The trees thinned as the lake came into sight.

Mordred halted his horse just shy of the clearing. His armour weighed heavy on him, and cloak even more so, but Arthur wouldn't let him out without making sure he had some sort of protection. Meaning, the hooves he heard stopping a few feet back were his guards, and not some hopeful bandit. He supposed he should go and tell them he knew they were there. It was probably Gwaine or Elyan. To do so however would give up whatever semblance of privacy they were allowing him. He had wanted to come here alone

He tied his horse up and grabbed the royal pin from his shoulder, shoving it in his bag. Drawing his sword, he took a deep breath and crept onto the lake shore.

He knew they had already scented him, they always did. Usually they would pop their heads up to say hello. He had made more than one friend in the lake since living there. But today it didn't show. The lake looked as calm and tranquil as it always did, as it did in his dreams. The water shimmering a deep blue, with rolls of sunlight glinting off the top. There was a slight breeze today, the wind blowing his cape slightly as he walked to his old home.

Other than that it was humid, almost suffocating, especially when the wind stopped. The heat warmed everything. Soon his cape became more of a dead weight than a small haven. He soon stripped out of it, hanging it on his sword he cleaved into the dirt. The grass boiled as he sat, melting through his breeches until it was too uncomfortable to sit in one place. He tried not to let himself squirm so much, it was one of the first lessons Merlin had taught him. Show no weakness, even nerves they could sense. It was how they knew how to take a person down. He could take a little discomfort.

A daisy bloomed in a small patch to his right. With deft fingers he started a chain as he watched the lake. By the time he had strung seven he saw the first signs of life. It was only for a second, maybe less, but it was enough to fill Mordred's heart with hope. He kept himself still as the sharp light disappeared from sight. It came again a few minutes later. A blinding spot in his eyesight, something that would only happen should the sun glint off something shiny. Like a gem. Or a tail.

Eventually Mordred saw a patch of black. A passing fish others would assume. But Mordred had lived by the lake most of his life now, he knew a fish when he saw it, and that black shape in his dreams.

'Are you angry with me?' he asked it.

The spot disappeared. Mordred went back to his chain.

He made himself not react when an arm grabbed up the side of the bank, even as his heart near stopped from fright. Another followed, yet no head. Instead, the new hand released something before retreating back in the water.

It was a mirror. The outside was a tangle of different colours; silver, gold, rose, all mixed in twining ropes and pretty flowers as they housed a smooth polished stone. It was hard to see in. The stone was shiny, but the reflection was blurred and distorted at the edges.

The blur left as the image cleared, until Mordred was looking at Camelot's great hall. Everyone was there. The knights, the Queen and Arthur among them. He blended in like any other knight, weather hardened look on his face, yet he still smiled as someone stood and gave a muted report. Mordred found himself near the door. He looked older, and instead of the pin he wore now he looked like anyone else too. Despite all this unusualness, the most surprising thing in the whole image was Merlin. He was next to Mordred, picking his teeth with Gwaine's dagger. He was sat, equal and clothed, among Camelot's finest, with not a single repulsive face looking on him.

The image lasted about a minute overall before fading back into the blurred image of Mordred's plain face.

'That doesn't answer my question,' Mordred pointed out. He set the mirror carefully back in the grass.

It was snatched almost as soon as Mordred released it. He tried to grab the hand that reached, but, as always, Merlin was faster, and sank back in his lake.

'Merlin...'

He crawled over to the edge, peering into the water. Merlin had long gone when he did, leaving Mordred a sorry sight dangling over the water's edge.

He sighed, longing for simpler times. He longed for the lazy days where he would watch Merlin swim for hours on end. Where he would nap under the sun until Gwaine decided he wanted to play. The man was more child than Mordred back then. He always had a game, whether it be hiding or hunting, so long as they were running around. He made Mordred's childhood something he didn't look back on and despise. It was too bad it couldn't last. Now he was too serious. Even more so these days. He drank, more than Mordred had thought possible, and pressed him to doing this and that around the castle. He knew Gwaine was just looking out for him, like he always was, but sometimes he wished he would suggest they play a game like old times. He knew he wasn't too old for them yet, and a day of just the two of them, with no interruptions or duties to weigh them down wasn't too much to ask for.

