Title: The Dragon's Horn
Category: Gen (Canon AU)

Characters/Pairings: Merlin, Mordred, Arthur, Gwaine, Kilgharrah
Rating/Warning: T

Summary: Mordred has a dream that might put Camelot in danger. But can he convince Arthur, and even more important, Merlin of this fact? (Story takes place right after Season 5 Episode 2)

Chapter 1

Spring had come late this year. The sun had shone brightly for a couple of days, occasionally chased away by a thunderstorm or even a patch of hail. Today the sky was a perfect blue, the sun trying to warm the earth, but the chill in the air still palpable on exposed faces and hands. Early spring flowers fought their way up to the sun, restarting a cycle of life, and Camelot was bustling with a restless sort of activity. Spring cleaning was around the corner, and it was felt by all except the royal family. Even though everyone knew the queen insisted on personally 'mucking' out her closet, as she called it.

The secluded field next to the stables was alive with activity this early in the morning. The grass, if you could call it that, on the field used for exercising the horses, was muddy and uneven. The mud-speckled young man with the dark curls, riding a small brown mare, had only just started to ride around the paddock.

"Sit up straight, Mordred." Gwaine stood on the south side of the field, waving his arms in the air as to emphasize a certain move Mordred had to follow. Gwaine was one of the best riders in Camelot, so it had become his duty to teach the young and inexperienced. Mordred could ride a horse, but only knew the basics. As a knight of Camelot in training, he needed to learn more than that. "Heel behind the girth, tighten the reins... Come on, faster."

"Are you certain it's Mordred on the horse?" King Arthur's voice carried over the terrain, as he and Sir Leon walked towards where Gwaine was standing with a devilish grin that spoke volumes. He would probably make young Mordred look like a mud man by the time they were finished with the lessons.

"With all the mud it's hard to recognise anyone, Sire," Leon answered, a smile tugged at his mouth as he tried to be as serious and polite as possible. "He seems to become a fair rider though."

Arthur turned towards Merlin, who was sitting on a low bench near the entrance to the stables, polishing one of the king's saddles, while watching Mordred's riding progressions.

"What do you think, Merlin?"

He'd barely asked the question when Mordred was thrown off the horse and landed face first with a loud splat in the middle of a puddle of muddy water. It dripped from his face and hair when he sat up, looking bemused, which earned him a smirk from Gwaine, and a shocked gaze from Leon.

"He'll make a fine rider," Merlin answered, before turning his concentration back to his chore amidst the chuckles of Arthur and the knights. Arthur walked towards Mordred to give him a hand, as Merlin could clearly see out of the corner of his eyes.

The sun might be bright, making a comfortable warm spot on his back while he sat there polishing the leather under his fingers, but Merlin was in a depressing mood. He didn't want to feel this way, he should have felt different after coming back from Ismere. Arthur was alive and safe, and Morgana had been defeated once more. And by none other than the new knight in town, Mordred. He should rejoice, but he felt agitated, lost in some limbo world of mixed emotions.

Merlin felt very conflicted about the whole destiny and Mordred affair. The terrible vision the a vates, Lochru, had shown him weighed heavily on his heart, on his very soul. There had been no mistake, and after his conversation with Kilgharrah about it, it had been even clearer. Mordred would be Arthur's downfall. But was this only one part of the future, and could it be altered? Merlin had never been so uncertain about anything in his life. Mordred was such a likable young fellow. He would be a great friend if Merlin let him get close, he was certain of that.

But could he? What if becoming close to Mordred meant bringing Arthur's downfall even faster? What would happen if he intervened and destiny played a cruel trick on him again by letting Arthur die? He knew one thing for sure; he would not let that happen. Arthur had to live, even if it meant pushing Mordred away. The boy wanted nothing more than to be accepted, to be trusted. But it wasn't easy, and would never become easy.

Yes, Merlin almost hated himself for feeling this low. It was such a beautiful, bright spring day, and the knights, including Arthur, were having so much fun. Even Mordred smiled on occasion, and he knew this didn't happen very often. He wished there was something to smile about for him as well, and he felt a slight pang of envy rising in his chest when he saw Arthur and Gwaine jump out of the way when Mordred shook himself like a wet dog, sending splatters of mud flying in all directions. Of course he enjoyed it when his friends were happy. Not knowing about their own future was a precious gift, after all.

Arthur was about to leave the field, and Merlin knew it was time to finish his work on the saddle, to follow along, making sure the King got fed and changed into a fresh pair of clothes after lunch.

