkly, turning away from both Leon and Morgana. “Using Voice is like losing a piece of your soul. I took his free will from him, there’s no worse crime than that.”
Morgana spared one last look for Leon before turning to follow Merlin out. They both stopped as Leon spoke up loudly, his voice horse.
“You never asked me why, warlock.” Merlin turned back, finding Leon’s eyes wet and drool running from the corner of his mouth. “You never asked me why.”
“This is a side effect,” explained Merlin with a sigh. “If I had Voice’d him to action we would have no trouble. But the truth is always tricky.”
“Ask me why I choose Uther,” continued Leon as if Merlin hadn’t spoken. “Ask me why I choose the old king instead of the rightful one.”
“You do believe Arthur is the rightful king?” asked Morgana. Leon’s eyes flickered to her briefly before returning to Merlin.
“Yes. But I served Uther since I was a boy. I was in Camelot during the Great Purge. I was witness to the kingdom’s darkest age. Bodies littering the streets, both man and magic; half the city was burning at any given time. I was a squire when the Purge began, maybe eight or nine. I watched the King grieve his dead wife and celebrate his only son while he bathed in the blood of the people he hated beyond both love and sadness. I watched my sister burn at the stake for practicing the Druid religion and in turn my parents burned in their house for their gold by dark, mad Druid men. Those few people who lived through the Great Purge do not take magic lightly. We will not suffer them.”
“You’re wrong, Leon,” said Morgana. “The people of Camelot have more than accepted the Druids back into the city. You’re fighting a losing war.”
“If you loved Arthur at all, you would convince him to surrender to Uther and leave Camelot with the rest of your kin,” said Leon. Merlin watched Morgana stiffen and reached out to grab her arm, dragging her backwards toward the door. Leon jerked against his bonds. “Lady Morgana, if you love Arthur you will convince him that he is wrong!”
Merlin scrambled to lock the door behind them, slapping the metal padlock closed. Morgana wore a stunned look on her face, staring at the closed and bolted door as if she could see Sir Leon beyond it. Merlin sighed breathlessly.
“I have to speak with Arthur.” Morgana just nodded. Merlin caught his breath after a moment of silence; he realised Leon had gotten to her and snapped his fingers just below her nose to startled her out of her reverie. She blinked and looked over at him.
“What did you say?”
“I said I need to speak with Arthur.”
“Check the armory,” mumbled Morgana. “He goes there sometimes to think.”
“Right.”
Without another word Morgana turned and left, leaving Merlin staring after her with concern in his eyes. She would be alright; she was Morgana for Goddess’ sake! There wasn’t anything to worry about. He needed to speak to Arthur about Leon though, and whatever it could be that Uther and Morgause were planning.
Yes, Morgana would be fine.
.
But Morgana wasn’t fine. Uther had always gotten under her skin, ever since she was a girl and even now, dozens of miles away, he was still interfering in her life. He was a parasite she had no remedy for and she refused to suffer him any longer. That man had taken away her father, her son and her lover without once looking back at his actions and considering what would be best for her.
Morgana took the long way through the castle to her chambers taking her time as she went, the growing light of morning streaming in through the windows. She replayed what Leon had said over and over in her head until she found herself in front of a familiar room that did not belong to her.
Morgana reached up to touch the door with her fingertips; wanting and desperate need warming her bones. Merlin had said he was going to speak with Arthur, and knowing him as she did, he’d be on the training grounds; going over drills and footwork until he couldn’t think straight.
Mindlessly, Morgana slid her hand down the door and opened it, pushing inside Arthur’s room. It was empty; of course she had been hoping it wasn’t. It was different being in his room without Arthur there. She was half expecting him to walk out half naked and snapping about one thing or the other. Morgana let the door shut behind her and slowly made her way inside, heading for the table near the fireplace. She fell into a pulled chair softly and rested one arm against the table, staring unblinkingly at the tabletop in thought.
Leon had asked her if she really loved him. He had been there when Uther had announced that she and Arthur were siblings, and yet he still asked her if she loved Arthur. Was she wrong in thinking that he might have seen something she hadn’t in the last few years? That despite being half siblings she was in love with him? Never once while they were growing up had Morgana ever considered Arthur as a brother like most might have. She’d come to Camelot already noticing boys, any time spent together as children before had been brief. They had been friends, never siblings. And she had been groomed by countless ladies-in-waiting as the future Queen of Camelot, she wasn’t taught to see Arthur in a brotherly light.
How the fact that she and Arthur were siblings by blood had never come to light in the court Morgana didn’t know. There were only six of them who knew the truth and only one of them knew how Morgana felt. How hadn’t she realised she was still in love with Arthur before Leon realised it?
Morgana blinked up quickly as the door opened once again and Arthur started inside. He paused halfway through the door after spotting her. She said nothing, just watched him. He sat at the table across from her, leaning back languidly in his chair and waited for her to speak.
She didn’t ask how his talk with Merlin had gone, and he didn’t ask her what she was doing in his room at the ungodly hour that it was. They stared at each other for what had to have been hours in complete silence, unmoving under the others gaze.
Morgana’s voice broke the silence. “I love you.”
Arthur said nothing, but he didn’t look away. They continued to sit as the sun rose higher and the sounds of the city starting the day filled the silence in the room.
Arthur rose suddenly from his chair and rounded the table, grabbing Morgana by the wrist and hauling her to her feet. He wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her against him and kissed her deeply in one smooth motion. Morgana didn’t resist apart from inhaling sharply in surprise.
He was different under her mouth, harder and more experienced whereas she hadn’t done much kissing since... since the last time she kissed him. He was a good deal taller than her now and it made a difference pressed against him. Soon Morgana’s head was spinning trying to remember little details from a decade ago. Arthur’s fingers dug into her dress, pulling the fabric tight. She lost herself after that and let him kiss her, her head spinning all too soon as she tried to memorize every little detail in the moment.
A sharp tapping on the door interrupted their kiss and reluctantly Arthur pulled his mouth off of hers, but kept her close as he called out to respond. “What is it?”
“It’s nearly seven o’clock, sire,” came the groggy voice of Gwaine, muffled through the door. “And Leon missed his rotation for the guard.”
“Leon won’t be joining us today,” Arthur answered, his arms tightening around Morgana slightly. “I’ll be down at the grounds in a minute.”
“Yes, sire.”
“Have you decided what to do with Leon?” asked Morgana, looking up at him. A dark look passed over Arthur’s face.
“Unfortunately no. Uther has no idea we’ve found Leon out, which could work to our advantage.”
“Morgause is bound to have noticed-“
“But Uther will never take her word.” Arthur sighed and pressed his forehead against Morgana’s, closing his eyes tightly. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“Arthur…” started Morgana softly. “We can’t….”
“Says who? Because it’s supposed to be wrong? This doesn’t feel wrong, does it?”
Morgana swallowed thickly and shook her head. “No.”
Arthur moved his hands to Morgana’s face, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead before stepping away. “I have to go,” he said. “We’ll talk about this later?”
Morgana nodded and watched him go for half a moment before she collected herself and followed.
.
