Chapter Text
𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ
Merlin’s had years to ruminate on his time in Camelot. Remembering things both embarrassing and amusing, whether they make him cringe or cry, this doesn’t mean he lacks grudges. People called him all kinds of things when his trust in Mordred diminished – cold, heartless, ruthless, apathetic and many more.
What they didn’t know, is Merlin knew what Mordred was capable of, knew what he was inevitably going to do. Even if his informant happened to be the annoying lizard residing in that fucking cave.
Despite this grudge against a dead man, Merlin had time to reflect and mature as a person. Looking back on it now, he would probably agree that his actions made the situation worse, pushing Mordred away instead of keeping him closer and ensuring fate didn’t come to fruition was the worst thing he could have done. But he was angry, years of keeping Arthur alive, sacrificing everything for him and he still died. Putting his trust in Arthur to hold his own and the clotpole still died in his arms, leaving him to roam for centuries without him.
So yeah, Merlin held many grudges against dead men, but they were justified. If given the chance to go back, Merlin would certainly have some things he would change but his grudges would still hold, mark his words.
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“Do you ever look back and wish you had just punched that annoying twat in the teeth?”
“Great conversation starter, Merlin.” Leon replies, barley batting an eye as he flips the page of his book.
It was a boring Saturday afternoon, Leon had just been lounging on the couch, reading a book Lance had suggested he may like as Arddwr made biscuits on his stomach. Gwaine and Percival had left for a cinema date after a new zombie apocalypse movie finally released in the UK. Lance was at the local library after getting a small volunteering job on weekends. Elyan was in the kitchen, working on something for dinner, he’d found a cookbook on Merlin’s shelf and their kitchen had become a buffet of new meals. Leon had hoped that this quiet Saturday meant he could get some reading in but Merlin, apparently, had other plans.
“I’m just saying, I had one thousand five hundred years to think about my life and I’m certain ninety-nine percent of my problems would have been solved by punching someone.” Merlin continues, laying across the coffee table as he stares up at the ceiling.
“Have you tried booking a therapy session?” Leon suggests, knowing it was unlikely as they’d label him insane and go about their day.
“What do you think this is?” Merlin asks. “This is therapy, I’m disclosing my problems to you, my therapist.”
Leon sighs, bookmarking his page mentally before looking over at him. “What makes you think I’m qualified to tackle your issues?”
“Simple, you were there.” Merlin answers as if it were obvious.
Leon couldn’t argue with that logic. He shrugs and grabs a forgotten notepad off the floor along with a pen. “Where should we start then?”
“Let’s start with Uther, the annoying prick.” Merlin decides, unable to stop himself.
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“So yeah, I think punching him in the teeth would have solved quite a few of my issues.” Merlin finishes after his rant reaches its end. “What do you think?”
Leon blinks at him. “Honestly? I think you’re out of your mind. Personally? I would do the same thing. But have you considered the prospect of being executed in this plan?”
Merlin deadpans. “Warlock, remember?”
“Ah, right, but I’m sure it wouldn’t be the most comfortable situation, right? You still feel pain.”
“True,” Merlin reluctantly agrees. “I did die once though.”
“Please don’t remind me.” Leon replies, shivering at the memory of Arthur’s face when they returned with Merlin’s dead body. Safe to say they were not spared from his wrath afterwards. “But it’s been years, Merlin, have you never thought to forgive and forget?”
“Of course I have, but Leon, some of these people made my life living hell,” Merlin says, Uther was actively against my existence his entire life, I couldn’t help Morgana under his rule which led to her being manipulated by Morgause, then Mordred happened and suddenly he’s a traitor who betrayed his own king and the only fucking help I got was in the form of an annoying dragon that I saved from Uther’s grasp. Who, by the way, only told me fucking riddles and was very vocal about hating the royal family and conforming to fate and the prophecy bollocks!”
Leon blinks in surprise at Merlin’s outburst, though he believes it was justified after years of keeping it pent up and having no one to talk to. He stands up and moves to the kitchen, brushing past Elyan to the kettle where he prepares Merlin’s favourite white chocolate and pistachio hot chocolate.
When he returns, he finds Merlin sitting on the edge of the coffee table with Arddwr in his lap (loafing obviously) and Merlin’s face smushed in his blond fur. Merlin must be more worked up than he thought.
