Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Mordred awoke in a cold sweat for what had to be the fifth time in a row, shivering all over and trying desperately to clear his mind of the images that plagued him.

The opposite side of the bed was empty, cold, and Mordred sighed. Of course his nightmares persisted; Emrys still wasn't back yet. With a shaky, whispered word, the candle beside his bed ignited. He relished the warmth that spread through his chest as he let the magic go, cherishing the small yet effective comfort. It hurt, to bottle it up all day; worse, to keep it inside fearing others' disgust. At times, the only thing keeping Mordred from giving up the stupid battle and using magic in front of the whole court was Emrys.

He felt like such a child, complaining about his problems when Emrys stood there and endured the very same, day after day. He kept that shining, wonderful sun inside of him as he stood in the shadows. Washing floors when he could kill them all with a single word.

Emrys loved them all so unconditionally, despite everything, and at times Mordred thought he was going to be sick, how much like dirt they treated him.

Mordred received a title. He himself had done so little for Arthur in comparison, and yet he was showered with so much more love, so much more thanks. Arthur acknowledged his presence, his seat at the round table, valued his opinion in court. Mordred knew how much Emrys' heart ached for that, as much as he tried to hide it. As he tried to be happy serving wine and cleaning stables. As he tried to be content with the questions Arthur sometimes asked him in his quarters (not in public, never in public, wouldn't want to embarrass the king) instead of being asked of his opinion in court. As he told himself that Arthur valued his opinion, of course he did. They were friends.

They just couldn't tell any of the nobles that.

Emrys had sacrificed everything. His whole world was Arthur, and yet he never once so much as hinted about the power that he had inside of him. He kept all that magic in- for Arthur. Because Emrys knew that the man wasn't ready. Because he knew it wasn't time- not yet. It made Mordred feel painfully inferior.

And it was then, as Mordred lay there, shivering, when he reached out for the one thing that always comforted him in times such as this: Emrys' magic.

Emrys' magic wasn't a thing that only surrounded his person- it was everywhere in Camelot, coating the city like a blanket, like icing, like armor- and yet only Mordred could feel it. Only Mordred acknowledged its presence, felt awed in its utter magnificence, let himself soak in as much of it as he could: that beautiful, unconditional love that sometimes they labeled as 'magic.'

Mordred took a breath to steady himself, and felt the goldenness warm him.

Emrys? Mordred called out quietly, as not to wake the warlock if he slept, yet loud enough to ensure Emrys would be able to hear him from outside the castle walls. As if that took any real effort at all, really. Sometimes they joked- and it wasn't really a joke at all- that Emrys would be able to hear him no matter how far away. Emrys' closeness with magic itself left Mordred breathless sometimes.

He felt the exact moment that Emrys cast his mind out to meet his own, the waves of pure, massive energy surrounding him like warm water. Mordred sighed, relaxing in it, marveling in it.

You should be asleep, Mordred, came Emrys' gentle, tired sounding voice.

Mordred hummed noncommittally, deciding to ignore the topic altogether. Where are you?

Mordred, I'm serious, Emrys thought to him tiredly.

Why are you still out of bed? He asked instead. It was nearly morning, and, from what he could tell, the man hadn't gotten any sleep at all.

Look out your window. Without a second thought, Mordred stood up and padded over to the window, looking at the cobblestones below. The faint clack of a horse's hooves drew his attention to a small figure entering the city on a black horse. Emrys.

Emrys, Mordred cast out to him, sending his worry and empathy. He knew how hard sleep was for the warlock as it was. What were you doing?

Emrys sent reassurance and serenity back to him. It's alright. He soothed. There had been a group of Wyverns in the forest; people had gotten pretty riled up about it. I knew it would be easier without Arthur. That way, I- Emrys paused suddenly. I wouldn't have to hide.

Mordred felt something in his stomach twist unhappily at that, but said nothing. And you're alright? He asked, placing the tips of his fingers against the glass of the window and watching the silhouette enter the stables to return his horse.

I'm alright, Mordred. You should get back to sleep.

Mordred blinked, suddenly drowsy. Turning around, he strode over to the mattress and sat down, looking across at the vacant sheets beside him. He knew Emrys was bound to be responsible for the sudden lethargy, but was now too sleepy to ask about it. And you? He asks. Your sleep is no less important than mine.

Arthur the prat will want to be woken soon. A certain kind of fondness the warlock reserved only for Arthur flooded the words, and although Mordred was usually jealous, on the brink of sleep he found happiness the only emotion coursing through him. I don't have time to stop over.

I understand. Mordred thought, unhappily nonetheless. You know, next time you should just take me with you. He runs a hand over his face, tired.

Hmm. Emrys hummed, as if he'd agreed, but Mordred knows he did anything but. There's a short pause, before quiet words sounded in his head: I love you.

The words were breathtaking enough; Emrys loved him, but the proof, the literal emotion that flooded into their little mental link left Mordred breathless. Are you sure? He asked, and he could practically feel Emrys roll his eyes. He smiled.

Thank you, Mordred sent sleepily after a moment. Emrys always had time for him, and the thought made his heart flutter. The warlock had so much love in him, it was a pity that he received so little in return. Sometimes Mordred knew that he, too, was the only light in Emrys' world. The only person who could really understand what it's like: hiding your very being from the people you love the most.

Always, Mordred.

xXx

Nobody noticed the way Emrys looked exhausted the next day. Nobody ever noticed.

Sure, Arthur had started laughing at him that morning when he saw him trip over his own feet, and Merlin had grinned at him that grin he saved for Arthur- but Mordred knew that he must be hurt. Merlin was noble, undoubtedly the most selfless person he knew, but to give so much for someone only to be laughed at would make anybody's heart ache.