"Merlin!"

"Coming..."

Mordred didn't understand. All he wanted was Merlin's trust. He knew he had Arthur's, no doubt about it, and he was getting very well acquainted with the knights as well. His training had been going really well, and it felt like he'd found a true place he could call home. He felt more confident of his own abilities every day, and his riding lessons were thrilling, like being totally free, and it was amazing. Even landing in the mud was exhilarating in a way. He'd never felt like this before, and it was clear to him when he'd taken Arthur's hand to jump up, these were his friends, and they would support him unconditionally.

But Emrys was a riddle to him, always had been. One Mordred would gladly solve. But staring at the man, who stared back at him from where he was cleaning a saddle in a way that made his skin crawl, it all but seemed impossible. Merlin had saved him once when he was still a child, lost and hurt, only to turn his back on him. This had happened to Mordred all his life. Always on the run, always hiding, being shunned, even by his own people at times. He had always wondered what it was about him that made them avoid him like the plague. He'd been a child, and all he had wanted was a little love.

It hurt him very much someone like Emrys was doing the same. But it didn't mean he would give up hope. Maybe Merlin had his reasons to act this way with him now? Maybe it was a test? And all he had to do was his best, and show them all he was worthy of the tasks they bestowed upon him? He hadn't been around Camelot for as long as the other knights of course, so it was only normal it took some time for Merlin to notice his good intentions.

He actually hadn't given Merlin any reason to trust him in the first place, being in league with Morgana of all people. But Morgana had changed, and was ruled only by her hatred now. Mordred understood hatred, but also knew it didn't solve anything. In fact, it only made matters worse. Iseldir had taught him this after king Uther had executed his father and he'd been full of hatred himself. The emotion and the reaction of his magic to it, had scared him very much. Enough to feel alone and afraid to use his magical abilities again. Iseldir also taught him to conquer his fears and live.

Mordred still didn't like to use his magic, though. It had only brought him trouble in the past, so he became a master in avoiding it. It almost became second nature to him, which made his life in Camelot, where magic was still forbidden, much easier. Of course he truly believed, or wanted to believe, king Arthur would restore magic to the lands someday. With the help of Emrys, as was written in the stars. Mordred just wished he could also play a part in this grand event, and to accomplish it, he needed Merlin to trust him.

Saving Arthur had earned him the king's trust, but he hadn't actually saved Merlin that day. He had left him behind, which had been a stupid mistake. He would have gone back for him, but Sir Gwaine had beaten him to it. The knight had been suspicious of him to begin with, but Gwaine wasn't a man to mistrust anyone for long, so they were becoming friends, which made Mordred really happy. He wasn't too fond of the trips to the tavern though.

The idea made him want to smile, but the smile wouldn't come when he noticed Merlin, gazing at him once more in an open display of distrust. Merlin couldn't hide his feelings, even if he wanted to. It made Mordred wonder how he managed to keep his magic a secret for such a long time.

While riding his horse this morning, he had felt Merlin's eyes on him again and again. It was like every move he made was questioned, every word was weighed and the steady gaze in Merlin's eyes almost looked like a jealous man. As if he was afraid Mordred would become better friends with Arthur then he was.

The idea had left him pretty quickly though, as he knew Merlin well enough to know he was just being overprotective of the king, sometimes even a little obsessed, but perhaps he had a reason? It all came back to this. A reason. Maybe there was something Mordred didn't know?

"Well done, Mordred." Arthur slapped him on the back, mud flying everywhere, when he led his horse back to the stables. "We'll make a great rider out of you, won't we Gwaine?"

"We will?" Gwaine feigned being shocked, earning him a slap on the back of the head. "Hey, watch the hair, princess!"

Mordred couldn't help but smile, and it made him feel all warm inside. "Thank you, Sire."

"Merlin!" Arthur shouted over to where the servant was just pushing the polished saddle he'd been working on into one of the stable boys' hands. Mordred knew what it was like to do chores like this by hand instead of magic. It kept the mind and body occupied, and was way safer of course.

"Coming..."

This time Mordred didn't follow Arthur when he left the field. He would normally be very eager to talk to the king, but he didn't want to stand in the way when Merlin walked over to Arthur to escort him back to his quarters, no doubt preparing him for some ceremony, and to serve lunch. Mordred's own time would come to serve his king, but today he was content with returning to the knights' quarters for a midday meal.

