Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He should just leave. Walk away, move back to his room and pretend that he didn’t know that the Knight was upset. He paused, lingering in the corridor while trying to weigh up the pros and cons of knocking on the door.

On the one hand, it was Mordred. The Knight destined to kill Arthur, so Merlin shouldn’t care that he found out his Destiny, that he got upset and was now locked in his room. He shouldn’t care that the Knight had got scolded by Arthur for his distractive nature during training this morning. Merlin should, if anything, be pleased that Mordred was upset.

But the Warlock couldn’t shake the feeling that he should be comforting the Knight. Destiny had proved countless times that it showed no mercy, not to him, nor to any others. It was a horrible thing to deal with, and Merlin could sympathise with that feeling.

With his mind made up, Merlin knocked twice.

A silence stretched, allowing Mordred to make the decision. When it opened, Merlin was greeted with the sight of the youngest Knight of Camelot, cheeks streaked with tears and hair a mess.

‘Come to gloat?’ The Knight snarled, but it was more defensive, than aggressive.

If anyone saw him here, they’d be confused. Merlin didn’t hide his distaste for Mordred, didn’t even try to like the Knight. He’d openly called him out for his mistakes, and made a habit of glaring from the side-lines.

Merlin knew that Destiny had its moments. He’d managed to save Lancelot from the Veil, had successfully kept Morgana from Camelot’s borders long enough to convince her that Arthur was not a threat.

But destiny wouldn’t change this sticking point, the one where Mordred would be Arthur’s downfall. He couldn’t forget that, even as his heart ached for the pain that Mordred was feeling.

‘I’ve come to offer some sympathy.’ Merlin stated, waiting for the door to be slammed in his face.

It wasn’t. Mordred watched him for a moment longer, before the door swung inwards. Merlin took this as an invitation, stepping into the Knights quarters and glancing around.

He’d been in Lancelot’s room before, when the Knight wanted advice on how to Court Guinevere. Occasionally he’d spend time in Gwaine’s room, listening to the tales of adventures while laughing along with the Knight. He’d been in Percival and Elyan’s shared quarters to help heal injuries before, applying poultices or giving sleeping draughts to help with nightmares. The two shared, and it was common knowledge, apart from Arthur being blind to it.

Mordred’s room was different. His armour took pride of place, a cape hanging over the chair. The fire was unlit, filled with screwed up balls of paper, which combined with the ink on the table, gave a clear picture.

‘You were going to leave.’ Mordred shut the door, making it to the chair before he sunk down into the chair. Now, with a full view of his body, Merlin was surprised to find him still in armour. He was wet, as well, probably indicating he’d been out in the rain for a while.

‘It makes sense, now. Why you hate me so much.’ Hate was a strong word, but the moment he went to disagree, he realised that he couldn’t.

Everyone knew he hated Mordred. Lancelot knew it, Guinevere knew it, even Arthur knew it.

Merlin remembered the Mordred he’d first met, when he himself had only just reached adulthood. He hadn't known that his actions would have worse consequences, just as the moment when he poisoned Morgana.

‘Come here, you’ll get ill.’ Merlin wasn’t sure why he was doing this, he blamed the fact that he was being trained to be a Physician. The Knight didn’t argue, rising up like it took all the energy he had left, while Merlin reached for the first buckle.

He did this for Arthur almost daily, so it took very little time to shed Mordred’s armour. Underneath, the Knight’s clothes were just as damp, so he reached for the hem of the shirt and dragged it over his head.

The wardrobe contained the most neatly-folded clothing, perfectly preserved. Merlin could understand that, he’d been raised with very little, and the shirts that were his good ones were kept hanging up.

Turning back to Mordred, he found the Knight with his head in his hands. He looked startling young, another thing Merlin could pity. He’d only just reached nineteen summers when he found out he had a Destiny that would shape his future, and he’d tried to deny it for a very long time.

‘Here, get dressed.’ He handed the clothes across, before moving to the fire. It didn’t take long for him to make it, and, with a slight hesitation, he lit it using Magic.

‘That’s why you wanted to kill me.’ Merlin’s head snapped around, anger bubbling up.

