One Prison is much like another - part 41A
Author: archaeologist_d
Title: One Prison is much like another - part 41a
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/s: none
Character/s: Merlin, Kilgharrah
Summary: Dragons are a handful, whether they be days old or centuries. Arthur wasn’t having any of it.
Warnings: none
Word Count: 1000
Camelot Drabble Prompt #622: soft touch
Author’s notes: Arthur is regent in all but name. AU and all.
------------------
Merlin kept his word. He didn’t go back. Arthur would have to ask this time and mean it. Merlin wasn’t willing to ignore all the horrors that he and those of magic had been put through any longer. For once, Arthur would have to be responsible for his own choices and not just Merlin cleaning up after him.
It just about killed him, though.
Sitting at the edge of the cave, watching the night falling, it was pretty enough. A pink sky with orange-red clouds slowing fading into blues and purples, the last light a rich ultraviolet, then edging into black. The stars came out, first the Dog Star brightening up along the horizon’s edge, then a dusting of white and red and pale blue. Jewels in the heavens or the remnants of gods.
Leaning tight against him, Chara nudged Merlin a little, either for attention or comfort. The others were out flying with Kilgharrah, but Chara had always seemed to understand Merlin’s moods and hung back this time, trying to give Merlin something, perhaps a sense that he wasn’t alone in this.
But Merlin knew it was just an interlude. Of calm before the inevitable storm.
It was only a matter of time before everything broke. He just hoped he wouldn’t break with it.
------
Merlin wasn’t sure how Gaius found them, but suddenly there was parchment floating in the air above his head. Grabbing it away from Bremon who had started to chew on one edge, Merlin opened it up to see Gaius’s spidery script.
It was the best and worst of news.
Uther was dead. Merlin felt such a wash of relief that, for a moment, he wanted to shout out his happy excitement for everyone to hear. Fill the sky with fireworks or maybe create fields of bright flowers so that everyone could rejoice in the news.
He did feel a little guilty, though, knowing that Arthur was mourning that monster, but Merlin was far from Camelot and for once he didn’t have to hide his hatred for that man. If he’d been at Arthur’s side, Merlin would have had to pretend that he was mourning, too, lying through his teeth again. Here, he could be himself and rejoice.
Wanting to share the news, he called out to Kilgharrah who was grumbling about the dragonets and not really paying attention to Merlin’s excitement.
“He’s dead, Uther is dead at last.” Merlin shook the parchment in Kilgharrah’s face.
The old lizard gave a great laugh, his golden eyes lighting up in glee. Shaking himself out, his claws digging little gouges in the stone as if he couldn’t help dancing in victory, he said, “About time, too, past time. I could feel something shifting in the wind. This is everything I could have hoped for, in one fell swoop. The bastard is dead and good riddance.”
Merlin’s guilt deepened at that. He thought of Arthur, all alone, surrounded by nobles jockeying for power, and what it would mean as the kingdom changed hands, uncertainty and the potential for chaos. He was still relieved that Uther was dead but his joy had been replaced with worry. “Arthur loved his father.”
Kilgharrah dismissed the very idea with a wave of one claw. “Love? Phftt, who could love such a madman?
His hubris caused the death of thousands and changed the face of magic forever.” When Merlin just shook his head, Kilgharrah’s glee turned to annoyance. “It matters little if that whelp of his carries on his legacy. Has he sent for you?”
Gaius’s letter didn’t talk of Arthur changing his mind, just noted that he seemed thoughtful and had asked questions of Geoffrey and Gaius about the laws, not of magic specifically but those affecting all the people of Camelot, nobles and peasants alike.
Still, nothing to pin his hopes on. “No, he… hasn’t.”
Sniffing at that, Kilgharrah growled out, “Well, then, it would seem you have your answer.”
“Maybe he just needs more time,” Merlin said, half to himself.
Kilgharrah looked at Merlin as if he’d lost his mind. “Pendragon’s get must know that the witch would march on Camelot within the hour of that monster’s death. Foolish boy king. He won’t last a day without you. And if he had the brains of a cabbage, he would know that.”
Merlin nodded, turning away, looking out into the mountains beyond, towards Camelot. “I want to go to him, offer up my services. But…”
“You won’t,” Kilgharrah rumbled, already certain of the answer.
Merlin looked up at that. Lifting his chin, resigned but nodding all the same, he said, “No. I promised I wouldn’t and this time I will keep my word.”
Thinking of Arthur and of all the things they’d shared, good times and bad, laughter and tears, insults soaked in affection, serious talk framed in firelight as they camped far from the castle, Merlin’s heart hurt. It would seem that their friendship had been all one-sided and yet Merlin still could not believe it, even now. Maybe he had been an idiot after all.
In a small voice, barely a whisper, Merlin asked, “Kilgharrah, am I of so little worth that he would rather lose his kingdom than ask me for help?”
The dragon merely huffed, as if already annoyed with Merlin’s doubts. “You often called him a prat and a clotpole and so many other names but from what I can see he’s a fool too blinded by hate to see the love you are offering him.” When Merlin just shrugged, growing quiet, wishing for a kind of acceptance of the way things were, Kilgharrah seemed to relent.“You cannot force it. He needs to come willingly this time else all is lost, for Camelot, for Albion.”
Merlin nodded, looking off into the distance. “Do you think he will?”
“I truly do not know.”
