D=
Guys! I'm dipping my toes in the world of fanfiction - Merlin fanfiction! This is the first one I've ever posted, though not actually the first one I've written - I'm one of those people who hoards their stories in hidden folders on their computer, lest anyone find them... Anyway, wanted to write something for glenien for the amazing graphics and because the prompts were, well... pretty awesome!
Title: The Last Dragon
Author: hovercarracer
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: OT4-ish?
Length: ~5,900 words
Warnings/Spoilers: Uh... abuse of italics? =P
Disclaimer: Merlin (c) Shine and BBC
Comments: First fic I've posted - beware, lol. Unbeta'd. Written for glenien 's wishlist prompts: "The Great Dragon vs Merlin. Merlin kicks ass" and "Healing hands of the King. LOTR reference, Arthur is able to do magic, just once: to heal Merlin". Incompatible with S2, I'm guessing. Oh yeah - and the concept of 'Gating' is from Mercedes Lackey's 'The Last Herald Mage' series.
The Last Dragon
{Prologue}
"Swear to me," the cloaked magician hissed. Her eyes flashed with madness and malice as she shaped her magic to a spell that would destroy Camelot and all she no longer stood for. "Swear on your blood that you'll do it! I will have your oath, Dragon! Remember what I told you - The boy must die!"
"Remember who you speak to, Priestess!" the Great Dragon, bitter now with age and confinement, snarled. "I will do as you ask - not because you ask it, but because it suits me."
The answer was good enough for her. She released her power with a loud cry of command, and it slammed into the dragon's chains with a ringing crash that echoed and reverberated throughout the underground cavern.
The chains cracked.
Again, the priestess struck.
The dragon roared, adding the heat of dragon-fire to the power of the Old Religion.
At the third strike, the chains shattered.
The ancient stone of the prison crumbled the instant the shackles fell; the very foundations of Camelot shuddered as the Great Dragon - the Last Dragon - reared, tail lashing as it sought the witch who had dared demand his oath. Too late.
Nimueh had vanished as mysteriously as she had appeared.
{Part One}
"Morning, sire!" Merlin called cheerfully, clattering into Arthur's chambers with his usual grace. "I brought breakfast!"
"Do you have to be so loud, Merlin?" Arthur groaned. He rolled over and flung his arm over his eyes.
"If I don't, you just go back to sleep - and then I get put in the stocks when you don't turn up to court on time, and-"
Something screamed through Merlin's mind - a wordless, furious shout that shot through him with stunning force.
The plates shattered on the ground with a loud crash.
"Merlin? Merlin!" Arthur was out of bed in a flash, flinging a blanket over the shards of crockery as he darted to the fallen man's side. "What-"
"Gods," Merlin groaned, clutching his head. "My head is-"
The rest of his sentence was lost in a pained cry just as every single glass, mirror and vase in the room shattered. Arthur swore as a flying shard cut his cheek near to the bone.
--Free! FREE!
"The dragon!" Merlin gasped, blood draining from his horrified face. "Gods - oh gods - the dragon's free!"
"What dragon?" Arthur began, and would have continued had the earth not shuddered beneath him, shifting beneath the whole of Camelot and sending whole sections of the castle cascading into the hidden caverns below.
It was then, with his gaze focussed solely on Merlin's face, that Arthur finally saw it.
Merlin's eyes flashed golden.
Once.
Twice.
"No," they breathed together.
Outside, the falling masonry froze in place granting the screaming nobles and servants time to flee. The Great Dragon, unfettered after decades of confinement, roared in fury as it took to the skies.
--PENDRAGON!
Merlin's awareness returned to him in a swirling rush. He sat bolt upright, blue eyes suddenly clear and bright with focus.
"Arthur. Take Morgana, and take Gwen, and your father, and get out of here. Tell everyone to get as far from Camelot as they can. The city is no longer safe for you."
"But - you're a warlock!" Arthur blurted, mind still reeling with the sudden revelations of 'Merlin', 'magic' and 'dragon'. A distant part of him wondered how an ordinary morning had dissolved into this nightmare.
"We don't have time for this!" Merlin said impatiently. "Yes, I have the Gift - have had it ever since I was born. Yes, I lied to you - though I took no pleasure from it, and no, I have never - and will never - wield my power against you or Camelot. Now if you want to live, you'll do as I say and leave!" he said, voice ringing with authority.