‘I never wanted to kill you! I never asked for any of this!’ He realised the irony in his words the moment later, when Mordred stared at him in shock.

‘Destiny has taken too much from me to let you take Arthur.’ Merlin finally said, letting the words settle between them. Mordred hesitated, before he stood up and began to move closer, while Merlin watched.

‘Could… would you mind…’ Merlin didn’t know what compelled him to lift his arms, nor why he pulled Mordred closer the second the Knight stepped in.

The hug was the strangest thing, Merlin holding Mordred while he slumped into the embrace, a strange protectiveness beginning to spike up.

‘I don’t want to hurt Arthur, you have to believe me, I would never…’

‘Destiny is rarely wrong.’

**

Mordred acted differently, in the days following the news of his Destiny. In public, they continued their feuds. Merlin “forgot” to do up the saddle of Mordred’s horse, the Knight “accidentally” walked into him, making him drop the King’s dinner. However, at night, Merlin would end up in Mordred’s room, trying to explain to the Druid that Destiny had a way of turning out to be correct.

The thing was, even Merlin was beginning to wonder how it would happen. Mordred was so incredibly loyal to Arthur, loved him like he would an older brother. Arthur had never been so protective over a Knight, nor more fond of one since Lancelot came along. Did Merlin push Mordred to kill Arthur, by not accepting him? Or was it the opposite, did his comfort and affection provide the assistance needed?

Clearly, Mordred was beginning to understand why Merlin was wary of him. They discussed the differences of destiny, and Merlin hesitantly admitted to what had happened with Morgana. The Druid listened with wide eyes, a naivety that showed just how young he was.

It was on the seventh night of these meetings that the question came.

‘Could you… could you teach me?’ Magic, the thing that made Merlin so terrified of Mordred. He acknowledged the question, tried to process everything that had happened between them. The Druid was being so patient, sitting cross-legged in front of the fire and waiting for Merlin’s judgement.

If this went wrong, if Mordred did kill Arthur, then it would be Merlin’s fault.

‘I suppose we could practice the basics.’

**

‘Gaius?’ Merlin rose his head, rubbed sleep from his eyes as he stared at his Uncle. The Physician rose an eyebrow, the one that usually meant Merlin had done something dangerous, before stepping aside.

Mordred looked awful, terrified to his core and shaking like a leaf in the empty space. Merlin was out of his bed in a heartbeat, reaching Mordred’s side and trying to work out what exactly had happened.

He figured it out from the haunted look, the same one he got when he woke silently gasping out while cradling Arthur’s body.

Gaius didn’t ask, stepped away and allowed the door to shut, so that Merlin could guide Mordred towards the bed. He took a seat, still rocking backwards and forwards, allowing Merlin to wrap a blanket around his shoulders. Then, after taking a seat by Mordred’s side, he spoke.

‘It’s always the same vision, for me. We’re in Battle, against the Saxon army, and I watch Arthur fall. Every time,’ He paused, surprised by just how much his chest had tightened at the thought, ‘every time he dies. I can’t save him, no matter what I do.’

Mordred’s shaking stopped, the Knight looking up.

‘It’s a sword forged in Dragon’s breath.’ It made so much sense, explained everything he’d just thought. He couldn’t heal the wound, because it was his own kin that would attack.

Aithusa, the Dragon that he’d abandoned. Rather than terrify him, it actually was a comfort, because Merlin had suspected that Aithusa had something to do with the destiny coming. Checking on the Dragon had told him that both him and Morgana had been tortured, chained up. It was what convinced Morgana that they could live in harmony, her leaving Albion with his Dragon in search of a more forgiving land.

Did that mean Mordred was not as dangerous?

‘They don’t always end so badly. Sometimes… sometimes I choose to turn the blade on myself.’ Mordred’s admittance didn’t make it anything better, in fact, it made Merlin’s worry worse. Mordred shouldn’t be defined by his Destiny, Merlin should be the only one allowed to hate him!

‘Don’t listen to what they told you, Mordred. Even if you do kill Arthur,’ That had them both wincing, ‘You won’t ever be a monster.’

