Fic: The Dragon Within ~ Part 3 [PG-13] Merlin/Arthur

[gfeather]

Arthur spent four days searching along the western border for the travellers the patrol had spoken of, and when he found them they were exactly what he expected them to be, travellers. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. They were displaced peasants from a village near the northernmost edge of Camelot’s border with Cenred, fleeing a desperate situation with bandits. They were seeking the safety of Camelot’s well patrolled borderlands, but had not found a village willing to take in so many strangers at once. Arthur had learned there was a certain solidarity among folk who lived near the arbitrary lines kings and nobles drew on maps. Borders might shift and rulers might change, but the people there were strong and good at taking care of their own. Ealdor had taught him that. Ealdor had also taught him that in places where people had to fend for themselves there was a tendency to distrust outsiders. One or two might be accepted, but seven people with no more than the clothes on their back was more burden than most villages would risk, even in a good year.

In the end, Arthur and his ‘rescue party’ had escorted the group to a larger town at the hub of several roads that merchants travelled frequently. The town had been less wary of the outsiders and by the time Arthur and his knights had left the following morning, they had already found work helping with the harvest. He didn’t know if they would find a place there in the end, but they at least had a chance now.

The ride back to Camelot was uneventful. The weather had been fair for many days, but clouds were beginning to gather on the horizon. The fields they passed were either filled with peasants of all ages working to bring in as much harvest as possible before the rain or were already cleared. Arthur had not been happy to drop everything and leave the city to search for Morgana on such flimsy evidence, but it was good to see the people productive and prosperous. The success of the harvest was a concern every year and it was always a relief to see the kingdom’s grain supply secured for another winter. It also put his mind at ease that the taxes collected would not be an excessive burden on the people.

It was late afternoon when they passed through the city gates and Arthur was pleased to see that the mood in the lower town was upbeat. People smiled at their return, and a few he had worked beside rebuilding homes nodded or raised a hand in greeting. The thatching on two of the homes was complete and a third was nearly finished. The fresh straw nearly shone despite the gathering clouds, and Arthur had to smile. He was glad to be back.

Entering the courtyard, he was greeted by another sight that kept the smile on his face. Merlin jumped down the last few steps and strode across to him in long, easy strides with no hint of discomfort in his movement. The last time he had seen Merlin there had been a disconcerting amount of blood and considerable obvious pain, but it was a greater relief than he had thought it would be to see Merlin well again. Since Merlin had become his manservant, Arthur had rarely travelled anywhere without dragging Merlin along with him. It had felt a bit odd to be without his second shadow, even if it had been quieter.

Arthur tossed his reins to Merlin and swung down from his mount. “I’m glad to see you’re not lazing around in bed. Gaius has given you a clean bill of health, I trust.”

Merlin’s answering grin was broad. “When you were sighted on the road, he said something about being glad I won’t be underfoot. I can’t imagine what he meant by that. I’ve been helping him the way I was meant to before I got saddled with you.”

“I’m quite certain you have that backwards,” Arthur said, giving Merlin’s shoulder a bit of a shove. “All better then?”

Merlin nodded. “Mostly. It’s still a bit tender, so if you could try not punching me for a while, that would help.”

“A pat on the back is not a punch, Merlin.”

“Prat,” Merlin said without heat.

Arthur grinned wider and returned a fond, “Idiot.”

One of the stable hands approached them and offered to bring Llamrei to the stables. Merlin nodded his thanks and admonished the boy to take particular care in tending her hooves after several days of constant riding. Arthur added sharp nod to the boy’s instructions and he stammered a hasty promise before leading the mare away.

The other knights turned to Arthur for instruction and he said, “I will make our report to the king personally. I will see you for regular drill tomorrow.”

Bedivere lingered a moment longer, raising an eyebrow meaningfully, but Arthur shook his head. “If you see Leon, tell him I’d like for him to meet with him in my rooms after supper.”

“Of course,” Bedivere agreed, and tiredly ascended the stairs.

Arthur turned back to Merlin and said, “I want food and a bath when I’m done with my report. Get someone else to haul the water. I’d rather it was in the bath than on the floor and I doubt Gaius wants you as a patient again so soon after ridding himself of you.”

The mutter that answered these orders was undoubtedly rude, but Arthur didn’t bother trying to decipher it. Leaving behind the friendly levity, he entered the castle and went to make his report.