***
After a quick lunch, Merlin found himself in Arthur's chambers, getting ready to lay out the clothes for the king before the gathering of the round table. The routine was imbedded in his mind after so many years, he didn't have to think while going about the room, diving into Arthur's closet to find a red shirt. His thoughts were free to roam and fishing out the shirt, they flitted back to the training grounds, and to Mordred.

Mordred, trying his best to fit in. Trying his best to make friends, to be accepted, to belong. Not too long ago, Merlin had been like him. Always going out of his way to be friendly to anyone, to try and blend in with his surroundings, to please his friends and Arthur. To please Arthur. Now that he thought about it, he wasn't very different from Mordred, after all. It frightened him. If Mordred could become what Merlin feared, what about Merlin himself?

The shirt was stuck and Merlin muttered under his breath, while he carefully started to untangle it, doing his best to avoid ripping it. It was just going to be one of those days, he decided while turning to see if the king was still sitting at the table eating his lunch. Guinevere would normally have been there for lunch as well, but she had some urgent errands to run in the lower town. The queen, or rather, his friend Gwen, would never change. Always looking out for the people in need. Her people in need. Merlin wished he could be that strong, committed, but there was so much doubt gnawing away at him lately, he wasn't sure about anything anymore.

Arthur wasn't where he should have been, but instead was standing right in front of him when he turned, startling him. When had he moved away from the table? He wasn't normally so fast, or was he? He bit the inside of his lip to stop his startled reaction. There was no need for Arthur to see it, or he would never hear the end of it.

"Ah, Sire... I have your shirt, I thought you were..."

"Tell me something, Merlin." Arthur had an intense look on his face, gazing at him, eyes full of questions. Merlin knew the look, and wondered what was going on in his friend's mind. "Do you really dislike Mordred this much?"

Merlin froze, the king's red shirt in his hands suddenly a vessel to hold onto tightly. He looked away, couldn't bear to meet his friend's eyes. A feeling of dread crept up inside his stomach, while he tried to figure out why Arthur was asking this in the first place.

Had he not been carefully hiding his negative emotions towards Mordred? The druid boy destined to kill the king? This knowledge weighed down on Merlin every day, every hour, when he saw the likable knight in training, like today. When Mordred and Arthur were together like the best of friends. Even if he wanted to ignore it all, he couldn't. Of course he would never openly express his feelings towards Mordred to Arthur. The future was not set in stone after all, and maybe Merlin didn't see the true path in its whole? Maybe...

"Sire?" he asked, losing his grip on the shirt while he let out quiet sigh, trying to relax his tense muscles. He walked up to Arthur and started his chore of dressing the king, still avoiding the stare.

"Every time you two are together there's this, I don't know, tension in the air?"

"He's a fine knight, my Lord."

"Merlin. What's wrong with you?"

Arthur sounded exasperated, and Merlin knew he was treading on dangerous ground. Arthur was blind to a lot of things, but he wasn't a fool. The king liked Mordred, so Merlin better come up with a good distracting answer why his servant didn't. He wished with all his heart he could tell Arthur the truth, about that horrible vision he'd seen. Of course he couldn't, and compassion towards Mordred slowly died inside him every day because of it.

"I'll try and interact with him a bit more, Sire."

"Good."

The answer seemed to satisfy Arthur, but Merlin knew he would be watched. Not that it made a difference, as he didn't feel interacting with Mordred would make all his worries about the young man go away. That would be way too easy, and life was never easy after all.

Gaius had lit all the candles in the room before he'd settled down in his favourite chair to read an interesting book on the healing properties of common herbs and plants. At least he hoped it would be interesting. If it was, he would be able to disappear for a while from the rest of the world, not hearing anything, no notice of what was happening around him. It would be just him and his book. But this evening he was distracted when a loud sigh from Merlin reached his ears. Not such an interesting book after all then.

Merlin had come in after his late evening chores, had grabbed himself a bit of stew and sat eating without saying a word. Normally he would be chattering on and on about his chores, about Arthur and about him being a royal prat and all, but lately it had been very quiet. Gaius didn't mind quiet, but from Merlin it was odd. It wasn't normal. It would only happen if something was wrong, and it didn't take a genius to figure out what it was.

Well, others might not notice of course, as Merlin would put a smile on his face and bury himself in chores that didn't necessarily need doing. It was his way of coping with the strains of life and destiny. Gaius wished it would be different. That they could go back in time, and Merlin would still be the boy he used to be. Gaius had many regrets about the past himself, wishing he could do it all over again. But he just had to learn to live with his choices in life. Like everyone.

