Wow, two updates in one day! Look at me go! Also, savor this moment because it'll never happen again.

So, this is an AU for the show Merlin, set in season five, episode 11.

SPOILERS: Merlin 5x11, The Drawing of the Dark.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own a single falling tree branch. (Merlin, you vandal...)

WARNINGS: Character death and lots of feels. You know, my usual.

Hope you guys enjoy!

"Kara is sentenced to die in the morning!" Mordred's eyes are burning with fury, and it's taking all of his self-control not to explode. "What would you do?"

Emrys' face is cold and blank, like it always is. "You can't."

"Tell me you wouldn't do the same for the woman you love," Mordred says, and he can't tell if he's pleading or demanding.

The warlock's eyes go distant, like he's looking at something only he can see. "Don't be foolish," he murmurs after a long moment, and Mordred doesn't know whether to feel vindicated or even more betrayed.

"You see?" he says in reply. "You cannot."

He turns to walk away, and makes it to the end of the hall before Emrys calls out to him.

"Do you know what a Bastet is?"

It's so out of the blue that for a moment the young knight forgets his anger, his pain, and just blinks at the older boy.

"Yes?" it sounds like a question, and he clears his throat and tries again. "Yes, I know what a Bastet is. They are monsters, giant winged panthers that kill anyone they can catch."

Emrys nods, but he's still not really seeing him. "The world will remember the monster," he says. "Only I will remember the girl."

Mordred frowns, confused. "I don't—"

"Freya," Emrys says, and it sounds like it hurts to say. "That was her name. Freya. She loved mountains and lakes and strawberries."

Mordred takes an uncertain step forward, because Emrys looks like he's about to tip over. His face is pale, and his hands are shaking slightly, and no matter how angry Mordred is, he can't help but feel concern.

"A druid girl," the older boy continues. "A man tried to take her for his own when she was young, and when she fought back in self-defense, she accidentally killed him. The man's mother cursed Freya. A beautiful, kind, compassionate soul by day and a bloodthirsty, mindless monster by night."

Mordred takes another step, then leaps forward to catch Emrys as he falls back against the wall. The older sorcerer slides to the floor, eyes empty and voice emotionless.

"A bounty hunter caught her," he says. "Brought her here to be executed. Had her chained in an iron cage like an animal. The manacles were too tight. Her wrists were ruined. She was dressed in nothing more than rags. It was raining and cold. And she was afraid."

Mordred swallows against the sick feeling growing in his stomach. "Why are you telling me all this? And what does it have to do with Kara?"

Emrys turns those awful empty eyes to him. "I set her free," he says, like he didn't even hear Mordred speak. "I set her free and I hid her and fed her. We talked about building a home by a lake, surrounded by mountains, with fields of wild strawberries all year round."

"She is the one you love," Mordred realizes.

"Loved," Emrys corrects, still in that terrible, emotionless voice. "I was going to get her out," he says, and then he laughs, and Mordred flinches away from the sound. It's broken and tinged with hysteria. "I was going to go with her. We were going to run so far, we would never have to be afraid of who we were ever again."

"Why didn't you?" Mordred whispers, afraid but needing to know the answer.

Emrys laughs again, but then there are tears dripping from his eyes, and Mordred realizes with a jolt that this is probably the first time Emrys has even been allowed to speak of this to anyone, been allowed to grieve or remember.

"She didn't want me to lose everything that I had," he says. "So she ran without me."

"She left you?" Mordred blinks.

Emrys shakes his head slowly. "She didn't even make it to the gates."

Mordred's throat tightens.

"The moon came out, and she transformed right in the middle of the courtyard," Emrys says. He closes his eyes. "Someone sounded the alarm bell, and the knights were called out."

"And they killed her," Mordred whispers, feeling his heart break.

"No." Emrys turns to look at him. "Arthur killed her."

Mordred can feel the blood draining from his face. "What?" he gasps weakly.

Emrys doesn't look away. "Arthur gave the Bastet a mortal wound. I distracted the knights, and Freya fled back to the tunnels, where she transformed into herself again. The wound was fatal as a Bastet. It was worse as a human. There was nothing I could do to save her. She died in my arms."

Mordred is shaking his head. This…No. This can't be true. This cannot be true. No. No, no, no.

But Emrys' eyes are dead and empty and broken, and for the first time ever, Mordred finds himself missing the cold, blank look from earlier. This is so much worse.

"Arthur?!" he chokes out.