The mood at court had been subdued since the recent attacks, and, in the absence of any significant guests, there was no formal supper requiring the king’s attendance. Arthur had passed Geoffrey on the stairs and learned that his father had already retired to his chambers and would be taking his evening meal privately. Arthur was momentarily taken off guard. Even when there wasn’t a feast or formal banquet, it was Uther’s habit to take his meals in hall. He wondered if he should have spoken to Leon before seeking out his father, but didn’t care to think how it would look to the ever observant court. Protocol and habit dictated that he speak to the king first.

Arthur gave a short rap on the door, and was beckoned to enter almost immediately. When he entered, he saw his father sitting down at his table with a goblet of wine, looking back at him in surprise.

“Arthur. To what do I owe your presence?” Uther asked politely.

Arthur fought against the frown that pulled at his lips and said, “My party has returned. I had thought you would want my report right away.”

Uther looked at him with mild confusion. “Where was it again you were?”

“The western borderlands. You sent me to investigate a group of travellers the patrol heard about last week,” Arthur said.

“And?” Uther prompted with little interest.

“And they were a group of people fleeing from a the bandits that had attacked their village.”

“Which village?”

“Dolau.”

“That’s in Cenred’s kingdom.”

“And we’ve seen how well he cares for his people in the borderlands. They had nothing but the clothes on their backs.”

“They are not our responsibility. I trust you sent them on their way.”

This was not the discussion he had thought to have with his father upon his return, but it was better than angry shouting about Morgana. Choosing his words carefully, Arthur said, “We provided an escort for them. They won’t be a further concern.”

Uther gave a sharp nod. “Good. Did you encounter anything else of note?”

“No. The harvest appears to be going well and the people seem content. There have been no reports of bandits east of the Teif. All is well to the west.”

Uther inclined his glass towards Arthur and took a sip. “I told Sir Ector you were ready for command. I am pleased to see my faith was well founded.”

Arthur did his best not to react and inclined his head with a quiet, “Thank you, Sire.”

“Oh and Arthur, her damnable pride will never allow her to admit it, but Morgana worries about you while you are away. It might be a nice gesture to let her know you have arrived home safely.”

“Of course,” said Arthur.

Arthur gave a small bow and left the room, quietly closing the door behind him. Arthur was a bit surprised by how little Uther’s odd behaviour surprised him anymore.

On his way back to his rooms, he tried to think only of the bath waiting for him. He was certain he would hear more than he wanted to from Leon, but that could wait.



Although Merlin often mocked him for his privileges, Arthur had spent enough time sleeping rough and living out of his saddlebags to appreciate the amenities of Camelot, or perhaps more precisely, the kitchens of Camelot. He had stayed at many inns where the food had been suspect at best and inedible at worst. He had gutted fish on the shores of icy streams and eaten the hard traveller’s bread that supplemented their hunting on lengthy excursions.

After five days of travel, it was satisfying to have a large meal prepared by a skilled cook and wash in steaming water heated by the large fires in the kitchens. Merlin puttered around in the room, putting away items from his pack and examining his clothes for wear and tear. For once, his manservant wasn’t chattering away incessantly, but his presence was oddly reassuring. Arthur had to admit, to himself and only himself, that he quite liked having Merlin around.

Before Merlin, he had been accustomed to the deferential detachment most servants strived for. He had never really noticed the way most of the other knights were hesitant to tease and jibe him as they did each other. It had taken Merlin’s complete ignorance of rank and station to make Arthur notice just how set apart he was. Since childhood, he had been taught to be above and apart from those around him, but he was increasingly aware that it wasn’t necessarily something he wanted. He had tried to change this with a few of the knights he trusted most, but even Leon and Bedivere were still more reserved than Merlin had ever been.

Arthur’s contemplation was disturbed by a knock on the door.

“Expecting someone?” Merlin asked.

“I asked Sir Leon to keep an eye on things at court while I was gone,” Arthur said, quietly wondering to himself when he had stopped berating Merlin for his nosiness.

Merlin’s expression cleared. “Oh. I had wondered why he hadn’t gone with you.”

“The door, Merlin.”

“Right, right. Keep your shirt on.”

As expected, Sir Leon was at the door and Bedivere with him. Arthur gestured for them to sit down and looked over to where Merlin was closing the door.

“Bolt it shut, Merlin,” he ordered.

Merlin did so, then pointedly didn’t go back to his puttering. Instead, he leaned against the fireplace, not even pretending to add wood or make himself useful. Arthur might have been irritated by Merlin’s assumption that he was to be a part of the discussion, but in truth Merlin was as aware of the matter troubling him as any of the others present.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Quit hovering and sit down. You might as well.”

