Okay, so I know I said Thursday, but...yeah, that didn't happen. Sorry?

Anyway, here is chapter two! I was gonna make it longer, but I hit a block, so if you guys have any idea on what to do next, shoot me a review/PM! I would love to hear your ideas!

DISCLAIMER: Not a single person.

WARNINGS: None for this chapter.

SPOILERS: This is so AU that I don't really think it matters at this point.

Enjoy!

And It Made All The Difference

Camlann goes much different than the prophecies suggested.

Morgana is furious that Mordred wouldn't betray Arthur, and she isn't shy about letting everyone know.

Mordred winds up having to use his magic to protect Arthur from one of Morgana's spells, and the King looks like someone's just slapped him across the face with a dead fish.

"You have magic!" he finally shouts, and Mordred resists the urge to roll his eyes.

"Arthur, I'm a Druid," he reminds him. "You knew that when you knighted me."

The King visibly shakes it off. "Yes, but you have—you know what? Not important right now. We can talk about this later."

They force Morgana's men into a retreat, and Mordred looks around. "Where's Merlin?" he asks, dread flooding his heart.

Arthur looks around himself and goes terribly pale.

"Merlin?" he shouts. "Merlin!"

Emrys! Mordred calls. Where are you?

Sorry! Merlin's voice filters through, and Mordred almost collapses with relief. Sorry. Have a—a dragon to—bloody hell, Aithusa, hold still!—a dragon to heal. She's got a cut on her leg and is being a bit—what are you doing?!—she's a bit wiggly!

Mordred shakes his head, lips twitching as he fights his laughter.

"Gwaine!" Arthur calls sharply. "You and Percival take the Eastern Ridge. Leon, take a patrol and search the valley. Mordred, you're with me—we'll take the Western Ridge. Let's find that bloody idiot so I can rip him a new one for vanishing like that." The King's mouth is pressed into a thin line, and his eyes are dark. "Morgana's army will regroup before long—not to mention she's got that blasted dragon at her beck and call. Move out!"

You might want to come back down for a while, Mordred tells Emrys as the Knights start off in their assigned directions. Arthur's getting concerned. Wouldn't want a search party stumbling across King Arthur's manservant wrangling a dragon, now would we?

There's a moment where Mordred can almost see Merlin's eyebrow going up in that way that only Gaius could ever hope to match, followed by a long sigh.

Fine. I'll—ouch! You did not just bite me! I am your Dragonlord!

Emrys…

Right, right. On my way!

A few moments later, Merlin comes skidding down the canyon walls, raising a cloud of dust.

"Sorry!" he calls. "Sorry. I'm here!"

"Merlin!" Arthur jogs over and grabs him by the shoulders, shaking him. "Where've you been, you bloody idiot?!"

"Well, there's no need to be rude, you prat," Merlin replies indignantly, and Mordred can see smiles matching his own spreading across the faces of the Knights. "I was distracting the dragon. It flew off that way," he points back towards Morgana's army.

Arthur gapes at him. "Just when I think you've reached the epitome of stupidity," he says in wonder, "you go and do something like this."

Merlin grins, and Arthur slaps him on the back of the head and berates him all the way back to camp.

The next day of battle is long, but Morgana's men are finding it almost impossible to kill Camelot's men—Emrys' wards are not so easily bypassed by mortal weapons.

Morgana is growing increasingly frustrated, and the sky is darkening unnaturally.

Merlin keeps shooting nervous looks at the thunderclouds rolling in, which is not reassuring for Mordred at all.

"Why do you keep looking up like that?" he finally asks. The two of them are scouting out the positioning of Morgana's troops up on the ridge, so there's no danger of anyone overhearing.

Merlin glares at the sky one last time before responding. "Because the last time the sky darkened above a High Priestess, I burned her to ashes with a bolt of lightning," he answers grimly.

Mordred's mouth drops open.

Merlin's eyes are dark. "I'm sincerely hoping we can avoid a battle of the elements. But I'm not the one summoning the storm. I've a suspicion that you and I may be discovering new professions as lightning marshals in the very near future." He slips on a rock, but catches it before it can go ricocheting all the way down the slope. "And keeping all the magic away from Arthur is going to be an entirely different adventure."

"Because we'll be standing right next to him," Mordred groans. "He knows about me, but you'll still have to hide it."

"Right," Merlin nods, looking around. "This is as far as Arthur wanted us to go…we should probably head back now. We've been gone awhile, and it makes me uneasy to leave the prat without supervision for too long."

Mordred has to laugh.

Neither of them are laughing when they reach the camp and find it absolutely overrun by Saxons.

Oh, for Magic's sake! Merlin hisses, fury glinting golden in his eyes. We've been gone less than a half hour!

Mordred gives a quiet sigh. She's baiting you. She wants to know who Emrys is, and she'll do anything to find out.

Merlin's eyes are frozen with rage, and it's a strangely relieving thing to know that for once, Mordred is protected behind those walls of ice, and the wintry storm of wrath is directed at someone else.

If it is her doom that she seeks, then she has found it.

He stands and walks straight past the guards. Magic warps the air around him, and none of them see him. Mordred hurries after him, but though the guards can see him, they do not stop him.

Which is disconcerting, to say the least.

Why are they letting me by?

Because Morgana believes that you can still be turned, is Emrys' completely un-reassuring response.

Oh. Mordred swallows hard as two sentries pull back the flap to Arthur's tent. The Knights of the Round Table, the Queen, and the King are all on their knees, each with a sword at their throat. Morgana sits upon Arthur's throne, and her eyes are burning.

Distract her. Emrys moves towards the throne, and Mordred steps into the tent.