Morgause’s elbows rested on the edge of her water basin, her face resting in her palms as she stared into the waters in boredom. Uther had stormed out hours ago, muttering under his breath about amateur knights and sorcery and nothing she hadn’t heard before. With a short sigh she focused her attention back to her waters. And blinked.
“What the fuck,” she whispered, straightening up and concentrating harder onto the images flashing in the still water. She could hear her heart thrumming in her ears and felt her stomach drop, watching Merlin shout wordlessly at Leon’s face. He’d been discovered, unfortunate.
Morgause turned away from the basin, ignoring the rest of what the past showed her. Arthur wouldn’t come after them, he’d wait for Uther’s temper to snap and defeat him at Camelot. What she could do though-
Morgause’s thoughts were interrupted by Uther’s return, slamming the doors open with unnecessary force and stomping in. His face was red, nearly purple with rage and for a brief moment Morgause thought he might know of Leon’s capture.
“I’m tired of waiting,” he snapped in her face instead. “Leon’s taking too long with the bastard-“
“Mordred. Is. Your. Grandson,” bit out Morgause tightly, knowing she would be ignored and not feeling even a little better when she was.
“-I want to move now.”
Morgause blinked at him slowly. She was ready to just kill the old king herself and be done with him, and really, why hadn’t she? She’d spent three years with the man, not one of those days was pleasant for her. Sure, they had some intense and even amusing eyefucking, but every time he passed a window she prayed to the Goddess that a Wyvern would barrel through the glass and just eat him.
Morguase smiled tightly up at Uther. “Then go.”
If she knew those two little words would be the key to shut Uther up she would have told him to leave years ago. The old king’s eyes widened and the red splotches on his face returned to their normal colour. He took a step back from her and gave her a measured look.
“Is it time?”
“Why let the right moment stop you!” cried Morgause, feeling her mood brightening. “Go! Take the army that belongs to you and once again conquer Camelot. Never mind that you’ll have to kill your son for the throne, the important thing is that you will be King.”
Uther’s eyes narrowed. “You’re mocking me.”
“I’m sick of you,” spat Morgause. “I’m absolutely tired of your impatience and your single-mindedness. If giving you the army I’ve created, and the freedom I provided for you will get you out of my sight, then I wish you more than well on your journey to Camelot.”
“And Leon-”
“Will be waiting for you with bated breath, I’m sure,” growled Morgause venomously. Should she tell him that Leon had been captured? No. The pawn didn’t know anything, and Uther wouldn’t listen anyways. She was surprised he was listening now even. Morgause quirked her eyebrows saucily at Uther and swept around him, heading for the door briskly.
“Goodbye Uther. It has not been a pleasure, although,” Morguase paused with her hand on the door and looked back over her shoulder at Uther, “I have always wondered about Arthur’s conception. You made a deal with Nimueh for a son at the cost of Ygraine’s life; she never did tell me if you did anything more than speak words. If this is the case, is Arthur really your son at all?”
Morgause watched in slow motion as Uther’s face contorted with rage, and with a pleasant smile, disappeared into a clap of thunder and smoke.
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
“You don’t have to keep still like that; magic is meant to flow through you, it’s nature and nature is changing. Harness the change as you feel it moving and you’ll learn to react before it does.” Merlin was instructing Morgana in a more private section of the training grounds, the early morning sun barely casting light over Camelot, mist still hovering over the ground. Arthur’s eyes flickered back to Morgana as she tried the spell again, more fluidly this time. Whatever happened, Merlin seemed pleased with the results. Arthur dropped his forearms against the stone wall and leaned over the edge. He’d woken up at an ungodly hour and come outside to think, he found Merlin and Morgana practicing instead.
The stone dog between Merlin and Morgana shifted into flesh, and barked at Merlin twice. He cheered, and Morgana beamed at her success.
“He’s taught her more in an hour than I have in the last year.” Arthur turned his head to find Mordred standing a few feet away, staring over the wall as Morgana pulled Merlin into a hug. He glanced at his father. “I never really wanted to teach her in the first place though.”
“Why?” asked Arthur in surprise. He’d always thought magic was something Mordred and Morgana bonded over. Mordred shrugged.
“She’s my mother, and magic can be dangerous. It takes its toll.”
Arthur nodded in understanding, if it was his mother he’d want to keep her as far away from his world as possible. The two went silent, watching Merlin’s lips move and the tree just to the left of Morgana animated, branches moving to a very crude waltz, dead leave falling to the ground. Mordred leaned against Arthur’s arm for warmth against the morning air and tapped the surface of the stone wall with his fingers.
“Do you regret anything?” asked Mordred finally, pillowing his cheek against Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur looked down at him and frowned, and Mordred shifted under his gaze. “I mean…becoming king. Do you regret that choice?”
“I didn’t have much of a choice,” sighed Arthur, turning back just in time to see Morgana whack Merlin across the back of the head. “Camelot needed me to be King, and I needed Uther gone.”
“Why don’t you call him father?” asked Mordred. “I’ve only ever heard you call him Uther.”
“A father would never hurt their children the way he’s done,” replied Arthur, a hint of bitterness in his voice. He snorted and looked down at Mordred. “What’s with all the questions?”
“I’m building up the suspense,” shrugged Mordred.
“Oh yeah? For what?”
“The big things. Like why you’re not with Morgana when the two of you are clearly one good spat away from snogging-”
“Okay-!” Arthur interrupted, twisting his arm around Mordred’s neck and pulling him into his chest tightly. Mordred struggled, laughing breathlessly. “You’re mother and I have a very good reason why we’re not together-”
“Is it because you’re ashamed of me?” asked Mordred, and Arthur pulled away abruptly.
“What the hell makes you think that?” he asked seriously, frankly a little angry that Mordred would think so.
“I don’t know, it’s just a thought.”
Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “Liar.”
Mordred snickered and shook his head, looking back down at the training ground. He pointed at the pair of sorcerer’s. “What about Merlin?”
“What about Merlin?”
“Do you regret being friends with him?” Arthur followed Mordred’s gaze, staring down at Merlin as he turned a sword in his hand nearly invisible.
He used to consider Merlin his friend. One of his only friends, at least the only one who would give him shit when he was being a prick. Gwen had gotten better when Merlin was around, but something with her had changed. She was different now, reclusive around him; like she was hiding something. She didn’t tease him anymore, she wouldn’t stay in the same room as Mordred ever, and it was her idea for Morgana to practice her magic out of the way. He’d heard Merlin talked to her yesterday from Mordred, and that it hadn’t gone very well.
Merlin’s magic was the cause of his inner turmoil. He used to think that if Merlin had just told him, he’d be fine with it, and everything could be okay. But the more he thought about it, after the sting of hurt had faded, he started to wonder if he wouldn’t have just handed Merlin over to his father. Merlin told him years ago that magic was only as good as the thing it was used for, if he really believed that he would have practiced it. Morgana’s research into the supernatural had uncovered many, many familiar situations he’d found himself in during Merlin’s stay in Camelot, which said enough about what Merlin used his magic for.
If he had to admit it to himself, Arthur had forgiven Merlin a very long time ago.
“MERLIN!”
Both Morgana and Merlin startled and looked up at Arthur and Mordred. Morgana huffed and placed her hands on her hips in annoyance.
“Sire?”
“I expect you to be a better advisor than you were a servant!” Merlin frowned up at him.