He closed the book with a slap, startling Merlin, who almost choked on his stew. But that was also the only reaction he got. The young man didn't turn around or make a comment, nothing. It was very disturbing actually, the quiet. Gaius knew the next move would be his, and he wouldn't waste it.

"Merlin?"

"Hmm?" His ward didn't look at him, but started to pick at his stew as if it was the most interesting thing he'd ever seen.

"What's wrong?"

"Why does everyone assume there's something wrong with me?" It wasn't said in a snappy way, but more in a low whispering voice, as if Merlin wanted to warn him to stop asking, but he knew he shouldn't even try with Gaius. He had way too much respect for him.

"You've had the face of a prune and the sting of a wasp for days on end."

"Sting of a wasp?" This did get Merlin's attention, and he raised his head to look at Gaius. His brows went high up into his hairline, and there was a tiny inch of a smile lightening his features. It didn't reach his eyes though, which was to be expected.

"Face like a prune," Gaius suggested once more, tilting his head slightly while he stood up slowly from the chair. He was always feeling stiff and sore after sitting down too long, the downside of old age. He moved to sit down again at his familiar spot opposite Merlin. "The vision about Mordred killing Arthur?"

"I can't seem to get it out of my head, Gaius. Every time I see Mordred, it brings back this awful realisation he's our enemy, that he will kill the king someday." Merlin shook his head, his spoon dropped on the table, his plate shoved away in agitation. "And the way he is with Arthur. So friendly, so open, so plain..."

"Nice?"

"Yes."

"We talked about this not too long ago, my boy. The future can be altered. There is nothing to suggest it can't be altered by you, himself, or anyone else for that matter." Gaius' hand landed on Merlin's, and he patted its warm surface a little awkwardly. "Mordred is a nice boy, and I said it once before, you should give him the benefit of the doubt."

"What if I can't bring myself to do so?" Merlin asked, a lost look in his eyes which made Gaius flinch for a moment. "Even Arthur noticed my animosity towards him. He questioned me about it this morning. I'm really obvious, am I?"

"Yes, you are."

"Arthur always tells me I'm no good in keeping secrets," Merlin snorted, placing his hands under his chin like he always did when he was thinking hard. He would fidget with his fingers, touch his face, his hair, resting his head in his hands. Gaius knew all the signs. He might be great at keeping secrets that really mattered, but hiding his true emotions was a whole other thing. "Do you really think the future can be changed, Gaius? Be honest."

Gaius didn't even have to consider the question, as he was certain it was possible. Morgana's dreams of prophecy had taught him much. Parts of these dreams would come true, but other parts were altered at times in the past. It made him confident not everything Merlin saw in that vision would come to pass exactly how it had been seen. Even great seers didn't have all the knowledge of the world. And he doubted Kilgharrah knew the future in detail either. It was up to him to strengthen Merlin's belief that nothing was certain.

"Yes, Merlin, I really think we can change what lies ahead."

"Do you really honestly feel I should give Mordred the benefit of the doubt?"

"Yes."

For the first time that evening, Merlin genuinely smiled at him. It wasn't a bright smile, but a smile nonetheless, and Gaius couldn't help but feel somewhat relieved. It wasn't easy to convince Merlin of anything if he set his mind on something. It could be like talking to a wall, but that didn't mean Gaius would give up, ever. He was meant to help and guide Merlin, and he would try to give it everything he got. Merlin was like a son to him, and seeing him relax, even a bit, was good.

"What were you reading anyway?" Merlin suddenly asked, breaking the seriousness between them, while he put away his plate. Gaius noticed he had eaten all of the stew, which was indeed a very good sign, and the curious look he got made his heart sing. The old Merlin was still in there somewhere, and in time he would come to the surface again.

"Ah, nothing important my boy, just something about..."

"Herbs, plants and potions?"

Mordred was dreaming.

He was consciously aware of the fact he was, and also very much aware he should remember what would be going on in said dream, as it might be important. He knew from Morgana as she'd always had many prophetic dreams, the gift of the seer. Growing into a young adolescent, Mordred started to have dreams about events that would later happen for real as well. It had really frightened him at first, but then he'd remembered a young Morgana, and the way she used to put his mind at ease and tell him about her magical abilities and her dreams. They were nothing to be scared about, as they could be used for good. The gift of foresight could be used to their advantage.