Emrys closed his eyes a little bit too long for a second as he had sat down at the edge of the training field when they had started to spar. Nobody was even looking at him, so how could anybody notice? How could anybody realize that the man was tired and desperately needed an afternoon off?

"Mordred, what are you doing?" Percival's voice made him tear his eyes away from the most impressive creature in his world to regard the brawny knight. The man looked genuinely curious, concerned as to why he hadn't joined them yet, and it touched as well as angered him. Why did he get all of this respect, all of this concern, while Emrys, in comparison, deserved none of it?

Mordred smiled at him, easing the knight's worry. "Nothing, I'm sorry, I'm just a little tired is all."

You're tired? Mordred practically screamed at himself. You have no right to be tired. Your nightmares are nothing next to his, and you know it. At least you got any sleep at all.

Percival lowered his eyebrows in concern, before his expression flooded with understanding. "Nightmares?" He asked gently, and Mordred hesitantly nodded his yes."I know what you mean. Morgana, all that blood on your hands, heck, even magic itself scares the living daylights out of me sometimes."

Mordred tried not to let it show how much that broke his heart.

He thought of the stories Emrys had told him.

All I know is that I've lost both of my parents to magic. It is pure evil. I will never lose sight of that again.

I am indebted to you, Merlin. I had become confused. It is once again clear to me that those who practice magic are evil and dangerous. And that is thanks to you.

How did Emrys have any heart left.

Percival quirked a smile at him, and rested a hand on his shoulder, squeezing. "You should go home, get some proper rest," he told him.

Mordred opened his mouth to protest, his eyes flickering ever so briefly over to Emrys' hunched- over figure, cleaning chain mail, but someone interrupted him.

"Percival's right."

The young druid started a little bit, turning, wide eyed, to see his king behind him.

Mordred sputtered for a bit. He couldn't go back. He didn't deserve that privilege. "I- Sire-"

"I insist." Arthur said, smiling while his eyes clearly portrayed his birthright.

Mordred glanced over at Merlin, who was now alert, his eyes on Arthur.

His eyes slipped back to the king, who nodded at him and clapped him on the back. "Get some proper rest, Mordred. I'm sure Gaius could give you something, as well, if the problem persists." Arthur's eyes looked at him, kind. "A zombie of a knight is no use to me, anyway," he teased, smiling. The two of them walked off, Percival glancing back at him once more, as if to say, 'go on.'

Mordred began the slow journey off of the training grounds. Or, at least, it felt like a slow one. He felt Emrys' eyes on him as he drew nearer.

Has something happened? Merlin asked him, worry in his eyes. The chainmail was in his lap, all but forgotten.

Mordred felt utterly mortified. I... I was given the rest of the evening off. More than anything he wanted to lie, but for how much Emrys was denied, he thought that he deserved to be given the truth, as ugly as it was.

Emrys' eyes widened with surprise, before he smiled, nodding kindly at him. You deserve it, Mordred.

Mordred had to look away. I do not. He countered sadly.

He nearly jumped out of his skin again as he heard Emrys stand up, and when he turned his head, Emrys' eyes were right there, burning into his. No, Mordred, never say that. His eyes softened, and Mordred felt the sun- no, sorry, Emrys' magic- nudge his own, and he had to take a breath to pull himself back together, his eyes fluttering. You matter to me.

Mordred looked up at him, completely floored that that could be so, as he always was.

Call for me if you need help sleeping. Emrys finished kindly.

"Merlin!" A very distinctively Arthur sounding voice called from the field.

Merlin smiled goofily. "One day I'll lose patience and murder him," he joked. Mordred could hardly see the grinding fatigue that he his so well.

xXx

He never did call Emrys, but after hours of tossing and turning, the man's mind quietly slipped into his, apparently needing no call.

Mordred sighed- both mentally and physically. How did you know I wasn't asleep? He asked wearily, climbing out of bed to look out of the window at the afternoon sun.

I'm not as stupid as some people make me out to be, Emrys replied lightheartedly.

Mordred closed his eyes, frustrated. The world was so unfair to him, and it seemed like he didn't even care.

Emrys sent a surge of calm to him. Hey, it's okay. He said, before answering his question. Your magic felt restless, is all.

Mordred took a minute to let that sink in. The man's relationship with magic itself was... unreal.

Mordred? Emrys asked in a small voice. Mordred realized he hadn't responded.

Will you come here after you're done? Mordred asked, needing the reassurance.

Emrys sent a wave of it to him, and if Mordred was honest he nearly collapsed. Always, Mordred.

xXx

Merlin came into his quarters late that night. The door shut quietly, and Mordred looked up to see Emrys enter. He looked exhausted; not only physically, either, but his magic actually ached.

Frowning, Mordred hastily put down the pen he had been using and only a second later the little druid had collided with the warlock's chest.

Laughing weakly, Merlin looked down at his own personal octopus, and rubbed his cheek against the dark curls, relishing the feeling. "Why aren't you asleep?" He asked.

Mordred didn't answer for a moment, his eyes closed, clinging to him. "Unlike you, I did get some sleep last night. I was fine after a few hours." Mordred closed his eyes happily. "Besides, I had some work to do." He almost added, 'knightly things', before realizing that was a cruel thing to say.

Merlin took a shaky breath. "Ah," he said.

Mordred pulled back, meeting his eyes worriedly before leaning in for a kiss. "Are you alright?" He asked softly.