“Here, drink this.” Leon hands Merlin the cup and watches his face relax into bliss at the taste.
“You know me so well, Leon.” Merlin mumbles happily, sipping the beverage as he pets Arddwr.
“Gotta keep you alive somehow,” Leon jokes, claiming his seat once again on the couch. “You feeling better now after that rant?”
“Much,” he nods, setting the cup down beside him. “You want to continue watching that BBC show?”
“Aye, go on then.”
Leon’s afternoon was hijacked but he wasn’t going to complain. The group had decided to start watching that BBC show after the bard at the festival told them about it. They were a little weirded out at first but slowly they became invested like it was a reality TV show. Merlin would point how all the exaggerated parts and how there were a few plot holes but ultimately, he enjoyed drooling over Arthur’s actor.
“Are you watching that BBC show without us?” Elyan calls from the kitchen, rushing into the living room, still dressed in his apron, wooden spoon in hand. “Gwaine is going to throttle you both.”
“Are you going to tell him?” Leon asks as Merlin queues up the episode.
“…Move over.”
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They got an earful from Gwaine when he and Percival returned with Lance in tow, but it was swiftly ignored when a familiar young boy in a green cloak appears on screen.
“Oh shit, is that Mordred?” Gwaine asks, perching on the arm of the couch.
“I don’t believe it, I just spent the last hour complaining about him and now here he is,” Merlin grumbles, slouching in his seat. “Haunting me from the grave.”
“Maybe it’s the universe’s way of telling you something.” Leon suggests.
“What, that I should forgive him and move on? Not likely.” Merlin huffs, sipping his drink again.
“What happened?” Lance asks, settling into the armchair by the window.
“Merlin spent most of our afternoon ranting to me about people he hates,” Leon answers. “Mordred was very high on his list.”
“Can’t say I blame him,” Percival admits. “He killed Arthur, the same Arthur who was Merlin’s other half in everything except marriage.”
“Thank you! —wait, what?” Merlin pipes up, giving him an incredulous look.
“Oh, don’t start denying it now, we all know you were destined to be together forever, you should have just gotten married and sealed the deal.” Gwaine smirks.
“Shut up, moron,” Merlin snorts, petting the cat in his lap. “We were never going to get married; Arthur didn’t like me that way – he barely tolerated me as is! – besides, a manservant, emphasis on man, couldn’t just marry a prince, regardless of how badly he wanted to.”
“So, you wanted to?” Percival teases.
“Shut up! Not what I meant, and you know it!” Merlin replies, though a snicker leaves his lips all the same.
“Ah, we’re only playing, Merls, you know we are.” Gwaine reaches behind Leon to ruffle Merlin’s hair.
“Yeah, just remember who’s letting you all live here rent free.” Merlin teases, swatting Gwaine’s arm away lazily.
A symphony of “thank you, Merlin”s filled his ears as the group spoke at once. He nodded approvingly and settled in to continue watching the episode.
After a few seconds of watching, Elyan piped up. “God, Merls, how many side quests were you going on?”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Merlin replies. “Anything to keep Arthur safe, right?”
“Should have promoted you to head guard or something.” Leon adds, sipping his own tea, eyes never leaving the screen.
“I wouldn’t survive training you lot.” Merlin comments.
“Don’t let Arthur hear of you promoting Merlin, he’ll throw a fit over how incompetent he is.” Lance chuckles, throwing a blanket over his lap.
“Bloody clotpole,” Merlin grumbles. “He’d have a heart attacking knowing everything I do for him.”
“Let’s hope Arthur is open-minded when he returns.” Leon comments.
The group go quiet after that and return to watching the episode. They watch as on-screen Merlin hides Mordred in Lady Morgana’s chambers, the woman herself caring for the child so gently.
“It’s kind of embarrassing that a child figured out Merlin was Emrys before us.” Gwaine pipes up.
“He was a druid, Gwaine, he was brought up with the prophecy and legends.” Percival replies.
“Still, you’d think we would have noticed our friend doing magic, especially if this show is accurate about Merlin’s life. He was doing it everywhere!” he argues.
Merlin snorts. “You were blind as fuck, my eyes literally glow every time I do magic, how you didn’t notice was beyond me.”
“Were you even trying to hide it?” Lance asks.
“Lance, I could have done the macarena every time I used magic, and you still wouldn’t have noticed.” He teases.