“Advisor?”
Arthur rolled his eyes. “Three years and you haven’t gotten any cleverer. Really, Merlin. Council meets at nine, I expect you to be more prepared.”
Arthur turned away from Merlin and Morgana, trying to bite back the smile growing on his face. Mordred had his eyebrows raised knowingly.
“Is that how you’re going to forgive him?” Arthur pulled Mordred into his side and steered them both back into the castle.
“He understands.”
It was seven by the time Merlin called quits to Morgana’s training. She tried to hide her exhaustion, but Merlin knew the wear magic put on a body and insisted they stop for the day. Besides, he had things to think about.
Ten to nine found Merlin sitting on a staircase with a vacant expression on his face staring into space. The only thing he managed to accomplish in the two hours he sat alone was that Arthur seemed to have forgiven him and he had forgotten something of vague importance that he would later regret forgetting. It was where Arthur found him, descending the staircase behind him and pausing in his stride. Arthur dropped onto the stairs beside him, arms crossed over his knees, and staring down the corridor in disconnect.
“It wasn’t Will at all, was it?” asked Arthur, his words sounding rhetorical. Merlin didn’t acknowledge him; Arthur turned his head and sighed. “Will didn’t save us with that wind, it was you.”
Merlin closed his eyes, swallowing the wave of grief as it moved over him. Arthur nodded in acceptance.
“I can’t believe you remember him,” muttered Merlin, his voice thick. Arthur’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.
“He saved my life, Merlin. I remember the people who save my life with sacrifice of their own.”
“Good,” said Merlin too loudly and too quickly; he looked over at Arthur, finally meeting his gaze. “That’s good.”
“I’m sorry,” said Arthur, and then amended when Merlin’s face screwed up in confusion. “That I sent you away.”
“I’m…not,” admitted Merlin, a small smile creeping up. “I’ve become someone that you can trust, Arthur. Better. Someone who won’t ever lie to you again.”
Arthur reached up to clap Merlin on the shoulder, smiling back. “Good. It’s been hard without you here. I never realised how many people had wanted me dead.”
Merlin made a face. “That’s not true.”
He shrugged. “The few that do surprise me.”
“Well, in lieu of my telling the truth from now on, I should probably mention that all those times I called you a prat I was totally serious. You are a fucking prat. And not just any sort of prat, a royal one-“ Arthur shoved Merlin hard, grinning widely as Merlin hit the opposite wall laughing.
Merlin.
“What?” asked Merlin, looking over at Arthur with a grin still on his face. Arthur shook his head and stood up.
“C’mon, we’ll both be late for the council meeting at this rate.”
“Aren’t you the king?” Arthur looked thoughtful and shrugged, hauling Merlin up by the arm.
“People have better things to do than to wait for me all day.”
Merlin.
“I suppose,” muttered Merlin, frowning at Arthur. He knew he heard his name that time, and it wasn’t Arthur. Then he remembered that something he really shouldn’t have forgotten. “I have to go.”
“What? Merlin-?”
“I’m sorry, I’ll be at the meeting as soon as I can, I just forgot something I should have done yesterday.”
“What is it? Tell me.”
“I will, I just-” Merlin stopped and turned to Arthur, placing his hands on his shoulders and looking him straight in the eye. “I can’t right now.”
Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “You will tell me?”
“Yes.” There was a beat of silence before Arthur nodded and stepped out of the way for Merlin to leave. Merlin clapped him on the shoulder as he went, jogging down the remaining stairs and around a corner.
How he had forgotten the dragon Merlin could only guess. He reasoned that news of Uther’s escape had pushed any thoughts of scaly beasties out of his head. He took the all too familiar trek down to the dungeons, past the guards and below the city. He lit his fingertips with silver light to guide his way and pushed down the urge to make shadow puppets off the walls.
He’d been alone far too long these past three years.
He raised his hand into the air as he neared the end of the tunnel, looking out into the dark cavern. Kilgharrah landed in front of him with a heavy beat of wings, glaring down at Merlin.
“You’ve returned.”
“Yeah, look I’m-“
“I wonder if I should be offended, that I’ve been forgotten in this godforsaken place, while you’ve been down that path that will lead you to great things,” asked the dragon, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Merlin rolled his eyes.
“You summoned me?”
Kilgharrah huffed. “Warlock, you made me a promise and you have not kept it.”
“Been a bit busy, what with the exiling…”
“Don’t insult me, warlock, I need my freedom as well as any other magical being.”
“Why aren’t you calling Gaius down here then? He knows you’re down here.”
“The physician ignores my calls, an unwise move given recent events,” Merlin’s eyes narrowed.
“You knew Uther wasn’t in the cell,” he accused. “And you said nothing?”
“If I did warlock, who was I to tell? The witch?” The dragon snorted. “Contrary to your beliefs, I do not in fact know everything.”
“Then stop acting like you do!” Merlin felt his temper rise, dangerous in the presence of a dragon, but he couldn’t help it. His eyes were wet with his building rage, he snorted and looked away. “Are we done here?”
“Not in the slightest.”
“Get on with it then! I don’t have time for this-”
“Fine,” interrupted Kilgharrah, lowering his head until he was eyelevel with Merlin. “I will put it plainly: Arthur may be king, but Avalon is a long ways away. Many things will happen before it is brought to life and not all of them known to me. I can tell you for certain, warlock, Mordred is not to be trusted.”
“Are you still on this?” asked Merlin under his breath, running his hands through his hair exasperatedly. “There isn’t- There is nothing wrong with Mordred!”
“Mordred will betray the city.”
“You don’t know him!” shouted Merlin. “He’s not the persecuted little boy with a black heart anymore. He’s different, he’s good. He will not betray Arthur!”
“Forgive me, young warlock if I do not believe you, but my advice is sound. Keep wary of the druid prince. He is a traitor-!”
“HE’S NOT!”
“SOMEONE IS,” roared Kilgharrah, his voice shaking the walls and sending debris down onto them like snow. Merlin froze, breathing hard to collect himself and calmly as he could spoke again.
“What?”
“There is a traitor in Camelot, one who is loyal to Uther alone. The traitor has alerted the priestess and the old king of your arrival to Camelot. Do not waste time with games, Merlin or Camelot will not survive. The Druid prince is not to be trusted.”
“You can’t believe that! After everything you’ve seen the past three years. Mordred is Arthur’s son and Camelot’s prince. They do not fear him-“
“For once Warlock, heed. My. Words!”
“Enjoy. You’re. Tomb!”
Kilgharrah growled behind him as Merlin stormed off. Probably not the best words to leave with, but there were some things, human emotions, that Merlin knew didn’t translate to a dragon. Kilgharrah would never know the conflict behind Mordred’s eyes between his heritage and his inheritance, and that Morgana just wanted to protect her people. They weren’t evil. The dragon wouldn’t understand because he didn’t feel as a human did, the only emotion remotely resembling a humans was his rage for freedom.
Merlin ignored the very odd look he received from a guard stationed at the dungeon entrance, just waved him off and told him it was court business. Funny how he could do that now, explain any suspicious behavior away as court business. What he would have given to have been able to use that a few years ago.
