Chapter Text
Mordred had never been assigned to a mission like this one before. The increased security meant that there were extra teams guarding places that normally would be left alone. Mordred’s team was responsible for watching the citizens exiting Camelot from a distance. There position was well picked. Far enough from the road that they were not immediately visible, and on high enough ground to have a good vantage point of everyone leaving. Mordred absentmindedly thought that this would be a great vantage point for thieves, but what the knights were doing here was beyond him. Surely the guards that were always perched atop Camelot could see all that they could and more.
Regardless, Mordred was happy with the bit of boredom. Being outside the walls of Camelot in the beauty of nature did a lot for his anxiety. His father had always said that the spirits of nature would protect you if you let them, though Mordred was unsure if they’d have anything to do with him now.
Mordred wasn’t alone in his feelings. The other knights were quite carefree as well, happily enjoying the afternoon sun. Only Gwaine and Elyan seemed on edge, frequently quieting them when they were too loud, keeping a close eye on the front gate, and regularly glancing at the top of the walls. Mordred didn’t think anything of it. They were part of Arthur’s inner circle, it was their job to be the good ones.
Mordred was absentmindedly making a flower wreath when Gwaine and Elyan gasped and hurriedly quieted everyone. At first Mordred couldn’t see what they were so excited about, but then he noticed that the Camelot flag, which usually was at the top of its pole, had been lowered to half mast. Mordred wasn’t sure what this meant, but apparently it was important.
Gwaine and Elyan had begun swiftly talking amongst each other, their faces even more grave than they had been before. Gwaine set off. Where he was going, Mordred did not know, but his attention was taken by Elyan.
“Men, see that black-haired girl walking with a limp.” Mordred looked down and easily spotted her. Her hair trailed down her back and she was indeed limping quite badly.
“We are quite sure that she is the one responsible for setting fire to the tavern.”
Mordred’s jaw dropped. He was shocked. “But, but I thought that the arsonist was a blonde women? Middle-aged?”
“I don’t have time to explain the full picture right now, but the public was told that in order to throw off the true criminal. But believe me, this woman was the culprit of both this and the torture of Sir Ranulf.”
Gasps sounded across the air. No. It couldn’t be.
“We suspect that she will be going to a specific grove to pick an herb. We will follow her quietly, and apprehend her once she’s alone and out of reach of Camelot. The King wants her alive. Let’s go.”
The serious expressions that had been on Elyan and Gwaine’s faces had now traveled to everyone’s. But Mordred’s hands were shaking with fright. This could not be happening.
Mordred haplessly followed the other knights along, though he was so faint that he felt as if he could keel over at any minute. A myriad of thoughts were flitting through his heads like fish in a lake. Kara had been the one to burn the tavern. That made her a bad person. He was going to help the villains of his childhood capture one of his childhood friend’s. That made him a bad person. Kara had tortured a man and maimed him for life. She deserved death. He was in service to a family that had orchestrated the deaths of hundreds of his brothers and sisters. Who was he to judge anyone?
He was so consumed by his thoughts that he almost missed Elyan signaling for the group to split up. He was using hand signals that Modred should have known, but his brain simply was not functioning. Unfortunately, Sir Evan simply pulled Mordred along with him. Apparently he was in his group. In the back of his head, Mordred realized what they were doing. They were surrounding her. She would be attacked on all sides. Alone. The subject would have no chance.
Somehow Evan knew exactly where to stop and pull Mordred down. He used more of the hand signals that Mordred stored in a part of his brain that he couldn’t seem to access. Should he jump up and warn her? He’d be killed. But then again she’d probably be killed as well. There were too many of them But at least he could die knowing that he wasn’t a traitor. But wasn’t Kara a traitor? Didn’t she deserve death anyway for her crimes?
Mordred crouched down in his hidden position. They were behind a bush. Perfect way to avoid detection. The others were hidden as well. Elyan would give the signal. And then Mordred would have no idea what to do.
A twig snapped. Mordred jumped and may have given them all away had Sir Evan held him down. He gave Mordred a confused look that would have embarrassed Mordred had not been so preoccupied with what was in front of his eyes.
It was Kara. There was no way that Mordred could deny that it was her anymore. She winced with every step that she took, and he could see the bandages that he’d brought her wrapped around her leg. She was very wounded, but her face was determined.
Sir Evan’s face smirked as he looked her over and he clenched his sword. The nightmare was closing in around Mordred. The announcement would come any second.
“Kara!” Mordred desperately called.
Kara looked around in confusion before tripping on a rock. Her cry rang out through the empty woods. She hobbled over to a nearby log and sat down. Perhaps she was going to apply something to her leg, but Mordred never found out.
A whistle rang out through the air and all of the knights jumped from their hiding places. Within seconds Kara was surrounded by knights with their swords drawn. Mordred couldn’t bring himself to look at her face. He hid behind the formidable Sir Lockly and listened to what was going on.
“We know what you’ve done,” said Sir Elyan. His voice was low and hard. “We have you surrounded. You can come quietly and no more harm will come to you.”
Kara chuckled mirthlessly, but said nothing. Mordred could hear something empty in her tone.
