Cold Iron - epilogue
Author: archaeologist_d
Title: Cold Iron - epilogue
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/s: none
Character/s: Merlin, Arthur, Balinor, Hunith
Warning: none
Summary: Balinor was a fool trusting that all would be right in the end. For Uther was a tyrant and the prince a naïve boy, and when Balinor saved Camelot, death was to be his reward.
Word Count: 977
Camelot_drabble Prompt: 509 in public
Author's Notes: unbetaed, AU for The Last Dragonlord, also I’ve always been suspicious of how Gaius knew about the crystals around Dagr and Ebor’s necks in the Gwaine episode. He seemed to know a lot about them.
Disclaimer: Merlin characters are the property of Shine and BBC. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
------------------
It worked. No one pursued him, there was no news of a Pendragon sending out bounties on a lone dragonlord and later, when an ornery crow dropped a tiny cylinder onto Balinor’s head, he realised that Merlin had found a way to communicate with him.
Hiding in plain sight, he changed his name to Bryn, something simple, and took up a form of herb medicine, growing them, turning them into pastes and potions for ordinary folk. It paid enough to live on, not to grow rich but he didn’t need to worry about going hungry again. Instead, he settled into the tug and pull of the seasons and just lived as he hadn’t done for two decades.
Once in a while, the temptation to travel to Ealdor was almost too much, but he wasn’t sure of his welcome and he had already caused Hunith enough pain. So he let her be.
One nugget of discontent remained.
Balinor, no matter his new name, was still a dragonlord and that had certain responsibilities. Training his son for his future role, looking for dragon eggs to hatch, protecting dragons still alive although Kilgharrah was a pain up Balinor’s backside.
Kilgharrah had settled into the Feorre mountains near Balinor’s old cave. The old reptile would rage and wheedle to be a part of Merlin’s life, often talking about destiny and Pendragon’s legacy. Sometimes Balinor agreed. Nothing would have made him happier than to hear that Uther had died, slowly, painfully, paying for his crimes. But the dragon also tried to manipulate Merlin into things that weren’t anything but revenge against the Pendragons, Uther and Arthur, much as he might couch it in other terms.
For that reason alone, while he often acted as go-between, Balinor always weighed what Kilgharrah was saying with the consequences of such advice.
It mostly worked.
It was only when he heard that Uther had died, an assassin’s blade piercing his heart, that he considered reaching out to Arthur, to see if he had softened his stance on magic.
Merlin later told him that Arthur had asked for magic to be used to help Uther, and it had worked the first time, but a second assassin completed what the first had started. There had been war after that, Odin’s kingdom conquered but Arthur was magnanimous, executing Odin but allowing the rest of his clan to join Camelot’s noble families.
But more importantly, magic had saved Uther and Arthur knew it.
-------------
Arthur’s coronation was a raucous time of wine and laughter and dancing. Merlin was grinning so widely that Balinor thought it might break the skin, but he couldn’t fault his son for celebrating. Everywhere was the sound of joy and relief, too.
Arthur was going to lighten Camelot’s laws on magic, with perhaps a full repeal if things worked out. The Druids were already talking of alliances and Merlin seemed ablaze with happiness.
Balinor stood in back, watching the proceedings, hesitant to join in for fear of treading on the delicate balance and bringing everything down, much as a house of cards might do.
Merlin pulled him aside, after, and whispered that he’d already told Arthur the truth and while the king was furious, he was also accepting. After all, one can only look aside for so long while magic is performed in plain sight. Arthur had known and not known, and it was only now that he acknowledged the truth about it all.
But Merlin wasn’t done. Pulling Balinor into a side chamber, Merlin talked excitedly about dragons’ eggs found and a quest to bring them back and would Balinor help with the hatching? And more importantly, that Arthur didn’t say no about it.
When Balinor nodded, his head whirling with possibilities, Merlin grinned again, then nodded past Balinor’s shoulder.
As he turned, there she was, dressed simply enough but Hunith had always been the brightest jewel in Balinor’s universe, and she had no need for adornment.
Hunith didn’t look too happy, though, glaring at him. Finally, she said, “Well, what do you have to say for yourself?”
“I-” Balinor started to say, then looked down at his hands, ashamed to meet her gaze.
Crossing her arms across her chest, she snapped, “That’s what I thought. What it with the men in Camelot? You couldn’t ask what I wanted? I only find out now that you’ve been living ten miles from Ealdor. Ten miles, Balinor. Did you think me too lowly for a dragonlord?”
Balinor stepped forward, all instinct and longing. “I am too lowly for you, Always have been. I didn’t think you’d want me back. Hell, look at me, bedraggled and worn down. I have nothing to offer but my heart, and for you, that’s just not enough.”
“Did you ask me, you old fool?” Hunith said. When Balinor stood there, tongue-tied and wanting to rush into her arms but afraid of her rejection, she sighed. “I could just box your ears and send you home without supper. You deserve no less for making me wait this long. But I’ve never been to a coronation nor dancing those fancy royal dances and you are going to escort me out there and we are going to have a good time and then, only then, will you woo me as I should have been years ago.”
“Hunith, I-,” Balinor stumbled to a stop, then when Hunith glared at him hard enough to turn him to ash, he said, “Yes, Hunith.”
“Now, take my arm and escort me properly into the light,” Hunith said, her voice steel-hard but with that hint of velvet underneath.
“Yes, Hunith,” Balinor said again.
As they moved onto the dance floor, he made a proper fool of himself. He didn’t know the dances either, but Hunith was in his arms and that was all that counted.
