i can't hear you in the dark.

[disguiser]

WHO? merlin (disguiser) & mordred (dread).
WHAT? set immediately after series 5, episode 9.

[ out of all of arthur's knights (and he has many), ser mordred is often thought of as the most loyal, but merlin knows better.

or — he thought he did.

the future is never set in stone, is what gaius had told him, and as much as merlin would desperately like to believe him, he's seen what becomes of arthur and of mordred's loyalty, a vision he can't scrub from his mind no matter how hard he tries. so despite everything, despite mordred proving himself time and time again to be a fierce and true ally of camelot, merlin cannot trust him.

he just. can't.

guinevere has been saved, recovered from the dark binds of morgana's magic, and where merlin should feel relief, he feels only worry. their return to camelot would take a day and a half's journey, and the four of them made camp shortly before night fell to rest, with arthur announcing that they'd pick up again at first light. they gathered around the campfire in silence, arthur sitting with gwen and modred taking his place by merlin's side.

and when mordred's hand brushed merlin's as he sat, igniting a ripple of electric heat through his fingers and arm, merlin cast him a long sideways glance and was greeted only with a soft, familiar smile.

merlin has never found a smile so alarming.

eventually, gwen and arthur retire for the night, curled up on a bedroll together, sleeping as soundly as they've ever slept. merlin chews anxiously at his lip and watches them for longer than he should, poking at the fire with a long branch before dropping it to smooth his palms down his thighs. ]

Why'd you come? [ the question is sudden and abrupt, almost accusatory in tone, and again, merlin shifts to glance at mordred. ] You shouldn't have.

Comments

[disguiser]

[ honesty is too hard, too rough and raw and painful, when merlin has spent so long hiding the truth from everyone. there's too much at stake, too much that could be lost, too much that he's worked so hard for, and he could destroy everything he's built not because he's a liar but because he foolishly wishes he didn't have to be.

and then there's mordred, who digs deep past merlin's chest with a single look and a single thought, mordred who should have never lived at all. mordred who knows of merlin's dishonesty and says nothing, mordred who fiercely guards his secrets and asks nothing in return.

he could lose himself in him, and it would be good and right and wrong and poison, poison, poison.

mordred's voice is an anchor in his head, grounding him back to reality even as his heart beats frantically in his chest. his breath catches once and then again, and merlin recoils entirely to keep the panic bubbling in his throat from surfacing.

he draws his knees to his chest and closes his eyes as he draws his scarf over his mouth with quivering fingers. his lips burn from their kiss, a tingling hot reminder of what he's done, and with his scarf hiding half his face from view, he draws his bottom lip into his mouth and sucks to rid himself of mordred's taste (or to taste him all over again). ]

I don't hate you. [ even now, speaking with mordred like this feels uncomfortable and intimate, but he doesn't trust himself to speak aloud with his chest still heaving. ]

[dread]

[ time seems to slow, crawling at a surreal pace until merlin's breath stutters between them and motion rushes back into order, the fire crackling abrupt and loud next to them. he is certain he can hear the uneven thump of merlin's heart when he pulls away and mordred lets him go, letting his own hands fall and hang oddly before pulling them back, glancing away as his palms graze his knees.

he feels calm and unsteady all at once, mistaken in his assumption that drawing out a reaction from merlin would make him feel any different than the short glares and sharp words. waiting until he can breathe without his chest aching, he shifts to sit facing the fire, looking away altogether. merlin looks injured and part of mordred is glad, something sick and tight in the back of his throat feeling like he's won some small victory.

but it's a fluke, another knot to untangle, no part of him wanting merlin to suffer. his palm tightens against one knee— merlin had been warm under his hand and it surprises him now, he had expected him to be cold, slippery and icy to the touch.

another lie, he thinks, to himself. it has been a long time since mordred has spoken with anyone like this and it's almost startling to hear merlin in his head, drudging up memories that make his knees twitch. he blinks against the warmth of the fire but doesn't respond immediately, unsure if the heat at his face is from the flame or from the phantom pressure at the back of his head where merlin's hand had curled into his hair.

he glances over to where the king and queen rest, not needing the quiet snores filtering in between the fire popping to know they're still asleep. watching the dark sprawl of them, he wonders how the king factors into this, what about arthur makes merlin this way. training the emotion from his face, he glances back to merlin, gaze lifting from the tight line of his mouth to his eyes, a slow shift that's intentional enough. ]

Don't you? [ his eyebrows twitch instead or asking why keep lying; the only slip in his expression. ]

[disguiser]

[ the look merlin shoots mordred in response is only mildly derisive, and he follows it quickly with a crooked smile as he lets his scarf fall away from his face. ]

I don't.