Emrys nods once, another tear running down his cheek. He doesn't bother to wipe it away. "I understand, Mordred," he whispers, so tired and so broken. "If you…If you run with her, I won't…I won't tell Arthur. I can put a glamour on the cells so it looks like she's still in there. It won't fade until it's touched, but it would buy you time."

Mordred can't believe his ears. "You would let us go?"

Emrys gives a dead, exhausted laugh. "If I don't, you'll turn on Arthur. If I do, you'll still turn on Arthur because that girl will be filling your head with Morgana's madness. I don't know what I'm doing anymore, Mordred. I am exhausted, and I have lost everyone and I am so tired of fighting. And…there was no one to help Freya. Kara…I will not lie, Mordred. When I looked at Freya, I could see the girl in the Bastet's eyes. When I look at Kara, I see only the Bastet. I do not want her free. But you love her, and I…I would not wish that pain on any—" he stops, tilts his head, considers for a moment. "Alright. I might wish that pain on Agravaine. But other than that, I would not wish it on any man."

Mordred is still too stunned to speak.

Emrys shrugs and tilts his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. "Stay away from Morgana, if you can. She has an unhealthy interest in you. She has not killed you yet because she believes you can be swayed from Arthur's side. Kara was just the wedge that she used to split your loyalties."

Mordred buries his face in his hands. "What do I do, Emrys?" he whispers. "Why are you telling me this now?"

Emrys sighs. "My name is Merlin, Mordred," he says. "I am imperfect and afraid and I don't know how to save my King. There are prophecies—the same ones about myself and Arthur—that speak of what you will do, in the end. I have had so many people tell me not to trust you: dragons and prophets and priestesses alike. And I allowed my fear to rule me—I abandoned you. I was cold and distant and downright cruel at times. I left you to find your way all by yourself, and I know exactly what that feels like and…I'm so sorry, Mordred. I'm so, so sorry."

Mordred doesn't know what to do, but Emrys—Merlin, he's just a boy, he's just like me—is weeping steadily now, and Magic is crying with him. So Mordred wraps one arm around the older boy's shoulders as they shake beneath the weight of his guilt and fear and pain.

Merlin just presses his face into the knight's shoulder and cries.

"I forgive you," Mordred says softly. "I forgive you. It wasn't your fault. You did all that you could with what you had. I forgive you. Just…please don't let me be alone anymore." His voice breaks, and there are tears stinging his own eyes now.

Merlin twists around and pulls the younger boy into a fierce embrace. "Never again, I swear it," he whispers hoarsely. "Damn* Destiny. We can make our own path."

Mordred can't help the happy little smile pulling at his mouth. "Thank you," he says. "For giving me a chance."

Merlin's eyes are dark. "I was a fool not to offer before," he says, letting go of him and running his hands through his hair. "I'm so—"

"It's alright," Mordred says. He doesn't think he can handle hearing Emrys—Merlin—say 'I'm sorry' again. "I don't fully understand yet, but…I understand enough. You were as lost and afraid as I was."

Merlin sighs. "I still am." Then he turns to look at Mordred very seriously. "What are you going to do about Kara?"

The boy opens his mouth to answer, but finds himself at a loss of words.

"I don't—I can't let her die," he finally gets out.

Merlin gives him a sad little smile. "If I let you run with her, can you promise me that you can keep her away from Morgana?"

Mordred starts to nod, but then he falters. "I don't—I don't know."

Merlin tips his head back against the wall. "I wasn't sure I could keep the Bastet contained, either. Destiny relieved me of the choice and took her from me. So let me ask you this: what will you do if Destiny intervenes and takes Kara from you as she did Freya from me? Will you turn away from your King and join Morgana?"

Mordred's jaw drops. "I would never!" he cries.

Merlin's eyes are piercing "Wouldn't you?" he says, so softly. "If the man you thought to be your friend killed the woman you loved? Even knowing that you loved her?"

Mordred feels his eyes sting. He weakly shakes his head. "No…"

Merlin gives a bitter laugh, more tears escaping his eyes. "I can almost guarantee it. I about did it, and Arthur and I are irrevocably bound by Destiny herself."

"I'll make her change her mind," he says desperately. "I'll convince her. I can, I can't—I can save her."

Merlin's eyes are tired. "That wasn't the question, Mordred. What will you do if you can't?"

The boy shakes his head and staggers to his feet. "I have to," he rasps. "She's—I don't—I can't let her die. I can save her."

