Chapter Text
He made his way back to camp by following the loud laughs, arms heavy with dry sticks and shoes so soaked that he could feel his toes getting damp.
The path he took was hidden from normal eyes with how the clouds got in the way of the moonlight but a quick shine of gold pointed him towards the right direction. Those useless knights, Merlin grumbled under his breath, waiting for him to light the fire and make their food and clean after them.
He should make them starve. Have them wash their spoons, at least. Worst of all, he was dragged out of the comfort of his cozy bed to sleep on the ground in the company of seven men with dirt all over their faces. What wouldn’t he give for a hot bath.
And now, instead of having to feed six mouths and pile their plates to wash them in the dark, he had to bring extras and make his bag even heavier. All the way from Camelot, he walked with a slouch. Merlin was sure his spine was close to breaking in half.
Arthur had decided to bring Mordred along for some time now. Everywhere they went, each horse ride, every mission, the druid was there. The knights welcomed him so easily, Arthur ruffling his hair like he was his own kid.
And, every time, Mordred scooted closer to their group with careful steps and his hands behind his back. A curious look to his eyes, a shy little smile that showed up as soon as he was greeted or patted on the back. Like he enjoyed that so much, being one of them, belonging.
Not only with the knights but with Merlin as well.
The first time they camped, he helped Merlin make dinner. Didn’t offer or suggest, just slid to his side and prepared the meat while the warlock was busy with the rest, serving Merlin a plate first when it was done.
There wasn’t anyone to stop him but Merlin heard how they all went quiet for a while before the conversation was resumed. Even he went still, watching the young knight work beside him.
Merlin always complained and talked back but, in reality, he was quite used to it all. He cooked and cleaned and dragged things while the knights tried not to die. Sometimes he even had to help with that. They were nice to him, talked like they were brothers, but he knew they weren’t.
He wasn’t a knight, would never be one of them. Merlin was a servant and, even when they knew he was as brave as any men, almost as skilled with a sword to match their training, he would still be that.
Even with most of them not having noble blood, similar to him in their origins and childhood. Their friend but still a servant.
Maybe because Mordred was a druid or just young, he didn’t seem to realize that. He knew Merlin’s job but he also knew of his powers, his second name and the stories and prophecies and promises Merlin wasn’t sure he could live up to.
Except there wasn’t any devotion, just a sense of understanding. Like they were equals, Merlin thought and something in his chest almost had his lips tugging up.
Because he was the great Emrys but still a servant and Mordred was just a druid but a respected knight. Because they balanced each other and neither were where they were supposed to be.
So, probably taking that first stretch of silence for nothing more than silence, Mordred kept doing it. Helping him cook, organize the camp, wash their plates quietly by a small river. It turned into him not helping anymore but just sharing the same tasks.
It was a small blessing, Merlin had to admit. They talked sometimes, about the mission or the day, but he wasn’t as bothered as he thought he would be. He wasn’t bothered at all, Merlin realized.
He was never cruel to Mordred. Since the start, when his jaw clenched tight and he had to ball his hands into fists when the druid walked into a room, he kept every thing to himself. And Gaius, who listened with a raise of unimpressed eyebrows while he babbled on and on.
Still, he didn’t let the mistrust show in more than a few nasty remarks. He could see clearly in Mordred’s face how they affected him, in the way he pressed his lips in a thin line, how his eyes blinked faster.
Maybe, he thought, he was being too mean.
Mordred had shown nothing but loyalty and gratitude for being there, after all. Merlin let his weariness be washed away the more they spent nights together making each other silent company while the knights and their king joked around.
He found out Mordred was quite nice. Quiet and interesting, meeting his eyes over the fire when one of them made a joke and only smiling then, a hesitant thing like he was still offering Merlin his friendship.
Walking by his side on foot when Leon talked to Arthur and the warlock stood behind, and on horse too when the others rode too fast for Merlin to keep up when he was carrying so many bags.
He approached Merlin after the round table meetings, standing with him by the windows, and they talked for a few minutes.
Mordred gave him a hand when he had too many things in his arms to go up the stairs, greeted him every time they met in the hallways no matter if they had seen each other already.
They walked through the woods sometimes when Gaius needed something and Mordred had the time to go with him. Merlin asked him first, just a comment that had the druid looking at him with a wide grin he couldn’t hide, like an excited puppy.