He took the quickest route he knew to the counsel room and found Gwaine and Leon leaning against the closed door, probably in charge of guarding the counsel’s privacy. Gwaine spotted him first as Melrin neared them, grinning broadly in greeting.
“You’re a bit late.”
“Unfinished business to take care of,” said Merlin, looking away. He was still angry about the dragon.
Gwaine shrugged at his reasoning, but Leon frowned at him, slightly put off. Gwaine swatted him away from the door and opened it for Merlin, touching the crown of his head cheekily as he passed through the doorway. An older druid man, the one Merlin had seen the day before with Arthur stopped mid-sentence and looked up as he entered. The doors behind him shut loudly, leaving Merlin alone with Arthur’s Druid counsel.
Three of the seven seated at the table stood quickly at his entrance, each one nodding respectively to him. Merlin fought back a sigh. It was the same wherever he went. People heard of him, of his magic and of his destiny with Arthur and treated him like he was a messiah. It grew tiring. Mordred was sitting at Arthur’s right, being both a druid and the king’s son giving him privilege to such meetings.
“Sorry, Arthur,” Merlin muttered, glancing at the older Druid who had been speaking. Arthur waved the apology away.
“Sit, Merlin.”
There was only one seat available, on Arthur’s left. He quickly moved to the open chair and sat down, feeling all eyes on him. The old Druid man narrowed his eyes at him briefly before turning back to Arthur and resuming his speech.
“As I was saying, my Lord. There is no proof that Morgause and Uther are plotting against you, we would have surly seen such a thing.”
“I believe differently,” said Arthur with an indifferent lift of his shoulder. “Merlin, what do you-?”
“Merlin?” interrupted the Druid, eyes snapping onto Merlin and pinning him to silence. “As in the sorcerer known as Emrys?”
“I really prefer Merlin,” he muttered, glancing at Arthur. “We need to talk.”
“Well-“
“Privately.” Mordred leaned forward to look at him around Arthur, frowning.
What’s happened?
I don’t trust these people.
Arthur does.
That doesn’t mean I have too.
“Stop,” interrupted Arthur before Mordred had a chance to reply. He spared a look for his son and then turned to Merlin. “We’ll speak now.”
Merlin opened his mouth to object to talking about a traitor in a room full of Druids he didn’t know, but Arthur interrupted him by standing from his chair. The Druids inclined their heads in respect for their king instead of standing. Arthur gave Merlin a subtle jerk of his head and started out of the room, expecting him to follow. Merlin gave a small wave to the remaining occupants at the table and quickly went after Arthur.
“Are you going to tell me what was so important that you couldn’t tell me about earlier on the stairs?”
“I…well…”
“Merlin.”
“Arthur, there’s a traitor in Camelot,” hissed Merlin, dragging Arthur by the arm as far out of the way as possible. Arthur frowned at him as he was pulled into a servant’s passage.
“A traitor? In Camelot?”
“That is what I said.”
“Are you certain?” asked Arthur leaning closer to Merlin to keep their voices as low as possible. “Who?”
“’M not sure,” muttered Merlin. “My source of information wasn’t…all that clear.”
Arthur looked skeptical. “You have sources? Who?”
“Erm…it’s a secret?” Arthur rolled his eyes. “It is!”
“I think the reason I don’t trust you Merlin, is because you don’t trust me.”
Merlin felt his skin go cold. That was absolutely not true, he trusted Arthur with his life. He was just…he’d just been conditioned his whole life to keep his magic a secret and that was a hard habit to break. Just because he didn’t tell Arthur everything didn’t mean he didn’t trust him.
Except, he knew that was a lie. He really didn’t trust Arthur did he? Not about magic at least.
“Now is not the right time,” said Merlin, looking away. “The traitor is important. All I know is that they’re working for Uther and they know I’m here.”
“Why is that bad?”
“Because I am the greatest sorcerer to ever live,” said Merlin bluntly, making Arthur blink. “And I’m on your side.”
“Are you?” asked Arthur seriously. Merlin stared at him straight in the eye for a long time.
“I am.”
“Then help me find him.”
.
It was just after supper that Mordred found himself alone in his sanctuary to practice magic. Where Morgana had an airy room in a tower to practice her spells, Mordred had a windowless one in the dungeons. The darkness pressed in on the single lit candle in the room, like living shadows trying to put out the light. He preferred the dark to perform his castings, and the thick stone walls kept out the noise above from interfering with his thoughts. That said he kept his mind open for any passersby who might disturb him.
Standing immobile in the dead center of the room, Mordred closed his eyes. His arms stayed at his sides, tensed for anything that might go wrong. There were three stones placed in a semicircle at his feet, they brightened and illuminated a beat after the stillness in the air shifted into wind, causing shadows to flicker across the room.
The spell remained active after Mordred opened his eyes, exhaling the breath he’d been holding. He wiggled his fingers experimentally and the light of the stones flickered in response, making him grin. Inventing spells was a tricky, dangerous process, made easier only by how unhelpful the results turned out to be. Stones that lit up when he moved would only be convenient to light up dark hallways or as a subtle alarm warning for intruders, but it could be useful.
Feeling a bit giddy from his first success with this spell (there was an awkward month in which he burned his eyebrows off, Morgana had not approved) he ignored the feeling of eyes on the back of his neck and passed it off for his magic going a bit wonky from the new spell. He raised his arms out in front of him and plucked his fingers metrically to a tune he knew, watching the lights dim in and out. A shadow caught his eye on the wall facing him, one that hadn’t been there all night. It was a person.
Something heavy and made of stone struck him across the temple before Mordred had a chance to even turn around to see their face. His last thought before everything went dark was: Gwen.
.
Mordred came back to consciousness slowly, wondering groggily why he was sleeping upright. Breathing was difficult, and he could feel the pull of his hair matted to his face. The air didn’t smell like it did in Camelot and absently acknowledged that he’d been taken out of the city. With a jolt, he remembered being hit over the head. He held a snarl back in his throat; there was only one person he could think of who would actively see him harm, though Gwen hadn’t done anything like this before, she was the only person who came to his mind.
He snapped his eyes open, ignoring the sudden nausea that came with it. He was strapped to a chair in the center of a throne room, moonlight streaming in through the large windows. Candles littered the hall, from the rafters to the floor all glowing brightly. There was sage burning somewhere out of his line of vision, and the irritated clicking sound of someone pacing behind him.
Mordred turned his head slightly, not bothering to attempt to look over his shoulder when he knew he wouldn’t get a look at his kidnapper. The pacing stopped and he felt eyes on his neck. Fingers snapped and the footsteps resumed, coming closer to Mordred’s chair. “Morgause.”
Mordred straightened as best as he could when Uther Pendragon walked in front of him; older and gaunt with nothing but rage in his eyes. Quick footsteps behind him signaled Morgause’s entrance and she took Uther’s side, staring down at Mordred with an almost concerned expression.
“So this is my sister’s son,” she said thoughtfully. “I never did get a good look at you when you came to me last.”
“Bastard child,” snarled Uther, he stepped closer to Morgause and hissed in her face. “Be done with it, witch.”
“Patience, Uther,” said Morgause, her face turning bland as she turned it toward Uther. “He is your grandson.”