Arthur stared at him; gaped at this new Merlin so different from his own. Gone was his clumsy, inept, and somewhat endearing manservant - instead he saw a determined, commanding young man just as confused at the turn of events as he was, but who was determined to do all in his power to put things right.
A young warlock who, by the time Arthur had assembled his thoughts into coherency, had long since vanished down the corridor.
Merlin sprinted through the castle, all but flying through the halls as he made his way back to his room, retracing the steps he'd taken only a few minutes ago.
The incident with the Isle of the Blessed had made him realise how malicious and manipulative the Great Dragon could truly be. He'd known it would not be content to sit in its lair for much longer; had realised that some day soon it would break free… and that when it did, it would come for him. He didn't know what the catalyst had been. Neither did he care.
"Gaius, get out of here," Merlin gasped out as he flashed past the physician, already stuffing bandages and balms into a travel pack, to his room. "The dragon's out - I don't know how - and it's really, very angry."
"Merlin." Gaius stood between him and the doorway. "I hope you're not planning on confronting him. It's too powerful - even for you."
Merlin sighed heavily, suddenly tired to the bone. The cuts on his face and hands from the broken crockery stung; his head felt like there was someone with a hammer inside it, trying to escape through his forehead.
"If Uther caught it, then so can I."
"It took the power of every single druid elder to trap it, Merlin!" Gaius snapped.
"Then I'll find them! I've never met one, but-"
Merlin blanched as realisation struck.
"The effort of imprisoning the dragon was so great that every one of the elders was struck down," Gaius said gravely. "It took the druid community a very long time to recover - why else do you think Uther hasn't moved against them?"
"What are you saying? That I should just… leave it, and hope that the dragon will just… fly away? He wants Arthur, Gaius," Merlin said bleakly. "You know I can't let that happen - won't let it happen. Destiny, remember?" he said with a sad smile. He hefted the Sidhe staff, retrieved from its place under the floor, in his hands.
And then he was gone.
Again.
"Merlin?" Gwen called as she caught sight of a familiar gangly silhouette making its way across the courtyard. "Where are you going? What's happening?"
"Gwen!" Merlin exclaimed, turning. "What are you-"
Gwen was not alone. She, Arthur and Morgana wore full battle dress and matching expressions of grim determination, grips hard on the heavy spears they bore.
"We couldn't get the horses," Morgana said awkwardly after a beat of silence. "They're spooked-"
"What in the name of all the gods do you think you're doing?" Merlin cried. His eyes sparked furiously. The wind suddenly picked up.
The others stared at him, shocked.
"I told you to leave! I told you to get out of here! The dragon wants you, Arthur!" Merlin scanned his friends' faces, desperate for them to understand. His heart sank with what he saw there.
Fear.
The anger drained out of him as suddenly as it had come, leaving him abruptly weak-kneed. "The dragon wants you, Arthur," he repeated quietly. "And if he finds you or your father… you'll be ash before sundown. I can't let that happen," he said simply. "Not to any of you."
"The more help you have, the better chance we'll stand," Arthur argued. "Come on, Merlin, you're a hopeless fighter and we both know it."
"Arthur," Merlin said, smiling sadly, "This is not an enemy you can face. The dragon cannot be harmed with mortal steel, no matter how stout the heart of he who wields it. That includes you, Morgana," Merlin added as Morgana opened her mouth to protest. "One day your Gift may become equal to mine - but not today."
Both Arthur and Morgana's eyes widened.
"It seems everyone has a secret to tell except me," Gwen offered.
"You have a kind heart, Guinevere. A pure heart." Merlin said, folding his hands over hers. He bent and spoke his next words into her ears alone. "Arthur will need you if he's to shape Camelot into the city it could and should be. He will not do it alone… but he cannot do it without you."
Tears welled in Gwen's eyes.
"Be careful," she whispered. She hugged him tightly and stepped back.
"'What if magic chooses you?'" Morgana recited ruefully, shaking her head at the remembrance. "How long have you known?"
"I thought I… sensed something, in you - when you came to Gaius when Sophia arrived in Camelot. After that," he should his head, fiddling with the staff in his hands. "After that, I just started… noticing things, I guess."
