The Warmth
Title: The Warmth
Rating: PG
Warnings/Spoliers: None
Summary: All he ever wants is the warmth and now he has it.
The Warmth
“Mordie! Mummy said to stay in your own bed!” Emrys chides as the boy, Mordred, lifts the covers to his bed, slipping in. Despite his protest Merlin moves over to accommodate Mordred in the small bed. Mordred wriggles closer till his side is pressed against Emrys’s back. Emrys doesn’t object to the touch.
“She’s not my mother,” he whispers, gruffly, “and she’s not yours either,” he reminds.
“I know!” Emrys snaps, shifting away slightly. Mordred turns onto his side, reaching out to drag Emrys against his chest. He knows Emrys likes the woman who parades around as their mother. He knows the other boy silently wishes she had always been his mother. But Mordred can’t help but hate her. He hates the way she tries her best to separate them. She says it isn’t healthy how tightly they have become attached. They aren’t even blood related.
She just doesn’t understand, he thinks nuzzling into the sparse curls at Emrys’s neck, listening to his deepening breathe. They are each other’s past and will be each other’s futures long after this lifetime has ended. The only connection to a world no one believes in any longer. They might have been enemies long ago but Mordred has never hated Emrys. In fact he’s always been in love with him. In love with the powerful legend that had risked his life for a child. Fell in love with the feel of Emrys mind against his, so warm in his frightened state. Now he has the warmth all to himself. The thought triggers a smug smile.
Reaching with his mind, he attentively pushes into Emrys’s mind. He enjoys it when he can’t sleep or when he wants to feel closer to him, sinking into his dreams. Emrys is always dreaming of the past. Subconsciously reliving his days in Camelot. This is how Mordred remembered his own life in Camelot. Seeing it through Emrys’s eyes first, triggering a release in his own mind. He likes it when Emrys dreams of the rare times they hadn’t been fighting and actually got along.
This isn’t one of those times. Inside the dream Mordred watches Emrys go about what is a normal day as Arthur’s manservant. He frowns to himself as the bumbling servant waits on the wreatched prince’s every whim. The prince reaches to snag Emrys by the wrist as he walks past. “Merlin,” he whispers tugging sharply on the appendage. Emrys stumbles, flailing into his lap. The prince laughs amusedly before placing an affectionate kiss on the man’s brow.
Disgusted, Mordred tears through Emrys’s subconscious. Ignoring Emrys’s soft whimpers, Mordred forces Emrys to the future where Arthur is king. To the days where Arthur no longer kisses him with love but directs him into battle with cold calculation and little care for Emrys’s caring soul. To the day Arthur decides he needs a queen not a male lover. Mordred hates Arthur. He can’t understand why Emrys still dreams of happiness when Arthur shattered him. He knows Emrys loved Arthur through it all. He killed Mordred after Mordred killed Arthur.
“I did it for you,” he whispers through their minds as an image of Mordred falling to the ground after Emrys’s final strike appears. Emrys whimpers desperately curling himself into a ball. Taking pity on him, Mordred releases his grip on the boy’s mind. Images of loving Arthur flow in as he slips out. He knows he’ll never be able to have Emrys all to himself. Not when each time he drifts off his mind belongs to Arthur. His only comfort is that he has seen the Arthur in this time. He’s quite a few years older than them and he’s already found Gwen.