“Harsh, but true.” Lance nods. “I’d like to think I was in the loop at least.”
“Oh, you were, you were one of the first to find out.” Merlin reassures.
They continue watching, sprinkling in their own commentary where possible (Merlin paused it at once point to try and defend his actions though no one believed him). The next episode began to autoplay and Gwaine pipes up.
“Wait, Le Morte d’Arthur? What does that mean?”
“The Death of Arthur,” Lance replies helpfully. “But Arthur didn’t die until the Battle of Camlann so how could he have died this early?”
“Wait, what does the description say?” Leon asks, grabbing the remote.
“Gaius is deeply troubled when a Questing Beast is spotted in Camelot. A creature conjured from the nightmares of a long dead king, not only is its bite fatal but it is feared as an omen of impending doom.” Elyan reads. “Hold on a minute, I heard about this. Isn’t that beast the one with the deadly venom?”
“Might want to be more specific, mate, there were many.” Gwaine advises.
“Right. It was said that its venom carried the magic of life or death.” Elyan adds.
Lance perks up. “I read about this, apparently in mythology it was an omen for violence, incest and chaos. They said it appeared to Arthur after he unwittingly slept with Morgause – which, gross – but also showed him the end of Camelot by Mordred.”
“That’s disgusting,” Merlin mumbles. “I doubt Arthur would go anywhere near Morgause.”
“It was unintentional, Merls.” Leon says.
“I think the myths exaggerated it.” Elyan pipes up.
“Probably, but the question is how did he survive if he got bitten?” Percival asks.
“Press play, Leon!” Gwaine exclaims.
Leon does so and the episode begins. They watch in silence until it gets to the part where Merlin kills the beast with his magic.
“Oh my God, he did it again,” Lance says. “Using magic willy-nilly, reckless man.”
“Rude, I did that to save his sorry ass,” Merlin huffs. “It becomes a running theme you’ll notice.”
“Shush!” Gwaine scolds.
They go quiet and watch as Merlin tries to use magic to wake Arthur up to no avail. On-screen Merlin then finds himself at the cave with Kilgharrah, asking what he can do to help Arthur.
“You can tell me how.”
“Perhaps… But it will not be easy.”
“Oh, perhaps he says! Perhaps as if he isn’t the oldest and supposedly wisest dragon to roam the Earth!” Gwaine huffs, throwing his arms up in disbelief. “Merlin, was he always like this?”
“All the time,” Merlin grumbles.
“That’s annoying as all hell.” Leon frowns.
“I will do anything.”
“Anything?”
“Please, just tell me what I have to do!”
“Very well. The Questing Beast is a creature conjured by the powers of the Old Religion. You must use the same ancient magic to save him.”
“Oh, that’s just fucking great, isn’t it?” Percival scoffs. “Couldn’t even tell you what specific spell, or book, or anything, just “use ancient magic, Merlin”.”
“Spoil it, Merlin, does the dragon die?” Gwaine asks.
“Gwaine!” Leon scolds, smacking him upside the head.
“What? It’s a genuine question, Leon!” he argues.
“But how can that help me save Arthur?”
“You must find those who still serve it.”
“How the fuck is going to do that, you ugly stupid dragon!” Elyan yells, weakly throwing a cushion at the TV.
“Go to the place that men call the Isle of the Blessed, where the power of the ancients can still be felt.”
“Did he just tell you to go find Nimueh?” Lance asks, glancing over at Merlin, who nods.
“Isn’t she like… super dangerous?” Percival asks.
“She’s crafty that’s for sure. You’ll see in a bit I think.” Merlin replies.
They watch as the episode continues, by the time on-screen Merlin had arrived at the Isle of the Blessed, the group were on edge and staring at the screen intensely.
“I do not have the power to mirror life itself and yet give nothing in return.”
“Oh well that’s just brilliant, isn’t it?” Leon grumbles.
“I know a price will be asked.”
“To save a life there must be a death. The balance of the world must be restored.”
“Merlin, no!” they yell at the TV knowing it was futile.
Merlin just snickers quietly to himself, knowing exactly what’s coming.
“I willingly give my life for Arthur’s.”
“No!”
“How brave you are, Merlin, if only it were that simple.”
“What do you mean?”
“Once you enter into this bargain, it cannot be undone.”
