One Prison is much like another - part 42
Author: archaeologist_d
Title: One Prison is much like another - part 42
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/s: none
Character/s: Merlin, Morgana
Summary: Dragons are a handful, whether they be days old or centuries. Arthur wasn’t having any of it.
Warnings: none
Word Count: 850
Camelot Drabble Prompt #624: Fall
Author’s notes: Arthur is regent in all but name. AU and all. Sorry for the late updates. I was away for 3 weeks on vacation, then came home with Covid. Sigh.
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Avoiding Camelot, the vow he’d made to Arthur still weighing heavily in his chest, Merlin did manage to locate Morgana’s camp and sneak up as closely and quietly as he could. It was abundantly clear what Morgana was doing, gathering troops and some of the Druids, too, those whose families had died under Uther’s hand, for a solid attack on the citadel.
He didn’t see Aithusa, at least in broad daylight, and it was only at sunset with the dusk deepening into night, when the flash of white dragon wings appeared amongst the trees.
Merlin had to wonder if Morgana was using Aithusa as a last resort or maybe to try and startle Arthur into making a mistake when he least expected it.
He wanted to call out to the young dragon, to reveal that he was there and maybe try to reason with him, but whenever he did catch a glimpse, Morgana was always nearby.
But at last, around the witching hour, Morgana finally retreated to her tent and Merlin made his move.
Calling out to Aithusa, using the ancient tongue to draw him in, Merlin stood back as the white wings blew dust and leaves into his face. It was only when the air grew silent that Merlin blinked up at his first born, at the Light of the Sun, and saw what ruin Aithusa had fallen into.
His wings were cramped and thin, his neck crooked as if it were almost painful for him to sit up straight. Claws, too, were ragged and dark with dirt. He looked pale, too pale in the moonlight. Uncared for, although he knew Morgana loved the dragon as much as she could but it didn’t seem to be enough. Perhaps in her madness, she’d forgotten that dragons, especially young ones, needed care. Or more likely, she might have tried to cure him but her skills with healing spells might be as bad as Merlin’s.
Still, it pained Merlin to see the young one brought so low. Stepping closer to the dragon, Merlin whispered, “Oh, Aithusa, what has she done?”
He should have been able to speak, full sentences at this point, but all Aithusa did was groan a little and make unhappy noises.
Reaching over, brushing his hand across rough scales, Merlin said, “I can try and help you but I’m crap with healing. If perhaps I gave you some of my magic, you might be able to heal yourself. I’ve failed you in so many ways that I can’t even… I am so sorry, so very sorry, Aithusa. Some dragonlord I turned out to be.”
“Dragonlord? You?” Morgana’s voice was winter-cold, her dress scrapping the ground as she stepped into the glade. “You’ve been holding out on me, then. Does Arthur even know? Does he realize what a lying snake you are?”
Merlin didn’t know what to say, but he stood there, one hand on Aithusa’s neck, and stared at her.
She was even more beautiful than before, pale skin, wild hair that seemed to suit her, her black dress hugging curves that would tempt most men to renounce their vows and follow her commands without question.
But Merlin wasn’t most men. He only saw fury in her eyes and a will to destroy what she could not have.
“It doesn’t matter about me. Morgana, Uther is dead. I am sure Arthur would welcome you back to court if you pledged your support. After all, you are sister to him and he loves you.” Merlin knew she would not listen but still he had to try.
“Why submit when I should be Queen?” She sneered, then looked him up and down, probably trying to find a weakness to exploit. “And you, you with power and yet here you are. Looking a bit scruffy. I had heard something of you being cast out but not why. But it would seem Arthur hates us both after all. Me for magic and you… you for dragon skills. A dragonlord. It is almost unbelievable. And what a fool he is to let you go.”
That part was true. If Arthur hadn’t been so blinded by his father’s legacy, Merlin would still be at court, helping him rebuild a kingdom worthy of Arthur’s better nature, instead of abandoned, exiled, rejected.
Aithusa restless under Merlin’s palm, still Merlin didn’t move away, instead tried to calm him with soothing strokes along the scaly neck.
“I’ll give you the fool part. But he loves you. Isn’t that enough to start to make a new beginning?”Merlin pleaded.
Morgana laughed at that, a sharp biting sound, Aithusa jumping a little at her anger. “Love? Arthur loves nothing but to keep the hatred Uther taught him. If you think I would fall for it, you are more stupid than even I thought.”
Merlin lifted his chin, staring straight into her eyes. “I can’t let you win this one. I will do everything in my power to stop you for all our sakes.”
“You can try.” She laughed again, high and grating, then pointed a finger at Merlin and screamed, “Aithusa, attack.”