A wave of sadness passed over him, even while he slept. Morgana had been such a good person, and now she was lost. He wished he could have saved her from insanity, but he'd been too late. He felt a pang of guilt inside his heart, even though there had been no choice but to prevent her from killing Arthur. The love that binds us is more important than the power we wield, he'd told Merlin, and Morgana had forgotten that.

Bright flashing images passed before his eyes, and he felt himself drift into places he'd never seen before. He saw a tunnel, filled with water, there was a feeling of being trapped, of suffocating, and a giant dragon. Its fire spit across him in a cave, while he was holding onto an object he'd never seen before. It looked like the horn of a dragon, coal black, and as large as his two hands together. A dragon carved into the side of it, and this was a horn you could blow on to make music. Intriguing lines were engraved in the mouth piece, and the mouth piece itself seemed to be made of gold. It looked beautiful, yet frightening.

The dream switched again, and the huge dragon raged, and absolutely terrified of its fire and madness, Mordred dropped the horn and ran. Ran through forests and streets until he felt out of breath. The dragon no longer in sight, but the fear still tangible inside his whole body.

Suddenly there was a sensation of flying across the land. The five kingdoms passed below him. Then he saw someone, a shadow figure blow the dragon's horn, its sound deafening, the walls of Camelot crumbling, barely able to withstand such a force of sound. The sound felt alive, vibrating, the whole of the Earth was shaking. It was so real and powerful and scary, Mordred let out a scream in fear, and everything turned dark.

He panted, sitting up in bed, cold sweat dripping from his forehead and sliding down his back. The room lit by only one small candle on his bed stand, and after realising he was fully awake, he breathed in deep to stop the shaking of his hands. It felt like his whole body had cramped, and his muscles were sore and tired. This was no ordinary dream. This had been much more, he knew...

He really had to tell Arthur about it, but he knew the king would probably laugh at him if he would tell him it had been a dream. No way would he believe Camelot might be in actual danger. Mordred knew he had to come up with another story to warn the king about this dragon's horn. The magical object could be Camelot's downfall in the wrong hands. But Arthur would probably not believe that either, although... Arthur wasn't a fool. He would want to destroy any dangerous magical artefact, or lock it safely inside the vaults.

He stuffed his pillow behind his back and took a sip from his cup of water on the bed stand. It looked like it was still in the middle of the night, but Mordred knew he couldn't go back to sleep. He needed to come up with a plan to warn Arthur. Camelot had to stay safe, no matter what. These were his friends now, this was his home. He could never go back being a wanderer, being a nobody, shunned and prosecuted, always hiding, always in fear someone would find out about who he truly was.

No, he was determined not to let this happen again, ever.

When the sun finally appeared, its first rays pushing through the curtains of his room, Mordred knew exactly what to do. It was a matter of trust, and a test of faith. If Arthur truly believed in him, he would listen and not question his motives. King Arthur was a man of honour, loyalty, and Mordred looked up to him, wanting to believe he would at least hear him out.

He quickly finished dressing, managed only barely to brush his hair in a decent array of curls, grabbed an old, and way too small piece of bread out of his cupboard, standard in every knights room, bed, bed stand and cupboard, before heading off to the king's quarters. Would Arthur even be up this early? When he almost bumped into Merlin in a corridor near the king's chambers, his hands full of plates, heading in his direction, he knew Arthur was at least about to get woken up by his loyal servant.

"Merlin." Mordred gave the other man a tight smile. He wasn't in the mood of doing his best to be nice and friendly with Merlin this morning. His task was to warn the king, and it was an important one. Maybe he should have consulted with Sir Leon first, though? Or another trusty knight? Merlin was certainly looking at him in a suspicious manner, but that wasn't new of course.

"Mordred, where are you heading?"

"I need to speak to Arthur."

"This early? He hasn't had his breakfast yet, are you certain you want risk it?"

"Yes, Merlin, I am certain. It's important."

"I'll go see if he and the queen are up then."

"Thank you."

While Merlin opened the door to the king's chambers without knocking, walked inside and all but slammed it in his face, Mordred stepped back, slightly startled and started to pace. To the left, a bit down the corridor, back again, small paces, hands tightly balled into fists. A tense feeling had been settling into the pit of his stomach, and with the dream still vivid in his mind, he could only cross his fingers Arthur would listen. What if he wouldn't? What if Merlin didn't bring his message across? No, Merlin wouldn't do that. He might not like Mordred, but he was an honest man. It felt like forever, his hands getting clammy while he tried to stay calm...