Bedivere’s eyebrows rose a bit at the invitation, but Leon only glanced briefly at Merlin as he sat, then turned his attention back to Arthur. “Bedivere tells me your travels were uneventful.”

Arthur nodded. “The travellers had fled their home after it was raided by bandits.”

“Bandits?” Merlin asked. “I thought things had been quiet on the western border.”

“Our western borderlands are well patrolled and relatively safe. They were from Dolau, Merlin.”

Merlin was obviously trying to contain his concern, and failing, so Arthur added, “I did send a message. If there is trouble, I’ll get word of it, but I can’t go crossing the border to chase bandits that haven’t been causing problems for Camelot. The peace with Cenred is strained at best.”

“I know,” Merlin said, but was unable to erase the worry from his features.

Arthur turned back to Leon and asked, “What happened at court while I was gone?”

Leon opened his mouth to speak, but Bedivere cut in. “Arthur, are you certain it’s wise to discuss this here?”

Arthur frowned. “In my personal chambers with a locked door?”

Bedivere’s eyes darted across to Merlin and back again. Before Arthur could think of something cutting to say, Leon gave a derisive snort. “If you think for a moment that the biggest secrets at court aren’t kept by servants, you’re a fool, Bedivere. Merlin watches our training, serves at banquets, assists the physician and is in regular attendance at council. If his loyalty and discretion were in question, he wouldn’t be here.”

Arthur nodded. “Merlin also has the advantage of hearing all the gossip amongst the servants, which we are not privy to. Go on, Leon.”

“It was quiet for the most part. There were short council meetings in the morning, but only the most trivial of matters were brought forward. It seems all the councillors have recognized that something is amiss with the king and do not wish to bring forward weighty matters in your absence.”

“Was his judgement sound?” Arthur asked.

Leon shrugged. “For what little matters he dealt with, I’d say yes. Though he did at times call people by the wrong names or forget their titles. Twice he asked me where you were.”

“When I went to give my report, he had no memory of the travellers or his belief that Morgana was with them. He spoke to me as if it were years ago and I had only just taken command.”

Merlin nodded. “Gaius is concerned. He’s been making medicines to enhance the mind and calm the emotions, but there are limits to how much they can help. He has been trying to get to council when he can to observe. I think he already has a diagnosis in mind, but doesn’t want to make it.”

“The king is unwell, Arthur. You may... It’s possible...” Leon sighed heavily and looked at Arthur with earnest eyes. “I don’t wish to say this, but there may come a time, sooner rather than later, when Uther will not be capable of ruling.”

“What do you suggest I do? Take the throne for myself?” Arthur asked, knowing he sounded more resigned than furious as he should have been.

“Perhaps it won’t have to come to that,” Bedivere offered hopefully. “Uther has long respected Gaius’ skill and wisdom. Perhaps if the physician were to suggest...”

“Have you forgotten that Gaius was tortured and nearly killed this spring at the king’s command? Regardless of what was said afterwards, Gaius hasn’t forgotten what happened. It isn’t the same between them anymore. Perhaps the king’s mind is far enough gone that he doesn’t remember, but don’t put Gaius in that position,” Merlin snapped at Bedivere.

Arthur put a calming hand on Merlin’s shoulder and said, “No. I would not put that responsibility on Gaius, not exclusively. This is a difficult situation the kingdom is in and we must look at all the options.”

“If Uther is unfit to rule, yet continues to, Camelot will appear weak to her neighbours,” Bedivere observed.

“And if we attempt to circumvent his unwise decisions, we will all be seen as traitors,” said Leon.

“The greatest problem, as I see it, is that my father is unaware of his mind’s failings. I have had conversations with him that have jumped nearly a decade, yet to him it was a conversation as any other. He would speak to me as if I were a boy of ten not noticing that the person he was speaking to was clearly grown. If he does not see that there is a problem, then convincing him to relinquish even some aspects of his rule is destined to failure,” Arthur said.

“Perhaps there is a precedent for this situation. Geoffrey of Monmouth may have records in the archives,” Bedivere suggested.

Merlin groaned and Arthur chuckled. “You know, Merlin, when you have permission to go poking through the records, Geoffrey is eager to go through dusty tomes with you. You should try it sometime.”

“I have and he still glares at me like I’m something foul on the bottom of his boot,” griped Merlin.

“You needn’t bother him just yet. Before we make any decisions on how to proceed, I need to speak to Gaius. Thank you, Leon, for watching over things while I was gone, and Bedivere, I appreciate your advice. It’s been a long day. Get some rest.”