Merlin leaned his forehead against his. "Arthur seemed pretty stretched thin today." He explained. And so he took it out on you, Mordred thought, frustrated. "I couldn't get him to tell me why, but it seemed like something big." The underlying sadness in his words, that there really wasn't enough trust there for Arthur to tell him, made Mordred want to cry out. Emrys was just a servant, after all.

In truth, Mordred forgot that sometimes. It was easy to, when you saw that constant, thrumming of power running through his veins. He looked like a god, then.

Merlin had closed his eyes. "Emrys, you need to sleep," Mordred insisted.

His vibrant, sad blue eyes slid lazily open, and they stayed like that, seemingly staring right into his very soul, before he nodded at him, and pulled his forehead away. "Only if you do the same," he qualified.

Mordred resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I practically fall into a coma when I'm that close to you for that long."

Merlin looked unamused, but leaned in to kiss his forehead and moved over to the table to take his shoes off, wincing as he did so.

"Did he really work you that hard?" Mordred asked, timidly.

"Nah, I'm just a complainer," Merlin assured him, flashing him a smile. It was a clear lie.

Merlin put his shoes aside, looking up to see Mordred looking at him sadly, and lowered his eyebrows as he stood up, taking the steps over to him and quirking a smile, trying his best to cheer him up. Mordred caved and smiled faintly back, which made Merlin's smile grow victoriously.

"Come on," Merlin said, pushing him playfully backward, "Let's get some sleep."

Mordred's smile slipped off his face as soon as Mordred had his back turned, but he followed Merlin as he slipped under the covers and placed his head at its normal position on his chest. A light smile gracing his lips as he realized he could now use the word 'normal'. Nearly every day, now, Merlin would spend the night. It helped him sleep unbelievably better; the both of them.

Besides, there was the small matter that Mordred's bed was actually suited for a full- grown man. Emrys had teased him about the absurd fluffiness level of it, too, nearly daily when he had first agreed to spend the nights with him, saying that perhaps it was simply because the bed that he agreed, and not him. Mordred rolled his eyes at the memory, before a thought occcured to him.

"What are your nightmares about, Emrys?" Mordred asked, all of a sudden.

Merlin gently carded his fingers through Mordred's hair, not speaking, and after a while Mordred just kept silent, assuming he wasn't going to answer.

"I wish I could say something creative," Merlin teased, breaking the silence, and Mordred's eyes fluttered open. "Or at least unique. But I'm afraid mine are pretty cheesey."

Mordred shifted his head a little, making the fingers in his hair pause, before asking, "What do you mean? What are they about?"

"Life without you," Merlin said simply.

Because life without Mordred was life with just Arthur, and nobody could handle that much heartbreak.

Chapter Text

Mordred hadn't even drifted off yet when, without warning, Emrys suddenly sat up, making Mordred cry out in surprise and nearly fall of the bed.

"What is it?" Mordred asked, his voice panicked.

"Sorcerers," Emrys gasped. "There are sorcerers in Camelot."

Emrys was already pushing himself out of bed and fumbling to get his shoes, and Mordred rubbed his eyes, urging himself to wake up, throwing off the covers.

"How do you know?" Mordred asked, standing up. Emrys finished putting on his shoes, came over to him, and pushed him back onto the bed. Mordred frowned.

"Their magic is full of hate. It's..." Emrys shivered. "Be thankful you can't feel it, love."

Mordred looked pained. "I'm sorry." He made to stand again, but Emrys pushed him back down. Mordred looked annoyed.

"Stay here- don't make me enchant you," Merlin added, thinking Mordred looked shifty.

Mordred looked like he was drowning in his own malcontent, his mouth twisted unhappily, but his eyes were grudgingly willing. He nodded, once.

Emrys' eyes softened. "Get some sleep, Mordred. I'll be back soon."

Mordred started to stand again, but before Merlin could push him down, he grabbed the warlock's shoulders and leaned in for a kiss. Merlin was surprised by his sudden ferocity, but, after a minute, broke away with a crooked grin.

"Sorcerers. Camelot. Arthur's imminent fate." He reminded him.

Mordred smiled, a little, shyly, before sitting back down on the bed and curling up there.

"Goodnight, Mordred," Merlin said affectionately.

Mordred smiled again. "Goodnight, Emrys."

Merlin disappeared behind the wooden door.

xXx

When Mordred's eyes fluttered open to the new morning sunlight, he knew he was alone. It wasn't hard to tell if the sun was next to you or not, after all.

Mordred sighed unhappily, but tossed the covers aside and began getting ready for the day. He had training with Arthur and the others at noon. If he was lucky, Emrys would be there.

He frowned as he laced his boots. Another night without sleep. Mordred ran a hand through his hair, and wished to the gods that Arthur still wasn't upset by that mysterious issue that he refused to tell Merlin. He didn't know if Emrys could handle another day of borderline abusement. He looked sadly into the mirror. He felt loyal to his king- how could he not, he listened to Emrys talk so highly of him nearly nonstop- but if Arthur touched a hair on Emrys himself's head...

Mordred drew a breath, closing his eyes to calm himself.

That loyalty would be tested.

xXx

"Mordred," Sir Leon greeted him in passing, later that morning. Mordred smiled in return, and he wouldn't say it was entirely faked, but it wasn't the knight's approval he longed for.

Mordred hurried his feet, taking great care not to miss a turn on the path he had all but memorized. After an hour of mulling about in his chambers and telling himself he was actually getting work done, he had finally simply given up and stormed out the door.

His knuckles rapped against the wooden doors to Gaius' softly.

"Come in," Gaius' kind voice called only moments later.

Mordred approached the physician rather timidly, still feeling rather humbled at the thought of Emrys' mentor and father figure, but Gaius' small, kind smile never failed to draw forth one of his own, and the tension was immediately forgotten.

