(no subject)
Author: 
archaeologist_d
Title: One Prison is much like another - part 38
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: 768
Camelot Drabble Prompt #617: hobby
Author’s notes: Arthur is regent in all but name. AU and all.
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Life was a lot simpler after. Merlin just had to make sure the dragonets were safe and learning about their abilities, hunt when he could to supplement their food supply, tell them stories about dragons and men and glare at Kilgharrah when the old lizard would contradict him-although sometimes it was truer than Merlin would admit.
Surprisingly, Kilgharrah was a better parent at some things than Merlin had expected. Although he treated it more as a hobby than an advocation, often disappearing for days to do who knows what, the dragon would come back with supplies and news. The babies would crowd around him, poking at his wings, scampering under his feet, pulling at his scales until he’d finally have enough and roar at them.
More importantly, Kilgharrah was teaching them about flying, more than Merlin ever could. Strategies to outlast the onslaught of men and armies. Ways of keeping their energies up and how to direct the fire of their gullets to best effect.
Survival techniques.
In a way, Kilgharrah was making Merlin feel useless. Merlin might teach the dragonets reading and history, might make sure they were warm and comfortable, use his magic to keep them entertained, but in the end, it was the great dragon’s efforts that would keep them from getting killed.
------------------
It was after one of those mysterious absences of Kilgharrah’s that sent Merlin back to Camelot.
The dragon had come back, looking stern. Merlin had been playing with the dragonets, sending flowers up into the air and having them chase after the blossoms, the reward for catching it without turning it into ash was a thorough scratching behind one ear and to be first in line for the honeycomb Merlin had found earlier in the day.
It was fun to watch, Bremon catching the flower, then Lamporos trying to tear it from Bremon’s claws, Augo chewing on Lamporos’s tail to distract, while Chara chittered at them both. Lailaps was just sitting there, watching the whole thing, half-asleep in the late afternoon sun.
But Kilgharrah wasn’t having any of it. As he settled down in front of the cave, he glared at the young ones, and they scampered away, Bremon still triumphant with the blossom now in his mouth, but all of them arguing.
As the chaos faded, Kilgharrah said, “Have you tried to summon Aithusa?”
Merlin felt a jolt of shame spiking in his chest. He should have been a better dragonlord and now the white dragon, the Light of the Sun, was lost to him. “Not recently. With our situation, I didn’t want Morgana to know where we were. She’s still angry with me for poisoning her, on your insistence.”
All Kilgharrah did was harrumph, then narrow his eyes at Merlin. “She was a threat to you. Threats should be eliminated.”
“There should have been another way,” Merlin snapped back, the guilt of it an ever-present ache in him. “And is Arthur a threat? To be eliminated, too? Or are you still claiming that he will lead us into a new golden age of Albion?”
“Arthur is lost without you by his side, but then he always was a fool. So easily taken in by his father.” When Merlin started to protest, the dragon growled, “Enough. There is something going on. The forest is full of whispers and there are men gathering at the outer edges of Camelot… and I spotted Aithusa flying in amongst the trees.”
“Aithusa?” Merlin knew that the white dragon would likely side with Morgana. Yes, Merlin could command him but it wouldn’t last. “Do you think Morgana is planning something? After all, Uther was growing worse and if he dies, I wouldn’t doubt she would try to claim the throne.”
“I believe that things are moving along in ways I did not foresee.” Kilgharrah frowned down at Merlin, then nodded toward the caves where the little ones were sitting, pretending not to listen but hearing every word. “You should visit your old mentor. See what he can tell you. Gaius may be a traitor and a coward but he loves you.”
“And Arthur? If he sees me, he’ll likely try and kill me,” Merlin pointed out. He hated that he felt that way but remembering Arthur’s face that last day, it took all of him not to cry.
“You are the brighter side of the coin, young warlock,” Kilgharrah said, then sat back on his haunches, looking as if he really didn’t care about the method, just the outcome. “See what you can do to persuade him otherwise. Or Morgana might just rule Camelot.”
archaeologist_d
Title: One Prison is much like another - part 38
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: 768
Camelot Drabble Prompt #617: hobby
Author’s notes: Arthur is regent in all but name. AU and all.