Leon and Bedivere left, leaving Arthur slumped exhausted at the table. When the door was shut behind them, he put his head in his hands and rubbed at his eyes. Merlin added a log to the fire, and began clearing away the dishes.

Arthur looked up at him and asked, “What’s the right thing to do, Merlin?”

“You’re asking me?”

“You always seem to have an opinion and it usually surprises me.”

“I think Leon is right in thinking that your father is quickly becoming too unpredictable to rule and I think that a lot of people have noticed. I really don’t know what the answer is, but you don’t have much time to make a decision before something happens that takes the decision out of your hands.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry, Arthur.”

“So am I. Tell Gaius I’d like to speak with him before council in the morning. The rest of the night is yours.”

Merlin nodded and gave him a half hearted quirk of the lips that didn’t quite make it to a smile. After Merlin left, Arthur dragged himself into bed and let the overwhelming exhaustion in his limbs pull him into sleep.



Merlin couldn’t sleep. He flipped from one side back to the other, but couldn’t find a position to settle on. He had slept more in the previous four nights than he had in weeks and now that the ever present exhaustion was gone he was restless. The wing nubs on his back twitched and tingled, and though they weren’t sore, the linen of his shirt irritated his skin and made him want to rip it off.

When it became obvious that sleep would continue to elude him, Merlin slipped on his boots and snuck out of his room. Gaius was deeply asleep, as he always seemed to be the moment his head touched the pillow these days, and Merlin extinguished the candle that had been left burning before quietly crossing the room. The recent changes his body had undergone had seemed to help curb some of his more extreme clumsiness, which on the whole made sneaking about the castle at night a good deal simpler. Not needing a light and being able to hear people coming a long way off also helped.

Before, on nights like this, he would have gone down to the cavern below the castle to talk to Kilgharrah. Now, the same activity involved a lot more walking, but it was a good feeling to leave the castle behind. For a little while, he wanted to pretend that all was well back at the city. He wanted to pretend that Arthur was already king and that Uther was not slowly going mad. He wanted to imagine that Arthur knew his secret and as king had repealed the ban on magic. He wanted to be free of the confining rules of court etiquette and rigid social order as well as the constant gossip. He wanted open space.

The sky was a mass of roiling clouds bringing the threat of rain to cool the last of the lingering summer heat and a breeze blowing chill through the long grass rattled the promise of fall. The irritating rasp of his shirt against his skin had Merlin tossing it to the ground and letting the cool currents of air soothe the itch. It felt good to have the breeze on his bare skin and, without really intending to, his wings unfurled, giving a few experimental flaps against the resistance in the air.

Merlin had kept his wings tightly contained since he had figured out how to retract them. His plan was to ignore them with the hope that if they wouldn’t go away they would at least remain hidden. He had no plans to use them, but perhaps that message hadn’t actually reached the appendages in question. It was a curious thing, feeling a limb as plainly as his arm or leg that hadn’t been there a week ago. Once he knew the trick of it, unfurling and retracting them was simple enough. Moving them with conscious intent was a different thing entirely. He tried to make them stretch to their full width, but one wing would give a twitchy half flap before returning to the semi-folded position that came without thinking. He tried pulling them tighter against himself, with similar results. He harrumphed in frustration and lay down on his front in the grass instead. With his head pillowed on his arms, he closed his eyes and let the breeze dance along his wings and just enjoyed the sensation.

Merlin jerked his head up when he felt the ground beneath him vibrate with an impact and saw Kilgharrah landing near the centre of the clearing. He shook his head to clear it and knew he must have dozed off. Merlin should have heard the dragon’s approach long before he was in sight. He also realized that he hadn’t actually summoned Kilgharrah.

Rising to his feet, Merlin said, “I didn’t call you. Why are you here?”

“You left the castle this evening with the intention to speak with me, did you not?” Kilgharrah said.

Merlin frowned, “Well, yes...”

“And I am here. I have long sensed your movements, even while chained beneath Uther’s castle. Both dragons and Dragonlords are rare these days, but there has always been a greater sense of awareness between our kind. If you spend some time training that sense, you will find my movements are no more a secret to you than yours are to me.”

“How do I even begin training? And to what end? If you’re the last dragon in Albion, I don’t see the point.”

“That is exactly the point. It is possible that there are other dragons in hiding. Developing your awareness will help draw you to them.”

“One is enough. Besides, I have plenty to deal with in Camelot without trying to figure out a bunch of powers I don’t want.”