“Whatever I have to do, I will do. His life is worth a hundred of mine.”
“Merlin, you absolute idiot!” Gwaine groans, dragging a hand down his face.
They watch as Merlin takes the vial of water from the Cup of Life and the screen cuts. Leon pauses it as they all just stare, taking a moment to take it all in. Slowly they turn to stare at Merlin, as if making sure he was still there, still real and sitting beside them. Merlin looks between them all confused.
“What?”
“What is your life, dude?” Gwaine asks.
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After finishing the episode, they dig into the meal Elyan had prepared for them, realising it had gotten really late. Arddwr kept stealing bites from people’s plates when they weren’t looking – not that anyone cared, the little guy was too cute to say not to.
“So, Merls, does the Isle of the Blessed still exist?” Percival asks, taking a bite of the taco crunch wrap Elyan had made.
“It’s still around, yeah, but it’s very different to how it was.” Merlin replies.
“Well, we know where the next weekend trip is going to be.” Gwaine grins.
“It’s called Ragland Castle now; Leon can have a look for it.”
“On it,” Leon says, grabbing his phone and typing the name into Google. He keeps searching as the rest of the group talk about what they’ll do when they get there. “I can get us a room for four nights if you guys are up for this?”
“Sounds good, book it, Leon.” Lance says, pointing with his fork.
Leon nods and books the hotel. “All booked for next week.”
“Good man,” Gwaine beams, ruffling Leon’s hair. “Gonna cause so much chaos at this place.”
“Don’t you dare get us kicked out.” Elyan warns, finishing his meal with a last bite.
Gwaine waves him off dismissively. “Don’t be a buzzkill, Elyan. Life’s too short to not get kicked out of at least one building.”
“You got kicked out of the pub last week.” Percival points out.
“Shut it, you. I didn’t ask.” Gwaine teases.
“Just saying.” He shrugs.
“Ew, don’t flaunt your relationship at us.” Merlin jokes, fake gagging when Gwaine sends him a playful glare.
“This could have been you and Arthur if you two weren’t so oblivious.” He states.
“Poetry, my ass.” Leon mutters.
“You’re still hung up on that?!” Merlin cries.
“Arthur was never one for poetry, it was a terrible excuse, unless it was a euphemism for sex.” Leon points out.
“Oh, fuck off, I couldn’t exactly tell you the real reason we were wandering the corridors, could I?”
The group give him knowing glances.
“Not that kind of reason! Oh, forget it.”
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Merlin loved road trips with the knights, aside from reminding him so much of Camelot and their weekly excursions, it was nice to sit back with his headphones on, watching through the window whilst Gwaine rants about his latest pub experience. It was usually followed by Percival giving them the real version of events and Leon chipping in where possible. The bickering was proof they were as brotherly as Arthur always said they were, can’t really deny it now.
Rolling green hills pass by as they drive towards Glastonbury. They were driving through the night so they could make the most of their day tomorrow. Pinks, purples and oranges cascaded the sky, painting it in a beautiful glow that Merlin was certain Elyan was going to take pictures of. Merlin always loved the countryside, it was so quiet and the landscapes were like those out of paintings, it was an easy escapism for the warlock, especially after everything he’d been through. Needless to say, as he leans his chin on his hand, eyes fixed on the outside, Merlin wasn’t quite as excited to return to the Isle of the Blessed, it was a breeding ground for so many bad memories to resurface – Nimueh, Dorocha, Lancelot’s sacrifice – it was a heavy burden to carry.
Merlin had tried returning to the Isle of the Blessed once before but after just losing Arthur, it was a difficult endeavour. Now, he had over a thousand years of acceptance, and it was time he found closure. He just hoped it wouldn’t come with a surprise extra.
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When they arrive, it was around eight at night, Leon stood at the front desk to check them in whilst the others sprawled out around the check in area, trying not to doze off in the armchairs. As much as Merlin jokes about how disgustingly cute Gwaine and Percival are, he was a little bit jealous. Across from him, they sat cuddled up in an armchair, Gwaine’s head on Percival’s shoulder and their pinkies linked together. They looked good together and Merlin was just disappointed he couldn’t have something of that calibre for himself. It wasn’t a guarantee that Arthur would return, and Merlin felt he couldn’t be in a serious relationship if it wasn’t with Arthur or Freya. Even so, he opted for supporting Gwaine and Percival where he can, hoping that even if his love life was doomed, theirs wouldn’t be.