[ and that's a truth, the truth, that merlin cannot lie about. he doesn't trust mordred, no, not in camelot or by arthur's side, but if merlin cannot even find the will to hate morgana who's caused him so much grief and suffering, how could he hate mordred who's done nothing but aid him to the best of his ability?

merlin stares into the fire, and then at arthur and gwen, to keep from meeting mordred's eyes or looking at his kiss-bruised mouth. ]

Thank you — for what you did today. [ his voice sounds too loud in the nighttime silence, but he prefers speaking aloud to speaking in mordred's head. ] If you hadn't come when you did . . .

[ well, they'd be in a bad way.

caught between shame and guilt and a heavy sense of failure, merlin swallows the rest of that sentence and tosses a pebble into the flames. ]

[dread]

[ mordred does not respond, looking away without reason to contest merlin's words, making no effort to search for the truth that is too hidden to surface, accepting it for what it is.

the silence is somehow less tense now, nowhere close to relaxed but lacking the barbed jabs and slanted looks from merlin, his words sounding almost natural and not punched out of him. mordred notices— of course he notices, how merlin's eyes darken when arthur speaks to him, the open scoff when the king had praised his timing earlier, his foresight to follow after them.

it bothers merlin. and there's no doubt if gwaine, if leon— if anyone else had pieced the odd bits of behavior together and shown up instead, merlin would of been easy smiles and gratitude, however reluctant.

he prefers to hear merlin's voice aloud, the realization surprises him and then it doesn't— it has been a very long time since they've spoken this way and the memories that surfaced hadn't been pleasant. nodding, his mouth quirks at one corner, a self conscious smile. he does not repeat what he wants to say, that he had only been doing his duty, what he swore to do to the best of his ability, but the sentiment is appreciated.

glancing up after another stretch of silence, he scans the stars before allowing himself to look at merlin again, his mouth twitching wordlessly before pulling himself up to crouch in front of the fire, tossing in a few more makeshift logs. ] You should sleep, Merlin. It will be light soon.

[disguiser]

[ however wrong merlin's feelings may be, some selfish, lonely part of him wants to reach out and pull mordred back to him when he shifts to crouch by the fire. he can't see his face like this; all he can see is the shadow of his profile and the familiar way his mouth quirks slightly at the corner in a smile that's both infuriating and thrilling.

he feels cold again, even with the heat of the crackling fire.

despite mordred's soft suggestion, merlin sits in silence for a long moment. he stares wordlessly at mordred's back and chews nervously on the pad of his thumb, before he drops his hand to his lap. ]

Right, then. [ slowly, he stands, wincing when his joints pop and crack as he extends each limb. mordred hovers still and silent by the fire, the flames casting orange shadows across his face, and from this angle, merlin can properly see him again.

he still wants to kiss him (and kiss him and kiss him until he can't breathe, until mordred groans in that way he had before), but he settles instead for brushing his fingers across his shoulder to draw his attention back to him. ]

You've done well, Mordred. [ the praise feels dull and hollow and useless, but merlin feels compelled to speak it all the same. ] I'm sorry I've never said so.

[dread]

[ the fire rises with renewed strength but mordred makes no move to sit back down, lingering a little too close to the flame but without the urge to lift his hands into the fire to watch the heat dance around the magic barrier between his skin and agony, not even bothering to recall the words to the spell any longer.

he knows merlin is watching him but he tries to train his thoughts away from him, the way merlin's nails had felt against his scalp, the skinny bone of his wrist between his fingers, the surprising warmth of his mouth and the sound that had been pressed past his own lips, something still echoing vaguely in the back of his mind.

his face flushes and he can blame the fire again but he doesn't bother, head bowing forward to stare hard at the rocks surrounding the sloppily made campfire when he hears merlin shift and stand up.

merlin creeps back into his vision and he cannot help but sneak a glance from the corner of his eye. another crooked smile threatens his mouth but he licks it away, glancing up at him only after he's finished speaking.

mordred's gaze lingers, looking over his face carefully in the warm flicker of light, not searching for truth this time. he thinks about the king he's sworn to protect, tucked in tight with guinevere's body close— and he's envious for a moment, wanting merlin to drape his arms around him, wanting that meager warmth far more than what the fire will offer him while he keeps watch.

but he believes merlin and it offers a warmth of another kind. crossing one arm across his chest, he presses his palm to the hand that grazed his shoulder, pushing down against his fingers before dropping the touch just as quickly. he smiles, less crooked. ] Sleep well, Merlin.