And finally the door opened and Merlin's head popped from around it. "The king will see you now."

"Thank you, Merlin," Mordred replied, trying to keep a very neutral tone of voice that would not betray his nerves.

The king and queen Guinevere were sitting at their large polished table, while Merlin got busy serving them breakfast and filling their goblets with water. Breakfast looked like a feast to the eye, although none of the knights and people of Camelot were complaining about the food. Life was good in the citadel and lower town. Mordred only had one small slice of old bread, and his mouth was watering, looking at the soft bread, cheese and ham. The fruit, the slices of cold pork. He even started to salivate smelling the bowl of porridge in front of the queen.

"Sire." Mordred bowed, and in doing so, his nerves slowly eased away.

"Mordred, you're up early, everything all right?"

"Not really, there is something urgent I need to discuss with you."

Arthur looked up from his breakfast plate, frowning while Mordred felt very uncomfortable all of a sudden under that scrutinizing gaze. Merlin, standing next to his king, also had an open curious look on his face, making Mordred even more aware of the place he was standing.

"Merlin, can you leave us please?" Arthur asked, not quite ordering the servant.

"As you wish, Sire." Merlin didn't argue, didn't look back when he walked to the door, but Mordred could see from his whole stance he wasn't too happy about having been sent away.

The queen stood up from the table, smiling at Mordred, and a very warm smile it was. It reminded Mordred about the way Morgana used to be, and he felt a pang of regret again. Guinevere was a wonderful caring woman, who was always very supportive of her husband, but also really cared about all the people living in Camelot. "I was about to get dressed in the ante chamber, you two can talk."

Arthur gave her a small nod, and Mordred could feel the love for her radiating from his eyes. Maybe one day he would find someone who loved him this much. A long time ago there had been someone, but they had lost contact, and Mordred didn't know if he would ever see her again.

"Do you want to have some breakfast?" Arthur asked, surprising Mordred.

Breakfast with the king? Now, there was a thought. He knew he couldn't take Arthur up on the offer though. It wasn't proper, and if there was one thing he'd learned from his short experiences of being a knight, one was not to sit down with the king for a meal, no matter how tempting the food smelled or looked, Mordred would always honour the knights codes, the knights rules.

"I have to decline, Sire." He bowed respectfully again, but quickly stopped when Arthur waved his hand for him to stand up straight.

"As you wish. Now tell me, what is the urgent matter you wish to discuss?"

"A friend of mine risked his life to visit me last night." Mordred knew he shouldn't waste any more time and dive into the matter straight away. "He overheard a group of mercenaries in the forest of Ascetir talk about a magical artefact that can destroy whole armies and flatten castles. It is called the Dragon's Horn, and they are searching for it, wanting to find it, and use it to destroy Camelot. They specifically said Camelot, and my friend knows I am a knight here now, and came to me with this information."

Mordred couldn't tell if Arthur was actually convinced by the story. It wasn't a very solid story of course, but it was the best he could come up with, without giving information about everything being a dream. He held his breath, waiting for a reaction. Any reaction.

"Who's that friend, Mordred, and how did he get into the citadel? Is he trustworthy?"

"I cannot tell you his name, Sire, as he is part of a druid clan I once lived with. But I would lay down my life for him. I know he would never betray me." Mordred silently wished there had been such a man, someone who he could have trusted with his life and the other way around. Like Merlin and Arthur. It hurt he didn't have that privilege, never had after his father died.

"But Camelot? I've never been friends with the druids, so why warn us?" Arthur asked.

"Times are changing. They know you're making an effort."

"Yes, but some still wish me dead."

"If those mercenaries, or even Morgana, get their hands on that horn it will have terrible consequences, Sire. At least that is what my friend told me." Mordred was walking a very fine line and he knew it. "The druids would rather see it destroyed or in Camelot's vaults than to see Morgana misuse it."

"Really?"

"Morgana misuses her magic, and I almost failed to see this." Finally, this wasn't a lie.

"I'm sorry about that."

"Me too."

They seemed to share a private memory there, when Arthur stood up, walked towards him to lay a hand on his shoulder, a gesture he came to crave, almost. "Thank you, Mordred, for bringing me this important information. I will look into it further, I promise."

"Thank you, my lord." Mordred felt a heavy load being lifted off his shoulders. Arthur would at least look into it, maybe even do something about it soon. He had to be patient, wait and perhaps he would even be allowed to find the Dragon's Horn for his king.

tbc