"Ah, Mordred, my boy, what do you need?" Gaius put down the bottle in his hand and regarded him with his full attention, making Mordred blush, slightly.

"I- I was wondering if you'd seen Merlin recently, sir," Mordred spoke. Emrys' other name felt so strange on his lips, even though he so frequently heard it on everyone else's. It irritated him, sometimes. Mordred thought that it didn't do the man justice.

Gaius' forehead creased with confusion and a touch of concern. "I was under the impression that he was with you."

Mordred swallowed and glanced down at his boots. "He was," Mordred managed, the blush still on his cheeks, "but then he had felt the presence of other sorcerers in Camelot and had felt the need to investigate. I haven't seen him since."

Gaius raised an eyebrow, concerned. "Sorcerers? In Camelot?"

Mordred found it ironic that both himself and Gaius were no strangers to magic. He inclined his head. "Yes, sir. Malevolent ones, too, if Merlin's feeling was anything to go by."

Gaius looked exasperated. "Stop calling me 'sir', Mordred, you know very well that I think of you as an son, now." Mordred positively glowed. "Well, I hope it wasn't anything too serious. Not Morgana, I hope."

Mordred shook his head. "I doubt it. He would have recognized her magic, if that were the case." He paused, sighing. "And likely he would have accepted my help."

Gaius looked at him with something in his eyes Mordred couldn't quite understand. "You know how seriously he takes to protecting you, Mordred. If the Triple Goddess herself were on our doorstep, I doubt he'd let you fight." Gaius smiled as the poor boy blushed again before asking gently, "Did Merlin get any sleep at all, then?"

Mordred's expression darkened. "I- I don't think so." He looked sadly at the older man. "This is the second night in a row, Gaius."

The old man sighed. "Anything happens tonight, and I give you full permission to knock him out with your own magic, understood?"

Mordred quirked a smile. "You know my magic is no match for his, Gaius."

The physician's kind eyes flooded with understanding. "You watch over him, Mordred."

Mordred smiled shyly. "Always, Gaius."

xXx

Not ten minutes later, as the druid mulled his way through the labyrinth of a castle over to the training grounds, Mordred's face light up completely, his eyes recognizing the sun himself. Mostly hidden by a towering stack of laundry, maybe, but still there.

Emrys! He called, a grin taking over nearly half of his face.

Mordred? Came the response, a curious head peeking out from behind the pile of laundry.

He didn't even look tired, that was the thing. Magic easily covered up the dark circles that would have no doubt have been all too noticeable under his eyes, and the faked enthusiasm and energy- while Mordred knew it took a lot from him- was Emrys' specialty. Of course, he was the only one who saw the after- effects of it, later that night, when it took it's toll. Sad eyes. A weary voice. Sometimes even tears.

Those nights were the worst.

Mordred felt a flash of depression move through him, and he sought to distract himself. And distract Emrys. As much as the man was brilliant at hiding his sorrow, Mordred knew him well enough to spot the cracks in his mask. Do you have a minute? He asked.

Emrys- probably subconsciously- sent a little bit of happiness over to him. Mordred guessed that his words must have let more of his sadness show than he had intended.

I've just got to carry these clothes up to Arthur's chambers; we can talk then. Meet me there?

I'll help you, Mordred offered.

No, no, Emrys was quick to interrupt. His words were hasty, and because of this, Mordred caught the pain in them. That would look suspicious.

Of course. A knight helping a servant with his work. What had he been thinking. Mordred's eyes dropped to the floor. His chest ached. Okay, he acquiesced quietly. I'll meet you there, then.

xXx

Merlin hummed into Mordred's dark curls as the druid hugged him fiercely, refusing to let go, even though Merlin was sure it had probably been at least two minutes since the man had propelled himself into his chest. Merlin relished the comfort, even if he did feel on edge, holding Mordred like this in the king's very chambers. Merlin closed his eyes, trying to push away the sorrow.

"You should reveal yourself to him." It was out of nowhere, Mordred's voice, and Merlin's entire body stiffened.

Attempting a lighthearted laugh that really was quite pitiful, Merlin asked, "Where did this come from?" He rubbed his cheek against Mordred's hair, seeking and receiving the comfort.

"I'm tired of seeing you so sad all the time. It seems like you're always in the shadows, thankless and tireless and-" Mordred stopped himself, his voice becoming thick with admiration. "You'd be so much happier if he could recognize you for what you are." Merlin felt Mordred's magic rub up against his gently. The awe that always seemed to radiate from the druid never ceased to puzzle Merlin.

"Reveal yourself, Emrys," Mordred pleaded.

Merlin's entire form immediately sobered. "No." He said; gently, but firmly.

"Please?" Mordred's little voice sounded so hopeful, and Merlin swore his chest was actually going to burst. His arms around Mordred tightened.

Silence. Nothing but silence. Mordred's desperation pushed him over the edge of making an equally desperate decision.

"Fine... I'll reveal myself." Mordred's brain raced with the sudden plan. "That way, we can see how he reacts, make sure Arthur's ready, and even if he's not... well, then, I'm expendable anyway, and we would know-"

Merlin pulled away, his dark eyes demanding his. "Mordred." He started.

Mordred looked back, as strongly as he could, his heart melting at the force of the other's stare. He couldn't hold it for long. His gaze flickered to the floor.

A finger lifted his chin up, and this time he met Emrys' eyes to a softer look. "I love you too much for that," he said.

Mordred blushed. There was a pause, where neither of them spoke. "Will you be at training today?" Mordred finally asked.

Emrys' face lost some of it's enthusiasm, but he smiled as he gestured to the pile of clothes beside him. "I'm afraid not. Arthur has given me some thrilling jobs to do."