Uther said nothing, but glared harder and turned away, stalking off toward the throne. Mordred’s eyes stayed fixed on Morgause, and held his breath when she leaned down towards him.
“Are you frightened…little prince?”
“I’ve been kidnapped by a mad king and a dark priestess; they’ve tied me to a chair in an unknown location and are asking me stupid questions. So no,” mocked Mordred, leaning his head against the back of the chair. “I’m not much frightened for myself.”
“Cheeky little brat,” breathed Morgause. “Who on earth taught you to speak that way?”
Would you prefer I thought it? Mordred retorted. Morgause winced and pulled away, eyes bright gold and narrow. Uther sat in his chair with his chin on his thumb, staring them both down darkly.
“I don’t find pleasure in torturing a child, Uther,” Morgause called over her shoulder.
“I find every pleasure in it,” Uther shouted back. “We need the guard stations, their rotations and patrol. I know the land as I know the back of my hand, we get-“
“Shut up, Uther,” interrupted Morgause. “I am absolutely sick of your blithering.”
“I’m not going to kill my father,” said Mordred.
Morgause tsked, reaching out to run her fingernail down his cheek, leaving a path of raised red skin behind. “You have always been destined to kill Arthur, just as he has been destined to rule. No matter how much you believe you will not, there will come a day when that little light he’s ignited inside of you goes out.” The scraped skin on Mordred’s face began to burn brightly; Morgause grabbed his hair at the scalp and jerked his head back to stare down into his eyes. Mordred didn’t jerk away.
“What do you want?” he asked, his voice hoarse from the awkward angel of his head. “To torture me? For what?”
“For your allegiance of course.”
Mordred scoffed. “Such demands. I have one of my own before you fail in your attempts to turn me from King Arthur. The one who took me from my chamber. Few know I practice my spells down there, I demand to know who you’ve enchanted under the kings nose.”
“Adorable, he sounds almost like a prince,” spat Uther. But he looked past Mordred and snapped his fingers. Morgause stepped aside as Camelot’s traitor slowly made their way in front of Mordred. His stomach dropped.
“Goddess have mercy.”
“Now,” began Morgause, raising her hand and placing her fingertips against Mordred’s forehead. “Let’s see what I can do to release you of this learned respect for your dear King.”
.
The next morning found Merlin outside the city walls, gathering plants for Gaius as he’d done years before. It wasn’t any more fun. He grumbled to himself as he kneeled deep in the weeds, scanning the undergrowth for anything that could be useful to the physician. A familiar essence signature caught the wind and alerted Merlin to someone coming down the road toward the castle. He turned his head, straightening against the breeze and narrowing his eyes down the road to make out the small dark figure headed for him. Merlin scrambled to his feet, leaving his bag of weeds behind and taking off at a sprint towards the child.
“Mordred,” muttered Merlin, skidding to a stop in front of Mordred and falling to his knees in front of him. There was a dark, nasty looking bruise across the side of his face, and his eyes were bloodshot. Merlin took the boys hands in his and to check him for any injuries and found rope burns around his wrists. “Goddess, what’s happened to you?”
Mordred stuttered brokenly, unable to form coherent words. His eyelids dropped dangerously and he swayed on his feet. Merlin placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him and waited until he opened his eyes to ask him again what had happened.
“S-somone took me from the chambers I p-preform magic in,” said Mordred. “How long have I been gone?”
“Just the night,” said Merlin quickly. “Arthur would have set up a search if you’d been gone any longer. C’mon, I’m taking you to Gaius.”
Merlin didn’t wait for a response, just swung Mordred up into his arms and bit back a swear at his weight. Mordred didn’t protest, which Merlin took to assume he was worse off than he appeared. He was lucky dawn was just rising, and the city was only stirring with life. A few people stopped to watch and whisper to each other when Merlin passed them carrying their unconscious and battered prince in his arms.
Merlin used to toe of his boot to kick open Gaius’ door, startling the old man at his bookshelf. He dropped the tomb in his hands to the ground when he recognized Mordred.
“Merlin, what-?”
“I don’t know,” interrupted Merlin, placing Mordred on the cot Gaius used to treat patients. “I found him outside the wall, someone took him.”
“Arthur and Morgana?”
Merlin gave him a look, telling him that Gaius needed to see to Mordred before anything. Without another word Merlin left Gaius to kneel next to the boy to check over his body for any further injuries. Gaius removed his shirt, prodding at the pale flesh underneath. Mordred winced and opened his eyes, turning his head to look at Gaius.
It was magic.
Gaius looked up at the boy and held his eerie gaze. “Magic?”
Yes. To look into my soul.
“And what did they find there, my lord?”
Nothing I didn’t want them to.
The quickstep echo of running feet reached Gaius’ ears, along with shouting between his nephew and his king. The door slammed open, and in a blur of silks and black hair Morgana rushed into the room. She practically glided to Gaius’ side, dropping to her knees and leaning over her son. He managed a grimace of a smile for her, and in return she ran her hand down the side of his face.
“Merlin told me as much as he could before he was out of earshot,” whispered Morgana. “I managed to make out ‘kidnapped’ before I took off running. Luckily he told me to see you before I went to war with an army at my back.”
“Lucky for all of us, my lady,” said Gaius he ran his index finger across the horizontal bruising across Mordred’s chest. “He’s been bound around the wrists and across his chest, but as far as I can tell there’s nothing seriously wrong with him physically.”
Morgana’s jaw tightened at the physician’s words, but her eyes remained on her son’s, a silent conversation passing between them. She only broke gaze when the door slammed open for a second time, and Arthur stormed in, followed closely by Merlin. Arthur stopped just inside the room, staring at Morgana with concern in his face and ire in his eyes.
“He doesn’t remember who took him,” said Morgana softly, looking away from her son and up at Arthur. “But I think it’s pretty clear.”
“We don’t know anything for certain,” said Arthur. “I’ll take the precautions necessary, but if he doesn’t remember…”
Gaius cleared his throat and after earning Merlin’s attention, gestured to his shelves of phials. Merlin nodded in understanding and walked to them, his fingers glancing over the fragile glass until he found a pale yellow coloured potion. Gaius held out his hand for it.
“This will help him sleep and heal.”
I don’t want it. Gaius gave Mordred a look, which had no effect, and sighed.
“At least consider it, sire.”
“He will be taking it, Gaius,” said Morgana pointedly, giving her son a look. “You have my word on that.”
“Thank you, my lady.”
“I’ll take him to his room,” said Arthur, moving further into the room. Gaius inclined his head and stood, backing away so Arthur had enough room to pick up his son. Morgana stood as well, holding out her hand to Gaius for the potion.
“I’ll make sure he takes it.”
Mordred refused the potion all day however, claiming there was nothing wrong, and that he would be fine. He snapped at Morgana when she wouldn’t stop pestering him about his health and stormed off to his room for the rest of the day. Arthur nearly had his chamber door ripped off after spending an hour shouting at Mordred for speaking to his mother in such ways. The castle was as tense and silent as their brooding king. Only Merlin didn’t walk on eggshells around him.
.
Darkness had fallen over Camelot hours ago, giving relief to the subjects in the castle. Mordred had remained locked in his room, dinner left outside his door by the servants, untouched. The prince had fallen asleep from exhaustion just after sunset, lying about his bed linens despite the chill in his room. He’d refused a servant to enter and light a fire for him and he’d been too exhausted to make one himself.
