Late chapter is really extraordinarily late and also really short. Real life has not been kind to me, and writing hasn't been coming easy. But, the year is not yet out and I really do want to see this story through to the end. So please accept this small interlude on the emotions of our favourite magic users.

Merlin had taken the opportunity of the scramble towards the ruined hall doors to leave via one of the serving doors. The door shut behind him and he leant against the stone beside it. There was a tremor in his limbs and a strange numbness to his thoughts. What had just happened?

"-erlin. Merlin!"

Merlin came back to himself with a start, Gwen's worried features coming into focus before him. There were tears shining in her eyes and upon seeing Merlin focused she threw her arms around his neck. Merlin hugged her back just as tightly, ignoring the chill of her tears on his neck, as she would ignore the dampness on her hair.

Neither of them wanted to believe what had just taken place, but it was hard to ignore the truth in their shaken states. That Arthur had raised a hand in violence to Merlin.

They had known their King was changing. They had recognised that they would have to occupy different spaces in his life than they had previously. They had begun the process of accepting the new distance in their relationships. But they had done all this under the belief that the King they served was still the same Arthur they had loved for years.

An Arthur of boyish charm, and an innate kindness that saw him appreciating the efforts of everyone around him, regardless of their position.

That Arthur seemed like the creature of a dream now.

/-\

Mordred hadn't fled too far, knowing as he did that the first response of the guard would be to head for the obvious exits and then turn their search inwards when they found no sign of him leaving the castle. He turned instead to the nearest serving passages, discovered during a sleepless night and explored through many more. These were most often used only during periods of high traffic in Camelot, when guests were to be entertained and there were too many in the halls for the servants to get their work done efficiently.

He made his way to an exit from the castle, something bitter twisting in his stomach when he realised where he had ended up. The same place from years earlier. When Morgana and Emrys had allowed him to flee rather than take him to Uther.

The thought of Emrys made his breath catch in his throat. He could feel the pain the warlock felt, screaming in his magic, but so carefully contained even when Mordred knew it wanted to hurt. It was difficult to keep his own magic contained, to keep it from responding to Emrys' pain and attempts to comfort the warlock, remind him that he wasn't alone in his hurt. He knew his relationship with Merlin had changed, knew it was better and that Merlin trusted him, that Merlin liked him.

But he was still so terrified.

His life had begun to feel like something from his dreams, filled with friendship and laughter and the smiles of Emrys turned toward him. But all dreams came to an end and Mordred was terrified he had just ended his.