The corner of Morgana's mouth quirked upwards. "Me too," she admitted, earning a startled exclamation.
"You See too much, Morgana," Merlin smiled.
There was another moment awkward silence.
"Thank you for looking after us, Merlin," Morgana said suddenly, green eyes overbright but unwavering. She slipped a mail shirt over his shoulders, hands squeezing briefly in wordless encouragement, and stepped back.
"I don't know you at all, do I?" Arthur's voice was low and strained in Merlin's ears.
"I'm still… me," he protested lamely.
"Still an idiot, then," Arthur grinned briefly, startling a laugh from his companion. The ground rumbled beneath them, cutting the moment short. "Here," Arthur said suddenly, pushing his dagger into Merlin's hands. "I know you said it won't help," he said quickly, "but I know enough about magic to know that it… 'runs out' - and when it does, you'll need a weapon - a real weapon, that is - and I don't trust you with a sword." Arthur took a deep, steadying breath in an attempt to settle his conflicting emotions. "I don't care how tough that beast is - you get that through its head, and it will die."
Merlin found himself pulled into a rough embrace.
"You're a good man, Arthur," Merlin said, drawing back. He hesitated, choosing his next words carefully. "You have an… an aura about you. Not magic," he said hastily, "More like… I don't know - like sunlight? I can't explain it. But I know you'll make a great king - your reign will be the stuff of legends."
Merlin shook his head dismissively.
"Now get out of here, or so help me, I'll-"
Too late.
--PENDRAGON! The red sun will bleach your bones before this day ends!
Debris whirled through the courtyard in a deadly hurricane with the backdraught from the dragon's wings, knocking Gwen to the ground and forcing Merlin to erect a hasty shield around his companions. Arthur reeled, a bloody gash on his forehead.
--Get out - as far as you can! Merlin shouted into Morgana's mind. She nodded, pale-faced, and began leading her stunned companions to safety.
"What happened to 'two sides of the same coin'?" Merlin shouted, "What about Destiny?!"
--I bow to no force! The dragon roared. Orange flame spurted from its mouth to splash against the barely visible nimbus of Merlin's shield.
--I see it all, now - so clearly! I am the Last Dragon - it is not I who must bow to destiny, but it to me! Camelot will burn! Its people will pay for the sins of its rulers. I will kill Arthur Pendragon and his death will birth a new age!
It was then that Merlin realised.
The Great Dragon was mad.
He had to get the others out.
Merlin gestured, eyes glowing golden, and roof slates peeled themselves from the buildings, swept into a whirling funnel of air that began hurling its contents at the dragon in a continuous barrage. With his other hand he began weaving a new spell - a Gate that would lead his friends to safety.
That was the theory, anyway.
Sparing only a few moments to regain his breath, Merlin plunged his senses into the magical weavings of Albion. He wove the Gate fast - dangerously fast. He clenched his hands and brought Air and Earth together in a pounding clash of energy; wreathes of Fire twined with streams of Water until the foundation of the portal stood glowing in the sunlight. But even with the magic Morgana was channelling to him from her shelter, his energy levels plummeted quickly.
There was no time.
He reached further; stripped the life from the area around him, though it sickened him to the core. Birds, insects, plants - all were used to feed the Gate, steadying and supporting the spell where his magic alone could not. He struck the Sidhe staff against the cobblestones, bright cyan light flaring with each blow.
Once.
Twice.
Faster! his mind screamed as the dragon stalked towards him, ceramic shattering uselessly against its toughened hide. FASTER!
A touch of Fate - the one element that was his alone to command - ripped the hole to the portal's destination. Merlin shuddered to his knees, vision wavering, but held the spell stubbornly.
"Run!" Merlin shouted through the raging wind. Gwen supported an exhausted Morgana, and the two stumbled through the Gate to Ealdor. Arthur hesitated on the threshold, a pained expression on his face.
It was all the opportunity the dragon needed.
It spun, tail smashing into Arthur's hastily raised shield and sending the knight flying across the courtyard.
"Arthur!" Merlin shouted. Desperate energy coursed down his fingertips. He shoved his magic in Arthur's direction. The earth rippled, caught him, and then flung him unceremoniously through the portal. Safe.