Mordred frowned at the falseness behind the smile. "I know you didn't get any sleep last night." Mordred accused him.

Emrys' facade faltered only slightly before a grin was plastered on his face again, and he waved at him. "I'll be fine. A time consuming job, finding those sorcerers, perhaps, but magically it wasn't very draining. Some assassins they were." Emrys grinned at him, again, trying to get him to smile, but Mordred's eyes remained sad.

"You're still human, Emrys, you need sleep."

Merlin sighed. "Mordred," he said, exasperated.

After a pause, Mordred gathered enough courage to ask, "When can I see you again?"

Merlin smiled slowly as if he knew something Mordred didn't. "The prat himself as decided that he wants to go on another hunting trip." Emrys gave him a look. "I heard him talking about it this morning. Knights and all. I'll see you then."

Mordred hesitated, before shyly leaning in to kiss him.

"Arthur's coming," Emrys whispered to him, after a moment, pushing him away. "You should go. Quickly."

"Alright," Mordred agreed, looking unhappy about it but stepping towards the door. "I'll see you on the hunting trip, then."

Mordred was pretty sure that Emrys had tried to smile.

Chapter Text

"Another hunting trip, Arthur?" Gwaine teased, who stroking his horse in the middle of the courtyard. Emrys still hadn't arrived yet, which gave Mordred a sour mood. "Why am I getting the idea that this is only to annoy Merlin?" Percival chuckled.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "It was his bloody idea, Gwaine."

Gwaine looked surprised at that, and Mordred perked his ears up, curious as to why. "Right, princess, like I'd believe that. You know how much he hates these things. He sure complains enough." Gwaine grinned fondly.

"You can believe whatever you want, Gwaine," Arthur drawled. Percival was laughing, but Mordred only felt confused.

It was only due to months of practice that Mordred did not physically lurch forward as he felt Emrys' shining mass of power stumble right into the courtyard at that very moment. That being said, a shy little smile seeped into Mordred's eyes as he watched the man hurriedly apologize and ready his own horse.

What made you late? Mordred asked, curiously, trying to push back the touch of concern nagging him. The worst scenarios always came to mind first, when it came to Emrys. It got ridiculous at times.

Emrys didn't answer right away, making Mordred sigh, knowing the man well enough to know that the silence meant he was thinking up a suitable way to hide the truth. I had nine million things to do, Mordred, excuse me if I'm a few minutes late.

Mordred twisted his mouth unhappily, but the tired overtone to Emrys' thoughts kept him quiet. Hopefully he would have the chance to talk to him later.

"Mount up!" Mordred heard Arthur call from the front, and Mordred patted the horse's neck, softly, giving it a soft, friendly nudge with his magic before climbing up onto the saddle. He saw the others do the same.

He tried to be discreet about watching Emrys' every move, as he usually was, but the added concern of the warlock's lack of sleep made him mind less and less about the casual, curious looks from the other knights.

As they rode out of the castle, Emrys was laughing at something Arthur had said, and the latter was grinning, looking pleased with himself.

He still didn't understand how the hunting trip could have been Emrys' idea. He knew how tired the man was, and how much the hard work would hurt him, how much he hated hunting trips on a good day. Why would he suggest one, now?

Mordred already knew the answer, he simply didn't want to admit it to himself. Even though he knew Emrys loved him, he couldn't ignore the small pangs of jealousy every time he watched as Emrys made yet another gesture of his pure, unfailing loyalty to his king.

Emrys knew that hunting trips always cheered Arthur up.

xXx

"Wow! That was a brilliant shot!" Arthur was laughing, that rich, genuine laugh that he knew Emrys had always admired. Mordred looked at him, Emrys, who was standing, slightly disheveled, half behind a tree a ways away. His gaze shot to Arthur as soon as he heard the words, and a bright, brilliant smile had crossed his face. Mordred's heart melted at the sight. He knew it had been Emrys' shot. The wild boar had been charging at Arthur. Mordred could still taste the familiar flavor or Emrys' magic in the air.

"Mordred, was that you?" Arthur asked, smiling like the sun. "Blimey!"

And then, suddenly, it was as if his world collapsed. Disintegrated. From where he stood, he could see the brilliant smile fall off Emrys' face, gradually, his eyes quietly masking the pain that began to seep into them. Mordred couldn't get his mouth to move. He knew he should take the credit, because Emrys couldn't, and yet every fiber of his being was screaming at him to do anything but.

Mordred. Emrys' gentle voice was weary. Pain laced the edge of the word, but it was not unkind. Take it.

The man he loved was hurting more than he could imagine and he couldn't do anything about it.

"Yes, Sire." He responded, trying his best at a ghost of a smile. He had turned toward Arthur, but Emrys' tortured expression was burnt into his mind.

Arthur beamed at him, the one that Emrys craved, and took the few steps toward him to clap him on the back. "Seriously, Mordred, that was the best one I've seen in years."

A couple of knights said things in agreement. Mordred smiled up at his king as best he could.

He never thought he would hate being so loved.

xXx

The rest of the day passed with comparative ease. They didn't catch anything of a mentionable size, and Emrys allowed him a deeper mental link than usual, meaning that Mordred spent his time tuning out practically everything, drowning in the sea that as Emrys' magic.

Elyan had tried to spark a conversation between them as they rode on to find a place to settle for the night, but gave up after only a minute or so of his distracted, halfhearted answers. Mordred admired his kindness, and he didn't want to offend him, but it was hard to admire anything anymore. Not when Emrys' magic was so close you could feel its heat.