“And yet you are here, with your wings reaching out to feel the wind.”

“No, I just... I couldn’t sleep. Everything felt scratchy and I couldn’t get comfortable and before... It was nights like this I would come to see you, even if I didn’t care for what you had to say.”

“Are you seeking advice then?”

“No? Yes? I don’t know. Camelot has changed so much. The king... I know you hate Uther, and I don’t blame you. I have no love for him either, but he’s not been well. He seems to be losing his mind. He forgets people’s names and his conversations drift out of the here and now. Uther talks to people as if it were years ago, jumping from time to time in the same conversation without noticing. It isn’t all the time, though. Sometimes he seems fine. It’s been difficult to predict.”

“This madness, it will get worse. It may happen slowly or suddenly, but there is no cure. This would not be a problem if you had not interfered in the past.”

“No. I don’t regret saving him. I find no joy in contemplating his death.”

“It is long past time for Arthur to take the throne. It is more complicated this way, perhaps, but there is no need for Uther to die now, since you find that so objectionable. It is Arthur’s right and duty to act as regent.”

“It’s not exactly an easy thing to do, though.”

“It is not, but it is his path all the same.”

“But what should I do?”

Kilgharrah fixed him with a determined stare. “Nothing. Stand at his side, protect him as you have been, but do not interfere.”

Merlin shook his head and felt his wings flap his frustration. He paced back and forth a few times, letting the flapping help relieve some of his tension. When he looked back at the dragon, Kilgharrah was looking at him with amusement.

“Am I that entertaining to you?” Merlin snapped.

“For all you reject your manifestation, it will not lie dormant again. Your wings wish to be used. It is a deep compulsion for all creatures with the capability of flight.”

“You say that, but I’m not exactly able to make them do what I want either.”

“How so?”

Merlin concentrated and tried to extend his wings the same way he had tried earlier. Once again, one twitched and the movement threw him off balance. Merlin stumbled and glared over his shoulder at the offending appendage.

“You see? I’ve seen birds, insects, bats, even you, fly, but I can’t figure out the simplest of motions.”

“That is because you are trying to move them with your muscles. As I told you before, they are more magic than flesh. It is with your magic that you control them.”

Merlin frowned and closed his eyes, trying to feel the thread of his magic again. He retracted his wings and released them again, chasing the sensation uncoiling magic across the entire span of each wing. He tried to hold it in his mind like he did when halting the fall of a cup of water, then pushed his magic into motion again. The force of the movement lifted him a foot off the ground. His centre of balance was thrown off and he promptly fell on his arse.

Kilgharrah looked amused, but refrained from laughing. “Just so. Try again.”

Merlin huffed and got back to his feet. “Will you find it as amusing when I fall from tree height?”

“All fledglings must practice. You will not achieve much height without finesse. When you have the skill you need to get that high, you will not fall.”

Merlin grumbled under his breath, but tried again all the same.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Without the movement of the moon and stars to measure time by, Merlin lost track of how long he spent struggling to use his wings properly. For all his smug amusement, Kilgharrah was also surprisingly patient. The dragon had always seemed irritated by Merlin’s slow reasoning and endless questions before, but now he appeared content to watch and wait for results.

Eventually, Merlin managed to extend and fold his wings against his body without falling over. He also was able to gain enough control to lift off the ground a few feet and maintain his balance enough to hover briefly before returning to the ground. Kilgharrah assured him that maintaining a steady hover was challenging, even when experienced, and that forward motion would come easier.

When the first drops of rain landed cold against his bare chest, Merlin noticed the passage of time. The clouds had grown heavy with rain and he could hear the rumble of thunder far off in the distance. Retracting his wings, he dashed across the clearing to his discarded shirt and struggled into it.

Kilgharrah turned his face into the wind and looked back at Merlin. “If you are quick you should avoid the worst of it. Unfortunately, I shall have to fly into the storm.”

“Um, sorry. I shouldn’t have stayed out so long.”

“You must take the time to adapt to your new powers. If you do not take the time when you have the opportunity, you will never have the control you are so eager to attain. Now go on, before the wind picks up.”

Merlin hurried towards the trees, but stopped to call over his shoulder. “Goodbye, Kilgharrah.”

“Goodbye, my Lord,” the dragon said, as he launched himself into the rainy sky.



Arthur woke early to the sound of rain lashing against his windows. For a few minutes he lay in bed listening to the storm outside, trying to think only of the changes the weather would make in his day. He tried to think about changing outdoor drill to something that could be practiced indoors, but he couldn’t shift his focus beyond meeting with Gaius. He already had a fair idea of what the physician would say, and he was reluctant to hear it, but it was necessary.

