Author's note: This story is dedicated to Jillcb, who wanted a positive Mordred story. Thank you to Wil1969 for the beautiful cover, and thank you to the totally awesome caldera32 for help and advice :)

The party from Camelot entered the cave, and Merlin was seized by a sense of foreboding. He had warned the king that the place was sacred, but Arthur had refused to listen. He had argued the point, claiming that he had been here before and knew the area well. Yet something was wrong. As Arthur stepped forward to face the Disir, asking why they sought to judge him, Merlin watched the scene in a haze, until he felt his head would explode. He could sense only dark magic all around him. The irony, the inconsistency of it screamed at him. How could the Disir condemn Arthur so quickly, when they had permitted Uther to reign unchallenged for over twenty years? Why hadn't they attacked the previous king? Arthur had been right all along. It was nonsense. Merlin blamed himself for being so gullible as to fall for it. Not only he, but Gaius and Kilgharrah too.

"We do not judge."

"We do not condemn."

The contradictory words, delivered in a cruel monotone, penetrated Merlin's thoughts and raised his anger to boiling point. He reminded himself of what Gaius had said about the Disir.

"I didn't know they still existed until yesterday."

Except, of course, they didn't. Uther would have destroyed them long ago during the purge. No deity was present here, and these women were not who they claimed to be. They were no more than disaffected witches with an elaborate plan, and Arthur had walked headlong into a trap. Merlin's first thought was to get all his friends out, but it was already too late. Gwaine, as impetuous as ever, tried to silence the women, causing one of them to launch her staff at Arthur in retaliation. Mordred bravely threw himself in the path of the missile, saving the king's life, but was badly wounded as a result.

"On me!" Arthur shouted, beating a retreat, and the rest of the group followed him out of the cave. All except Merlin, who easily deflected the second staff launched in his direction, and in a blaze of fury, turned to confront the women. Shock made them lift their heads and show their eyes for the first time, but he saw no sign of recognition in them.

"Do you think your paltry magic can trouble me?" he raged. You have defiled this sacred place, and two men have died needlessly in furtherance of your wicked plot."

They looked venomous but failed to answer his accusation.

"I see no light of the goddess in you," he said. "You are imposters, and you thought to manipulate a young and inexperienced king, and bend him to your will by use of this sordid trick." His expression darkened, and his voice was low and minatory. "I will spare your lives this time, but I must warn you that any repeat of these actions will prove fatal."

They hissed as one and released their spells in his direction. He batted them away as easily as flies and addressed the women again.

"Leave this place, return the runemark, and go back to your homes. Magic will be restored to these lands without any help or intervention from you."

At this, they dropped their act, and asked, "By whom?"

"A true scion of the goddess would know me," he replied. A Kilgharrism, if ever there was one, he thought to himself. The dragon would be proud of me. His self congratulations were brought abruptly to a halt as he turned to leave and found himself face to face with the king, who stood open mouthed and wide eyed in shock. Having realized the servant was not with them and fearing he could be in danger, he had returned and witnessed everything.

"A true scion of the goddess would know me," Arthur repeated. "You have some explaining to do," he said in a grim tone as Merlin rushed past him and out of the cave.

"Later," the servant replied distractedly. He had gone into shock too, but a glance at Arthur would have warned him that it was a mistake to brush the king aside in this fashion.

Merlin ran to the others. "We must leave this place immediately. It's not safe here. Bring Mordred as carefully as you can." He led the way, concerned only to escape from the dark magic that pursued them. The grove should have been an enchanting and life-affirming place, but it had been poisoned by the malevolence of the women. Their impossible demands and harsh pronouncements plagued his thoughts, and he tried hard to shake them off. When he felt the evil influence had waned, he stopped and said, "We can make camp here." He knew he needed to examine Mordred as soon as possible. Sir Percival laid the druid boy gently on the ground, and Merlin knelt by his side. It didn't take long to determine the extent of his injuries.

"Well?" Arthur said. His concern for the young man overtook all his other emotions.

"I'm sorry," Merlin replied. "It's not a simple wound. There is sorcery involved."

"So; heal him," the king said gratingly. "You can, can't you?"