So Merlin taught him about the potions and Mordred taught him about the plants. He started talking more with Mordred than the other knights because he could. Gaius was always there for him but it wasn’t the same, he didn’t have magic.
During boring speeches or banquets, their gazes would meet and Merlin would make a face and watch delighted as Mordred tried to hide a snort, bringing a hand over his mouth and looking around worriedly to see if anyone had caught him.
He would lace his fingers and bite down a smile while looking at the warlock, his cheeks painted with an adorable pink. Then, something pleasant would swirl in Merlin’s stomach and he would smile back.
Just like that, not even months having passed since the dreaded knighting ceremony, that fear was gone. They were friends, Merlin realized one day, clapping with real enthusiasm as Mordred raised his sword in victory and looked at him first.
As if searching for approval, like Arthur’s hand on his shoulder and the defeated but friendly laugh of Elyan wasn’t enough. Like he felt truly happy when he saw Merlin was grinning proudly at him and couldn’t help but look away quickly, let his shoulders drop.
So, as he made his way back to camp, he cursed all the knights except for Mordred, who was skinning the rabbits they would cook after Merlin had made the fire. As he got closer, the voices became clearer and he could hear Gwaine speaking mid laugh.
“I’m just trying to help. You did ask me, remember?”
“Yes, you. Not the entire round table.” came the squeak that Merlin knew belonged to the druid.
A frown took his face. He couldn’t recall what they’d been talking about when he left but Mordred was quiet then, focused on using his small dagger. Then, the knights loved to tease each other. Especially Mordred and Elyan, with them both being the youngest.
“Oh, come on, Mordred. There’s no need to keep it a secret.” Percy’s deep voice sounded so sincere when followed by Leon’s snort.
“Share your feelings with us, sir Mordred.”
“There are no feelings to share.” the druid insisted, words tight and quick.
“That’s not what you told me yesterday.” Gwaine sing-songed.
“Well, they are not reciprocated. It wouldn’t make a difference if I talked about them or not. Now, please-”
“Don’t listen to Gwaine if you plan on keeping your lady for more than one night.” said Lance and another round of laughter echoed back to where Merlin was also grinning softly.
“Oi! I can be romantic too.”
Skipping a puddle, Merlin finally spotted the small circle, some already lying down and others sitting, all with their lips tugged up in a teasing smile. The only person not wearing one was Mordred, head ducked while his eyes flickered from one face to another.
“There’s no- I wouldn’t want to-” he stammered, causing even Percival to hide his snort behind his hand “I mean, of course I would but not-”
“He’s saving himself for marriage, isn’t that right?”
“You’ll kill the poor kid, Leon.” Arthur chided as he reached to pat the druid’s shoulder. Mordred curled into himself even more and Merlin’s eyebrows knitted together in sympathy. Gwaine didn’t appear to feel the same, continuing.
“No, Leon’s right. The further he went was talking about hand holding.”
That punched a groan out of Mordred, who brought his hands up to cover his face. Maybe it would show him that he should be very careful when talking to Gwaine about embarrassing things.
The knights laughed again, Lancelot ruffling the druid’s hair with a fond expression.
“Now, that is just adorable.” Elyan teased and Mordred dropped his hands to shoot him glare.
“Can you all, please, just-”
“Merlin.” Arthur called when he was near, tripping over himself “You can help too.”
Straightening his back, Mordred looked over his shoulder to see the warlock glancing at them curiously and scrambled to help him, taking a few sticks to himself before it all went to the ground.
“No, that will not be necessary.” the druid shook his head, speaking frantically like the hands moving to light a fire, but it didn’t seem to work because Leon continued.
“Merlin’s the one you should be talking to, he’s a true romantic.”
Now, that was news for him.
Merlin dropped to the ground next to Mordred, ignoring the druid since he seemed to need the attention being dragged away from him. He was used to it already, the teasing and the poking. All he did was stare back, raise his eyebrows in genuine confusion.
“I am?” and Leon nodded in reply.
“Was teaching Arthur poetry some time ago.”
Turning his head, he met Arthur’s eyes, now drained of their cheeriness. It was still too painful, even now. He smiled tightly at his friend and Arthur gave him a short nod to let him know he was alright.
“Women love poetry. Why don’t you show Mordred some verses so he can woo his lady?” said Elyan from his other side, taking his boots off to dry by the fire.