It was magic.
Title: Cold Iron - epilogue
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/s: none
Character/s: Merlin, Arthur, Balinor, Hunith
Warning: none
Summary: Balinor was a fool trusting that all would be right in the end. For Uther was a tyrant and the prince a naïve boy, and when Balinor saved Camelot, death was to be his reward.
Word Count: 977
Camelot_drabble Prompt: 509 in public
Author's Notes: unbetaed, AU for The Last Dragonlord, also I’ve always been suspicious of how Gaius knew about the crystals around Dagr and Ebor’s necks in the Gwaine episode. He seemed to know a lot about them.
Disclaimer: Merlin characters are the property of Shine and BBC. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
------------------
It worked. No one pursued him, there was no news of a Pendragon sending out bounties on a lone dragonlord and later, when an ornery crow dropped a tiny cylinder onto Balinor’s head, he realised that Merlin had found a way to communicate with him.
Hiding in plain sight, he changed his name to Bryn, something simple, and took up a form of herb medicine, growing them, turning them into pastes and potions for ordinary folk. It paid enough to live on, not to grow rich but he didn’t need to worry about going hungry again. Instead, he settled into the tug and pull of the seasons and just lived as he hadn’t done for two decades.
Once in a while, the temptation to travel to Ealdor was almost too much, but he wasn’t sure of his welcome and he had already caused Hunith enough pain. So he let her be.
One nugget of discontent remained.
Balinor, no matter his new name, was still a dragonlord and that had certain responsibilities. Training his son for his future role, looking for dragon eggs to hatch, protecting dragons still alive although Kilgharrah was a pain up Balinor’s backside.
Kilgharrah had settled into the Feorre mountains near Balinor’s old cave. The old reptile would rage and wheedle to be a part of Merlin’s life, often talking about destiny and Pendragon’s legacy. Sometimes Balinor agreed. Nothing would have made him happier than to hear that Uther had died, slowly, painfully, paying for his crimes. But the dragon also tried to manipulate Merlin into things that weren’t anything but revenge against the Pendragons, Uther and Arthur, much as he might couch it in other terms.
For that reason alone, while he often acted as go-between, Balinor always weighed what Kilgharrah was saying with the consequences of such advice.
It mostly worked.
It was only when he heard that Uther had died, an assassin’s blade piercing his heart, that he considered reaching out to Arthur, to see if he had softened his stance on magic.
Merlin later told him that Arthur had asked for magic to be used to help Uther, and it had worked the first time, but a second assassin completed what the first had started. There had been war after that, Odin’s kingdom conquered but Arthur was magnanimous, executing Odin but allowing the rest of his clan to join Camelot’s noble families.
But more importantly, magic had saved Uther and Arthur knew it.
-------------
Arthur’s coronation was a raucous time of wine and laughter and dancing. Merlin was grinning so widely that Balinor thought it might break the skin, but he couldn’t fault his son for celebrating. Everywhere was the sound of joy and relief, too.
Arthur was going to lighten Camelot’s laws on magic, with perhaps a full repeal if things worked out. The Druids were already talking of alliances and Merlin seemed ablaze with happiness.
Balinor stood in back, watching the proceedings, hesitant to join in for fear of treading on the delicate balance and bringing everything down, much as a house of cards might do.
Merlin pulled him aside, after, and whispered that he’d already told Arthur the truth and while the king was furious, he was also accepting. After all, one can only look aside for so long while magic is performed in plain sight. Arthur had known and not known, and it was only now that he acknowledged the truth about it all.
But Merlin wasn’t done. Pulling Balinor into a side chamber, Merlin talked excitedly about dragons’ eggs found and a quest to bring them back and would Balinor help with the hatching? And more importantly, that Arthur didn’t say no about it.
When Balinor nodded, his head whirling with possibilities, Merlin grinned again, then nodded past Balinor’s shoulder.
As he turned, there she was, dressed simply enough but Hunith had always been the brightest jewel in Balinor’s universe, and she had no need for adornment.
Hunith didn’t look too happy, though, glaring at him. Finally, she said, “Well, what do you have to say for yourself?”
“I-” Balinor started to say, then looked down at his hands, ashamed to meet her gaze.
Crossing her arms across her chest, she snapped, “That’s what I thought. What it with the men in Camelot? You couldn’t ask what I wanted? I only find out now that you’ve been living ten miles from Ealdor. Ten miles, Balinor. Did you think me too lowly for a dragonlord?”
Balinor stepped forward, all instinct and longing. “I am too lowly for you, Always have been. I didn’t think you’d want me back. Hell, look at me, bedraggled and worn down. I have nothing to offer but my heart, and for you, that’s just not enough.”
“Did you ask me, you old fool?” Hunith said. When Balinor stood there, tongue-tied and wanting to rush into her arms but afraid of her rejection, she sighed. “I could just box your ears and send you home without supper. You deserve no less for making me wait this long. But I’ve never been to a coronation nor dancing those fancy royal dances and you are going to escort me out there and we are going to have a good time and then, only then, will you woo me as I should have been years ago.”
“Hunith, I-,” Balinor stumbled to a stop, then when Hunith glared at him hard enough to turn him to ash, he said, “Yes, Hunith.”
“Now, take my arm and escort me properly into the light,” Hunith said, her voice steel-hard but with that hint of velvet underneath.
“Yes, Hunith,” Balinor said again.
As they moved onto the dance floor, he made a proper fool of himself. He didn’t know the dances either, but Hunith was in his arms and that was all that counted.
It was magic.