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It was a fairly ordinary morning in Camelot.
The sun was shining, the birds were singing, swords were clashing, and the knights were training while laughing and joking. It was a typical morning for Gwaine.
Or it would have been if the king's servant hadn't been watching them from a distance.
Well, that was a lie. Merlin was a bit of a stalker in that regard. Sometimes he would sit at the edge of the training field and sew or polish something while watching everyone.
Merlin was always watching.
Especially Arthur. Curiously, it was whenever Merlin was around that Arthur would trip over his own feet or break his weapons.
Weird.
But no less entertaining.
The point was that Merlin wasn't only watching Arthur.
Oh no.
He was watching Mordred.
And not just watching him. He was keeping an eye on him as if he was about to go wild
It was well known that Merlin had certain peculiarities, and he was always behind Arthur like a shadow. Many people saw Merlin as a clumsy, sweet servant, but the truth was that he could be terrifying when he wanted to be.
Especially when it came to Arthur's safety.
At first glance, it wasn't something particularly noticeable, especially when you were surrounded by knights who were accustomed to horror.
But Merlin wasn't a knight.
He had no reason for getting angry when he found a corpse instead of being horrified, or even complaining that he could no longer interrogate the dead man.
It made no sense that he would wipe the blood off his clothes and face in disgust when someone was killed right in front of him.
And Gwaine didn't understand how Merlin had the nerve to look bored when he was kidnapped. Once, while they were going to rescue him from a bandit camp, he saw Merlin yawn. He had even struck up a conversation with his kidnapper! Gwaine still wasn't sure whether it was because Merlin knew they would rescue him, or if he genuinely wasn't afraid.
The point was, Merlin was brave, incredibly lucky—sometimes Gwaine wasn't sure whether it was good or bad luck—and extremely perceptive.
That's why whenever someone rubbed the sweet, kind, protective Merlin the wrong way, everyone went on alert.
The thing was, there were levels.
Sometimes, when someone—a lord or some idiot with too much money and rank—was rude and simply had an unpleasant personality and was mean to Merlin, he didn't do much. He bit his tongue and let them belittle him. After all, he was still just a servant.
(If that lord happened to trip, lose his belongings, or get shoved in the corridors, Gwaine would deny that he or any of the other Knights of the Round Table had anything to do with it.)
But then there were certain guests. People who seemed kind, trustworthy, or completely ordinary who somehow managed to set off all of Merlin's alarms.
When that happened, the servant disappeared.
Seriously! He was a nightmare to find, and if you did find him, you would discover him in some compromising situation that would probably lead to a misunderstanding.
But without fail, a few days later, that seemingly innocent person would turn out to be guilty of trying to kill the king.
Gwaine knew he wasn't the only one who realized that Merlin was responsible for catching them, but somehow Merlin always managed to give the credit to someone else, or get the person themselves to confess in front of an audience, either through words or actions.
The only one who never seemed to notice was the king himself.
That's why whenever Merlin started showing apathy toward someone, everyone went on alert and waited to see what would happen.
Which was why it was so baffling to see him staring at Mordred with so much hatred.
Little Mordred had an angelic face and was the one everyone teased the most for being like the group's little brother. He was perhaps the king's favorite knight, and he had already proven his courage and loyalty.
And Merlin seemed to hate him with all his soul.
At first, they distrusted him, but after months passed and Merlin did nothing to accuse him—or kill him, because Gwaine had found corpses before that he was pretty sure Merlin knew something about—everyone relaxed and started getting to know Mordred.
And he was actually quite kind and devoted.
Curiously, at first, that devotion had been directed toward Merlin. Mordred seemed willing to kiss the ground Merlin walked on, and Merlin spat on it.
Over the months, Mordred stopped idolizing him, but he still seemed to have respect for him.
Even fear.
It was normal for them to joke about treason, chopping Arthur's head off, or insulting him, a luxury only the Knights of the Round Table had because they were the king's closest companions.
But Mordred couldn't.
Once, he tried joking that next time they went hunting, he would point his crossbow at Arthur for making him do extra laps during training.