“I have no plans to woo anyone.” Mordred muttered, head still down.
“You could certainly use the help, kid.” a sharp look was all it took for Gwaine to raise his hands “No offense.”
“Gwen likes flowers, doesn’t she, Merlin?”
She did, Merlin wanted to reply, and he knew that because he was the one picking them before handing Arthur a fresh bouquet and letting him get all the praise. But Gwen always pressed a quick kiss to his cheek those days, making the king squawk and follow her with a pout.
“Yes, flowers are nice.” he said instead and Arthur smiled softly like he did when thinking about Gwen.
“What kind?” the druid spoke up suddenly.
Sneaking a glance at him, Merlin could still see the bright blush of his face. It was too cute, the embarrassed way he tried to seem uninterested but clearly needed some sort of advice. The warlock felt himself grinning before he could stop, unable to keep the teasing tone to his voice.
“Well, what kind does your lady like?”
“I don’t know.” Mordred looked at the ground again, the quiet admission making Merlin speak softly.
“Forget-me-nots are simple but gorgeous.” they were his favorites but he was not about to say that.
While the flowers near the castle or the expensive ones from the market made Gwen happy, Merlin liked to wander to a meadow and lie there, surrounded by the little blue dots. Sneaking some in his jacket, he brought them to his room to keep him company.
“That’s not good enough.” another knight blurted out.
The conversation soon derailed into Gwaine trying to loudly teach Mordred how to bed a woman while the others laughed and tried to make him stop talking since the druid’s entire face looked as red as the fire and he couldn’t speak any more than a few stuttered words.
Merlin saved him the embarrassment by announcing the food was ready.
Mordred gave him a thankful smile, glad to accept the plate of food and sink in a dark corner by a tree, invisible again to the teasing of the knights but very clear to Merlin’s eyes that kept staring at the adorable flush of his ears.
He finished setting the cutlery with care as to not make any mistakes and send a handful of forks clanging to the floor. It was dark and his stomach rumbled, eager even knowing how disappointed he would be when finding out Gaius had probably made soup again.
Arthur was busy now, Merlin thought with his stomach, maybe he could grab a few sausages.
Not like he would notice, the prat had a table full enough to feed an entire army. And Gwen always made him eat with her when the king wasn’t there to keep her company or knocked on Gaius’ door to give them a freshly baked cake or a pudding.
They were by Arthur’s table, the druid having been called in a few minutes ago to talk about his report and now standing next to them. Clasping his hands together, Arthur put an end to the conversation and Mordred couldn’t look more relieved.
The king and queen made their way to the dining table while Mordred walked towards the door, nodding to Merlin in goodbye, but Arthur directed his words to the druid as he pulled his chair.
“Any progress?”
“My Lord?” Mordred stopped short, turning around with knitted eyebrows, and Arthur encouraged him with a smile.
“With your lady, did you make any progress? You remain so secretive about her.”
He remembered then the embarrassment in Mordred’s face, just a few nights ago, and noticed how it slowly crept back. The frightened look in his eyes like a small animal that had just realized it was being hunted, jumping from Gwen to Arthur and to him.
“Sir Mordred, are you in love?” Gwen said excitedly “Tell us about her.”
“I really can’t, your Highness.”
“Don’t be shy. Here, sit.” pointing at a free chair, Arthur shared an amused look with his wife and Merlin almost laughed when the poor knight took his seat, a defeated expression and red to the tip of his ears.
“There is nothing to tell.” he muttered, staring at the table.
“She still doesn’t know?”
It wasn’t unkind, just a bit surprised from Arthur’s part.
Of course, since the start he always went straight for what he wanted and, more often than not, ended up getting it. Most of the knights had that trait too but Mordred was different not only for the fact that he had magic.
“Do you think she could feel the same?” Gwen prompted after Mordred shook his head in answer to the king.
Walking around the table, Merlin went behind Mordred’s chair to reach Arthur’s cup and saw from the corner of his eye the druid jerk his head up when noticing him and then aiming his stare to the wood once again. His voice got even quieter.
“That’s hardly possible but I… I can’t help but hope.”
“Then it will go alright.” the queen assured him, sending him a gentle smile, and denied her serving of wine “Thank you, Merlin.”
Right, he thought, he was done there. He could make an escape now and maybe drag Mordred along, save him before smoke started coming out of his ears.