Despite even that, however, a sheen of sorrow had settled over the druid.

His eyes flickered uneasily over to Merlin when they stopped to make camp. The warlock was fumbling to get off his horse, and only scarcely managed to do so without falling over. Mordred looked away, pained.

"Merlin, what on earth are you doing?" Arthur laughed at him.

Mordred looked back at Emrys to see him smiling back, lightheartedly.

The strength that took.

"Sorry, sire, I'm just tired."

"Well, perhaps setting up camp will help you wake up?" Arthur teased, hitting Merlin in the back harder than necessary, and walked away.

As soon as the king had his back turned, pain shone through Emrys' eyes.

Are you alright? Mordred asked.

Emrys took a moment to answer. Yes.

Mordred dismounted slowly, unclasping the cloak around his neck and hanging it on his horse, feeling useless. I love you, he tried, lamely.

I know, Mordred. Merlin replied, his small, simple little smile lighting up Mordred's world. That's the reason I'm standing at all.

Mordred flushed and tried to look away, but found that he couldn't bring himself to.

"Well you could make it a little more obvious," came the quiet, teasing voice of Gwaine from behind him.

Mordred turned around, trying his best to look innocent. "Gwaine?" He asked, praying that he wasn't implying what he guessed he was.

Gwaine had a sort of sadness in his eyes, an understanding sadness. "Oh, please. They may call me thick, but I'm not that thick." He smiled kindly at Mordred. "I know what that sort of look means."

Mordred's eyes widened, slightly, with fear. He swallowed. "Has Arthur-"

"Noticed? Something right under his nose?" Gwaine interrupted. He made a face, nodding in the direction of his king. "When has that ever happened?"

Mordred managed a timid smile. They didn't give Gwaine enough credit, he realized. "You won't..." Mordred trailed off.

Gwaine shook his head. "Of course not. Contrary to popular belief, I can keep a secret when it is required of me." He grinned mischievously, pulling an apple out of his bag and taking an enormous bite out of it. "I will use it to blackmail you later, though. You are definitely coming with us when the knights go out to the tavern from now on. No more lame excuses," he demanded, grinning, his mouth full. Mordred groaned internally. Those were Emrys and his' nights.

Gwaine's expression sobered. "I just wanted to warn you, Mordred. Save your breath. And your heart." His eyes wandered over to rest on the warlock himself. "I don't think Merlin swings that way. Or any way." He made a face, but Mordred could tell the man was truly upset. "Arthur doesn't know it, but he's hardly a stranger to romantic advances." Gwaine's eyes lost their lucidity for a moment. He took another massive bite of his apple. "Truth is, Mordred, I've yet to see him fail to turn somebody down. Be careful, Mordred." Winking, Gwaine nodded at him, solemnly, and sauntered off.

Definitely more perceptive than we thought, Mordred agreed with himself. But yet, it seems, not quite perceptive enough.

xXx

How come you were late, this morning? Mordred asked, timidly, wondering if it was even the best to ask at all. He swirled his spoon around in his watery stew, sitting in a circle around the campfire with the knights.

Merlin was behind him, tending to the horses, but he could feel the tension Emrys felt at the question. Hesitation, wondering if he should simply say, 'leave it, Mordred', knowing Mordred would, of course, leave it. Mordred liked this larger, closer link between them. Sure, it made him a little dizzy, but he hoped Emrys wouldn't make him recede too soon.

Please? Mordred added, tentatively, at the end of his question. He felt Merlin cave.

I passed out. Merlin admitted, quietly. In Arthur's chambers. The warlock felt... frustrated with himself. That was utterly ridiculous.

Emrys, Mordred said, as gently as he could, you've been two days without sleep, not to mention the magical strain you've placed upon yourself-

Two days, Mordred. Merlin snapped back. I can't go two days without blacking out. Don't tell me I don't have the mental endurance of a child.

Mordred was stunned into silence at Merlin's tone.

I'm sorry, Mordred, you didn't deserve that. Merlin thought, tiredly. Mordred heard soft footsteps on the grass behind him, coming to sit next to Arthur on the log. The king was deep in conversation with Leon, and didn't seem to notice.

Not a child, Mordred argued, softly.

Emrys sighed, mentally. Mordred-

Emrys, you have the power to turn day into night, cool the center of the earth, black out the sun- Mordred let the pure admiration he felt seep into his words. And yet you dedicate all of it to the protection of another. His eyes flickered to Arthur's form, handsomely lit by the firelight. Not a child. Mordred argued. Never a child.

A loud, drawn- out yawn sounded from beside him, Mordred reluctantly tearing his eyes off a torn- looking Merlin to see Gwaine, stretching out his arms, obviously exhausted. "I don't know about you all, but I am done with consciousness for today." Gwaine declared, walking over to his bedroll and plopping down onto it.

Arthur took a deep breath, nodding in agreement. "I think it's time we all get some rest. We leave for Camelot at sunrise."

Mordred felt a little sullen at the mention of such an early hour, but obediently stood and made his way over to his own bedroll. He set his bowl to the side, deciding not to mention anything, knowing it would only mean Emrys would have to wash it. Sadness overcame him for a moment.

Settling down with all the knights in the circle around the fire, he looked to Merlin, who slept a distance away. Disconnected from the circle. Away from reach of the fire.

Although it was summer, there was definitely a sharp chill in the air, the moon shining down on them. It wasn't fair. Nothing was fair.

Are you cold? Mordred asked, finally gathering enough courage to say something.

He saw Emrys shift. Only a little.

xXx

Mordred hadn't been sure what had woken him up, but, being of magical decent, he had experienced enough close calls to make sure not to disregard the feeling. He fluttered open his eyes, waiting for them to adjust, feeling out with his magic.