A hand gently nudges his shoulder; Lance’s voice filling his ears. “Merls, c’mon, Leon got our room key. You could do with a nap, mate.”
Merlin hums in agreement and hoists himself up out of the chair, missing the warmth already. He trudges behind Lance as they make their way up the room, following Leon who acts as their guide.
The room itself was bigger than they expected, it had two joined rooms each with two double beds. There were two large wardrobes with plenty of space for their clothes and a desk for their backpacks. Thanks to Leon’s practical thinking, they managed to fit all their clothes and toiletries into three suitcases. Merlin blames the third one on Gwaine being an over packer – why he would need so many outfits for four nights, Merlin has no idea.
It was amazing how different they all were in terms of priorities. The minute they set their suitcases down, Lance was claiming the shower, Leon was moving all his clothes to the wardrobe, Gwaine was deciding which bed he was going to claim, Elyan was sorting through his backpack to try and find the book he brought along, and Percival was already changing into his sleepwear. Merlin watched the controlled chaos for a moment before laying face down on the carpeted floor. If you were to ask, he wouldn’t have an answer as to why he did so, maybe it was fatigue, maybe it was the thought of returning to the Isle of the Blessed, either way, he was exhausted and he needed sleep as soon as possible.
He felt a body lay beside him, shuffling to get comfortable. “Merls? You feeling okay, mate?” Gwaine’s soft voice cuts through his thoughts, a welcomed distraction.
“Mhm.” He nods, hair sprawling like curtains around his face.
“You’re really feeling the exhaustion, huh?” Gwaine asks, gently pushing a strand of Merlin’s hair behind his ear. “Come on, let’s get you in a proper bed.”
“Mm-mm.” Merlin shakes his head, refusing to move now that he was on the floor.
He heard Gwaine huff for a moment before he disappeared somewhere. The next thing he knew, Lance was hauling him off the floor into his arms and carrying him towards one of the beds. The minute he was laid down, Merlin snuggles into the freshly washed sheets like a dog, not bothering to change into sleepwear or shower. It wasn’t long before he conked out into a deep sleep.
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Standing at the base of the mountain trail, Merlin gazed out at the surrounding view. The Isle, which wasn’t so much of an Isle anymore after years of changing topography, overlooked an entire valley that was so different to what Merlin was used to. Last time he was here there was a lake, the ruins were residing on a island in the centre but now… now it was a mountain with no lake, people had built a trail up to the ruins and the surrounding area held a village and farmer’s fields.
Merlin felt stupid for missing how it was before. So much had changed and arguably for the better but he was so hung up on Camelot that he failed to see anything for what it was.
“Jesus Christ, it’s so fucking cold!” Gwaine complained, stuffing his arms under his armpits in the hopes of warming them up.
“It’s December, what did you expect? Golden sunshine?” Elyan snickers, fixing the Velcro on his gloves.
“You’d be warmer if you dressed for the weather too. It’s not snowing but we are climbing a literal mountain right now.” Leon adds, tone dripping in amusement.
Everyone except Gwaine had proper hiking attire on – big coats, baggy trousers, proper walking shoes, gloves, hats, scarfs – Leon made sure they were stacked with water and snacks too. Gwaine was the only one wearing a hoodie, thin jacket, tracksuit bottoms and a pair of worn Vans. He didn’t even have a hat, scarf or gloves, a whole suitcase to himself and he failed to pack basic hiking clothes.
“Fuck that, I’d rather die of hypothermia than look like a blob.” Gwaine replies, letting Percival rub his hands to warm them up.
“Only you would ever say that.” Merlin snorts, turning away from the view to look at their little group. They all had backpacks with water, snacks, basic first aid equipment and a spare pair of socks. Leon insisted that if they split up or got lost, everyone should have the essentials – just in case.
“Oh come on, Merls, you can’t seriously expect me to leave the hotel looking like a bowling ball.” Gwaine grins, tilting his head at the other in amusement.
Merlin shakes his head with a fond smile, and they continue the trek up the mountain towards the ruins.
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By the time they reach the top, Gwaine had complained seventy-five times, Elyan slipped twelve times, Leon told them to drink water nine times, Lance had asked about the landscape six times, and Percival had challenged Merlin to tag ten times. Safe to say, it took them longer than most to reach the ruins.