“Why don’t you help Mordred with his confession?”
It took Merlin a second to realize Arthur was talking to him and not someone standing a few feet behind him. Still, he glanced quickly over his shoulder just to be sure. When he looked back and the king’s grin was still in place, Merlin shook his head in reply.
“There’s probably someone better-”
“You have such a way with words, after all.” Arthur interrupted and looked at Gwen as if to take her to his side. And Gwen, the traitor, bit down a smile and only nodded.
“Merlin, you must give him some advice.”
How could she sound so genuine, Merlin had no idea. He also had no idea why they were doing this when they all knew very well how much of a mess Merlin was, especially when it came to romance. He was as much help as Gaius.
“Young love is a precious thing, don’t let yourself be discouraged, sir Mordred.” Gwen continued.
Daring to turn his face to the druid, trying to see if Mordred seemed as lost as him, he found a pair of wide eyes staring back. Way more frightened than before, he noticed. Terrified, really.
Merlin frowned but then Arthur was clapping Mordred’s shoulder and sending them away.
He explained with a mouth full of chicken about how he needed to go out again and would come back a bit late, to which Gaius pressed him for an appropriate answer but ended up waving him off when Merlin almost choked on a bone.
Merlin was the last person fitted to give advice of that kind, he should just look for Gwaine and send him to Mordred. He was the one the druid first asked for help from what he’d heard that night in the woods.
Sure, he had his fair share of lovers but they never lasted too long. And they had been so simple, there was no need for courting when hesitant hands reaching out were enough.
But Mordred looked so nervous both times, throwing him towards Gwaine would make the poor druid combust, without a doubt. Lancelot was good with that, Merlin wondered as he walked through the hallways, the problem was that he was also too shy to talk about it.
What left him to do it. Take the role of romantic advisor and help Mordred win his lady. It wouldn’t be much trouble, he was already quite charming. With innocent green eyes, always bright and eager. A deep and melodic voice that could melt any girl with the right words.
He could do it, Merlin repeated to himself, just how many times had he helped Arthur with some conquest. Well, most of them worked. Mainly the ones where the lady or Arthur were enchanted but they worked.
What mattered was that he and Gwen were successfully in love and married now and Merlin had helped with that, sort of.
Gwaine also dragged him along to the tavern when he had his eyes on some girl and, while Merlin’s role was to drown himself in beer and laugh when the knight had a drink thrown at his face, sometimes he sung him praises to make Gwaine’s target interested.
It got him free beer so he wasn’t about to complain.
Mordred never joined them and the other knights now that Merlin thought about it. It would be nice, see if the deep blush he got from drinking wine happened with all sorts of alcohol, find out if beer made him more talkative or louder or clumsy.
He should talk Mordred into coming with them one night, get as drunk as the others and bang their hands on the table in time with the loud singing, giggle at nothing in particular and then stumble back to their rooms without worrying about the yelling they would hear from Arthur the next morning.
A small smile danced on his lips when he knocked on Mordred’s door. It opened in an instant, like the druid had been waiting behind it since they stepped out of Arthur’s chambers. He was greeted by surprised eyes and a disbelieving voice.
“You actually came.”
Of course, he wanted to say, wasn’t that his job. Helping people, especially his friends. Mordred was his friend, Merlin thought again and that thing in his chest gave another sign of life.
“Look, I don’t really know much about poetry.” he admitted with a wince, watching Mordred’s eyebrows knit together “I know very little. None, if I’m being honest.”
“Then why-” but Merlin waved him off.
“It’s a long story.”
And he would never read a ghost tale the same way now. In front of him, still holding the door open, Mordred bit the inside of his cheek and then gave a little shrug.
“So, what should we do?”
That place could do with a bit of dusting, Merlin thought for the third time as he tried his best to hold a sneeze. Geoffrey was just behind a few shelves, snoring loudly with his cheek glued to a piece of paper, each of his exhales making a quill fly further to the end of the table.
“Hold this.” he whispered as he handed Mordred another heavy book, a cloud of dust following it and getting a choked cough out of the druid “Sorry. And this one as well.”
Mordred balanced an armful of books by his side while the warlock himself carried a few under his free arm, running his finger over the spines to clean them before reading their titles.