"What are you doing, Morgana?" he demands quietly.

Every head in the room snaps round to face him.

"Mordred?!" Arthur demands. "What's goin—"

Morgana jerks a hand, and the guard behind the King presses his blade closer to his throat, forcing him into silence.

"I'm just taking what's always been mine," Morgana answers him, eyes never leaving his.

"That throne does not belong to you," he says. "It belongs to the King."

Morgana's face twists with anger before she smooths it out again. "That is an interesting statement," she purrs. "Especially coming from you. Quite brave of you, really, to be wearing those colors."

"Why?" Mordred raises his eyebrow. "Because I'm a sorcerer?"

Morgana's eyes widen, and she whips around to stare at Arthur, who just gives her a bland look as though he's always known.

"You know that he has magic?!" she demands, fingers twisting around the armrests of the throne.

Arthur nods. "He is a Druid," he points out, and Morgana flies from her chair with a snarl.

"Then by the laws of your father, he must die," she snaps.

Arthur shrugs as well as he's able. "Those laws are actually quite old. Might be time for a bit of renovation, don't you think?"

She gapes at him before she unleashes a deadly explosion of magic with a wrathful scream.

Mordred desperately throws up a shimmering gold barrier around the others, but it's not strong enough—at least, not until Emrys adds his own Magic to the mix. Morgana's magic bounces straight off and into her own men.

When the storm is over, the Knights, Royals, and Emrys are the only ones other than Morgana left standing.

She is staring at Mordred with a terrifying little smile on her face.

"You're strong, Mordred," she says softly. "But you're not that strong. There's someone else here, someone who helped you."

Mordred balks. What do you want me to tell her?

Tell her my name. Emrys is standing behind the throne now.

Mordred nods to the witch. "I am not alone," he agrees. "The savior of Camelot stands beside me."

Morgana clenches her fists, but she cannot conceal the terror in her eyes. "Say his name," she hisses.

The Druid Boy raises his head and lets his loyalty burn in his eyes. "Emrys," he snaps.

Arthur shakes his head. "Savior of…what?"

"Emrys is here?!" Percival almost shouts.

"Who's Emrys?" Gwen asks, looking so confused.

"Emrys," Morgana says, "is a traitor to our kind. He protects the Pendragons against those of us who would fight to be free! He even protected Uther from countless magical attacks. He betrayed us all!"

"That would be you," Mordred snaps back. "You betrayed us the moment you raised your hand against the Once and Future King."

Morgana screams. "Magic is still outlawed! He is no better than his father!"

"I'm still alive, aren't I?!" Mordred shoots back. "And he smuggled me out of Camelot as a child, right beneath his father's nose!"

"I did, didn't I?" Arthur looks kind of surprised. "I'd actually forgotten about that."

Mordred looks over to him. "You're taking all this rather well," he says cautiously.

Arthur shrugs, but his eyes are dark with thoughts. "Well, many years ago when I went to retrieve an antidote for a poison Merlin took for me—it's a long story, so don't ask—I was trapped in a cave. It was utterly dark, and there were creatures all around me, hunting me. Someone sent me a light—a literal light, of pure silver and blue—and guided me out. And honestly, the sheer number of times that Camelot has survived some sort of magical plague or creature or whatever…there's no way we made it through all of that without help."

"Yes," Morgana is trembling with fury. "Emrys saved you and your wretched father and your filthy city over and over and over and over and I want to know why!"

"Then why don't you ask him?" Mordred asks impulsively.

Morgana turns to face him. "Because I don't know where he is," she says shortly.

"Wrong."

Every head in the tent turns to see Merlin releasing his hold on the Magic and stepping out from behind the throne.

Morgana's eyes fill with even more hate. "Merlin," she spits. "Come to poison me again?"

Merlin shrugs. "Well, the entirety of the Kingdom hasn't been cursed with a sleeping spell that's anchored to your life force, so I don't think so."

Arthur is turning whiter by the minute, and the Knights look like they don't know what to do.

Magic is gathering in Morgana's hands. "Too long," she says softly, "have you foiled me. No more. Your life ends tonight."

Merlin gives her a cold smile. "And what makes you think this attempt will end any differently from any other that you've made over the years?"

Morgana snarls. "Because I intend to finish the job myself!" She hurls the orb of pure magic, and Merlin catches it like a ball.

Morgana freezes. "What is this?" she whispers.

Arthur goes very white and very still.

Gwen gasps, and Gwaine and Percival shoot nervous looks at Arthur. Leon is just staring with his mouth open.

Mordred smiles. "You look surprised, Morgana."

"Are you telling me that Merlin has had magic all along?" she shouts.

Merlin twirls the magic through his fingers. "You've almost got it, Morgana, but you're a little off on the name."

She turns to stare at him.

His eyes look dead above his cold smile. "The Druids call me Emrys."

Her face goes very, very still for a long moment before she screams in fear and staggers backwards.

"No!" she howls, and then fury shines in her eyes beside the fear and she slings a dagger at Arthur.

Merlin appears in front of the king and catches it long before it reaches him. "No longer will I stand in the shadows, Morgana," he says, soft and cold. "You have challenged my king, threatened my family, and killed the loved ones of my friends and brothers. Emrys will stand by no longer. You wanted me. You have found me. What, exactly, are you going to do now?"

Ha ha. Ha ha. Ha ha.

Morgana, you absolute moron.

Anyway! Like I said, I have hit a total brick wall on this thing, so if you guys have a specific direction you want this to go in, you gotta let me know!

I love you guys, and I hope I'll be able to publish a lot more this summer!

Till next time!