The fire was down to dull embers, crackling softly. Judging by the sky, he wouldn't think it was even midnight yet.

Movement. Mordred's eyes raced over to the source, were he found-

Emrys. Emrys had stood. He looked concentrated on something, looking out into the treeline. Perhaps he had been awakened by the same thing that had woken him?

What do you think it is? Mordred thought to him.

Emrys turned his head, surprised. It woke you, too?

Just now, yes.

Emrys turned back to the forest, shaking his head as if to clear it. It's probably nothing. Go back to sleep, love.

Mordred sat up, as quietly as he could. You're the one who desperately needs to rest. I can go see what it is, and if it's anything serious, I'll call for you.

No. If it is anything dangerous, I don't want to risk not getting there on time.

But-

Mordred.

Mordred's jaw tightened, and he thought of Gaius' words only yesterday. I give you full permission to knock him out with your own magic, understood? Mordred sighed. He would have to be quick, taking him by surprise, and use everything he had. But if it did end up being an actual threat... that would simply put them both- and the knights- into deeper trouble.

Mordred, you're tired. Sleep. I'm sure this is nothing. I'm the one with the odd-magical-attack experience, am I not?

Mordred wanted to scream with the injustice of it all. You are in much more need of sleep than I.

Emrys clearly heard the deep feeling of objection in his words. Well, lucky for you, I care about you much more than I care about myself, so I really couldn't care less. He teased. Mordred supposed that was supposed to cheer him up. It only worsened the pain in his chest.

That shouldn't be, Mordred protested grumpily.

Emrys quirked a smile at him. A lonely, fatigued smile. And yet it is. Sleep, Mordred, before I knock you out myself.

Mordred knew there was no way he could come out on top. He settled back down on the ground, unhappily. Come back safe. He half- demanded, half- pleaded.

Fondness flooded though the warlock. Always. He promised.

Chapter Text

Mordred knew there was no way he could come out on top. He settled back down on the ground, unhappily. Come back safe. He half- demanded, half- pleaded.

Fondness flooded though the warlock. Always. He promised.

xXx

Mordred was floating.

The water was uncomfortably cold on his back, but there was nowhere else for him to go, so he simply lied there and endured it. He was sure his lips must have been stark blue by now, but the rippling sound of the water surrounding him did sound sort of pleasant, he supposed, if he thought on it.

He took long, deep breaths of air, filling his lungs with oxygen as to stay above the waterline. He shivered, shifting uncomfortably, but it helped naught. His fingers twitched. He was trapped. There was nowhere for him to go. The water extended as far as he could see. His breathing quickened. How long could he survive in the cold without succumbing to hypothermia?

His eyes trailed upward, seeking to distract himself. The large sky loomed above him, making Mordred feel ever so small beneath it's massiveness. Mordred supposed it ought to have been a deep, deep blue- everyone knew that the sky was blue- but it looked black, to him. Trapped under a cold, black sky.

The water dipped beneath him. He was just so cold.

"Mordred." The sky disappeared, the water was gone. Mordred drew in a sharp breath, his eyes flying open. A dream, only a dream, Mordred, he reminded himself.

Emrys' face was above him, which improved Mordred's mood drastically. He began to smile, faintly, before he saw the man's expression. He looked terrified. Honestly, completely terrified. The kind that consumes a person.

Firstly, you must understand something. Façades were Emrys' specialty, he was good- too good- at hiding himself. Even Mordred, at times, had to look deep into his eyes to even tap at the edge of what was underneath. Seeing that much unadulterated emotion in Emrys' eyes was terrifying in itself.

"Emr-" A hand clapped over his mouth, hard, as Mordred started to call out to the warlock, the sleeping people around him forgotten, insignificant. Mordred jumped in surprise, but one look at the warlock's eyes, brimming with tears and yet somehow filled with determination, stunned Mordred into silence. The callused hand was taken away. Mordred didn't miss how it shook.

The druid sat up, slowly, keeping his eye on the warlock, before lifting up gentle hands to cup his face, softly. And as quick as that, the tables were turned. Now he was the strong one. Now Emrys was leaning on him.

It was at times like these that Mordred envied the warlock's uncanny ability to always have the right words at his fingertips. Words always alluded him. Perhaps because of his gift for telepathy, which had started early. Emotions, pictures, and direct thoughts were so much easier, so much cleaner. Speaking to someone always seemed so... distant. Detached. Cold.

But as he felt around inside of himself, he realized that that was all that was there. The bond between himself and Merlin had gone. Mordred wondered what would drive Merlin to do that, but he trusted his judgment. If he had to, he would use real words.

"Has something happened?" Mordred asked, as gently as he could.

Merlin's jaw tightened, and he took in a sharp mouthful of air.

"Emrys, you know you don't have to hide from me-" Mordred started, feeling confused and slightly hurt, curious but wanting to fulfill the desperate, desperate wish to make that look in Emrys' eyes go away and go away forever-

"But I do, don't you see?"

Merlin's words were softer than a whisper, and yet he could have been shouting, for how they affected Mordred. It was like he'd been slapped. Emrys was all he had. Did he not understand how utterly alone he would feel if he was not there? They were kin. If they could not be honest with each other, they had nothing.

Did Emrys not know of the monopoly he had in Mordred's life?

Merlin closed his eyes tightly, exhaling. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

Mordred, as shaken as he was, tried to swallow it back as best he could. All things aside, he had blind faith in the other man. If he needed to know something, he would be told. He slid over closer to Emrys, holding one of the magician's hands in two of his. His fingers felt like ice.