Mordred’s face was white against the moonlight steaming in from his windows, curtains left undrawn since the day before. A sheen of sweat covering his forehead shimmered, his dark hair slicked across his face.
The bell tower chimed to signal the hour, and simultaneously Mordred’s eyes snapped open; gold gleaming bright in them. Stiffly, he sat up in bed, swung his legs over the edge and stood. Barefoot, Mordred left his room silently; his eyes glazed over in an apparent trance.
He made his way down to the throne room without running into the guard patrol. He entered the completely deserted hall and stopped just inside. The doors behind him shut heavily, his eyes clearing almost immediately in response. Mordred blinked and turned around.
“Hello, Druid.” Mordred swallowed, watching the figure who had spoken move out of the shadows. Mordred had seen him with Uther and Morgause; he’d been the one to take him. What he didn’t know was why.
But he wasn’t the one who had to find out.
“Hello Leon.”
Arthur’s voice answered the traitors, and he moved out of hiding behind a pillar; his sword drawn. The moonlight streaming through the window to Leon’s right retracted and broke like glass, Merlin materializing in the pieces; eyes glowing and cold. Leon drew his own sword in response to their appearance, stepping away from Merlin instinctively, but keeping his eyes on the king. Mordred stared at Leon blankly.
“Did you expect me to forget what I saw? How utterly pathetic do Morgause and Uther think I am?”
e a r l i e r
Mordred regretted what he said the moment he turned away from Morgana. She might be overbearing but he knew how worried she was about him. It wasn’t the first time he was taken from her and it probably wouldn’t be the last. He was just so tired. He needed to heal, but more importantly he needed to talk to his father in private, and if that meant upsetting his mother just for a bit of peace alone than that’s what he had to do.
Mordred slid into the chair at the head of his chamber table, dropping his head back against the seat and closing his eyes. He replayed his memories from his time in the Fisher King’s palace behind his eyes, recalling as much detail as he was able. He was startled out of his recall by a fist against his door and Arthur’s voice following it. Loudly.
“Mordred, open the fucking door!”
“Hasn’t he been through enough today?” came Merlin’s rhetorical question, muffled by door. Mordred didn’t bother to stand, just lifted his hand and cut two fingers through the air. With a heavy shifting of metal, the lock slid back. Arthur pushed it open and stormed in, stopping in front of Mordred with his arms folded across his chest.
“Shut the door, will you?” ordered Mordred, speaking to Merlin who obeyed without even so much as an eye roll.
Arthur cleared his throat. “Care to explain?”
“I’m not taking that potion.”
“You damn well will,” snapped Arthur. “If Gaius-“
“If I’m not better by tomorrow, I’ll take it then,” interrupted Mordred. Arthur considered him for a moment before giving in with a sigh and dropping his arms.
“Fine. You’ll apologise to your Mother as well; she’s already accusing me of corrupting you.” Mordred didn’t laugh, but Merlin snickered into his shoulder inconspicuously. Arthur frowned down at his son for a moment, then dragged out a chair and sat down.
“Are you sure you’re alright, Mordred?” asked Arthur; Mordred sat in silence. Merlin shifted behind them both, leaning his head back against the door as he listened. Mordred finally looked across the table, the shadows under his eyes making him look sickly.
“No,” confessed Mordred. “I remember all of it. But they’re watching me-I can feel it.”
“Who?” asked Arthur and Merlin spoke for him.
“Morgause and Uther, who else would dare to take him?”
Mordred nodded and turned his eyes down to the table, chipping pieces of wood off with his fingernails. Arthur tried to catch his attention again with a snap of his fingers, startling Mordred. Arthur sighed sympathetically.
“And they stole you from the castle? You didn’t go wandering into the city-?”
“I was in the dungeons, practicing my spell work. He managed to get behind me unnoticed and…” Mordred trailed off, lifting his fingers to his face and touching the bruise left there.
“Who?” asked Arthur seriously, leaning across the table.
“It was Leon,” he said quietly, causing Merlin to straighten in alarm. “Leon brought me to them.”
“Leon?” snarled Arthur. “Leon took you from the castle?!”
“He’s the traitor,” whispered Merlin to himself, whatever colour there was in his face draining away.
“I don’t believe that,” said Arthur. “No, something must have happened. Morgause must have him under a spell. Leon wouldn’t betray me otherwise.”
“I thought it was Gwen,” admitted Mordred. “I thought she finally decided to get rid of me.”
“That’s nonsense, what would Gwen possibly have against you?”
“She’s protested the magic in Camelot right to your face, Father,” said Mordred heatedly, his eyes sharpening for the first time all day. “She hates me-”
“That’s enough,” interrupted Merlin as Arthur opened his mouth to defend his friend. Both Pendragons turned their heads to look at him, identical expressions of ‘who the hell do you think you’re speaking too?’ etched into their faces. Merlin continued. “Gwen doesn’t matter at the moment. Leon’s a traitor to the crown and to the city whether it is by magical means or otherwise. Morgause and Uther must have questioned you when Leon brought you to them. What about?”
Mordred shook his head. “They didn’t ask me anything. They tried to…get me to turn against Arthur,” he turned to his father. “Morgause said it was my destiny.”
“Where have I bloody heard that before,” snarled Merlin, glaring out of the corner of his eye in the general direction of the dragon’s keep.
“I wouldn’t!” said Mordred loudly, his eyes widening. “I swear to the Gods-“
“I know,” shushed Arthur, reaching out and placing his hand on Mordred’s shoulder. “But they tried to make you think otherwise.”
“Not just that, they…Morgause forced herself into my head.” Merlin’s face paled. He practically flew away from the door and dropped to a knee at Mordred’s side, batting Arthur’s hand away and placing both his palms against Mordred’s temples.
“What are you doing?” asked Arthur in alarm. Merlin ignored him, whispering words so fast even Mordred couldn’t make them out. His eyes burned gold during his spell and after a beat Mordred’s followed. Arthur’s hand hovered over Merlin’s shoulder, ready to jerk the sorcerer back if any harm presented to his son.
Mordred sucked in a breath through his teeth, moving his head back to try and pull it from Merlin’s grip. His fingertips only tightened into his skin. And then Merlin abruptly pulled away, resting an elbow on the table above him with an ashen face and curious eyes.
“She didn’t force you, not the way you think,” started Merlin. He glanced back at Arthur. “There are ways to pull information out of an unwilling person, but the subject always has a choice in what they say or how they say it. So even the truth-“
“Could be manipulated into a lie with the right words,” finished Arthur with a nod. “I know that, I just didn’t know that human will could hold up against magic.”
“Mordred is more powerful than Morgause,” explained Merlin, which earned a surprised look from Mordred.
“Am I?” he interrupted before Merlin even had a chance to open his mouth to continue.
“You’re young; it’s easier for magic to channel through you because you’re pliable and new. Morgause is a set course and rarely if ever deviates from it. If that makes any sense.”
“No,” said Arthur, while Mordred just nodded. “What does this have to do with you touching my son’s face inappropriately?”