Getting into the library was easier than sneaking into the dungeons. No guards, just old Geoffrey that let sleep take over as soon as he was sure no one would walk in to bother him. That was already routine for Merlin.
He had dragged a hesitant druid along, peeking from the door and turning around to bring a finger over his mouth, to which Mordred gave a short nod and followed him silently through the mountains of books.
“This is all-”
“Poetry, yes.” Merlin replied as they made their way to the front again, careful with each step on the old wooden floor. He grinned without really meaning to, meeting Mordred’s eyes over a stack of books and muttering “Well, no one can argue with the weight of words of love.”
An ungracefully loud snort left the druid. A groan followed it, coming from behind them this time, and they both looked back to see Geoffrey blinking awake.
Muttering a string of curses, Merlin held on to Mordred’s wrist and pulled him all the way out of the door and through the hallways, letting go just when they had reached the druid’s door. Both breathless and now with legs as tired as their arms, they dropped the books on the table with a huff.
But, glancing at Mordred’s face, Merlin found a wide smile there. His own lips curved up and he ducked his head, focusing on cleaning the dust from the old covers, the sneezes he’d been holding finally catching up.
“Do you think he saw us?”
“I firmly believe he doesn’t care anymore.” he replied, eyes watering a bit and nose still itching.
Merlin shrugged his jacket off and loosened his scarf. That was going to take a while, he thought while looking at the table, now so similar to the ones in Gaius’ chambers. He sat on a chair and Mordred took the seat from the opposite side.
Then they both just stood there, staring blankly at the old papers. Mordred looked so comfortable, he couldn’t help but notice, with plain loose clothes and hair messier than usual from all the running. It was late, Merlin just wanted to kick his shoes away and sleep.
“Tell me about her.” Merlin prompted instead.
“Who?” the druid looked up at him with a slightly confused expression.
“Your lady. You never said a word about her despite being asked so many times.”
The eyes went down again like the layer of dust was so interesting.
Mordred ran his fingertips over it and cleaned them on his trousers. It was embarrassing like everything related to romance and courting but Merlin needed to know at least something if he was to provide any help.
“It’s not exactly an easy subject to talk about.”
“Then don’t be specific. I just need you to give me something to work with.” he sighed, slumping his shoulders “Do you want to let her know about your feelings or not?”
“I’ve kept them hidden for so long already, I’m not sure I know how to let them show.” a small smile appeared on Mordred’s face and Merlin wasn’t sure if he meant for it to be there.
“That’s what the books are for. If you’re afraid that your actions are not enough, use your words.”
Borrowed ones worked just as well.
Merlin himself was so used with blabbing that he could do with a few plagiarized lines, some structure to at least appear more composed. His clumsiness was charming, a few people had told him between kisses, but he wasn’t really sure of that.
That hesitancy was back, in the way Mordred wouldn’t meet his eyes but stared at his hands instead, making the warlock a bit too self aware of his own movements. In the low tone of his voice that turned each word into a deep rumbling, such a contrast to the softness of his face and round pink cheeks.
“And if I choke on them? Stutter and make a fool of myself?”
“Your feelings being the same, she’ll find it endearing.” he tried to reason, speaking honestly.
Nothing made his heart beat faster than knowing that he was the one to bring a blush to the face of someone that fancied him, that he had the power to steal them of their words and breath.
“So if they’re not, I’ll be laughed at.” Mordred said with a chuckle of his own, as if resigned to failing.
“You could love someone who would make fun of you for so little?”
“She can be rather cruel sometimes.” Mordred laughed again, raising his eyes.
They were always so green, it never stopped surprising Merlin. Even then, with just a few candles around them, enough to light the yellow pages and make out the words. The sunlight made them shine, turn them softer like the grass from Ealdor where Merlin used to run barefoot.
But it was by the fire that they had his stomach flipping, dark like no green he had ever seen before, with glowing circles of gold. As if, even when his magic was sleeping, it still left a little bit behind.
Waiting, watching, staring at him with curiosity or warmth or a silent question that he couldn’t understand like he failed to understand riddles.
Or sadness, dancing now as they reached his. Merlin didn’t know how he could tell what it was, how he always knew what they showed, but he did. The warlock tapped his fingers on the table, that same strange feeling in his guts that settled in whenever he was near Mordred.
“Then why do you love her?”
“I can’t help it.” the druid shrugged “There’s no stopping anymore.”
