Archive of Our Own ^beta

The week had been strangely uneventful. Despite Gaius’ reassurances, it had Merlin on edge. Nothing was ever quiet for long in Camelot, and such calm periods were often the herald of storms to come. With Morgana roaming out there, ready to strike at any moment and Agravaine plotting right behind Arthur’s back, Merlin couldn’t afford to let his guard down. And now, he also had Mordred to worry about. Arthur trusted his newest knight implicitly. Merlin wondered if the young King recognised the druid boy whose life he had once saved. Either way, it was one more concern on Merlin’s already full plate.

And then, it happened. They were ambushed by bandits during a patrol in the woods. One of them wielded magic. Not very powerful, but enough to kill or seriously harm knights who were untrained to fight against it. And they had been injured. Every knight had been knocked out, except for Mordred. Merlin would have found that suspicious if the youngest knight hadn’t gotten injured by putting himself between the sorcerer and Arthur, protecting the king from a blast that could have killed him. Merlin made quick work of the remaining assailants.

“Thank you. For protecting Arthur,” Merlin said, approaching Mordred.

He didn’t trust the druid, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t play nice once in a while.

“Don’t mention it. I only did my duty,” Mordred replied, though a tiny smile graced his lips.

Mordred tried to get up, but he fell back down with a wince when he put weight on his left leg. Immediately, Merlin’s medical training kicked in. He helped Mordred lie down and started patting his leg, looking for the injury. When he pressed on a spot right above Mordred’s knee, the young knight let out a pained moan. He rolled up the leg of Mordred’s trousers to inspect the wound, finding a dark bruise already forming there. He prodded at the injury a bit before he was satisfied with his observations.

“I think you only have damage to your muscle. I’ll give you something for the pain and to reduce the swelling. You should also avoid putting too much weight on your left leg,” Merlin stated, already rummaging in his bag for the appropriate medicine.

He applied a foul-smelling paste on Mordred’s lower thigh before wrapping a bandage around it. He instructed Mordred to stay where he was while he checked up on the others. Thankfully, they all woke up after a few minutes.

Arthur looked around, looking a bit like a confused stoat. “What happened?” he asked, sitting up.

“Mordred took care of the remaining bandits,” Merlin explained.

Arthur blinked. “On his own?”

“Merlin helped a bit. He snuck up behind the sorcerer and hit him on the head with that heavy branch,” Mordred replied, pointing to a branch lying beside the sorcerer.

The King looked even more incredulous at hearing this information. His eyes shifted between Mordred and Merlin, as if he expected one of them to start laughing and tell him it was a joke. He wasn’t the only one. The other knights seemed just as surprised. Merlin would have been offended if he wasn’t too occupied having a mental breakdown at the fact that Mordred lied so convincingly and to Merlin’s advantage.

When no one disputed Mordred’s statement, Arthur seemed to reluctantly accept it as the truth.

Back at the castle, after Arthur’s and the knight’s minor injuries were taken care of, Merlin enjoyed a rare break. Arthur wouldn’t need him until dinnertime. That left a couple of hours for Merlin to relax. He was on his way outside, intending to enjoy basking in the sun when Mordred intercepted him. The young man was leaning on a crutch so as to not aggravate his injured thigh.

“Merlin, can we talk please? In private?”

Merlin swallowed a sigh. He really didn’t want to think about Mordred and the potential threat he represented. But something in the young knight’s voice compelled him to agree. There was something earnest and hopeful in the way he looked at Merlin.

“Lead the way,” Merlin replied, not missing the way Mordred relaxed at his acceptance.

Merlin followed Mordred to his chambers. He had never been there before, but he wasn’t surprised to find the room was slightly messy, even though it was sparsely furnished. The bed was unmade, and a few clothes were laid on a chair.

Mordred blushed, suddenly self-conscious. “Sorry for the mess, I-”

“What do you want?” Merlin interrupted bluntly. He didn’t want to be overly hostile towards Mordred, but he couldn’t shake the distrust he felt.

“I know you don’t trust me,” Mordred said, and he sounded genuinely saddened by that fact.

“With good reason. You were working with Morgana,” Merlin remarked, raising an eyebrow. It seemed Gaius was rubbing off on him.

“She saved my life as a child,” Mordred explained with a tinge of desperation in his voice.

“So did Arthur,” Merlin told him coldly.

Mordred deflated. He sat down on the chair, staring blankly at a spot behind Merlin.

“When she found me, she lured me in with so many promises. She said she wanted to fight for our rights. For our freedom and our lives. I’m tired of losing people I love. I’m tired of being scared, Emrys. That’s why I started following her.”

For once, Merlin didn’t bristle at the use of his druid name. He sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for Mordred to continue.

“It took me some time to realise that it was all a lie. But then, I saw it. The bloodlust, the hunger for power. She didn’t care about other magic users, she only wants to enact some personal revenge and to seize the throne for her own benefit. I know now that she’s not the woman who saved me all those years ago anymore.”

“Why are you here?” Merlin asked.

He would be lying if he said he didn’t empathise with Mordred. He could understand trusting an old friend only to feel betrayed when they weren’t what they seemed. But he still kept his distrust wrapped around his heart like a shield.

Mordred smiled. It was a bittersweet thing that made him look older than he was. “Arthur saved my life once as a child. And he saved me again now by giving me a place by his side. He’s a good man and a good leader. I know he’s the King the prophecies talk about; I want to support him. And I want to support you too, Emrys.”

The young druid’s open admiration slowly melted Merlin’s hostility. No matter what Kilgharrah said, Merlin could tell Mordred was honest.

“What do you want, Mordred?” Merlin asked again, but his tone was kinder this time.

The look Mordred gave him was so hopeful that it almost made Merlin’s heart ache. “I want us to be allies. Perhaps even friends?” he said, cautious and unsure in a way that made him look desperately young. “The love that binds us is more important than the power we wield. I love you, Emrys, even though you don’t love me. But we both love Arthur, don’t we? Can’t that be a common ground between us?”

While the many hardships of his life as a secret magical protector to the King of Camelot may have turned Merlin into a cold, calculated man, even he wasn’t heartless enough to resist such a declaration. Mordred looked so sincere, hopeful and at the same time terrified of rejection. Merlin couldn’t keep his distant façade. He extended a hand towards Mordred, a tentative smile on his lips. Mordred took it, looking just as unsure.

“I’m willing to try,” Merlin said warmly.

“Thank you, Emry.”

The look of absolute wonder in Mordred’s eyes was almost painful. Merlin wanted to scold him for the way he treated Merlin like some sort of higher being. But that could come later. With time, he was sure Mordred would come to realise that he and Arthur were only human. Imperfect and fallible. He only hoped Mordred wouldn’t be too disappointed.

Merlin thought back to Kilgharrah’s warning. Perhaps it was Mordred’s admiration for Arthur that would cause their downfall. But Merlin couldn’t bring himself to care. He couldn’t bring himself to regret accepting the olive branch Mordred extended towards him. For once, Merlin took a decision that didn’t make his heart bleed, and no matter what waited for them in the future, he wouldn’t regret it.