Standing at the top, the group huddled together to devour some snacks as they admired the view. For all this place held bad memories, Merlin couldn’t deny the beauty in it. He sighs and takes a moment to deliberate, maybe he needs to look past the bad memories, his friends are here, he can make new ones – better ones – that will outweigh his internal dread at being back.
He glances back and notices Elyan capturing pictures of the ruins and the surrounding hills. Even though it was winter, the greenery and pale blue sky made the perfect scenic background for pictures. Seeing Elyan in his element made Merlin’s decision for him. He had to change his mindset if he ever wanted closure.
“Hey, Elyan, let’s get a group picture with the ruins.” Merlin suggests, walking over and shrugging his backpack off.
Since it was cold out, there was practically no one there to photobomb them and luckily for them, Elyan had invested in a good tripod so they could take better pictures.
They called the group over and took one serious picture and one stupid picture for their growing collection. It was the first step towards bettering himself, small but larger in the grand scheme of things.
After pictures, Merlin acted as their tour guide, showing them where the water used to be and how much the area had changed since the time of Camelot. All the while, he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering.
--
“His life is worth a hundred of mine.”
--
“You can’t be who the dragon meant.”
“And why is that?”
“You tried to kill me.”
--
“My magic is useless against them. I’ve tried. I have never felt so powerless. Something deep inside. And when it came for me, I felt this emptiness. I couldn’t breathe. I’m scared,”
--
“I always thought if things had been different, we’d’ve been good friends.”
“Yeah.”
“That’s if you hadn’t been such an arrogant, pompous, dollop head.”
--
“You know, Merlin, you’re braver than I give you credit for.”
“Really? Was that a compliment?”
“Don’t be stupid.”
--
“Well, I appreciate that. You know, you’re a brave man, Merlin. Between Battles.”
“You don’t know how many times I’ve saved your life.”
“Ha. If I ever become king, I’m gonna have you made court jester.”
--
“Merlin!”
He gasps frantically, finding himself on his back staring up at the sky covered in fluffy white clouds. Despite the frigid temperatures, he was sweating and his face felt really warm. Leon hands him a bottle of water, helping him sit up enough to drink a few sips before filling him in on what happened.
“You suddenly stopped talking mid-sentence and when we looked over, you had this haunted look on your face,” he explains, gently wiping the sweat from Merlin’s brow with a tissue. “You were breathing super heavy and fast and then the next thing we knew, you were going down. Percival caught you thankfully, but you scared the shit out of us, Merls.”
“Sorry.” He mumbles, leaning into Leon’s touch. He felt tired all of a sudden.
“Don’t apologise, Merls, it’s not your fault.” Elyan reassures, rubbing his back. He was crouched down beside him with Lance, eyeing him with concern.
“Do you want to tell us what happened?” Lance asks, ever the thoughtful one.
“I don’t know, I was talking one minute and then I just… got flashbacks I guess, bad ones. I can’t shake the memories attached to this place it seems.” He explains, rubbing his temple absentmindedly.
“Do you want to leave? We’ve seen everything we need to.” Gwaine suggests, handing him a bag of prawn cocktail crisps – bloody addicted he is.
“Are you sure? I can power through, it’s okay.” Merlin reassures.
“Not really much to see though, is there?” Percival jokes, hoping to lighten the mood. It does.
Merlin chuckles. “True. Alright, let’s head back. I could do with some real food anyways.”
“What do you mean real food? Prawn cocktail crisps are real food!” Gwaine playfully argues, hands on his hips.
As Lance helps Merlin up, the latter feels his magic go haywire under his skin, buzzing and electrifying. He glances down at his hands, watching the swirls of golden magic twist and entangle around his palms.
“Something’s wrong,” Merlin says, voice shaky. “I can sense it.”
“Merlin…”
He flinches as the telepathic voice in his head, his breath hitching. He knew that voice, desperately wished he wouldn’t hear it again. He scrunches his eyes closed in the hopes that he misheard.
“Merlin, please… let me explain.”
“There’s nothing to explain. You made your choice, live with it.” Merlin replies, voice icy cold.
“I have, I’ve delt with the pain and consequences all these years, living it on repeat. Just hear me out, Merlin, please, I’m begging you.”