“Morgause isn’t powerful enough to draw something out of Mordred against his will. That’s what I was looking for, breaks in his will.”
“You can see that?” Merlin shrugged.
“I did learn a few things while I’ve been gone. It wasn’t all romping about in the woods, merrily tripping over my feet ever thirty seconds.”
Arthur chuckled and looked away, falling quite. He was silent long enough that Merlin stared at him in concern. “M’lord?”
“What do I do about Leon?” Arthur asked finally.
Merlin stood. “You leave me to deal with it.”
p r e s e n t
Merlin and Arthur stood shoulder to shoulder with identical blank faces, staring at Leon shackled in a chair with Morgana at their backs. Uther’s torture chambers had been left locked during Arthur’s reign, they were only using them now for privacy. The whole kingdom didn’t need to know Sir Leon was a traitor. Morgana had come down to join them when Leon refused to answer any of Arthur’s questions. Mordred had been sent to Gaius for the night for his protection and a healing drought. He’d taken the medicine this time without protest.
“I don’t know how to feel about this,” said Arthur finally, staring Leon dead in the eye. “Torturing a fellow knight, no matter the crimes he’s committed, seems wrong to me.”
“Would you like me to handle it, Arthur?” asked Merlin, glancing at Arthur out of the corner of his eye. Arthur turned away from Leon and headed out of the room.
“Do as you wish.”
The door shut heavily behind him, leaving Merlin and Morgana with Leon staring blankly at them. Morgana took Arthur’s spot next to Merlin.
“You’re not surprised to see me?” she asked, looking over at him while he stayed focused on Leon.
“You wanted to learn from me.” Morgana nodded. “What then, do you think, would be the best approach to extract what information we need from Leon?”
“Force,” answered Morgana immediately. Leon didn’t flinch.
“There are far better ways to find the truth out,” started Merlin, breaking his stillness and moving behind Leon. He looked up at Morgana as he circled and spoke. “A few years ago, just when I left Camelot, actually, I found myself very, very lost in the woods. I was in Druid land; the air was so thick with magic I couldn’t sneeze without shooting a rainbow of sparks out of my nose. I wandered around in circles for three days before I stumbled into a cave. And I actually stumbled, sprained my ankle and everything.
“When I was in the cave something fantastically terrible happened. I can’t tell you what, in fact I will never tell you what, because what I learned should not be used by any man even in the most desperate situations. I was told it’s called Voice. A tricked used by the Druids hundreds of years ago to command men. It’s said the very first dragon lord was a master of Voice, so skilled that he could use his abilities on beasts as well as mortals,” Merlin finished circling and stopped right in front of Leon, staring down at him regretfully.
While he spoke, his voice changed, becoming deeper and layered; it vibrated through Morgana’s chest and if she had been sitting where Leon was she was sure she would have felt it in her soul.
“Tell me Leon, did you bring Mordred to the Fisher King’s palace?”
There was a moment where Leon’s body shuddered and his eyes fell shut. When they opened again, his pupils were blown and his hands were shaking beneath the cuffs around his wrists. “Yes.”
“And did you intend to deliver him to Morgause and Uther?”
“I did.”
“Tell me why.”
“Because King Uther asked it of me.”
“Why did he ask it of you?”
“Because I serve him loyally.”
“Bastard,” hissed Morgana. “Arthur has-” Merlin held up a hand for silence and continued his interrogation.
“You do not serve King Arthur the same way?” a beat of silence, then, “Why?”
“King Arthur is a foolish man to believe in the good of magic,” answered Leon. “What I know of magic is its lies. I have never witnessed any good to come from magic. You prove me right by using your magic against me now.”
“Would you have answered me truthfully if I were not?”
Leon hesitated, the same blank face staring back at Merlin even as he thought. “No.”
“Ask him what they’re planning,” insisted Morgana, coming up to stand next to Merlin. Leon didn’t even acknowledge her presence. Merlin shook his head.
“Have you ever known a king to tell his subject anything of any importance? If they have a plan Leon doesn’t know it.” Merlin’s voice was back to its normal pitch and Leon’s pupils were back to their normal size. Merlin lifted his wrist to his nose, wiping blood onto his sleeve. Morgana hadn’t even noticed.
“Using this spell hurts you?”
Merlin laughed ruefully and shook his head. “It’s not a spell. It’s a training.”
“Will you teach me?”
“Not even on pain of death,” said Merlin darkly, turning away from both Leon and Morgana. “Using Voice is like losing a piece of your soul. I took his free will from him, there’s no worse crime than that.”
Morgana spared one last look for Leon before turning to follow Merlin out. They both stopped as Leon spoke up loudly, his voice horse.
“You never asked me why, warlock.” Merlin turned back, finding Leon’s eyes wet and drool running from the corner of his mouth. “You never asked me why.”
“This is a side effect,” explained Merlin with a sigh. “If I had Voice’d him to action we would have no trouble. But the truth is always tricky.”
“Ask me why I choose Uther,” continued Leon as if Merlin hadn’t spoken. “Ask me why I choose the old king instead of the rightful one.”
“You do believe Arthur is the rightful king?” asked Morgana. Leon’s eyes flickered to her briefly before returning to Merlin.
“Yes. But I served Uther since I was a boy. I was in Camelot during the Great Purge. I was witness to the kingdom’s darkest age. Bodies littering the streets, both man and magic; half the city was burning at any given time. I was a squire when the Purge began, maybe eight or nine. I watched the King grieve his dead wife and celebrate his only son while he bathed in the blood of the people he hated beyond both love and sadness. I watched my sister burn at the stake for practicing the Druid religion and in turn my parents burned in their house for their gold by dark, mad Druid men. Those few people who lived through the Great Purge do not take magic lightly. We will not suffer them.”
“You’re wrong, Leon,” said Morgana. “The people of Camelot have more than accepted the Druids back into the city. You’re fighting a losing war.”
“If you loved Arthur at all, you would convince him to surrender to Uther and leave Camelot with the rest of your kin,” said Leon. Merlin watched Morgana stiffen and reached out to grab her arm, dragging her backwards toward the door. Leon jerked against his bonds. “Lady Morgana, if you love Arthur you will convince him that he is wrong!”
Merlin scrambled to lock the door behind them, slapping the metal padlock closed. Morgana wore a stunned look on her face, staring at the closed and bolted door as if she could see Sir Leon beyond it. Merlin sighed breathlessly.
“I have to speak with Arthur.” Morgana just nodded. Merlin caught his breath after a moment of silence; he realised Leon had gotten to her and snapped his fingers just below her nose to startled her out of her reverie. She blinked and looked over at him.
“What did you say?”
“I said I need to speak with Arthur.”
“Check the armory,” mumbled Morgana. “He goes there sometimes to think.”
“Right.”
Without another word Morgana turned and left, leaving Merlin staring after her with concern in his eyes. She would be alright; she was Morgana for Goddess’ sake! There wasn’t anything to worry about. He needed to speak to Arthur about Leon though, and whatever it could be that Uther and Morgause were planning.
Yes, Morgana would be fine.
.
But Morgana wasn’t fine. Uther had always gotten under her skin, ever since she was a girl and even now, dozens of miles away, he was still interfering in her life. He was a parasite she had no remedy for and she refused to suffer him any longer. That man had taken away her father, her son and her lover without once looking back at his actions and considering what would be best for her.