Giving up on falling asleep again, Arthur got up and stared out the window into the rainy gloom. There was no one moving about in the courtyard, not even castle guards. The night guard were likely tucked into the gatehouse and other sheltered places and the castle gates wouldn’t open for some time yet. The wind buffeted the window and the rain left long streaks across the pane. It didn’t look to be a particularly fierce storm, but the weather matched the turmoil of his mind. He stood for a long time, watching the rain and trying not to think.




When there was enough movement in the courtyard to indicate the morning bell was not far off, Arthur dressed himself and left his rooms. He was restless and couldn’t stand waiting any longer. The physician’s door was usually at least partially open when Gaius was receiving patients during the day, but when Arthur arrived it was firmly closed. He had heard the morning bell on his way through the castle, but he hesitated for a moment before disturbing the physician so early. Gaius had worked ceaselessly tending the injured after the dragon’s attacks and Arthur regretted such a large burden having been placed on an old man’s shoulders. Arthur rapped on the door less harshly than was his custom and hoped that he wasn’t inexcusably early.

The door opened a moment later and Gaius looked up at him in surprise. “Prince Arthur? Has Merlin not arrived for work this morning?”

“He hasn’t, though I’m not here to drag him out of bed if he’s still sleeping,” Arthur replied. “I came to speak with you.”

Gaius stepped back from the door and gestured Arthur inside. “Come in. Has something happened?”

“Shall I assume then, that Merlin didn’t mention I wished to meet with you this morning?”

“He did,” Gaius said with a frown, “though I hadn’t thought you meant quite so early in the morning.”

Arthur felt his cheeks warm and looked away towards the window. “My apologies. I woke some time ago from the storm and was unable to sleep any longer.”

“It’s not a problem. Please have a seat,” Gaius said kindly.

Arthur sat at the one table in the room that did not have various scientific devices and medical preparations on it and leaned forward, clasping his hands together in front of him. Gaius sat down across from him and waited patiently for him to voice his concerns. Arthur found it difficult to actually say the words aloud.

After a long moment, he said, “I am concerned about my father.”

Gaius took a long breath through his nose, released it heavily and nodded. “As am I.”

“There are times when he is completely himself, but at other times...” Arthur took a breath and forced the words into existence, “Last night he spoke to me as if I had newly taken command of the knights. He had no memory of the mission he had sent me and my men on. He said that Morgana was worried about me. It was as if he was living in a different time. Last night wasn’t the first time it’s happened.”

“I’m afraid I’ve had similar conversations with the king in recent days,” Gaius said, nodding sadly.

“Is there anything more that can be done?” Arthur asked, though he was already fairly certain of the answer.

“I have searched through my medical books and tried several elixirs to promote memory and aid mental focus, to little effect. I have also found him much quicker to anger at times when his mind is most focussed on the present. It seems as if he might have some idea that something is amiss, but he does not believe it is with himself. Even if he were more aware of what is happening, I have my doubts that he would be more cooperative about treatment. It saddens me to say, but there is very little I can do.”

Arthur knew Gaius was trying to be tactful, but what he really wanted was a straightforward answer. “Is there a cure?”

“No. The mind is too complex. There is no pill or potion that can restore the mind completely. The medicines at my disposal can only mitigate the symptoms.”

“Is there any hope he might recover on his own?”

“Once a person’s mental acuity begins to deteriorate, it gets progressively worse, not better.”

Arthur nodded his understanding. He looked down at his hands on the table and braced himself for the question he least wanted to ask. It hung in the air between them, almost suffocating.

Squaring his jaw, Arthur met Gaius’ eye and asked, “Is he fit to rule?”

Gaius held his gaze and said, “Possibly, but I doubt that will be the case for much longer.”

“The councillors have seen it too. They are losing confidence in his judgement.”

“Not only them. There are whispers of it in every corner of the castle.”

“What do you think should be done?”

“This is a difficult situation, Sire. One that I fear has no good solution.”

“As a physician, if he were an ordinary patient, what would you recommend?”

“If Uther were any other noble at court, I would suggest he retire to his estate with trusted servants to attend him as his mind fails.”

“There is no alternative to a regency, is there?”

“I cannot see one.”

“He will not accept it. He will think us all traitors.”

“That is almost guaranteed.”