Not like me, Merlin thought, watching as the boy curled up into his side.

**

‘I don’t see why we’re here.’ Merlin grumbled, keeping his eye on the youngest Knight.

‘I know it’s hard, Merlin, but use that tiny brain of yours for once.’ Arthur’s teasing didn’t do anything to lighten his mood, instead made Merlin’s worry increase. The fact that they were heading into Druid territory was bad enough, but with all the Round Table Knights?

‘Your wit never fails to amuse.’ Merlin sarcastically responded, allowing Mordred’s horse to move in front of his, taking his place next to Arthur.

He didn’t mind, because Gwaine was telling one his stories yet again, which never failed to amuse him.

They were on the Hunt for answers as to the appearance of a creature draining the western lands of water. Merlin suspected that it was curse, but he wasn’t sure who was strong enough to use such magic.

‘Uhh, Princess, we’ve got company.’ Merlin’s head snapped to the robed figure standing on the edge of the track, watching as they brought the horses to a halt.

Merlin didn’t like him. Not at all, watching as his beady gaze evaluated Merlin, then slowly turned to Mordred.

He didn’t like this at all.

**

‘Aren’t the Druids supposed to be friendly people?’ Elyan hissed, gripping Percival’s arm and dragging him further into the bushes. Gwaine had been the one to go in search of Arthur, while Leon had remained on watch. Now, the King hesitantly crawled up alongside the others, where they were hiding from the Druids.

‘Why exactly…’ He began, but was interrupted by Lancelot nudging him.

‘Look.’ The clearing in front was nothing out of the ordinary, a couple of druids milling around while Mordred stood awkwardly. Arthur did feel like he’d been harsh on the boy recently, was that what his Knights were hinting at?

‘What am I looking at?’ He murmured, to which his Knights all looked at him with varying degrees of amusement.

Then he began to notice it. The glares, the whispers between the people of this small community as they looked at Mordred. It made absolutely no sense, and Arthur grew more and more confused as they began to close in. Part of him wanted to go and question what was going on, to ask why, but one look at Mordred told him the young Knight knew exactly why he was being outcast.

‘Why?’ Percival murmured, more of a rhetorical question than anything else, but no doubt what they were all thinking.

‘Maybe it’s cause of the mopey look, or…’ Arthur shut Gwaine up by placing a hand over his mouth, which only resulted in the Knight licking it. He rolled his eyes, wiping it on the man’s sleeve before turning back in time to see one of the Druids spit at the foot of Mordred.

‘We should stop this.’ Leon suggested, and Arthur was about to agree, but one of the Druids had decided he was going to take a more solid approach.

Mordred watched with wide eyes as the man approached, Arthur sucking in air at the look of determination on the Druid’s face. They shouldn’t be here, they were supposed to be on the outside of the Village with Merlin, but here they were, hiding.

The Druid shoved him back, Mordred tripping and landing back in the dirt, bringing his arm up like he was about to defend himself. Arthur reached back for his sword, but he was interrupted by a guttural roar piercing the clearing.

**

Merlin presumed Arthur had actually done what he’d promised, repairing the well in return for the assistance they needed on the spell. He had genuinely intended on sticking close to the King, but these Druids meant Arthur no harm, so he went in search of Mordred.

He was too busy humming, so when he finally did spot Mordred, his reaction was instinct taking over. The Druid was raising a hand, like he might dare to strike Merlin’s Druid, like he had the right to hurt a child.

It had been a while since his Dragonlord voice had been needed, but it broke through as he watched Mordred raise an arm to defend himself, cowering away from the supposed-peaceful man.

The sound wasn’t a word, more his anger breaking free as his Magic burst. His eyes might be golden, he could feel his magic bubbling under his skin as he moved out into the clearing. The Druid looked terrified, took a step back from Mordred as Merlin looked around at the people.

‘Explain yourself.’ He snarled, while Mordred decided the floor was the best place to sit.

‘I… my Lord, I…’ Merlin had never wanted the title, but now, he didn’t argue.

‘Now.’