But he knew that wasn't what he really wanted. What he really wanted was the creature ignoring him. He knew he deserved it, and would have to make amends before trying to ask for Merlin's favour again.

'I'm not angry.'

Mordred huffed, relief filling him.

The lake was still empty when he looked out, but Merlin was speaking to him. The short words niggled at the back of his mind, along with the connection that bloomed anew between them. It was a haze of gold, and even feeling it had the grass around him growing and the plucked daisies blooming again. He pressed slightly through their connection, and saw a brief image of Merlin's home.

He didn't do this often, peer through Merlin's eyes. He knew the merman didn't know he was doing it. Yet it still felt like a violation of some kind. One Mordred guiltily enjoyed delving into every now and then.

Through Merlin's eyes he saw himself. It was flickering through the mirror of water, and looking more haggard than it had done in the citadel. His curls were everywhere, and the cirlces under his eyes more pronounced. Despite all that there was a smile on Mordred's face.

Mordred left as Merlin looked around, swimming slightly deeper until the mermaid's secret kingdom appeared before him. He'd only seen it once before. A dream he didn't know was Merlin's eyesight.

It wasn't a city like Camelot. Full of tall towers and a multitude of houses. The mermaids lived in a series of rocks. Some huge and towering, blocking out the sun as they curved. Others were short, and piled up to make arches and seats where the girls swam and played. Below all this was the mermaids biggest secret. One which they didn't even know they kept. At least three feet of treasure lay in a bowl like pit in the middle of the lake's floor. Mordred hadn't looked through Merlin's eyes long enough to see anything specific any time. All he knew was it was a lot of gold. Gold mixed in with broken wood and chain mail that served as enough warning to Mordred that it wasn't a treasure worth fighting over. He would surely lose.

Back on dry land, Mordred went back to his chain. If Merlin wasn't mad at him he would come and talk. If he was and just said it to make Mordred go away, well, he had nothing better to do today. He could wait.

It was nearing dark when Merlin's head peaked above the water. Mordred had always loved how seductively eerie an image Merlin made as he did this. Just his eyes and the beginning of his nose. His raven hair plastered to his skull, save for the sides that flicked out like feathers. He knew dry they would be just as unruly. His hair was used to flying, and didn't like being tied down by a common thing like air. His eyes were his biggest feature. The brows upturned in a playful, mocking wave as his blue eyes promised fun. He had told Mordred he did it to make his victims laugh. He would use this look as a playful flirtation to put them off guard. It made him approachable, attractive. When they thought him this they often didn't think him capable of anything else. They never looked deeper, like Mordred had, into those eyes and saw the danger there. The power.

He was much like Gwaine in that. The man was a laugh, and it was hard to pin him as anything else when he'd made your sides hurt. They never suspect that he had a cunning mind beneath all that. A mind that had already catalogued what kind of man they were, and the best way to take them down if things went sour. He'd confessed to Mordred one night, after he had came back from his first quest, that Arthur wasn't a man he could beat with skill alone. It was why he had cuddled up to him in Camelot, he needed to know more before he could formulate a real possibility of defeat.

Mordred sometimes wished he could do that. When he was younger he had relied on his guile. Older now and he could no longer do that. It wasn't like he was charming either. Despite what Merlin said.

He put that thought away as Merlin bobbed up further. His brows drew together as he looked Mordred over, before relaxing as a far away sigh left his lips. Mordred held his breath as Merlin pulled himself up, surprised when he didn't stop and sit away from him. Instead, he crawled over until he was kissing the last breath out of him.

"I'm not mad," Merlin said when he drew back.

"But... I sent you back."