Others would’ve brushed it off as dramatic, the limited knowledge of someone too young to understand how things worked, that one day that curtain would fall and take this distorted view of love with it.
Merlin understood him. He knew it wasn’t an exaggeration, had felt it too many times before to pretend it would go away one day. It was crushing and painful and so worth it for those little moments of bliss. A happiness that seemed to lift you off the ground.
“What do you like about her?” he pressed and wasn’t sure why his voice was so quiet but Mordred matched him in his reply.
“Everything.”
“When I said you didn’t have to be specific…” a sigh left Merlin as he raised his eyebrows, making the druid open a little smile before continuing.
“She’s as kind as she’s mean. With a heart that I admire and a passion that I envy.”
“A passion for what?”
“Anything she does.” he shook his head “Always with a smile to her face. Sometimes tired or masking pain but never leaving her. It makes her eyes shine, crinkles appear on their corners when she gives a genuine laugh.”
There was a cloud over his eyes like Mordred was not only thinking about her but remembering, watching her and pointing the little things that made his heart thump pathetically and so pleasantly.
That thing tugging up his lips in a real smile now, so sweet like the rest of his face. It looked better this way, Merlin thought, better than the scoffs of self pity. And it was really love, there was no doubt about it. He could see so clearly.
The enchanted voice, the boneless feeling, the softness of everything.
Some lady had taken hold of Mordred’s heart, he chuckled to himself and found that his eyebrows were knitted together. Merlin wasn’t sure how long he’d been like that but he schooled his expression into a grin even if he didn’t really feel like it.
“So you enjoy making her happy.” he nodded and Mordred’s face went back to showing a poorly masked defeat and downcast eyes.
“I can’t give her happiness.”
“Have you at least tried?”
“Where’s the point in trying if I already know what my answer will be?”
“Mordred, you fear a rejection that you can’t be sure of.” the determined tone of his voice brought the druid’s gaze back up, a tentative thing that Merlin encouraged by leaning a bit over the table “Not everything is going to be clear. Sometimes you need to walk into something blindly.”
And pray to the gods it would work out. That’s how Merlin lived most of his life, it was basically his entire philosophy. He wasn’t dead yet so he kept doing it.
Mordred stared back at him, taking in the advice. He was trusting Merlin with that, things that seemed so hard for him to say, a vulnerability that you couldn’t show to just anyone. And the warlock wanted to help, he genuinely did.
So he stayed silent as Mordred slowly got comfortable, sunk in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. Merlin rested his cheek on his palm, watching the long curls that almost covered his eyes now, a dark black in that light and still managing to look so soft.
Everything about him looked soft. Since the beginning, it was what mostly bothered Merlin. How could someone as evil as he was supposed to be could look like that, he used to think when catching a shy smile Mordred directed at someone.
Later, he realized it wasn’t a front, it was just Mordred. The gentle knight, with a heart as sweet as his face, as his adorable locks and delicate but agile fingers. As the help and company he offered, the playful remarks and patient teaching.
At the quick movements of Mordred’s eyes that flickered from his face to the table and back again, Merlin realized he’d probably been staring for too long. The scarlet on top of the druid’s cheeks were too cute for him to stop.
“I like…” Mordred continued nervously but seemed to change his mind as he shook his head and started over “She’s the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen and has a tongue sharp as a blade. But she grew used to pretending to be a fool in front of others.”
“Why does she hide?” the druid shrugged in reply.
“Maybe to keep the image she wants people to have of her.”
“But you know her well.” Merlin pointed out, certain it would give him a bit of confidence. Mordred waited a beat, that small smile returning to his face as his voice got quieter.
“Yes, but she doesn’t care enough to know that.” and he was getting up and walking to the other side of the room, calling behind his back “Do you drink?”
It was one of his favorite things to do but, right now, it would make him fall sleep with his face shoved in a dusty book. He could feel that lazy feeling creeping up, starting from his toes, turning him soft and a bit dazed.
“Better not tonight. You can have some wine, I don’t mind.”
“There’s no fun in drinking alone.” Mordred turned around holding two simple goblets. A bit of warmth was welcome, a part of his brain told him, and maybe it would make the druid more talkative. His shyness was adorable but not very helpful in that moment.
“Fine, I’ll join you.” he sighed and threw a random book to the other side of the table “Read this one.”