“If I stand by and wait, the kingdom will be vulnerable. The situation is not a secret. Even without the potential for my father making disastrous commands, there are those at court who would undermine the kingdom for their own gain. I know what needs to be done, and yet I cannot bear to do it.”

“You have my support, when you do decide the time has come. I cannot make the decision for you, but the luxury of delaying the inevitable will likely not last long.”

“I know. Thank you, Gaius, for being forthright with me. I value your judgement and advice.”

“I greatly wish there was more I could do.”

“You have been doing more than enough for a long time, Gaius.”

Arthur stood to leave. It was still early, and he wanted some time to compose himself before council. He wanted to see his father in council for himself before he made any final decisions. He needed to observe the behaviour of others at court and see who might seek to take advantage of the situation. There would be those who could be counted on to act for the good of the kingdom, and those who could be counted on to act for the good of themselves. There were also those he was not sure of. He had played the game of politics at court for a long time and he knew that information was the most valuable thing to have.

At the door, Arthur turned back to Gaius and said, “You could wake my lazy manservant. I am not looking forward to council this morning. The thought of enduring it on an empty stomach is even less appealing.”

“I’ll roust him for you, Sire,” Gaius said, shaking his head with an indulgent smile.



Merlin wasn’t entirely certain what he had expected Arthur to do about the situation with Uther, but he had expected Arthur to do something. Nearly three weeks had passed, and Arthur had done nothing, or at least nothing Merlin had noticed. For all appearances, nothing in Camelot had changed. The king continued to rule while mistaking his councillors’ names and regularly forgetting the topic of discussion. He would bring up issues that had long been laid to rest and inquired after people who were no longer at court, or in some cases deceased. The spectre of king’s mental state loomed large while council met, though no one was prepared to acknowledge the shadow it cast.

After his discussion with Sir Leon and Sir Bedivere, Arthur became unwilling to discuss the matter further and brusquely dismissed anyone who tried. While Merlin understood that there was no clear path to follow, he worried about the inevitable conflict. It made him anxious and irritable.

Or perhaps that was just his wings.

Merlin was only able to restrain himself from sneaking out to practice flying for three nights after his first attempt, and the next time only two. Soon he was slipping past the guards every night, nearly running down the path that wound through the trees until it opened up into the quiet clearing. Sometimes he was alone when he arrived and sometimes Kilgharrah was already there waiting for him as he scrambled out of his shirt to let his wings free. The nights grew colder, but the chill didn’t bother him as much now. The night air on his bare chest was refreshing rather than a deterrent.

Kilgharrah had been fairly accurate in his estimate of how long it would take for Merlin to become confident in his newfound power of flight. At first he found it difficult to keep his wings extended and his balance forward for more than a few tentative flaps, but near the end of the second week he was able to take off, fly a dozen yards or so, and land without falling over. He remained nervous at heights greater than those he was used to from riding all over the countryside on horseback. He couldn’t quite shake the fear of falling. Kilgharrah would chuckle and tease him in an almost friendly manner, which was odd, but nice.

When he was tired from his exertions, Merlin found himself lingering in the clearing, unwilling to return to the castle. He asked the ancient dragon to tell him about the history of the Dragonlords, and to his surprise, Kilgharrah did. He spoke at length about times when men and dragons lived together. He shared the stories about the first Dragonlords and how the warlocks who had revered them eventually came to protect and command them. Kilgharrah spoke sadly about the days of decline and angrily of the purges, not just Uther’s, but other rulers who had feared and reviled the dragons and sought to destroy them.

There were so many stories to hear, so much to learn, and each night Merlin found himself more and more reluctant to leave the quiet peace of the clearing and the deep rumble of Kilgharrah’s voice as he spoke. Life in the castle was tense and complicated. Arthur had grown sombre and remote. He worked twice as hard on the training field as any of the other knights, attended nearly all council meetings, and public audiences besides. He went on as many local patrols as possible and still scraped together the time to continue assisting the rebuilding in the lower town. Merlin trailed Arthur through his day, and was ready to fall down flat at the end of it, at least until the draw of the clearing became too great to resist. He was perpetually exhausted, sneaking short naps when he could, but the truth was he couldn’t continue this way much longer. There were days when he even contemplated walking away from it all and following Kilgharrah to wherever he went during his days. He never thought about it too seriously, but once the idea occurred to him, Merlin couldn’t quite let it go.