Mordred had been overwhelmed. As soon as the druids left he found himself moved, again, to new chambers nearer the king. Merlin had adapted to the change better than Mordred. The new chambers meant closer access to Arthur. He often came back late at night to see Arthur yelling at Merlin as he lounged in the king's bath. He also often found Merlin grabbing him for him at random moments of the day for a spontaneous frotting session. He figured Arthur had made a mention of it to him, especially when the king knocked loudly one night to tell them to quiet down- it only made Merlin more eager.

After the move he was saddled with a mountain of books. Where Arthur got them from he didn't know. As far as he knew Camelot had burned any books about magic. Yet somehow Mordred was given eighteen tomes and twenty smaller yet no less dense books about most aspects of magic. Arthur told him he was to dedicate at least five hours to studying them, and another three with Gaius talking about what he had studied.

"It's a big responsibility Mordred," Arthur had said. "I need you on top form."

After the books of magic and his new lessons came the practical application of his role. He was to sit in on daily viewing sessions and give actual advice on everyday concerns. He had people's lives in his hands. It was unnerving, stressful. He could made a wrong decision and ruin someone's life. He could ruin this whole movement if he wasn't careful. He could put Arthur off magic forever.

By the end of a week he was itching to get out and stretch his legs, even if it was for a walk. He didn't need to do anything too strenuous so long as he had the sun on his face and fresh air in his lungs. But that wasn't possible. Not for the newly appointed court sorcerer, who hadn't even been appointed yet, he was still on a trial basis.

So he was stuck listening, enviously, to Merlin as he regaled his day being beaten up by Arthur.

"I managed to get a hit in this time," Merlin crowed, his face lighting up at the violence before dropping. "Of course that just made him more determined to have me on my back."

He showed the bruises were Arthur's sword had banged off the armour. Mordred wondered why the king was still trying. Merlin was no fighter. He was a hunter. A creature that didn't need strength to take someone down, just a pretty face and quick limbs. Training was being wasted on him. Mordred was certain Arthur was just doing it to have an excuse to touch Merlin. He had seen the way the king sometimes looked at him. It drove jealousy into his head, imagining Merlin succumbing to the king's charms.

It was a fear that still stuck with him from his childhood. The thought Merlin would tire of him and run off towards his destiny. It was getting worse the more time Merlin spent with Arthur and the less he spent with him.

He remembered the night he had came back from his kidnapping. The way the two of them were friendly towards each other. The fact they shared a bed. He had gave in to some of his insecurities back then. He approached Gwaine and actually asked the man for some advice. Of course it was just to shag him. He didn't understand the moral dilemma Mordred was in when thinking about taking his advice when Merlin didn't know what shagging actually was.

Now he did, and for that Mordred was slightly thankful for Gwaine's crudeness. However, even the thought of returning to Merlin for some fun couldn't make life in Camelot any more welcome.

He found that Merlin was also unhappy here. He always outright said so. Arguments with Arthur had been sparked through such speeches. But it was also his actions that spoke of how unhappy he was. Mordred could no longer take him to the stream underneath Camelot. Gwaine tried, but often Mordred heard him turn the offers down. Then there was the training. Sure, he enjoyed beating Arthur up as best he could, yet there were still the nights were Mordred would come back and find Merlin groaning under the moonlight. His pale skin mottled with blues and blacks, plaguing him so much that he didn't move as Mordred healed him.

His cabin fever reached a height one council filled morning. Talk had turned from ordinary matters to those of Mordred's performance. He was under scrutiny, looked over again for weakness and looked down on for being what he was. Those who still supported Uther, which was most of them, voiced their complaints. Each one was well researched and truthful. Mordred would have expected nothing less from them. But that didn't mean it was easy to hear.

Arthur defended him as he always did. Arguing that Mordred was more than qualified to lead Camelot in this new revolution.

He left with the king's hand on his shoulder, whispering praise in his ear.