He came back fifteen minutes later at a brisk pace, pale—somehow even paler than usual—and with trembling hands.
Following behind him, walking at a much more leisurely pace, was Merlin.
He even looked happy, and his eyes seemed to glow golden with excitement.
Gwaine couldn't prove it, but he could swear that when Mordred made the joke, Merlin had been thrilled at the opportunity to threaten him.
To this day, no one knew what exactly he had said to him.
Which was why, as Gwaine watched Merlin sharpen a knife while sitting in the grass, his eyes fixed on Mordred, he couldn't help but think that sometimes it seemed like Merlin was talking to him telepathically.
If someone learned to speak through their mind solely to annoy someone else, it would be Merlin.
He was a bit of an idiot like that.
"Merlin! Are you going to spend all day admiring my knights, or are you going to do something useful and pass me my canteen?" Arthur shouted from where he was making Percival eat dirt.
Merlin stood up and put the knife in his pocket. Then he took Arthur's canteen and, after thinking about it, took everyone's as well and brought them over so they could take a break.
All except Mordred's.
Mordred said nothing as he walked away to look for it.
"Hey, mate, what have you got against Mordred?" Elyan asked.
"Nothing," Merlin said flatly as he tossed Arthur his canteen.
"I don't know what you've got against him. He's a good knight," Arthur said, watching Mordred search for his mysteriously vanished canteen.
"I never said he wasn't. He's a moderately decent knight. I trust that he'll die in battle protecting you."
"Then?"
"I just wish he'd die on the front line."
"..."
"Harsh," Percival muttered.
"What do you think of him, then?" I asked.
"Well, you see—I..." Merlin stopped, staring intently at Mordred.
Suddenly, he froze, turned around, and walked away.
What the hell?
"Like I was saying, he's a good fighter, and I trust that he has good values."
"Then why do you hate him so much?"
Now everyone was staring at Merlin. Even Arthur seemed interested.
"Mordred, well, how do I put this? My life would be easier if killing him didn't make me feel guilty, which wouldn't be a problem if he weren't innocent....yet."
"What?"
"Mordred, I know you're listening. Stop being such a coward and giving me more reasons to want to rip your eyes out."
Mordred slowly appeared from behind a wall covered in weapons. He looked embarrassed and somewhat terrified.
"Well, with that said, I'm leaving."
And with that, Merlin walked away.
"Mordred, what did you do to Merlin?"
"Nothing! I mean—he thinks I'm a threat to the king. And I don't know why! Sure, I didn't get along very well with Camelot before, but I've changed, and he knows that."
"Maybe you should talk to him."
"I don't know."
"Do it, Mordred. That animosity needs to end," Arthur said.
Hours later, when training had ended, Gwaine, Percival, and Leon were walking through the corridors, chatting about nothing in particular, when they heard voices coming from inside a room.
The gossip-loving woman inside Gwaine activated.
He moved closer to eavesdrop. Leon and Percival looked disappointed, but they didn't move from their positions.
"Tell me what I've done wrong, Emrys!"
"Emrys," Percival murmured, feeling like he knew that name from somewhere.
"Inner voice! What's the point of telepathy if you don't use it?" Merlin shouted/whispered angrily.
"It's just that—I feel more comfortable talking, especially if you plan to kill me."
"For the last time, Mordred, I won't kill you in your sleep unless you give me a reason to, and stop calling me Emrys!"
"No one is here."
"I don't care! I hate that name, and you'll call me by the one my mother chose."
"...You have a mother?"
"What—I—of course I do!"
"How am I supposed to know? You're Emrys!"
"Oh my God! I wish I could kill you, but you haven't become evil enough to justify it yet."
"More?! I'm one of the good guys! What do I have to do to make you believe me?"
"Stop changing sides as often as you change tunics! You joined Morgana twice and betrayed her twice, too!"
Okay, they seemed to be listening to something incredibly private and incriminating. But Gwaine couldn't help paying special attention.
At last, they were discovering why Merlin hated Mordred so much.
It had something to do with betrayal and that strange name.
Emrys?