The moon waxed to full and waned back to a thumbnail again. The cool nights began to have frost and lounging about on the icy grass was not as pleasant. Merlin didn’t feel the cold as much as before, but the frost prickled on his skin, forcing him to sit up. He drew his wings around him for a bit more warmth, but made no move to put his shirt and jacket back on. He was still flushed with exhilaration from his first flight above the treetops. It had thrilled and terrified him in equal measure. The fear had faded once his feet were firmly back on the ground, but the excitement remained. The exhaustion he had felt at the end of his duties earlier was gone. He felt so very alert and alive now.

Looking up at Kilgharrah, Merlin said, “Perhaps we should find a different place. It’s a bit exposed here. It might be nice to have a sheltered place to talk when it gets colder.”

“You have little need for my instruction now. All that remains for you to do is build your strength and endurance. You don’t need my presence for that,” Kilgharrah said.

“Well, I suppose not, but that isn’t why I keep coming out here.”

“Then why do you return to this place, night after night, when doing so has clearly taxed your newfound strength so greatly?”

“I come to see you, to learn all the things I’m supposed to know but was never taught about who I am. I keep coming here because I finally feel like I belong somewhere.”

Kilgharrah frowned and lowered his head to his forepaws. Looking intently at Merlin, he said, “You belong somewhere, but it is not here.”

“Of course it is. I was born to live with dragons.”

“No,” Kilgharrah said quietly, but firmly. “You were born to be at the side of the Once and Future King.”

Merlin shook his head. “I can’t. Camelot is stifling, restrictive. I hate it there.”

“Listen to yourself. Those are not your words. Those are the words of a bitter old dragon who spent far too long chained beneath the city. Your destiny lies with Arthur. You’ve learned all you need to from me. It’s past time for you to fly on your own. Tonight was your last lesson.”

“You would abandon me?”

“You would abandon Arthur?”

Merlin hesitated. “No. I’m not abandoning him. It’s just...”

“It has been a terribly long time since I have had a receptive ear to listen to my memories of times past, but they are past. Even if they weren’t it would not change your destiny. You belong at Arthur’s side. Without you, he cannot be the great king he is meant to become.”

Merlin felt rage welling up inside him. He launched himself to his feet, wings snapping wide aggressively and hands flailing as he snarled, “Is that all I am? Some pawn that fate pushes around to keep the precious prat safe? Can I have nothing for myself?”

“Your choices are your own, but if you look at what is truly in your heart this destiny will lead you down a path far greater and far happier than if you gave it up to live as a recluse with what few dragons may be left in this world. It may seem the more difficult and less enjoyable path now, but difficult times always pass.”

“You forget that I can command you, Kilgharrah,” Merlin threatened.

Kilgharrah drew himself up to his full height, wings flaring, tail twitching and eyes flashing. “And you forget that you are not the first Dragonlord I have met. I may have no choice but to heel at your command, but I do not have to obey willingly or easily.”

Staring up at the angry dragon he had begun to consider his friend, Merlin felt his fury vanish and was consumed by sadness at the loss. Dropping to the ground, he pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his wings around his body like a cocoon. There were tears stinging at his eyes, but he refused to cry. He had shed enough tears on Kilgharrah’s account. Buried in the shelter of his wings, he could hear the dragon moving about, but refused to look up and see Kilgharrah leave. Kilgharrah’s footsteps made the ground beneath him vibrate, but for all the stomping and angry noises, he did not leave.

After a long while, Merlin looked up and said, “If you want to leave so badly, go.”

“Young warlock, I have not kept coming because of any sense of duty to you as a Dragonlord, nor for the purposes of manipulating you as a tool of destiny. It may have been foolish on my part, but I have continued to come for my own selfish enjoyment. Watching you take to the sky has been immensely gratifying as has having a receptive ear to my reminiscences. My selfishness cannot continue. Very soon, Arthur will be in great need of you, and if you continue to divide your energies, you will be of little good to either of us.”

“I’m tired of being alone, Kilgharrah. I’m sick to death of hiding all the time.”

“It will not be this way much longer.”

“It wouldn’t be if you stayed.”

“Wouldn’t it? If you had to command my presence, would you be satisfied?”

Merlin scrunched his eyes shut against the burn of unshed tears. “No.”

“Then let this end for now. There will come a time when we may share the sky, but it is not now.”

“Go,” Merlin whispered.

“Be well, my Lord,” Kilgharrah said formally.

The air around him swirled as the massive dragon beat his wings and leapt off the ground. Merlin was too wretched to look up. He remained hunched in on himself, wrapped in his wings, stubbornly refusing to shed a tear, until the grey light of predawn crept into the sky.



Masterpost | Part 2 | Part 4 |