“You know,” the goblets were placed, the wine poured “you could’ve just left the books and returned to your chambers.”
“I already went through all this trouble. Besides, now I’m interested in this lady of yours. It would be nice if you could find something that tells her how you feel.”
He took a sip of wine, hand dancing in top of the pile of books to maybe bring him luck. Merlin decided on a red one, the thinnest among the others, less intimidating too. Opening his, Mordred let out another cough at the dust.
“How old are these?” the druid frowned and Merlin fought to hold another sneeze.
“Best not to speculate.”
Alternating between the wine and turning pages, they fell into a rhythm that lulled them to a peaceful state. The quietness that the night provided only added to it, the fireplace and candles bringing them a bit of light while the wine kept them warm and comfortable.
It was nice, Merlin could move his feet and feel them knocking against Mordred’s. Could feel the druid’s magic, relaxed now, reaching for his and swaying together in the air around them like leaves did when there was too much wind.
The sudden voice broke the spell he was under, not really reciting the way it was supposed to be but still getting the words to echo inside his brain.
“Touch my skin like that again. Neither water nor the noon-time breeze is gentle as your hand. Remember the caresses that I taught you last night and kneel beside me-”
“Not that one.” he squeaked, slapping the book in Mordred’s hands shut “Definitely not that one.”
A deep blush quickly took hold of his face, making his skin burn.
It was nothing compared to the redness of Mordred’s cheeks, reaching the tip of his ears and patches of his neck. Merlin felt his fingers tingling with the need to reach over and feel how warm those spots were.
The sight was too adorable. Maybe that was why the other knights teased him so much, Merlin thought, to get that tight feeling in their chests when Mordred was so embarrassed he couldn’t meet a person’s eyes.
He occupied his hands by carelessly folding the pages of his own book while Mordred put his away.
“Sorry.” Mordred mumbled, staring down at the table again.
“Don’t want to give the wrong impression to the poor girl.” the warlock forced out a chuckle and Mordred stammered in reply.
“I wouldn’t- Even if she offered me only her friendship, it would make me extremely happy.”
“You do not wish to bed her?” and he couldn’t help but lower his voice just to see Mordred hunch his shoulders in an attempt to hide. Merlin couldn’t stop looking, really, a grin slowly curving his lips.
“I want whatever she wants.” said the druid meekly, hesitantly glancing at him from under his lashes “I have thought about it but… With a love like this, it’s special.”
Merlin wasn’t the one being courted, his heart shouldn’t be beating that fast. But there something so endearing about the man in front of him, the young and innocent eyes, the words stumbling out of his pink mouth.
“Don’t tease me.” Mordred continued with a frown, maybe taking his silence for something else when Merlin was just admiring the way he played with his own fingers nervously.
“I won’t.” he assured, clearing his throat “What a lucky maiden, to have a patient knight head over heels with her.”
It got a small groan out of the druid and he smiled again.
Best not to push, Merlin thought to himself, he didn’t know where Mordred’s limit was. A bit of banter was something but even someone as docile as Mordred could reach a breaking point and Merlin wasn’t keen on taking him there.
“What about you?” the druid prompted as he flickered through another book.
“What do you mean?”
“Do you have someone… special?”
At that, he glanced up to find Mordred still staring at him like always. Still clenching his hands into fists, blushing so prettily under the candle lights. Frowning at the question, the warlock chuckled lightly before returning to the stained pages.
“No, I don’t have the time for that. Pining is a luxury.”
“A rather painful one.” came the playful addition, causing him to smile down again “And in the past? You never felt that strongly about someone?”
His fingers froze.
Merlin always fell hard for everyone, it was just in his nature. He got madly in love and sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t. Never lasted but it wasn’t about that, it was about feeling, remembering he could still do that. Could let his heart do as it wished.
But he’d lied before, his brain whispered traitorously, hadn’t he. Sure, he understood Mordred. Except it wasn’t a normal occurrence for the warlock, he had only felt that kind of love once. Crushing and painful and with so much wasted potential.
A wasted future, something he could’ve had if only he’d been faster or had the gods on his side. A little house in the mountains with a beautiful lake and gentle arms to hold him. His sweet Freya, now resting where he could only dream of stepping in.
“There was…” Merlin trailed off, not enough wine in his system to talk about that “Some time ago, there was this girl.”