"It's never easy to hear criticism. You've done better than I did. As I recall I asked my father to execute the lot of them. He didn't, of course, but I learned a valuable lesson about the council. So long as they are voicing their concerns they aren't plotting behind my back."

Merlin didn't share this view when he told him about his day later.

The man had been lying on his back, letting Mordred work on the shallow cut adorning his thigh. All complaints about his tail had went as soon as Mordred told him about the new plans on his actual ceremonial appointment.

"I'll talk to him," Merlin said.

"No." He didn't like the idea of the two of them alone. "I'll just find another way of telling him."

It had been a big topic between the two of them. Mordred had been in a bout of denial about his role in court. Steadily through his trial he had hoped Arthur would tire of the notion or find he wasn't up to the standard a court sorcerer should be. While he didn't want the whole idea gone, he had wished that Arthur would find someone else. But he hadn't. Merlin had remained adamant that he wouldn't from the start, telling him to voice his own opinion about the matter. But Merlin was a man eating creature, someone who could escape by just looking at a guard funny. Mordred, on the other hand, was in Arthur's debt. For harbouring him. Helping him to escape. Giving him a chance at a luxurious life where others would have tossed him to the dirt.

It wasn't as simple as turning Arthur down.

"Mordred." His hand was stayed as Merlin rolled to meet his gaze. "What have I told you?"

"Don't do debts," He sighed. "I know. I'll tell him."

He felt more than heard Merlin huff in disbelief. Not wanting to talk about it anymore he made him turn to his stomach and attended to the wound again.

The matter wasn't settled by far. He was woken later by Merlin getting out of bed. It didn't take reading his mind to know he was going to see Arthur.

He made to follow him, to stop him, but stopped just shy of pushing Arthur's door open.

A slither of light escaped where Merlin had forgotten to close it. It carried the sound, quieter from the wood interference, but audible from where he stood. His name rang clearly as it did.

He knew it wasn't ridiculous to hear his name being said. Merlin had went in there on his behalf after all. But when he went to stop whatever argument that would erupt, he hadn't expected this to be the topic of which they discussed him on.

"- me do?" Arthur yelled. He sounded strained, like this had been a topic gone over more than once and hew as tired of hearing about it.

Merlin sounded the same as he gave his, probably repeated, response. "Let him find his own path. It's not yours to mould Arthur. If you keep at it something's going to give. The future you're trying to avoid could well be the one you're helping to forge."

A scoff, and quick steps, as Arthur paced about his room. "Don't be so pessimistic Merlin. This is going to work. Mordred's going to find his place here. He's going to become a part of Albion, and not its destruction."

He felt the breath seep out of him.

So this was why the dragon didn't want him with Merlin. This was why countless druid clans would harbour him until he spoke his name. They knew. Everyone had known.

He escaped back to his room before he could do something stupid. Like kill Arthur.

Once the idea had planted itself it wouldn't shake his mind. Every time he looked at Merlin, or Arthur, he would think about what he was feeling. Whether he could feel the hate welling up. Whether it was hate at all that would make his hand stray toward his sword.

He felt like an innocence had been taken of him as he lay at night. No longer could he find the soothing scenes of watching Merlin swim. Instead his mind conjured up those dreams of Arthur. The ones that had came to him when he had been ill. Of plunging his dagger in Arthur's chest. Of Merlin gazing at him with abstract horror as he watched his world crumble down around him. Dream Merlin cared for Arthur much more than the real one did. It made them that much worse.

He did what he did days later out of fright. He didn't want Merlin to hate him. He didn't want him to watch him become this monster he was destined to be. So he called Gwaine to fetch a pig, and fed it a light poison. Through the pigs system it would be fatal, to Merlin however it would act as a sedative. At worst he would suffer a headache.

The plan worked, and as dark fell he was sneaking out of the citadel, and leaving Merlin in a newly melted stream with his tail shining in the moonlight.

He had felt guilty the next morning and went to go fetch Merlin back. Hoping, in vain, that the he would still be there.