Merlin closes his eyes. "Then go," he whispers.

Mordred runs.

"Kara," he says breathlessly, skidding to a stop beside her cell.

"Mordred!" she rises to her feet and hurries over to him, lacing their fingers together.

"Change your mind," he says desperately. "Kara, for the love of life, please just say that you were wrong. You don't have to think it or even believe it! But it will spare your life. Please, Kara. Just say it."

"And live a lie?" she pulls away from him. "No. He deserves to die. He has killed hundreds of our people. He is anything but innocent. As he told him before, my only regret is that I failed and that I will not be able to watch Camelot burn."

"Kara, you will burn tomorrow if you do not do this," he says, and his fingers are turning white with how hard he grips the bars.

She presses herself against them. "Then help me," she says, eyes burning with fervor. "Get me out. We can slay the King together, and take care of that wretched traitor, Emrys, while we're at it."

"Emrys?" Mordred repeats, thoughts jerking to a halt.

"Yes," Kara hisses, and Mordred is taken aback at the fury in those once-kind eyes. "He has betrayed us all. He is meant to return Magic to the world, not serve and protect the ones who banished it! He is as worthy of death as the Pendragons."

Mordred takes a step back, reeling. This…is not the girl he once knew. Those warm, bright, laughing, loving eyes are frozen over by hate and vengeance.

"When I look at Kara, I see only the Bastet," Emrys had said.

Mordred had scoffed then, but looking at her now, he can't see the girl, either.

"Kara," he says again, because what else can he say?

There's nothing he can do to change her mind, he can see that now. No matter what he says or does, she will never stop, not until she kills Arthur—or until Emrys kills her, which is far more likely.

"Kara, Emrys will not allow any harm to come to the Once and Future King," he whispers. "Arthur himself stopped you this time, and he was most merciful. He offered you clemency—twice!—and gave you a cell with a bed, blanket, food and water…there are few others who would have been as kind. Emrys…" his throat is terribly dry, and he swallows hard at the thought of Emrys' wrath descending on the slight girl before him. "Emrys will have no such mercy. You will never reach the King. He will utterly destroy you long before that."

The girl's face twists in anger, and she spits on the ground. "A curse upon Emrys," she whispers fiercely. "He is a traitor to our kind. He spends his days here, lounging about a castle, living a life of comfort and ease, while we are driven from our homes and slaughtered in droves."

Mordred remembers Emrys' horrible, empty eyes.

"I am exhausted, and I have lost everyone, and I am so tired of fighting."

"I don't think he's been doing much lounging," he manages.

She shoots him a sharp look. "You know him? Then you can help me find him! Together, we could defeat him!"

"I am imperfect and afraid and I don't know how to save my King."

"I don't think I can do that," he says, and his heart feels like it's being ripped apart.

Kara's eyes widen. "What?"

"I don't know what I'm doing anymore."

"I cannot help you try to kill Emrys," he says.

"I am so, so sorry."

The anger is back. "Why not?!" she cries. "Don't you realize that if you don't, I'm going to die?!"

"There was nothing I could do to save her."

There are tears running down his face now.

"I love you," he gasps, strangled, feeling like he can't breathe. "I'm so sorry. I love you."

He stumbles, turns, runs.

"Mordred!" she calls out. She sounds afraid. "Mordred?!"

"And she was afraid."

He runs faster.

"There was nothing I could do to save her."

He staggers back to where he left Merlin, and he's still sitting there, head tipped against the wall, eyes closed. They open as Mordred approaches.

"She—I failed," Mordred manages.

Merlin is off the floor and wrapping his arms around the younger boy in a heartbeat. Mordred can only weep.

Merlin doesn't let go when he sinks to his knees.

Merlin doesn't let go throughout all the long, dark night.

Merlin doesn't let go when Arthur walks past on his way to the cells—but he does give the King a look that would have frozen a bonfire solid when the man goes to speak to Mordred.

Merlin doesn't let go when they can hear Kara's chain clanking by, a hallway over.

Merlin doesn't let go when Mordred lets out a scream of unbridled pain when Kara's magic—her life—comes to an agonizing, jerking, end.

He weeps with the boy. He understands, and to Mordred, that means more than anything he possibly could have said.

Someone is shaking his shoulders.

"Come on, wake up."

It's Merlin.

"Em—Merlin?" he mutters, half-asleep. "What—"

The older sorcerer offers a tiny smile. "Come on. Grab an old tunic and a dark cloak—nothing bright or flashy."