--NO! The dragon raged. The full weight of its fury struck Merlin like a physical blow, sending him reeling. He whited out, shuddering with shock and pain, and fought to drag himself back from the edge of unconsciousness. White-hot dragonfire streamed against his flickering shield.
"That the best you can do?" Merlin screamed.
--You will pay for your treachery, Emrys! My power will consume you!
"Yeah?" Merlin muttered, eyes sparking. "Well - eat this-!"
He dissembled the Gate with a gesture and channelled every drop of power through the staff and in the dragon's direction. The stream burned through its defences like fire through paper and impacted its chest with a dull boom, sending it hurtling skywards.
Summoning the winds beneath him, Merlin followed.
{Part Two}
"Sire? Arthur?"
Arthur groaned. His eyes fluttered open and his vision slowly focussed on the blurry figure above him, revealing Hunith's concerned features. For a few blissful moments his mind was completely blank - and then he remembered.
That self-sacrificing idiot! God damn you, Merlin!
He struggled upright, only to have Hunith press him gently back onto the pillows.
"Easy, sire-"
"Hunith! Merlin's-"
"I know," Hunith quietly, to Arthur's surprise. "Gwen told me. Your friends are fine," she added, seeing the sudden panic on Arthur's face. "Lady Morgana woke a short time ago - she's resting, now."
"Thank god," Arthur mumbled, closing his eyes tiredly. His body was as stiff as a corpse; he felt like he'd fallen off a galloping horse - several times.
For a few minutes there was silence.
"I'm… sorry, Hunith," Arthur said in a pained voice. "I shouldn't have let him- should've stayed-"
"You did as much as you could - as much as he let you. Merlin is more powerful than you give him credit for," Hunith said bravely.
"Power… isn't everything," Arthur said bitterly. "Hunith… it was the dragon - the Great Dragon."
Hunith's face paled, but her gaze remained steady.
"Rest," she repeated. "The sooner you recover, the sooner you can find him."
"Die, gods take you!" Merlin screamed, or would've, had his voice not been hoarse from use. He speared yet another lance of magic at the delicate membrane of the dragon's wing, the Sidhe staff long since turned to dust with the force of the powers wielded through it. The magic struck true, but the blow was too weak to inflict anything more than a superficial wound.
He'd followed the Great Dragon across Camelot - chased it all the way to the White Mountains, where Merlin had been forced to take the offensive and turn the fight around, unwilling to allow the dragon's corrupt magic any nearer to the Blessed Isle. The sun had long since set and risen again over the land. Never had Merlin imaged - never had he even dreamed - that he held so much magic within him.
And yet - here he was. Just.
Hot blood dripped from a deep wound on his thigh, a painful reminder to keep well away from the dragon's razor-sharp talons; he could barely see the beast through the golden wyrd burning in his eyes, and he was weary beyond belief, yes - but so was the dragon.
He could tell by the lack of homicidal ranting.
And the dragon was kind of hard to miss.
Distracted, he plummeted several feet to avoid the dragon's retaliatory strike, regaining his equilibrium a scant sword-length from the treetops of the Darkling Woods they now battled over.
He summoned lightning and sent it fizzing towards the dragon with a cry that was all but lost in the deafening crack of thunder that accompanied it. It did little but blacken the edges of the dragon's scales, and only another plummet towards the treetops saved Merlin from being clawed from the sky by his opponent's retaliatory attack.
"Enough!" Merlin shouted. "Why can't you just leave? Just… crawl back to whatever hole you came from and leave us be!"
A stabbing gesture stripped the branches from the trees and ripped them from the earth below. A few syllables in the Old Tongue and the trunks became sharpened stakes tipped with motes of blue energy, just as Lancelot's weapon had been so long (days? months? years?) ago. He sent them shooting at the dragon, one by one.
"Stop… fighting, you… stupid… ugly… excuse… for a… lizard…!"
Arthur would never forget the nightmare scene that played out in the skies of his city the night he returned to Camelot. The citizens of the city - those few who hadn't fled - lined the streets, light flickering on their upturned faces. A few bore candles; a few offered prayers for their unknown defender. Most simply watched.