----------------
Life was a lot simpler after. Merlin just had to make sure the dragonets were safe and learning about their abilities, hunt when he could to supplement their food supply, tell them stories about dragons and men and glare at Kilgharrah when the old lizard would contradict him-although sometimes it was truer than Merlin would admit.
Surprisingly, Kilgharrah was a better parent at some things than Merlin had expected. Although he treated it more as a hobby than an advocation, often disappearing for days to do who knows what, the dragon would come back with supplies and news. The babies would crowd around him, poking at his wings, scampering under his feet, pulling at his scales until he’d finally have enough and roar at them.
More importantly, Kilgharrah was teaching them about flying, more than Merlin ever could. Strategies to outlast the onslaught of men and armies. Ways of keeping their energies up and how to direct the fire of their gullets to best effect.
Survival techniques.
In a way, Kilgharrah was making Merlin feel useless. Merlin might teach the dragonets reading and history, might make sure they were warm and comfortable, use his magic to keep them entertained, but in the end, it was the great dragon’s efforts that would keep them from getting killed.
------------------
It was after one of those mysterious absences of Kilgharrah’s that sent Merlin back to Camelot.
The dragon had come back, looking stern. Merlin had been playing with the dragonets, sending flowers up into the air and having them chase after the blossoms, the reward for catching it without turning it into ash was a thorough scratching behind one ear and to be first in line for the honeycomb Merlin had found earlier in the day.
It was fun to watch, Bremon catching the flower, then Lamporos trying to tear it from Bremon’s claws, Augo chewing on Lamporos’s tail to distract, while Chara chittered at them both. Lailaps was just sitting there, watching the whole thing, half-asleep in the late afternoon sun.
But Kilgharrah wasn’t having any of it. As he settled down in front of the cave, he glared at the young ones, and they scampered away, Bremon still triumphant with the blossom now in his mouth, but all of them arguing.
As the chaos faded, Kilgharrah said, “Have you tried to summon Aithusa?”
Merlin felt a jolt of shame spiking in his chest. He should have been a better dragonlord and now the white dragon, the Light of the Sun, was lost to him. “Not recently. With our situation, I didn’t want Morgana to know where we were. She’s still angry with me for poisoning her, on your insistence.”
All Kilgharrah did was harrumph, then narrow his eyes at Merlin. “She was a threat to you. Threats should be eliminated.”
“There should have been another way,” Merlin snapped back, the guilt of it an ever-present ache in him. “And is Arthur a threat? To be eliminated, too? Or are you still claiming that he will lead us into a new golden age of Albion?”
“Arthur is lost without you by his side, but then he always was a fool. So easily taken in by his father.” When Merlin started to protest, the dragon growled, “Enough. There is something going on. The forest is full of whispers and there are men gathering at the outer edges of Camelot… and I spotted Aithusa flying in amongst the trees.”
“Aithusa?” Merlin knew that the white dragon would likely side with Morgana. Yes, Merlin could command him but it wouldn’t last. “Do you think Morgana is planning something? After all, Uther was growing worse and if he dies, I wouldn’t doubt she would try to claim the throne.”
“I believe that things are moving along in ways I did not foresee.” Kilgharrah frowned down at Merlin, then nodded toward the caves where the little ones were sitting, pretending not to listen but hearing every word. “You should visit your old mentor. See what he can tell you. Gaius may be a traitor and a coward but he loves you.”
“And Arthur? If he sees me, he’ll likely try and kill me,” Merlin pointed out. He hated that he felt that way but remembering Arthur’s face that last day, it took all of him not to cry.
“You are the brighter side of the coin, young warlock,” Kilgharrah said, then sat back on his haunches, looking as if he really didn’t care about the method, just the outcome. “See what you can do to persuade him otherwise. Or Morgana might just rule Camelot.”