Chapter Text
Merlin entered Arthur’s chambers without knocking, because that was what he always did and Arthur hardly ever bothered to gripe about it anymore-
“Merlin!” Arthur snapped. “It is about time that you showed up! Of all the servants in the five kingdoms, you have got to be the one with the worst attendance record!”
-of course, Arthur usually found something to gripe about, lack of knocking or otherwise.
“If I find out you just spent another entire day in the tavern,” Arthur continued threateningly, but Merlin cut him off.
“I was with Mordred.”
“Oh.” Arthur at least had the common decency to look guilty for yelling at him, but Merlin knew he would never apologise. “How is he?”
“Heartbroken,” Merlin replied bluntly, still marginally annoyed at the king for (albeit unknowingly) endangering his own life by sentencing Kara and once again leaving Merlin to do damage control. Arthur was lucky that Merlin had managed to talk Mordred down, though of course he would never know about the incident.
Arthur sighed. “He really loved her, didn’t he?”
Merlin nodded. For the first few hours after Kara was executed, Mordred had been inconsolable and his magic had been erratic as a result. Merlin had kept them in a secluded part of the castle, offering what little comfort he could, and eventually Mordred settled. The raw grief was still visible in his eyes, though.
“There was nothing I could do,” Arthur said. In that moment, Merlin could see how the responsibility of being king weighed heavily upon his shoulders. His decision had not been made lightly; Arthur was a ruler who cared deeply for his subjects, and he genuinely would not have wanted to hurt Mordred. But the safety and security of the kingdom had to come before personal feelings. There had not been another option.
“Mordred knows that. But he needs time. Losing the woman you love is not an easy thing to recover from.” And you don’t know how close he came to turning to the dark, turning against you, because of it.
Arthur seemed eager to shake off the seriousness of their conversation. “As if you would know,” he jibed.
Merlin gave him a flat stare, the memories of his beloved Freya still fresh in his mind. “I would, actually. And I’m sure you can imagine how you would feel if you lost Gwen, so cut Mordred some slack.”
Arthur frowned, not accustomed to his servant taking such a tone with him. “I intended to. I’m not heartless.”
“You will grant his request then?”
“What request?”
“Mordred would like to claim Kara’s body and give her a proper burial.” It had been Merlin’s idea; he hoped the chance to say goodbye would help Mordred find some closure.
“Of course.”
“Thank you, Arthur.” Merlin surveyed the room, noticing the missing-manservant state of disarray. It was unbelievable – Merlin swore that Arthur did it deliberately just to annoy him. But the mess would have to wait. “You’ll manage another day or so without me, then?”
Arthur narrowed his eyes. “And where do you think you’re going?”
To the tavern, Merlin nearly said, just because he knew Arthur was thinking it. But he gave the real reason for once, since this wasn’t actually something he needed to keep a secret. “Mordred needs a friend to go with him.”
“Fair enough,” Arthur conceded. “I was under the impression that you didn’t like him very much, though. What changed?”
Merlin shrugged. Every time he looked at the druid, all he could see was the vision of Mordred slaying Arthur in battle. It always felt so real, and every fibre of his being recoiled in horror at the idea that someday it could actually come to pass. His waking moments were filled with fear and dread, his sleep was haunted by nightmares. Was it any wonder that he’d had trouble accepting Mordred’s innocent guise? His instincts screamed that he shouldn’t trust him. But refusing to offer Mordred the hand of friendship could easily have been the catalyst that drove him to evil, and the last thing Merlin wanted was to be responsible for that.
Besides, it went against Merlin’s nature to see someone lonely and hurting but do nothing to help them.
“It turns out we have more in common that I thought,” he replied.
Arthur looked sceptical, but then, he didn’t know about Freya or their magic and their shared longing for a day when they would no longer have to hide.
“Well, I’m glad you two are getting on. At least some good has come from this whole tragic affair.”
Merlin hummed, hoping that it would indeed turn out to be a good thing even as the fear and doubt lingered in the back of his mind. “Well, I’ll be back,” he said, turning to leave.
“Merlin.”
He glanced back over his shoulder, eyes questioning.
“Are you alright?”
Merlin smiled a little. For someone so oblivious, Arthur could be remarkably perceptive sometimes.
“Yeah.” His heart still ached, but he had long since come to terms with the pain of losing Freya. He would be okay.
Arthur gave him a searching look before nodding. “Don’t be gone too long,” he said. “My chambers won’t clean themselves.”
Merlin rolled his eyes. “Yes, sire. I’ll be here bright and early tomorrow morning.”
“That would be a first,” Arthur quipped, smirking at Merlin’s indignant expression.