"Forgive me," Mordred begged by the lakeside.

Merlin huffed, the air blowing one of his curls. "You really don't know how I see you." He made Mordred look him in the eye, repeating again, "I'm not mad. It's actually kind of nice to be back."

He didn't want to ask the question urging itself out of his mouth, so he pushed it back, and asked another instead.

"What was that? In the mirror?"

Merlin squinted, the look so familiar as he tried to recall what Mordred had seen it made him smile. For someone so deceptive his face was far too open. "The one with us in bed or the one with us at Arthur's wheel table?"

Mordred laughed at both.

Merlin went on, "The table. Right. I asked mother about it. The image came up just as I returned, along with a few others. It's an image of Albion. All of us, united."

He recalled his treaty with the merfolk. He had delivered them a seeing crystal. One which the rogues expected him to master. One which Merlin had said he would gift to his mother since he had broken hers. "An image of the future?"

"An image of a future," Merlin corrected.

He explained about the other images he saw. The exchange of money. The clashing of swords. The deaths of his people. Apparently these people were versed in killing merfolk since Merlin told him they were near extinction in the mirror.

"It's an image of the Saxon invasion," Merlin told. "The girls mentioned when I got back that they had been getting a steady stream of men in the last few weeks. Many of them couldn't speak Celtic. They sounded like they came from across the sea. I think a planned invasion is coming. It's the only reason why we're all banded together. Merfolk, magic and each of the five kingdoms."

"Each of the five kingdoms?"

Merlin recalled the scene at the table again. Where Mordred had been concerned with Merlin and himself sitting side by side in Arthur's court, Merlin had looked at the others. The kings and Queens who ruled each of the five kingdoms that sat themselves as equals at Arthur's table.

Merlin drew his tail up, curling himself around it like it were a pair of legs. It was an oddly vulnerable pose, one Mordred had never seen him take with his tail.

"I think the time has come for us to stop acting like children and talk about the future. We both have destinies weighing us down. Mine longer than yours."

The look in his eyes as he spoke told Mordred he knew exactly why he had sent Merlin back. He knew Mordred had heard them talk about him destroying Albion.

"You didn't tell me."

"Just as you didn't tell me," Merlin countered. "Which was foolish. If we are going to prevent the future we should be aware of what that is."

"I forgive you," Mordred gave.

They talked for a while on the bank about destiny. Merlin explaining what Arthur and himself knew. That Mordred was meant to be their destruction. It was everything he feared and more because Arthur was still wanting him in Camelot.

Together they argued about the merits of keeping Mordred away from Camelot, or just letting him continue.

"Do you feel murderous towards him?" Merlin asked.

Mordred thought, and shook his head. "Not unless he's touching you. But that's more out of jealousy than anger."

He got a kiss for that.

"I think destiny is stupid," Merlin said as he drew back. "The dragon once told me that I was meant to be a man, the other side to Arthur's coin. That I was to protect him and use my magic to help him. So far, the only thing he's been right about is that Arthur's the other side of my coin. If he wasn't I think we would get along better."

"So you're saying we should just ignore everything we've seen and heard and go on with life?"

"Precisely," Merlin grinned. Then he amended, "We should probably tell Arthur about those Saxons however. Even if the dragon was wrong about me the mirror isn't wrong about them. I've already sent girls out to scope out how many boats are on their way."

Arthur was going to be unstoppable, Mordred thought. Between the three of them they had the magic, the land and the sea covered. There would be nowhere in this kingdom the Saxons could hide from them.

They talked more about destiny for a while, the hours waning. Until, finally, they broached the question Mordred had been loathed to ask when he got here. Whether Merlin was coming back to Camelot.

"Of course," He said. "I was just waiting for transport. There's no way I'm walking all the way there."

AN: I've decided to end it here. Mainly because I might want to rewrite a few of these last chapters and would rather not have them mount up the more I write. Thank you to those who read this story, and those who review. I appreciate it immensely.