Merlin thought about it for a moment. As much as he hated the idea of listening to whatever Mordred had to say, the thought of him begging for forgiveness was enticing. “Show me where you are first. Then you’ll get your chance.”
“Behind you, in the ruins.”
Merlin turns, expecting to see nothing and this whole thing be an elaborate mind trick but no. There he was, standing under the archway in his chainmail and leathers, hair as messy as the day he died, cape billowing in the wind – a mocking reminder that he was once a trusted knight of Camelot. What a joke.
Mordred stood staring at him, not making any move towards him, as if sensing Merlin’s flickering anger. His face was sunken, haunted, his past clearly caught up to him. “Merlin.” He breathes quietly, as if not expecting such a cautious greeting or maybe a second chance altogether.
“Don’t address me like we’re friends. You betrayed Arthur, you betrayed me, the moment you turned to Morgana. Now start talking.” Merlin snaps, his magic pulsing through his veins now. It reminded him slightly of the camping trip, but he pushed that thought aside. He had bigger problems than his ever-uncontrollable magic.
A flicker of hurt washes over Mordred’s face but he doesn’t argue. “I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t make up for anything I did, to you, to Arthur, to Camelot, but I want you to know. I’ve spent the last thousand years having to relive that moment at Camlann again and again. At first, I thought it was a spell you cast on me before I died, something that would follow me throughout the afterlife, then I realised it was my own doing. Because I regret what I did, Mer- Emrys. I turned to Morgana out of rage, I didn’t think and I blamed you for Kara’s death. I see now that I was too caught up in my feelings to see her true intentions, she hated Camelot, she hated Arthur and she made me feel the same,” Mordred says, growing wary of the knights gathering around Merlin protectively. He holds his hands up to show he isn’t a threat before continuing.
“Please. Let me prove to you that I have changed. That I can be trusted again. I’ll pledge my life to you, Emrys, you and only you. I was given a second chance at life – for reasons unbeknown to me – so please, let me do it right this time.”
Merlin hesitates, on one hand he didn’t trust Mordred to keep his word a second time, too many factors played into the last of trust and he wasn’t sure he could handle a second betrayal. But on the other hand, there was no Morgana to turn to, no Morgause to manipulate him, and Merlin had made a vow to himself that he would find closure in anyway he could. This was something he needed to do, he needed to see if Mordred had truly changed or if he still couldn’t be trusted.
“Fine. You get one last chance. Tarnish it and I won’t be so forgiving,” he says, feeling his magic shoot painfully down his arms. “You’ll have to earn back my trust, and just know that I’m doing this for me, not for you.”
Mordred breathes a weary sigh of relief, shoulders slumping like a huge weight had been lifted from his chest. He looked less like the Mordred he once knew and more like the child he saved way back when. Merlin hated that comparison, hated how much he longed for that version of Mordred, the version before the betrayal. Looking at him now, Merlin couldn’t deny how feeble he looked, like he would blow over by a light breeze.
“Come here.” Merlin offers, nodding towards their group. “You have a lot to make up for, but you clearly need to be fed first.”
Mordred’s eyes widen slightly in shock, but he doesn’t refuse. He stumbles over to them, staying close to Merlin when the other knights giving him cautious looks. As if expecting him to turn any minute.
Merlin rolls his eyes and slings an arm over Mordred’s shoulders, pulling him into an awkward but hopeful side-hug. Mordred welcomed the touch readily, unaware of how much he needed it until it happened.
“C’mon, we’re getting dinner at the pub next to our hotel. I’m sure Gwaine can spare you some clothes from his over packed suitcase.” Merlin teases.
“Hey! It came in handy, didn’t it?” Gwaine bickers.
“For once.” Percival jokes, already walking ahead.
Gwaine follows after him, sprouting insults and playful banter all the while.
Mordred watches as the group descend down the trail, he had missed this, the banter, the bickering, the feeling of having people close again. He wasn’t going to take this for granted, he needed this more than anything else in his life.
Glancing up at Merlin, he gives a tearful smile. “Thank you, Emrys.”
Merlin fondly rolls his eyes. “Shut up, idiot. Don’t get sentimental on me before I’ve ate,” he ruffles Mordred’s hair and begins walking towards the group. “C’mon, before Gwaine eats the pub out of house and home.”
“I heard that, asshole!”
Yeah, Mordred could get used to this.
𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