“You harmed one of our own and set fire to a tavern,” said Sir Elyan. “Do you even care that you harmed so many people?”
Another voice in the crowd scoffed. “She doesn’t care, she’s a witch,” said Sir Thomas.
This comment apparently was enough to set Kara off. Mordred heard her lunge forward. Unfortunately it meant little. He heard her cry out and pain and then saw her be thrown to the ground.
Her face was in even more pain than Mordred had seen it in earlier, but it grew even more hurt when she rose her head and saw Mordred. She was surprised briefly, but then her eyes grew dark and closed off.
Sir Thomas kicked Kara’s stomach, causing her to cry out. He slammed his foot down on her hurt leg and she screamed. Mordred felt like he was going to cry. Why was he doing this? Why couldn’t they just leave her alone?
“Enough!” roared Elyan, pulling Thomas away from Kara.
“Why?” said Sir Thomas, “She’s a witch. A witch that tortured Ranulf and killed people.”
“And the King will dispense her justice, not your foot,” said Elyan sternly. Sir Thomas snarled at Kara, but stopped attacking her. Physically at least.
“You won’t get away with all that you’ve done bitch. Will your dark goddess give a shit about you when we burn you from the stake?” The other knights laughed and jeered, too caught up with their victory to see the tear dripping down Mordred’s face.
“Tie her up,” said Sir Elyan, “This is over.”
Kara said nothing as a knight bound her hand and feet. She didn’t even look at Mordred. She kept her eyes to the ground as she was dragged back to Camelot. She always had been stubborn. Mordred could remember when they had been children and she'd stumbled around cut foot until one of the elders held her down to wrap it. Was she really so far away from that child? She could change couldn’t she? Why did she have to die? But then he would think of the people who had died because of her and his resolve would falter.
As she was walked through the streets of Camelot, the people could tell that something was wrong. Being escorted to the castle bound and surrounded by knights was never a good look. It didn’t help that Kara bared her teeth at everyone who dared to look her in the eye.
The castle itself wasn’t all that different. The servants looked at her with caution and fear, Mordred knew that people would put the pieces together too. And then the whole city would be calling for her head.
Eventually Kara was passed over to the prison guards who escorted her down to the dungeons. Mordred could still remember the dungeons from when he had stayed in them so long ago. He could still remember how dark it was, and how draining and weak the very stones made you feel. Kara would suffer down their, especially with her leg. Mordred had at least gotten some medical assistance. Apparently Kara was not deemed worthy of that.
The other men wanted to go down to a tavern. They invited Mordred along and somehow he ended up there too. But Mordred couldn’t eat. The pit of his stomach was churning and far too badly. So he skipped the food and went straight to the ale.
He had to find a solution, doing nothing was out of the picture. For all that Kara had done, he couldn’t let her burn. Not while those who had burned their village walked freely. He needed help…
Emrys! He could ask Emrys. Where was he? He’d forgotten. The physician’s chambers!
Mordred left the tavern and began walking to the physician’s quarters. It had become dark, and he had a bit of trouble navigating around the city. He tripped at least three times, and managed to run straight into walls four others. But somehow he found himself in the castle. Now where were the physician’s quarters? Mordred pulled his way through the hallways looking for it. He had been there before, why couldn’t he find it now.
Finally he managed to stumble into the infirmary. The physician was out, but Mordred remembered that Emrys was in the room on top of the stairs.
Mordred tripped another few times on his way up the stairs. When had walking become so difficult? But when he finally reached the top pushed opened the door he saw that Emrys was asleep on his bed.
Oh yeah, Emrys couldn’t help him.
There were chairs by Emrys’ bed. Why they were there, Mordred couldn’t remember, but he plopped himself down in one and stared at Emrys.
It was not a particularly interesting sight. The man appeared to be simply asleep, his chest rising and falling slowly. Even so, Mordred could feel the bright aura of the man leeching from him. Mordred had always been sensitive to auras. Everyone had one, magic or not. Kara’s had been spunky and temperamental as a child, but never malicious.
He could feel malice in her now.
But how could she not? How could anyone not feel malice to the men responsible for destroying their culture? For uprooting their lives? For turning upstanding, moral men and women into criminals for no reason being their birth!
Mordred chuckled to himself. The exception was seated right in front of him. Emrys was truly that only sorcerer that Mordred had never felt any malice from. Not towards Uther, or Morgana, or even him. Even as he foiled Morgana’s plots or narrowed his eyes at Mordred from afar he never felt malice. Only a deep sense of duty, and a vague sense of regret.
But Mordred was not as good as Emrys. He had felt malice in his heart. There had been times when he had desired the Pendragons dead, Camelot destroyed, and the ruination of all who had watched as his people suffered. He had tried to follow Emrys’ example and find compassion and love for those who had oppressed them, but now he shook with rage. Mordred could strangle those who had helped bring in Kara. Those who judged her for burning a tavern but praised the knights for burning Druid villages. But then he would have to strangle himself.
Mordred was so caught up in his thoughts that he barely heard the creaking of the door.
“Mordred? I didn’t expect you to be here.”
It was the King.