Mordred dresses quickly and follows Merlin out of the Castle and down to the lower town, all the way to where the Queen's old home is. There are two horses tied up outside, plus a cart with another horse already hitched up. The Queen herself is waiting in the doorway, wearing a simple peasant's dress. Her eyes are too bright, and her mouth is screwed up in that way she has when she's trying not to weep.

"I really can't thank you enough for this," Merlin murmurs to her quietly, and she embraces him tightly without a word.

Then she turns to Mordred, and her tears overflow. "I am so sorry," she whispers, choked with emotion. "I am so sorry that you lost her. There had to be a punishment, because she did try to kill Arthur, but I do so desperately wish that there had been a way to save her."

Mordred can't help but cling to her. This is Gwen, not Queen Guinevere. This is what she really thinks of the matter, not what law and society force her to say.

She pulls away and wipes her eyes, then his, and gives him a tremulous smile before kissing Merlin's forehead and departing into the night. Merlin pushes open the door and gestures him in.

He walks through the door—and nearly falls over.

Kara is laying on the table, clothed in a beautiful dress that obviously belongs to the Queen. The awful marks around her neck have been concealed, and her hair has been washed, brushed, and braided. Her hands are folded peacefully across her stomach.

"What is this?" Mordred whispers, voice hoarse with emotion.

Merlin says nothing. A flash of golden eyes, and Kara is floating in the air. Merlin wraps a sheet around her with great care, and "carries" her out to the cart, where he lays her down and gestures for Mordred to climb in. He does so, cradling her head in his lap.

Merlin ties the reins of the two mares to the cart, then leaps onto the driver's seat and pulls up the hood of his cloak. He flicks the cart horse's reigns, clicking his tongue and guiding the little procession out of the city. There are no guards on the walls, which strikes Mordred as very, very strange, but then he sees the scarlet cloaks of the knights, and realizes that the Round Table guards the city this night.

Each one gives him a salute as they pass, even though they should not be able to tell who it is, between the dark hoods and the darker night.

It makes his throat tight with love for these men who have made him one of their own and call him Brother.

They go through the woods for a while, and Mordred can't bring himself to ask why or where they're going. There are tiny golden lights dancing in the forest all around them, and there's a familiar melody dancing through the air. It's a Druid song, one of loss and mourning. The young knight can see the faint outlines of his people lining the path, singing softly to honor one of their own.

It should seem ridiculously dangerous, doing this so close to the heart of Camelot, but somehow Mordred knows that Emrys will not allow anything to happen to them this night.

At long last, they reach a lake, and by the moonlight it is beautiful. There are misty mountains rising beyond it, and the water itself looks as though it is made of pure silver.

A small boat rests on the shore.

Merlin brings the horses to a halt and dismounts.

"Come on," he says softly, and realization hits Mordred like a lightning bolt.

This is where Merlin—where Emrys—laid Freya to rest.

He is offering Kara the same honor.

He absolutely cannot speak, so he just bows his head in a completely inadequate expression of his gratitude. Merlin gently clasps his shoulder and doesn't say anything, either.

The warlock lifts Kara into the boat the same way he put her in the cart, and the entire craft has been filled with beautiful flowers and soft ferns.

Kara looks like a Queen.

Mordred kisses her forehead one last time.

Emrys' eyes flash, and the boat begins to sail into the lake. He looks questioningly at Mordred, but the younger boy shakes his head frantically.

"I can't," he chokes out, and Emrys turns him away from the water, gently pressing his face into his shoulder. He feels Emrys' right arm lift, hears the low, "Forbaernen," and knows that fire is raging on the lake again.

He can't quite bring himself to look.

They stay there a long time, the Druid Boy and the Warlock.

They both weep.

For a Broken Girl with the soul of a Bastet, and a Bastet with the soul of a Broken Girl.

Merlin keeps his promise.

Mordred is never alone again.

(Emrys isn't, either.)

And this is what I wish had happened. I've always loved the AU's where Merlin decides to change Destiny, because come on! He's EMRYS. If he can't alter it, nobody can. So yeah.

Also, the part where Merlin says, "Damn Destiny," THIS IS NOT CASUAL PROFANITY. He means it quite literally.

So yeah! I hope you enjoyed, and this will have a second chapter coming out in the next couple of days. It's already mostly written, so by Thursday, I would think.

Thank you all again for being so patient with me over the last week!

Love you all so much!