All Merlin could do was nod and try not to weep.
Title: One Prison is much like another - part 41a
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/s: none
Character/s: Merlin, Kilgharrah
Summary: Dragons are a handful, whether they be days old or centuries. Arthur wasn’t having any of it.
Warnings: none
Word Count: 1000
Camelot Drabble Prompt #622: soft touch
Author’s notes: Arthur is regent in all but name. AU and all.
------------------
Merlin kept his word. He didn’t go back. Arthur would have to ask this time and mean it. Merlin wasn’t willing to ignore all the horrors that he and those of magic had been put through any longer. For once, Arthur would have to be responsible for his own choices and not just Merlin cleaning up after him.
It just about killed him, though.
Sitting at the edge of the cave, watching the night falling, it was pretty enough. A pink sky with orange-red clouds slowing fading into blues and purples, the last light a rich ultraviolet, then edging into black. The stars came out, first the Dog Star brightening up along the horizon’s edge, then a dusting of white and red and pale blue. Jewels in the heavens or the remnants of gods.
Leaning tight against him, Chara nudged Merlin a little, either for attention or comfort. The others were out flying with Kilgharrah, but Chara had always seemed to understand Merlin’s moods and hung back this time, trying to give Merlin something, perhaps a sense that he wasn’t alone in this.
But Merlin knew it was just an interlude. Of calm before the inevitable storm.
It was only a matter of time before everything broke. He just hoped he wouldn’t break with it.
------
Merlin wasn’t sure how Gaius found them, but suddenly there was parchment floating in the air above his head. Grabbing it away from Bremon who had started to chew on one edge, Merlin opened it up to see Gaius’s spidery script.
It was the best and worst of news.
Uther was dead. Merlin felt such a wash of relief that, for a moment, he wanted to shout out his happy excitement for everyone to hear. Fill the sky with fireworks or maybe create fields of bright flowers so that everyone could rejoice in the news.
He did feel a little guilty, though, knowing that Arthur was mourning that monster, but Merlin was far from Camelot and for once he didn’t have to hide his hatred for that man. If he’d been at Arthur’s side, Merlin would have had to pretend that he was mourning, too, lying through his teeth again. Here, he could be himself and rejoice.
Wanting to share the news, he called out to Kilgharrah who was grumbling about the dragonets and not really paying attention to Merlin’s excitement.
“He’s dead, Uther is dead at last.” Merlin shook the parchment in Kilgharrah’s face.
The old lizard gave a great laugh, his golden eyes lighting up in glee. Shaking himself out, his claws digging little gouges in the stone as if he couldn’t help dancing in victory, he said, “About time, too, past time. I could feel something shifting in the wind. This is everything I could have hoped for, in one fell swoop. The bastard is dead and good riddance.”
Merlin’s guilt deepened at that. He thought of Arthur, all alone, surrounded by nobles jockeying for power, and what it would mean as the kingdom changed hands, uncertainty and the potential for chaos. He was still relieved that Uther was dead but his joy had been replaced with worry. “Arthur loved his father.”
Kilgharrah dismissed the very idea with a wave of one claw. “Love? Phftt, who could love such a madman?
His hubris caused the death of thousands and changed the face of magic forever.” When Merlin just shook his head, Kilgharrah’s glee turned to annoyance. “It matters little if that whelp of his carries on his legacy. Has he sent for you?”
Gaius’s letter didn’t talk of Arthur changing his mind, just noted that he seemed thoughtful and had asked questions of Geoffrey and Gaius about the laws, not of magic specifically but those affecting all the people of Camelot, nobles and peasants alike.
Still, nothing to pin his hopes on. “No, he… hasn’t.”
Sniffing at that, Kilgharrah growled out, “Well, then, it would seem you have your answer.”
“Maybe he just needs more time,” Merlin said, half to himself.
Kilgharrah looked at Merlin as if he’d lost his mind. “Pendragon’s get must know that the witch would march on Camelot within the hour of that monster’s death. Foolish boy king. He won’t last a day without you. And if he had the brains of a cabbage, he would know that.”
Merlin nodded, turning away, looking out into the mountains beyond, towards Camelot. “I want to go to him, offer up my services. But…”
“You won’t,” Kilgharrah rumbled, already certain of the answer.
Merlin looked up at that. Lifting his chin, resigned but nodding all the same, he said, “No. I promised I wouldn’t and this time I will keep my word.”
Thinking of Arthur and of all the things they’d shared, good times and bad, laughter and tears, insults soaked in affection, serious talk framed in firelight as they camped far from the castle, Merlin’s heart hurt. It would seem that their friendship had been all one-sided and yet Merlin still could not believe it, even now. Maybe he had been an idiot after all.
In a small voice, barely a whisper, Merlin asked, “Kilgharrah, am I of so little worth that he would rather lose his kingdom than ask me for help?”
The dragon merely huffed, as if already annoyed with Merlin’s doubts. “You often called him a prat and a clotpole and so many other names but from what I can see he’s a fool too blinded by hate to see the love you are offering him.” When Merlin just shrugged, growing quiet, wishing for a kind of acceptance of the way things were, Kilgharrah seemed to relent.“You cannot force it. He needs to come willingly this time else all is lost, for Camelot, for Albion.”
Merlin nodded, looking off into the distance. “Do you think he will?”
“I truly do not know.”
All Merlin could do was nod and try not to weep.