Morgana took the long way through the castle to her chambers taking her time as she went, the growing light of morning streaming in through the windows. She replayed what Leon had said over and over in her head until she found herself in front of a familiar room that did not belong to her.
Morgana reached up to touch the door with her fingertips; wanting and desperate need warming her bones. Merlin had said he was going to speak with Arthur, and knowing him as she did, he’d be on the training grounds; going over drills and footwork until he couldn’t think straight.
Mindlessly, Morgana slid her hand down the door and opened it, pushing inside Arthur’s room. It was empty; of course she had been hoping it wasn’t. It was different being in his room without Arthur there. She was half expecting him to walk out half naked and snapping about one thing or the other. Morgana let the door shut behind her and slowly made her way inside, heading for the table near the fireplace. She fell into a pulled chair softly and rested one arm against the table, staring unblinkingly at the tabletop in thought.
Leon had asked her if she really loved him. He had been there when Uther had announced that she and Arthur were siblings, and yet he still asked her if she loved Arthur. Was she wrong in thinking that he might have seen something she hadn’t in the last few years? That despite being half siblings she was in love with him? Never once while they were growing up had Morgana ever considered Arthur as a brother like most might have. She’d come to Camelot already noticing boys, any time spent together as children before had been brief. They had been friends, never siblings. And she had been groomed by countless ladies-in-waiting as the future Queen of Camelot, she wasn’t taught to see Arthur in a brotherly light.
How the fact that she and Arthur were siblings by blood had never come to light in the court Morgana didn’t know. There were only six of them who knew the truth and only one of them knew how Morgana felt. How hadn’t she realised she was still in love with Arthur before Leon realised it?
Morgana blinked up quickly as the door opened once again and Arthur started inside. He paused halfway through the door after spotting her. She said nothing, just watched him. He sat at the table across from her, leaning back languidly in his chair and waited for her to speak.
She didn’t ask how his talk with Merlin had gone, and he didn’t ask her what she was doing in his room at the ungodly hour that it was. They stared at each other for what had to have been hours in complete silence, unmoving under the others gaze.
Morgana’s voice broke the silence. “I love you.”
Arthur said nothing, but he didn’t look away. They continued to sit as the sun rose higher and the sounds of the city starting the day filled the silence in the room.
Arthur rose suddenly from his chair and rounded the table, grabbing Morgana by the wrist and hauling her to her feet. He wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her against him and kissed her deeply in one smooth motion. Morgana didn’t resist apart from inhaling sharply in surprise.
He was different under her mouth, harder and more experienced whereas she hadn’t done much kissing since... since the last time she kissed him. He was a good deal taller than her now and it made a difference pressed against him. Soon Morgana’s head was spinning trying to remember little details from a decade ago. Arthur’s fingers dug into her dress, pulling the fabric tight. She lost herself after that and let him kiss her, her head spinning all too soon as she tried to memorize every little detail in the moment.
A sharp tapping on the door interrupted their kiss and reluctantly Arthur pulled his mouth off of hers, but kept her close as he called out to respond. “What is it?”
“It’s nearly seven o’clock, sire,” came the groggy voice of Gwaine, muffled through the door. “And Leon missed his rotation for the guard.”
“Leon won’t be joining us today,” Arthur answered, his arms tightening around Morgana slightly. “I’ll be down at the grounds in a minute.”
“Yes, sire.”
“Have you decided what to do with Leon?” asked Morgana, looking up at him. A dark look passed over Arthur’s face.
“Unfortunately no. Uther has no idea we’ve found Leon out, which could work to our advantage.”
“Morgause is bound to have noticed-“
“But Uther will never take her word.” Arthur sighed and pressed his forehead against Morgana’s, closing his eyes tightly. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“Arthur…” started Morgana softly. “We can’t….”
“Says who? Because it’s supposed to be wrong? This doesn’t feel wrong, does it?”
Morgana swallowed thickly and shook her head. “No.”
Arthur moved his hands to Morgana’s face, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead before stepping away. “I have to go,” he said. “We’ll talk about this later?”
Morgana nodded and watched him go for half a moment before she collected herself and followed.
.
Morgause’s elbows rested on the edge of her water basin, her face resting in her palms as she stared into the waters in boredom. Uther had stormed out hours ago, muttering under his breath about amateur knights and sorcery and nothing she hadn’t heard before. With a short sigh she focused her attention back to her waters. And blinked.
“What the fuck,” she whispered, straightening up and concentrating harder onto the images flashing in the still water. She could hear her heart thrumming in her ears and felt her stomach drop, watching Merlin shout wordlessly at Leon’s face. He’d been discovered, unfortunate.
Morgause turned away from the basin, ignoring the rest of what the past showed her. Arthur wouldn’t come after them, he’d wait for Uther’s temper to snap and defeat him at Camelot. What she could do though-
Morgause’s thoughts were interrupted by Uther’s return, slamming the doors open with unnecessary force and stomping in. His face was red, nearly purple with rage and for a brief moment Morgause thought he might know of Leon’s capture.
“I’m tired of waiting,” he snapped in her face instead. “Leon’s taking too long with the bastard-“
“Mordred. Is. Your. Grandson,” bit out Morgause tightly, knowing she would be ignored and not feeling even a little better when she was.
“-I want to move now.”
Morgause blinked at him slowly. She was ready to just kill the old king herself and be done with him, and really, why hadn’t she? She’d spent three years with the man, not one of those days was pleasant for her. Sure, they had some intense and even amusing eyefucking, but every time he passed a window she prayed to the Goddess that a Wyvern would barrel through the glass and just eat him.
Morguase smiled tightly up at Uther. “Then go.”
If she knew those two little words would be the key to shut Uther up she would have told him to leave years ago. The old king’s eyes widened and the red splotches on his face returned to their normal colour. He took a step back from her and gave her a measured look.
“Is it time?”
“Why let the right moment stop you!” cried Morgause, feeling her mood brightening. “Go! Take the army that belongs to you and once again conquer Camelot. Never mind that you’ll have to kill your son for the throne, the important thing is that you will be King.”
Uther’s eyes narrowed. “You’re mocking me.”
“I’m sick of you,” spat Morgause. “I’m absolutely tired of your impatience and your single-mindedness. If giving you the army I’ve created, and the freedom I provided for you will get you out of my sight, then I wish you more than well on your journey to Camelot.”
“And Leon-”
“Will be waiting for you with bated breath, I’m sure,” growled Morgause venomously. Should she tell him that Leon had been captured? No. The pawn didn’t know anything, and Uther wouldn’t listen anyways. She was surprised he was listening now even. Morgause quirked her eyebrows saucily at Uther and swept around him, heading for the door briskly.
“Goodbye Uther. It has not been a pleasure, although,” Morguase paused with her hand on the door and looked back over her shoulder at Uther, “I have always wondered about Arthur’s conception. You made a deal with Nimueh for a son at the cost of Ygraine’s life; she never did tell me if you did anything more than speak words. If this is the case, is Arthur really your son at all?”
Morgause watched in slow motion as Uther’s face contorted with rage, and with a pleasant smile, disappeared into a clap of thunder and smoke.
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