He couldn't see them clearly; just shadowy figures - one small, one impossibly huge - battling it out, surrounded by blinding flashes of lightning, roaring thunder, screaming wind and raging fire. Merlin's power had caught them all by surprise. It awed Arthur and scared him in equal measures, and he realised, finally, that he may - may - have underestimated his manservant.
Just a bit.
"Come on, Merlin," he muttered, signalling his archers to ready themselves. It wouldn't help, probably - but he had to try. And besides - he never listened to Merlin. "Just a little more…"
Buy he could only watch as a bolt of lightning sent the smaller figure hurtling into the central tower.
Hurgh-!
Merlin grunted breathlessly as he slammed into the open window of the central tower, magic all but exhausted. For a moment he lay still, too weary even to open his eyes.
Gaius had been right. He couldn't do this - couldn't fight a dragon. He should have listened - he was no use to Arthur dead.
Come on, Merlin - keep it together! he berated himself. The dragon's after you now, so you either kill it, or be killed!
Oh - how helpful!
The others are depending on you - Gaius, Morgana, Gwen… Heddy, the kitchen maid; Thomas, the stableboy; Aric, the huntmaster… Arthur. You have to save them - because no-one else stands a chance.
How could he save anyone if he couldn't even save himself? Hadn't he done enough? He'd tried his best, hadn't he? Gods, he was tired…
But there was never really a choice. Merlin heaved himself to his feet, more or less, and something metal clattered to the floor - Arthur's dagger.
He stared at it stupidly.
"I don't care how tough that beast is - you get that through its head, and it will die."
An idea sparked in his brain.
It was an indescribably stupid idea.
Suicide at best.
"Hell, it's not like I've got any other ideas," Merlin muttered grimly. He tucked the knife into his belt and staggered upwards. To the roof.
--Where are you, little bird? The dragon panted. It crouched on the roof of the neighbouring building, each swish of its tail and clack of its claw sending roof tiles sliding to shatter on the floor far, far below.
Merlin gulped and wedged himself a little more firmly into the niche he'd hidden in - the hollow section where the circular lookout post abutted the vertical stone wall. It was a long way to fall.
--Where are you hiding, little traitor? The dragon snarled.
Wouldn't you like to know, Merlin thought sarcastically. He could feel the hot dampness of its breath on his face as it craned its neck over the walkway above, black-gold eyes darting erratically as it sought its prey. Merlin drew the dagger again and clutched it in one white-knuckled hand. Just a little closer, and the dragon would be in range.
Just a little more…
Merlin was still alive.
Arthur knew he must be, since he himself was not currently fighting to stop becoming dragon food. He watched as Morgana drew her bow, stretching the string back to her cheek, and took careful aim.
"Come on, you stupid excuse for a lizard," she growled.
Arthur took a deep breath.
"Hey! Hey!" he shouted. "Looking for me?!"
Immediately, the dragon's head whipped in his direction. It smiled at him, age-stained teeth glinting in the flickering light of their torches.
"Arthur!" Morgana hissed. "What are you, mad? Are you trying to get us killed?"
Arthur fought down the insane urge to laugh - because really, what sort of question was that? They were trying to take down the Great Dragon with arrows, for god's sake!
He shot his sister a fierce grin, white teeth flashing darkness. Then he turned his face upwards once more and screamed, "Come on, you stupid excuse for a lizard!"
"Idiot!" Merlin snarled when he heard Arthur's challenging shout, though he couldn't deny the way his heart leapt wildly in his chest. It would make little difference now, he supposed - this was the best chance they'd ever get of defeating it. His fingers clenched on the cold hilt of Arthur's dagger.
The dragon's mad laughter was not a sound any of them would ever forget.
It took one step forward.
"Now! Fire!" Arthur thundered. The night was filled with the buzz and twang of arrows being released. The deadly cloud arced towards the dragon… only to burst into a ball of brilliant flame as dragonfire consumed it.
"Now, Morgana!"
Morgana released her arrow with a grunt of effort, and it sped straight and true into the gaping maw of its target. The dragon roared, more with surprise than pain, and stumbled backwards, head ducking below the level of the tower.
A small figure flung itself from the tower top, a small object glittering in its hand.