“Well if a certain royal prat didn’t work me so hard maybe I wouldn’t oversleep,” Merlin countered.
Arthur snorted. “You’ve got it easy.”
“Want to switch places?”
Arthur laughed outright at that. “You wouldn’t last a day!”
Merlin tried to picture Arthur mucking out stalls or heating his own bath water – the image was so ridiculous that he couldn’t help but chuckle too. “Neither would you.”
“Guess it’s a good thing that I’m the king and you’re the servant, then.”
“That’s debatable.”
Arthur raised his eyebrows and reached over to grab something from the table – Merlin ducked automatically and the goblet narrowly missed his head.
“Guess I’ll be going then,” he said, and quickly scooted out the door before Arthur could throw anything else.
ooOOoo
“Thank you for coming with me, Merlin. You didn’t have to.”
Merlin continued laying the flowers in a careful arrangement around Kara’s body. “I didn’t want you to have to do this alone.”
Mordred gently tucked a white blossom into Kara’s curls and brushed his fingers down her cheek. “I appreciate that,” he said quietly. His voice was rough with emotion, but his eyes were dry.
“Is there…? I don’t really know much about the druid customs…”
Mordred nodded, and stretched out a hand. With a long stream of ancient words, his magic began to carve druidic runes into the wood of the boat that Kara’s body rested in. Merlin recognised a few of them; they symbolised peace, eternal rest, favour with the gods and a request for acceptance into the next life, as well as a few clearly personal words from Mordred that Merlin refrained from translating in their entirety.
“There is a prayer we speak over them, to ease their transition into the next world,” Mordred explained. “Would you help me move the boat into the water, first?”
Merlin did so, and Mordred waded out into the shallows after it. He spent a few long moments gazing down into the face of his love, silent words fluttering across his lips before he began the prayer out loud.
Merlin did not understand all of what was said, but it was beautiful and it was sad and as he watched he wished that none of this had ever happened because no one deserved to feel such agony. In a way, he felt that it was his fault. If he could have shown Arthur that magic was not evil and convinced him to allow the return of magic to the land, maybe Kara would never have turned to violence in a misguided attempt to bring freedom to her people. How many others was he letting down by failing to fulfil his destiny as Emrys? How many more would die in this conflict that he should have been able to prevent?
“Goodbye, Kara,” Mordred murmured.
With a single word he sent the funeral boat sailing into the middle of the lake, and a flare of gold in his eyes marked the spell which ignited the flames.
Mordred bowed his head. His shoulders shook.
The shadows gradually lengthened around them as the sun slipped towards the horizon.
“Mordred,” Merlin ventured quietly. “We should head back.”
Mordred straightened, surreptitiously wiping his cheeks with a hand before wading out of the lake. “Yes, you’re right.” A quick spell, absently cast, dried his clothes. “I need to talk to King Arthur.”
Merlin tensed – old habits die hard. “Why?”
“Kara’s death cannot be in vain. I thought I was content to be a knight of Camelot, but while living in a position of privilege I forgot the hardship of my people. Kara has reminded me that I am a Druid, and I have a duty to them that I can no longer ignore.” Mordred cast one last, longing look back at the lake. Then he gathered his composure and started back toward Camelot, walking with a determined stride.
“What are you going to do?” Merlin asked, hurrying after him, trying not to sound worried even as scenes of murder and death flashed before his mind’s eye.
“I am going to try to be the voice of the Druid people in Camelot. We have gone unheard for too many years. I can only hope that, if it comes from a friend, King Arthur will be willing to listen.”
Merlin was torn between admiring Mordred’s courage, feeling guilty that he himself had not been an advocate for the Druids, and fearing what Mordred would do if Arthur would not be persuaded.
“Can I count on your help, Merlin?”
Merlin started. “What?”
“King Arthur may consider me a friend, but he trusts you more than anyone.” Mordred glanced sideways at him, his face serious. “It should come from you, Emrys.”
His name in prophecy, a reminder of his destiny, a call to duty.
But Merlin was shaking his head before Mordred had finished speaking. “I can’t tell him about my magic. He’s not ready to know. I’m not ready for him to know. He’ll be furious. He won’t trust me anymore. It won’t help your cause-”
Mordred held up a placating hand. “I understand. I wouldn’t ask you to reveal your secret. Nevertheless, I would appreciate your support. The king values your opinion, and you can influence his.”
Merlin relaxed slightly. Considering the fact that he was just a servant, it should seem strange that he held such sway with the King of Camelot, but Mordred was not the only one to notice. Of course, Arthur didn’t listen to him nearly as much as he would prefer, but that was just because he was a dollop-head.
“Okay,” Merlin said. “We’ll give it our best shot.”
ooOOoo