‘He will kill the Once and Future King! He will kill your other half!’ He protested, cried out as if it made sense to him.

‘I would never kill Arthur!’ Mordred cried out, but Merlin held a hand out to silence the young Knight.

‘Destiny may dictate that Mordred is Arthur’s downfall, but you will not lay a hand on him.’ It sounded rather dangerous, his voice bordering on a tone that terrified even him.

‘But Emrys…’

‘Precisely. Emrys. Your King, so obey me.’ He had never pulled rank before, but now he did, let his Magic fill the clearing as he squared up to the Druid. The wind picked up, rustling the leaves around his feet while the Druid slowly dropped down to his knees, bowing low.

‘Yes, my lord.’

‘Anyone else want to tell me how to deal with my destiny?’ He questioned, scanning each and every single one of the people looking back at him. They all did the same, bowing their heads and submitting.

Merlin let his magic dim, felt the anger subside as he took a breath.

‘Look, I understand that you think you’re helping. But it’s my job to protect Arthur, from anyone who threatens him. Not yours. And Mordred…’ He looked to the Knight, offered out an arm to help the boy up.

‘Mordred’s on my side.’

He’d never seen Mordred smile so brightly, then winced when he was wrapped in a hug by the younger man. The Warlock tried to look annoyed, but he couldn’t help but smile as he ruffled the boy’s hair.

Maybe there was a better future for Albion, one that included Mordred.

Chapter Text

Mordred watched as the Druids left, as they fled from the energy still radiating out of the Warlock by his side. He was still trying to determine why Merlin had reacted so badly to him being threatened, but whatever the reason, he was pleased. He’d spent so long trying to impress Emrys, he hadn't realised that all he had to do was understand his Destiny.

He was more than aware that his Destiny was bad. In fact, he’d hoped that it was wrong, when he first was told. But the way Merlin looked at him, the fear that Mordred always saw, it made sense.

It was a refreshing change from being treated like a Knight of Camelot, rather than the Druid he had been born as.

‘Are you alright?’ Merlin was studying him, looking him up and down with concern that Mordred could only call… parental. Brotherly, familial, and Mordred was surprised by how much he was enjoying the affection.

‘I thought you hated me.’ Mordred teased, dusting down his armour and adjusting his belt to make sure his sword sat by his side.

‘Only I’m allowed to bully you.’ Merlin stated, although there was the hint of a smile on his lips. Beyond that, he looked tired. Worried, a frown on his face as he looked back in the direction of the Village.

‘You know I wouldn’t actually kill…’

‘The Druids shouldn’t have told you.’ Merlin cut in, the topic of Arthur still firmly off limits.

‘If they hadn't, you’d never have told me I was destined to kill…’

‘You didn’t need to-’

‘Merlin!’ Mordred didn’t mean to raise his voice, nor meant to make him jump. The Warlock looked at him, while Mordred dared to address the subject that hung between them.

‘I won’t kill Arthur.’ For a moment, he worried he’d stepped over the line. Merlin’s wide eyes showed him that he hadn't expected the challenge, and a silence fell over the both of them.

‘Mordred…’ Now that he’d started this, he wasn’t letting it go.

‘I won’t! I’m a Knight! I’m Arthur’s Knight, and I’m a Druid. I obey you, just as much as I obey him.’ Merlin winced, the pain on his face radiating out. It was clear that he didn’t believe that destiny could be changed, that Mordred could make his own path.

‘Mordred, it’s not that simple.’

‘You stopped Morgana! You got her to change her path, why can’t I change?’ A hand ran through his hair, making it into a spiky mess.

‘It’s not the same.’

‘Why not.’ He knew he was acting like a petulant child, challenging a man that clearly knew more about destiny than he did.

‘Because! I’m not gambling with Arthur’s life, if I lost him…’ He paused, while Mordred realised that there was something else to that story.

‘Who did you lose?’ Was he going to be denied? Merlin glanced to him, like he was evaluating whether or not he was worthy of the information.

‘Her name was Freya.’ Her. Which meant…

‘Was she your… yours?’ That seemed like the best word he could find, and it was an accurate, if Merlin’s sad look was anything to go by.