"I was like ten years old! Morgana and you were the only ones who hadn't tried to kill me! And then you betrayed me!"
"Betrayed you? You manipulative little psychopath! You tried to kill someone! Of course I took the spear away from you and let the guards catch you! I didn't want them to kill you, but you were a danger!"
"To me, you left me to fend for myself!"
"Which is what I should have done from the beginning! You're not my responsibility. You never were. In fact, I should have let them behead you, but I was stubborn and disobeyed. And what happened? You joined Morgana in an attempt to kill the only person who could bring peace to the kingdom!"
"And I changed! I'm a knight because I understand that now, and I want that future of peace!"
"Well, I don't believe you, and I'm just waiting for you to screw up. Would it be more responsible to kill you now that you're docile? Yes. But I'm not heartless. I couldn't sleep knowing I had killed an innocent person."
"Can you sleep knowing how many you let die at Uther's hands?!"
A slap rang out in the room.
Mordred's head turned, his cheek reddening, and Merlin lowered the hand he had used to slap him, his expression filled with deep pain.
"Don't you dare. Don't you dare question me or blame me for their deaths. I did everything I could from the shadows! It's not my fault Uther was a soulless bastard! It's not my fault I had to keep Uther alive even though the only thing I wanted was for him to have a long and painful death! I had to keep him alive because Arthur was too young to rule, and even if he was a shitty king and an even worse father, he was still his support and his guide. Arthur loved him. He would have died of grief if I hadn't saved him all those times!"
"Even though he killed so many innocents right in front of you?!"
"Do you think I woke up in the morning and said, 'Today I want to watch a child die'? Why do you think I saved you even though I was told you would blow up in my face? Why do you think I let Morgana live even though I was told she would become evil and that she was a witch?"
"Then why didn't you stop her if you knew?"
"I tried to do it without exposing myself. I was scared, Mordred. I never asked for any of this. I was still a child, I never asked for this destiny. And when it didn't work, when the prophecies kept coming true no matter what I did, I understood. You can't fight them. You can only accept them and prepare."
"...Am I part of a prophecy?"
"..."
"Which one?"
"..."
"WHICH ONE?!"
"...You'll kill Arthur in a battle. You'll drive a sword into his stomach, and he will die by your hand."
"..."
"There's nothing we can do, Mordred. I—"
"Kill me."
"What—?"
"Kill me! Kill me before it happens!"
"I don't think that will work."
"...I know."
"If it makes you feel any better, you looked a little older in the prophecy."
"Wait—You saw it? Ah, that makes sense. You're Emrys."
"I already told you, I don't know what kind of deity you think I am, but I'm still mortal- (Haha, no.)—Kilgharrah told me the prophecy, and then, some time later, I was able to see it in the Crystal Cave, where I saw many other things that I'd rather not talk about."
"But—is it destined or prophesied?"
Is there a difference?
"Is there a difference?"
Ha. Thanks, Merlin.
"Of course there is. You can't escape destiny, but prophecies are tendencies toward something. They're only a push. There's a chance to escape them or change them."
"...Prophesied, but if it is destined that Arthur will be the king he was and will be, that Morgana will be killed by Emrys, and that the age of Albion will come..."
"...Then will you give me a chance to escape my prophecy?"
"...I'll personally investigate whether prophecies and destinies are, as you say, different. And if they actually are... I'll give you a chance."
"...Thank you, Emr—Merlin. And hey, I don't blame you. I can imagine the burden you carry having all that knowledge."
"Fine. I'll go investigate. Leave, Mordred. You've come here and interrupted my duties."
"Oh, sorry."
And with that, Mordred started walking toward the door.
The door they were eavesdropping behind.
Immediately, he stepped back, causing Leon and Percival to fall and drag Gwaine down with them.
The sound of the door opening was drowned out by the clatter of armor hitting each other and the floor.
By the time Gwaine opened his eyes, he could see a frightened Mordred and Merlin, one eyebrow raised in a manner remarkably similar to Gaius's, looking down at them in disappointment.
"And that, Mordred, is why we use telepathy."