Merlin must have withdrawn from their mental link completely whilst he had slept. The feeling was extremely unpleasant, almost claustrophobic, and something he hoped he would not have to experience for very long.

He supposed Merlin had only done it with him in mind. He was already keeping the whole situation from him to spare him the emotional trauma; sustaining the mental link would only guarantee him the opposite.

He glanced up at the stars. Nearly sunrise. Another near- sleepless night, Mordred thought, his chest tightening. He looked down at their interlocked hands, pure frustration making him want to scream.

"I'm sorry for waking you," Merlin whispered unsteadily after a moment, "I'd just... needed someone, for a minute."

"I don't mind." Mordred whispered, honestly. As if. "I'm sorry I can't be of more help," the druid apologized softly.

Merlin was biting his lip, looking at the ground. He shook his head, minutely. "You've done enough, Love." He turned his head to him, his mouth making an effort to smile a little. "Let's get some sleep, hmm?"

Mordred only stared at him wordlessly for a moment before he quietly acquiesced, letting go of Merlin's hand. He nodded, quietly. "Will you be able to sleep?" He couldn't help from asking, not making eye contact.

There was no answer from Merlin, only the gentle rub on the back and a kiss on his head before the warlock retreated to his own bedroll.

It didn't take a mental link to see Emrys' silent tears that night.

Mordred wondered why Arthur's sleep was somehow more important than Emrys' grief.

xXx

Emrys still hadn't touched his mind with his that next morning, making him wake up feeling like a part of him was missing. Pathetic, really. Feeling as if his own mind was unfamiliar.

"Up and at 'em, Mordred!" Gwaine exclaimed encouragingly, clapping him on the back as he quietly ate his breakfast. Mordred turned to glare at him. "You look like you haven't slept a wink, mate." The other knight noted, dropping to sit next to him on the log.

"I feel like I haven't," Mordred grumbled, tiredly, his eyes following Merlin's thin form as he ran around the camp, laughing, from a very angry looking Arthur- something about someone's breakfast being 'accidentally' laced with salt.

He was especially cheerful this morning, eerily so. A sign that Emrys was grasping at his last straws.

"Is it Merlin?" Gwaine asked him, respectfully quiet, his own eyes following the man. Maybe he was starting to see it, too. The exhaustion. The sadness. Mordred wondered if this was even a good thing.

Mordred hesitated for a second, before seeing no harm in it and nodding, curtly.

"What's happened?" Gwaine asked.

Mordred sighed. "I don't know," he said, honestly.

"Ah," Gwaine responded, sympathy in his voice, "I know that feeling well enough. You tried talking to Arthur about it?"

Mordred laughed, before he could stop himself. Gwaine's forehead creased, confused, and Mordred clenched his jaw. "You think Arthur knows Merlin better than I do?" The thought made him sick.

Gwaine opened his mouth, likely to apologize, but Mordred shook his head, reaching out an arm to point across the camp. "Look." He said, quietly.

Merlin had evidently succeeded appeasing Arthur, as the king was smiling at him, rolling his eyes, and turning to join the others around the fire. As soon as the man's back was turned, Merlin's smile dropped, his jaw tensing with pain.

Gwaine was silent. Mordred's eyes didn't leave Merlin. No words needed to be said.

xXx

It was after breakfast that Mordred had the chance to catch Merlin alone. He slid into the trees where Merlin was tending to their horses, their party preparing to leave.

Mordred was quiet, light on his feet as he came up behind him. Emrys didn't say anything, his hand running over the horse's back, but it went without saying that Emrys knew he was there.

"Are you okay?" Mordred asked gently, noticing the way his hands shook just a little.

"They treat me like I'm stupid, sometimes." Merlin's voice was the opposite of what Mordred expected. It was weary, yes, but it openly showed such vulnerability that it threw Mordred for a loop. "And I know they don't mean anything by it, but I can't help but-" Merlin stopped, making a frustrated noise. "I'm not- I'm not..."

"You are not stupid, Emrys." Mordred insisted, finishing it for him.

Merlin managed a fleeting smile, but then continued tending to the horse. The sadness that was left in Merlin's eyes made Mordred want to throw up. At a loss of words and desperate for a subject change, Mordred spoke of the first thing that came to mind.

"I spoke with Gwaine, yesterday." Mordred swallowed. "He told me... something about you that I hadn't known."

Merlin glanced behind him, looking genuinely confused. "Gwaine?" He asked.

Mordred nodded. He looked down, twisting his hands together. "He told me that you had been... courted, before. By others."

He couldn't read Merlin's expression. "What did he tell you?" The warlock asked.

"Just that... it had happened. Before." Mordred managed.

The other man remained silent.

"Emrys, please."

Merlin shrugged. "I'd turned them all down." He said, bluntly. He turned to tend the horses again, and when he tugged on the straps of the saddle, he used a bit more force than was probably necessary. "They don't know me. Why should I have pretended to know them? It's awkward and pointless, relationships without mental links."

Mordred began to say something, but then stopped himself. Mental links, of course. Being so close to magic itself, it would be silly to pursue anyone without the very same talent.

Mordred swallowed as he thought on it. The more he did, the more insignificant he felt.

"I'd- I'd better get back to camp," Mordred stuttered, quickly moving back into the trees before his face could betray him.

His magic, of course. He was the only option for a partner. He looked to the sky, biting his lip, wondering if it was just pure loneliness that had brought Emrys to him. He covered his mouth with his hand. Surely, someday, the magic law would be repealed. Other magicians would appear all over Camelot.

There, all alone in the quiet forest, Mordred began to realize how utterly small he must be in Emrys' eyes.

xXx

The ride back to Camelot was agony.