‘I chose her over Arthur, and she… she ended up dead. I’m not making that mistake again.’ Mordred hesitated, before reaching out and placing a hand on Merlin’s shoulder. He followed the motion with his eyes, but didn’t stop him, so Mordred tried for a smile.

‘I wouldn’t ever take him from you.’ Because if he’d learned one thing, it was that Arthur belonged to Merlin, just as much as Merlin belonged to Arthur.

‘I…’ Whatever Merlin had been going to say was cut off by the arrival of a Knight, Sir Lancelot, and Mordred jumped back.

He was about to make an excuse, but seeing the calm look on Merlin’s face, he figured that Lancelot wasn’t a threat.

**

‘Everything okay?’ Merlin was glad for the disruption, even if it meant that he hadn't been paying enough attention. Lancelot had managed to creep up on the two of them, which implied that Arthur could have done so.

‘Just lazing about.’ He joked, watching as the Knight studied both him and Mordred.

‘The truth?’ The thing was, Lancelot knew why Merlin didn’t like Mordred. But, like Mordred, he believed there might be a chance that destiny could change.

‘Mordred knows about his destiny.’ Merlin answered, while the Druid just gaped at the two of them.

‘He knows?!’ The boy hissed, looking so… startled.

‘I found out.’ Sir Lancelot replied smugly, while Merlin rolled his eyes.

‘Accidentally.’

‘You’re not very discreet.’ The Knight pointed out. That was true, but there was hardly time for being discreet anymore, not with the current threats facing Camelot.

‘We need to find a cure for the drought.’ Merlin remarked, changing the conversation back to the correct topic.

‘Could you do it?’ Lancelot asked, still studying Mordred like he didn’t trust him. Merlin was surprised, if anyone was going to trust Mordred, he thought it would be Lancelot.

‘Possibly. I’d need to sneak back into the restricted sections of the library.’

‘I could help you!’ Mordred looked like an excitable puppy, which Merlin found himself smiling at. It was ridiculous, he should be hating Mordred, but he found himself beginning to admire the Druid.

‘No, the last thing we need is Arthur catching you.’

‘What excuse are you going to give for your disappearance?’ Lancelot asked, an oddly specific question, but Merlin supposed he was just slightly stressed. A drought-curse was dangerous, it threatened the harvest.

‘The same as usual, probably.’ Merlin concluded, both Mordred and Lancelot answering in unison.

‘The Tavern.’

‘You know me.’ Merlin joked.

**

Mordred was asleep, which left Merlin to watch over him. They were on their way back to Camelot, with Arthur staying oddly silent after the Druids told them that the answers they sought were closer to home.

Dinner had been a silent affair, with Arthur not even asking for seconds. Merlin’s attempts to cheer him didn’t seem to work, so he settled down by the King’s side, slowly letting himself doze off. The forest was comforting, and with the burst of magic earlier, he no longer was concerned about his gifts acting instinctively.

He was on the verge of sleep when he heard the whimper, felt his magic prickle under his skin. He blinked himself awake, glanced around to find Gwaine slowly sitting up, Arthur still awake and focused on the source of the noise.

Mordred.

Merlin’s heart leapt, the desire to go and comfort him taking over. But he couldn’t, not when they didn’t understand why he’d changed his attitudes to the Druid.

Another sound, like a pained whine, and the Warlock could imagine what part of the dream he’d reached. They’d talked about them extensively, and, just as Merlin’s stayed in a set pattern, Mordred’s did the same. He’d be picking up the sword, facing Arthur with the bodies strewn around the battlefield.

His body arched up slightly, face screwed up in pain, waking the rest of the Knights. Merlin didn’t move, too afraid to do so, knowing that he’d rush to Mordred’s side if he had the chance.

‘No… no, please…’ His hand would raise up, the look of betrayal playing on both their expressions. Merlin saw the same thing, but from Arthur’s perspective, would be able to look at Mordred’s expression when the sword was brought forward.

Arthur wasn’t looking at Mordred. He was staring at Merlin, and Merlin looked right back, confused.