Title: One Prison is much like another - part 42
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/s: none
Character/s: Merlin, Morgana
Summary: Dragons are a handful, whether they be days old or centuries. Arthur wasn’t having any of it.
Warnings: none
Word Count: 850
Camelot Drabble Prompt #624: Fall
Author’s notes: Arthur is regent in all but name. AU and all. Sorry for the late updates. I was away for 3 weeks on vacation, then came home with Covid. Sigh.
-------
Avoiding Camelot, the vow he’d made to Arthur still weighing heavily in his chest, Merlin did manage to locate Morgana’s camp and sneak up as closely and quietly as he could. It was abundantly clear what Morgana was doing, gathering troops and some of the Druids, too, those whose families had died under Uther’s hand, for a solid attack on the citadel.
He didn’t see Aithusa, at least in broad daylight, and it was only at sunset with the dusk deepening into night, when the flash of white dragon wings appeared amongst the trees.
Merlin had to wonder if Morgana was using Aithusa as a last resort or maybe to try and startle Arthur into making a mistake when he least expected it.
He wanted to call out to the young dragon, to reveal that he was there and maybe try to reason with him, but whenever he did catch a glimpse, Morgana was always nearby.
But at last, around the witching hour, Morgana finally retreated to her tent and Merlin made his move.
Calling out to Aithusa, using the ancient tongue to draw him in, Merlin stood back as the white wings blew dust and leaves into his face. It was only when the air grew silent that Merlin blinked up at his first born, at the Light of the Sun, and saw what ruin Aithusa had fallen into.
His wings were cramped and thin, his neck crooked as if it were almost painful for him to sit up straight. Claws, too, were ragged and dark with dirt. He looked pale, too pale in the moonlight. Uncared for, although he knew Morgana loved the dragon as much as she could but it didn’t seem to be enough. Perhaps in her madness, she’d forgotten that dragons, especially young ones, needed care. Or more likely, she might have tried to cure him but her skills with healing spells might be as bad as Merlin’s.
Still, it pained Merlin to see the young one brought so low. Stepping closer to the dragon, Merlin whispered, “Oh, Aithusa, what has she done?”
He should have been able to speak, full sentences at this point, but all Aithusa did was groan a little and make unhappy noises.
Reaching over, brushing his hand across rough scales, Merlin said, “I can try and help you but I’m crap with healing. If perhaps I gave you some of my magic, you might be able to heal yourself. I’ve failed you in so many ways that I can’t even… I am so sorry, so very sorry, Aithusa. Some dragonlord I turned out to be.”
“Dragonlord? You?” Morgana’s voice was winter-cold, her dress scrapping the ground as she stepped into the glade. “You’ve been holding out on me, then. Does Arthur even know? Does he realize what a lying snake you are?”
Merlin didn’t know what to say, but he stood there, one hand on Aithusa’s neck, and stared at her.
She was even more beautiful than before, pale skin, wild hair that seemed to suit her, her black dress hugging curves that would tempt most men to renounce their vows and follow her commands without question.
But Merlin wasn’t most men. He only saw fury in her eyes and a will to destroy what she could not have.
“It doesn’t matter about me. Morgana, Uther is dead. I am sure Arthur would welcome you back to court if you pledged your support. After all, you are sister to him and he loves you.” Merlin knew she would not listen but still he had to try.
“Why submit when I should be Queen?” She sneered, then looked him up and down, probably trying to find a weakness to exploit. “And you, you with power and yet here you are. Looking a bit scruffy. I had heard something of you being cast out but not why. But it would seem Arthur hates us both after all. Me for magic and you… you for dragon skills. A dragonlord. It is almost unbelievable. And what a fool he is to let you go.”
That part was true. If Arthur hadn’t been so blinded by his father’s legacy, Merlin would still be at court, helping him rebuild a kingdom worthy of Arthur’s better nature, instead of abandoned, exiled, rejected.
Aithusa restless under Merlin’s palm, still Merlin didn’t move away, instead tried to calm him with soothing strokes along the scaly neck.
“I’ll give you the fool part. But he loves you. Isn’t that enough to start to make a new beginning?”Merlin pleaded.
Morgana laughed at that, a sharp biting sound, Aithusa jumping a little at her anger. “Love? Arthur loves nothing but to keep the hatred Uther taught him. If you think I would fall for it, you are more stupid than even I thought.”
Merlin lifted his chin, staring straight into her eyes. “I can’t let you win this one. I will do everything in my power to stop you for all our sakes.”
“You can try.” She laughed again, high and grating, then pointed a finger at Merlin and screamed, “Aithusa, attack.”