Merlin didn't answer for some time, aware that he held the lives of two men in his hands. The king's eyes bored into him, and as he stared into their stormy depths, he felt the weight of his destiny crushing him. What should he do? The nightmare vision beset him again - Mordred striking, and Arthur falling, mortally wounded, at his assailant's feet. At all costs, he must stop that happening, even if it meant allowing the young knight to die. After all, he was an adult now, and it was time to leave the innocence of youth behind him and to shoulder his responsibilities, however onerous they might be. His duty to Arthur and the kingdom must always come first. However, Arthur knew his secret now, and seemed to have taken it more calmly than Merlin could have hoped for. A little voice warned him that the reckoning was merely delayed, but he couldn't focus on that now, not when so much was at stake. More to the point, after what he had witnessed, would Merlin be able to convince the king that it was beyond his powers to heal Mordred? He had to; it wasn't only for the future of the kingdom. Merlin admitted to himself that he couldn't contemplate a future without Arthur. He simply couldn't bear to lose him. Kilgharrah's deadly warning came back to haunt him yet again.

Kilgharrah. He had always believed the dragon to be omniscient, but his error over the Disir proved that he was not infallible. His advice regarding Morgana hadn't turned out too well either. He sometimes showed a ruthlessness and lack of compassion, which troubled the warlock greatly. Merlin knew he must find a better way, one that did not involve the killing of a blameless young man. Arthur had vowed to make his own path, and he had been right about the Disir. Surely, Merlin could also free himself from superstition and take control of his own destiny?

Deliberately putting the vision and Kilgharrah's advice to one side, he considered carefully what he knew about Mordred. He was a likeable young man, hardworking and eager to please, similar to how Merlin himself had once been on his arrival in Camelot. They had so much in common, after all. They had both been forced to live a lie and hide who they truly were, with the result that they both craved acceptance. The boy was also desperate to befriend Merlin, and had shown solidarity with him at Osgar's grave. The poignant words cast a deep shadow over him. "Unmarked in death as in life." Merlin felt an overwhelming guilt, as he recognized he had not done enough to change that situation. However, it wasn't too late, and he resolved to make amends. It would take courage and resilience, but it could be done. He would heal the boy and extend the hand of friendship to him. Perhaps they could work together to avert the terrible destiny. In the end, there was only one right thing to do, and his long deliberations culminated in a single word. "Yes."

He said no more, but turned his attention to his patient. He laid the wound bare and placed his hands above it. He recited an incantation under his breath, and a stream of shimmering golden light entered the wound. Mordred lay still for a moment, but then his body convulsed, as Merlin's healing magic encountered resistance from the poison within. For a while, the young boy's life seemed to hang in the balance, and the watching knights were so anguished they could not tear their gaze away. At last, the dark magic was expelled from Mordred's body, the black vapour pouring through his orifices and disappearing into the ether. The wound was completely healed, and the knight began to regain his normal colour.

Merlin turned to the others. "He's fallen into a deep sleep. He'll still need to rest, but he should be fine now," he told them.

No one was sure what to say, and there was an awkward silence, eventually broken by Gwaine.

"Merlin, mate, that was the most amazing thing I've ever seen," he said, awe and wonder in his voice.

The reverential tone infuriated Arthur. Mordred was out of danger, allowing Arthur's feelings of hurt and betrayal to come flooding back, and his anger erupted in a desire for revenge.

"Right, now that's over, on your feet!" he said brusquely, poking his sword at Merlin's back.

The servant turned his head, surprised. "I beg your pardon?" he said.

"You heard. Stand up. Now!" Merlin stood up slowly.

"Good. That's right. Turn around and face me." As the warlock did so, he placed his swordpoint at Merlin's chest. " Now walk."

"Backwards?" the warlock quavered, wondering just what it was that Arthur intended to do with him. The king didn't deign to answer, instead forcing the servant in the direction he wished to go.

"Arthur, I can explain," he began in a pleading tone.

"Oh, now you want to explain," the king returned grimly. " It can wait."

He tried again. "Arthur, I..."

"Shut up, Merlin." The king's eyes were hard and bright, and the warlock was compelled to keep moving inexorably.

Merlin looked over his shoulder and was dismayed to find himself nearing the edge of a precipice. Panic set in. "Arthur, please stop," he implored. " I'm sorry I lied to you, but I can explain everything."

"Not to my satisfaction, you can't." The king was unyielding in his determination, and Merlin was impelled relentlessly backwards, step by step, until he hovered right on the edge. He trembled, not daring to look down into the abyss. He couldn't speak, but his eyes sought Arthur's, begging for mercy.

"Goodbye, Merlin." The king flipped the sword, and with a wolfish grin, he pushed the warlock over.