One Prison is much like another - part 37
Author: 
archaeologist_d
Title: One Prison is much like another - part 37
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/s: none
Character/s: Merlin, Arthur
Summary: Dragons are a handful, whether they be days old or centuries. Arthur wasn’t having any of it.
Warnings: none
Word Count: 745
Camelot Drabble Prompt #616: plunder
Author’s notes: Arthur is regent in all but name. AU and all.
--------------
It was hard walking in the darkness. Behind him, around him, the little dragonets flew, their joyous noise at exploring every inch of the forest a soft counterpoint to Merlin’s plodding steps. It was with both heartbreak and relief to move further from the castle.
So much of Merlin’s life had been tied up with Arthur and his destiny. A waste of time and effort and love, almost as though Merlin had been plundered of his youth and given a kind of aching sadness as a reward.
He should have been furious about it, at Kilgharrah for his constant insistence that his presence tied to Arthur’s would bring forth Albion, at Gaius for not being more forceful in pointing out the dragon’s lies or worse using Arthur’s wellbeing as an excuse to help Uther, at his own naivete for not seeing beyond his blind hopes of acceptance and usefulness to the reality of what his life had been like. A drudge, a fool, an idiot who made more powerful people laugh.
Making himself small so that Arthur would see his worth and want to keep him close.
He tried to put it behind him. He had to concentrate on getting the babies away before they were discovered. At least he knew that any patrols would be bedded down for the night so they had a little time to escape.
Still, as he hurried away, he kept expecting the warning bells to sound. But for once, luck was with him. And the forest didn’t give up any secrets.
-----------------
Dawn was just starting to fill the sky with pink clouds and that kind of translucent blue that spoke of a lovely day. Merlin didn’t mind it so much, although he wasn’t in the mood, but at least they’d covered a lot of territory.
It was only then that Kilgharrah showed up, the bloody arse, and although much put out by Merlin’s insistence on flying the rest of the way, the journey was amazing. The babies trailed behind and often Kilgharrah had to loop around to hurry them along. They weren’t exactly ready for such a voyage, although Chara kept nipping at the stragglers. At times, when growing too tired to carry on, each of them would end up perched on Kilgharrah’s back to rest, much to the old lizard’s grumbling.
But at long last, they landed in the White Mountains and at a cave mouth that looked inviting.
There was a spring nearby, stacks of rough bedding material just inside and on a tree near the entrance, a deer hung there. It looked as if Kilgharrah had killed it and left it to cure or be ready for hungry dragonets to feast on. A lake down below, seemingly full of fish and birds nesting there. In the distance, he could see otters playing and a fox slinking through the underbrush, and higher up mountain goats.
Better yet, no sign of humans, not even a telltale sign of smoke rising.
It was cool in the morning air, and Merlin could see his breath there. He’d have to find wood for heating and cooking-the dragonets might like things raw but Merlin did not, but as he told the young ones to stay behind and explore, Bremon made a quick squawk and sent a blast of fire toward a pile of rocks near the entrance.
It was instantly warmer. Merlin reached over and gave Bremon a little pat as reward, then taking up a branch nearby, he made a bit of a torch and hurried to explore their new home, the dragonets following him.
It wasn’t like the cave beneath the castle. For one thing, it was a lot smaller but then it would be cosy enough for them all. A few dozen yards from the entrance, Kilgharrah must have dug out a basin for a nesting area and it was already full of soft leaves and the scent of mint and dragon. Above them was the gleam of crystals and the soft cry of bats rustling somewhere nearby.
Merlin let go the blanket he’d brought with him, arranging it in the next for the little ones to squabble over.
Then turning around, he went back to the entrance and sat down by the still hot stones and watched the sun rise higher.
It was time for a new day, a new life, and one he hoped would bring him joy.
But by the gods, he missed Arthur.
archaeologist_d
Title: One Prison is much like another - part 37
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/s: none
Character/s: Merlin, Arthur
Summary: Dragons are a handful, whether they be days old or centuries. Arthur wasn’t having any of it.
Warnings: none
Word Count: 745
Camelot Drabble Prompt #616: plunder
Author’s notes: Arthur is regent in all but name. AU and all.
--------------
It was hard walking in the darkness. Behind him, around him, the little dragonets flew, their joyous noise at exploring every inch of the forest a soft counterpoint to Merlin’s plodding steps. It was with both heartbreak and relief to move further from the castle.
So much of Merlin’s life had been tied up with Arthur and his destiny. A waste of time and effort and love, almost as though Merlin had been plundered of his youth and given a kind of aching sadness as a reward.
He should have been furious about it, at Kilgharrah for his constant insistence that his presence tied to Arthur’s would bring forth Albion, at Gaius for not being more forceful in pointing out the dragon’s lies or worse using Arthur’s wellbeing as an excuse to help Uther, at his own naivete for not seeing beyond his blind hopes of acceptance and usefulness to the reality of what his life had been like. A drudge, a fool, an idiot who made more powerful people laugh.
Making himself small so that Arthur would see his worth and want to keep him close.
He tried to put it behind him. He had to concentrate on getting the babies away before they were discovered. At least he knew that any patrols would be bedded down for the night so they had a little time to escape.
Still, as he hurried away, he kept expecting the warning bells to sound. But for once, luck was with him. And the forest didn’t give up any secrets.
-----------------
Dawn was just starting to fill the sky with pink clouds and that kind of translucent blue that spoke of a lovely day. Merlin didn’t mind it so much, although he wasn’t in the mood, but at least they’d covered a lot of territory.
It was only then that Kilgharrah showed up, the bloody arse, and although much put out by Merlin’s insistence on flying the rest of the way, the journey was amazing. The babies trailed behind and often Kilgharrah had to loop around to hurry them along. They weren’t exactly ready for such a voyage, although Chara kept nipping at the stragglers. At times, when growing too tired to carry on, each of them would end up perched on Kilgharrah’s back to rest, much to the old lizard’s grumbling.
But at long last, they landed in the White Mountains and at a cave mouth that looked inviting.
There was a spring nearby, stacks of rough bedding material just inside and on a tree near the entrance, a deer hung there. It looked as if Kilgharrah had killed it and left it to cure or be ready for hungry dragonets to feast on. A lake down below, seemingly full of fish and birds nesting there. In the distance, he could see otters playing and a fox slinking through the underbrush, and higher up mountain goats.
Better yet, no sign of humans, not even a telltale sign of smoke rising.
It was cool in the morning air, and Merlin could see his breath there. He’d have to find wood for heating and cooking-the dragonets might like things raw but Merlin did not, but as he told the young ones to stay behind and explore, Bremon made a quick squawk and sent a blast of fire toward a pile of rocks near the entrance.
It was instantly warmer. Merlin reached over and gave Bremon a little pat as reward, then taking up a branch nearby, he made a bit of a torch and hurried to explore their new home, the dragonets following him.
It wasn’t like the cave beneath the castle. For one thing, it was a lot smaller but then it would be cosy enough for them all. A few dozen yards from the entrance, Kilgharrah must have dug out a basin for a nesting area and it was already full of soft leaves and the scent of mint and dragon. Above them was the gleam of crystals and the soft cry of bats rustling somewhere nearby.
Merlin let go the blanket he’d brought with him, arranging it in the next for the little ones to squabble over.
Then turning around, he went back to the entrance and sat down by the still hot stones and watched the sun rise higher.
It was time for a new day, a new life, and one he hoped would bring him joy.
But by the gods, he missed Arthur.