And it seemed so long. It had been years already, they had been both so young and hopeful. Merlin more hopeful than her. He still wished he could’ve made her smile more.
“You loved her?” the druid asked with genuine interest, quietly as if to match the blank expression Merlin knew had taken over his face.
“More than anything.” he nodded, raising his eyes to meet bright green ones stuck on him. An encouraging shine that made his shoulders drop “And so quickly too. But she was just perfect.”
The first person he met that was like him. There was no way he couldn’t fall in love with Freya and he was so glad she had felt the same. That in the end, she felt safe enough with someone she could trust after so little time, someone that cared deeply for her.
“She was a druid.”
“She had magic?” Mordred’s eyebrows shot up and Merlin snorted, nodding again.
“Pretty raven hair that would look wonderful in a braid. The sweetest eyes and a shy smile that made me-”
He cut himself off, only now noticing how Mordred had been leaning forward for quite some time now, listening to him. With stilled hands, eyes that seemed to shake with something Merlin couldn’t name, and a smile.
Like he couldn’t help, wasn’t able to fight it off his face, not while the warlock spoke.
“Lose track of everything.” Merlin finished, swallowing dry as he straightened his spine.
“Lucky maiden.” was echoed back “What happened?”
“She had magic.” he muttered and reached for another book.
Merlin could barely keep his eyes open. The wooden chair was uncomfortable but, right now, he felt like he could sleep there for hours, awkwardly folded as he was. There were barely any candles left, what made the task of reading even harder.
Falling into that nice silence again, they turned page after page but the books never seemed to come to an end. The words had started to blur together to him and he feared Mordred was the same since the druid held his head with both hands, wide eyes as if to chase the sleep away from them.
“This is useless.” he said before letting his face fall against an open book, arms sprawled over the table. Merlin yawned loudly, stretching and making a face at the sound of his tired bones cracking.
“Don’t be like that, there must be something.”
“Where?” Mordred grumbled into a dusty page “It’s dark already, you should get some sleep.”
They both needed sleep but he also he didn’t want to just give up.
Couldn’t leave Mordred with that sad frown and a hopeless feeling in his chest. What he wanted was to run a soothing hand through the druid’s curls, have him breathing calmly, stroke his cheeks until the worried lines in his face were gone.
“One more, maybe it will work.” he grabbed another book instead, opening at random and handing it to Mordred “Read it.”
With a sigh, Mordred took the book from his hands, sitting up straight again to glance through the text. His mouth twitched, not in a smile but down. A quick glance thrown his way had Merlin frowning but the poem was being read before he could question it.
“Shake hands, we shall never be friends, all's over. I only vex you the more I try. All's wrong that ever I've done or said-” the book was closed quickly “I’m tired.”
Then he was running a hand through his face and putting the book away, getting up from his chair to take the empty goblets with him. Merlin watched, weighing if it was worth it pressing him some more. It wasn’t, he decided while staring at Mordred’s hunched back.
Maybe that was the limit, Merlin thought, and he didn’t want to overstep it.
So he nodded to himself and took hold of his jacket. Gaius was sleeping now, he wouldn’t even notice the warlock’s arrival. He could have a few hours of sleep before waking up to the annoying knocks on his door.
Mordred deserved the rest too. Walking back to the table, the druid started piling up the mess of books with a clear determination written on his face, ready to get rid of them. Merlin rested a hand on his shoulder, not really expecting Mordred to freeze in place, glancing up like a startled rabbit.
“Keep the books.” he said, squeezing gently the tense muscles once and letting go.
Tomorrow, with their heads clear, they could try again. He wasn’t about to give up just yet. Besides, Merlin had enjoyed spending some time like that.
Not that they never talked about personal things but that topic hadn’t exactly come up and, seeing how much it mattered to Mordred, the warlock wanted to find out more about it.
About his feelings, if their views of romance were the same, about the girl that seemed to have him under a different kind of spell.
Gwen was right, that kind of love shouldn’t be discouraged and Merlin would help with that. Provide a friendly company for the druid, make him feel safe enough to talk like that again, in the way that had his eyes shining and a sweet smile curving his lips up. Merlin enjoyed that too.
Before him, Mordred nodded, ducking his head and quietly bidding him good night. With his stare stuck to the floor, he couldn’t see but Merlin smiled at him anyway, knowing the druid would hear it in his voice.