Another sound, Merlin flinching but refusing to break his eye contact with the King.

‘Go to him.’ Three words, that was all it took for Merlin to know that Arthur knew. Merlin hadn't been secretive enough, the King knew that Merlin wanted to protect Mordred, and even though it was just a simple feeling, the Warlock felt guilt.

He felt guilt, because Mordred was the man supposed to kill Arthur, and Merlin was protecting him.

In the next moment, he had made his decision, because Mordred was arching into the ground like he could avoid the sword, and Merlin’s heart broke.

It didn’t take him long to reach the Druid, reaching for his shoulder and gently shaking, watching as Mordred shot up. The fear in his eyes made Merlin sympathetic, he knew how terrifying it could be, so he shuffled closer and encouraged the Knight to come to him.

Mordred didn’t ask why they were being so open in their comfort, just let his head rest in Merlin’s lap and curled up tightly. The Warlock smiled, pulled the blanket up over him, then let his hand rest in his curls. A little Magic, so he made sure his eyes were shut, which would help soothe.

It took a while for him to fall asleep, but when he did, Merlin finally looked at Arthur.

‘You’re a sorcerer.’ The way the word was spoken, like it was a curse, was expected. It still hurt, Merlin taking a steady breath, trying not to let his expression crumple.

‘I’m a Warlock. I’ve had Magic since I was born.’ Arthur didn’t argue, just stared at him like it was the greatest betrayal.

No, it was the greatest betrayal.

‘You lied to me.’

‘I never wanted to.’

‘You’ve been lying to me all these years.’ He whispered it, like he couldn’t bear the truth, and Merlin felt tears spill down his cheeks.

‘I didn’t want you to have to choose.’

‘You didn’t trust me.’

‘Of course I trust you! I’ve got Magic, Arthur! I live in Camelot, under the same roof as you!’ He cried out, then fell silent when Mordred stirred. A little Magic, which he no longer had to hide, to settle him back down.

‘You’re him. The person the Druids keep trying to tell me about. The one that Morgana’s afraid of.’ Merlin had stood by and watched as Arthur learned about Emrys, unable to stop it, but fearful of what it could mean.

‘I’m just Merlin.’ He finally said, bowing his head.

‘And Mordred? Is that another betrayal?’

‘No. Mordred’s never been anything but loyal to you.’ The anger in his tone left no room for argument, Mordred had done nothing wrong. Not yet, anyway.

‘But he’s supposed to kill me.’ Merlin halted, then looked down to the young Knight.

‘He can change.’

‘You hated him.’

‘Because I thought he was going to kill you, Arthur! All of this,’ He gestured around the dark forest, ‘Would have been for nothing!’ He noted that the Knights had stayed quiet, were watching the back and forth bickering without comment.

‘That’s what this is to you? A job?’ The thing about Arthur’s anger, was that it was silent. He didn’t raise his voice, he just sounded disappointed in him.

‘Never. It was never just a job, Arthur, you’re my… friend.’ The end word didn’t sit well, and from the way Arthur looked back at him, they both knew it.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then,

‘Okay.’ One word, neither acceptance, nor rejection.

‘I’m coming back to Camelot with you. Whether you want me to or not.’ Merlin added the last bit, hoping for the King to say something.

‘I’ll need time to think.’

‘You’ll have it. As long as I’m not replaced with George.’ That had the King cracking a smile, one Merlin returned.

‘And Mordred?’ Arthur questioned, while Merlin tried not to panic. He let his fingers massage the boy’s scalp, careful not to wake him.

‘Mordred’s just a boy. He needs guidance.’

‘He’s a Druid. In Camelot.’

‘I’ll keep him safe.’ Merlin promised, knowing that Arthur’s love for the youngest Knight would prevail.

Sure enough, it did. Arthur nodded, then settled down onto the bedroll. It gave Merlin the chance to look around at the Knights, only to find smiles on each of their faces. Gwaine, the idiot, winked at him when Merlin looked across.

They’d need time, but Merlin could give them that. As long as Merlin could keep protecting them, everything would be alright.