Merlin, Arthur realised. Idiot! What did he think he was--
"I know enough about magic to know that it… 'runs out' - and when it does…"
Oh.
This was it. Merlin was out of magic.
But Arthur was wrong.
Damn.
He'd misjudged. He'd aimed to land on the dragon's head - not in front of it! Merlin cried out and waved his arms wildly; somehow managed to keep himself in the air and retain his grip on the dagger.
The dragon growled and began to open its mouth, smoke billowing forth in ominous warning.
"No-no-no…" Merlin moaned, frantically gathering what little magic was left to him.
A torrent of dragonfire gushed from the dragon's gaping mouth.
Arthur and his companions held their breath as the figure in the sky was engulfed by flame. Surely this could not be it - the end of their world as they knew it? Surely not…
A faint cry rose above the roar of the inferno and a shimmering blue orb appeared at the centre of the flame. As the dragonfire began to clear a figure appeared, arms aloft, fingers clenched around the hilt of a glowing knife. The blue shield flickered a bare palm-length from its body.
Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. As long as Merlin was still alive, they had a chance.
His fingers trembled on his own bow, but he drew it smoothly and swiftly, his posture one of grim determination. The practiced movement calmed his mind as he sighted, aimed… and shot.
Lunging, the dragon ducked its head and burned the arrow from the sky.
Just as Arthur had known it would.
Merlin released his windcrafting, plummeting downwards in a mad freefall towards the dragon's head - now below him once more. He landed squarely, this time, feet slipping slightly on the shiny smoothness of the dragon's scales.
Brilliant crimson light blazed from his free hand as he pressed it onto the crown of the dragon's head, ripping the scales from its skin with brutal, ruthless energy. The dragon bellowed; smashed its head against the tower in an attempt to dislodge him, but Merlin hunched his shoulders, wedged his bare feet between the dragon's scales and, impossibly, clung on. He could see the watching crowd of knights far, far below them; could almost see the startling blue Arthur's of his eyes; the ebony of Morgana's hair; the mahogany of Gwen's skin. Almost.
"CAMELOT!"
Merlin howled and plunged the now burnished dagger downwards. It crunched through the bone of the dragon's skull with magic-borne strength and sank deep into the thing's brain.
And, with a long, low groan, the Great Dragon - the Last Dragon - died.
Merlin sensed an unexplainable and irrational euphoria emanating from it - and a feeling of long-awaited rest. The Great Dragon's heart stopped beating.
So did its wings.
Oh, hell!
Arthur watched as the Great Dragon's body tumbled gracelessly from the sky. It impacted the courtyard - the place where it had all begun - with crushing force, beauty and magnificence reduced to a steaming carcass of flesh, scale and bones.
It was from this smouldering ruin that they pulled Merlin's body.
Arthur bowed his head, silent prayers spilling from his lips, Morgana's hand clutching his shoulder tightly. Gently - oh so gently - Gwen placed her hand on Merlin's chest.
Thump.
Thump.
{Part Three}
They bore him to Gaius' chambers, features concealed in the folds of Arthur's scarlet cloak. It was an image that would haunt Gaius' memories on lonely nights for many long years.
That night, however, he forced himself to push his emotions aside, working feverishly to draw Merlin back from the brink of death, if not restore him to the state of the living. Though Gaius was arguably the best healer in the realm, it was simply not enough. He called them in at dawn.
Wearily, the three of them stumbled forwards. They stopped a few paces from the cot, stunned by the sight that greeted them. Merlin's skin was almost translucent, bruises and burns showing as clear as ink on paper; fresh stains on a white bandage marked the existence of a bloody gouge that refused to close. His eyes, closed in uneasy rest, were sunk deep in his suddenly gaunt face and the flesh hung from his frame as though he'd spent the year on bread crusts and water. His breathing was shallow; laboured. The three days of magic overuse had exacted a hard toll on Merlin's body.
"My medicines will not work," Gaius said helplessly. "I don't know why. It's like there's something damping them, preventing them from taking effect. I've done all I can."
"No."
Arthur's voice resonated in the stillness of the sickroom, echoing with heartache, fatigue, shock - and an absolute and utter refusal to accept this situation.
"No," he repeated. "This… this is wrong."
"There is nothing else I can do, Arthur!" Gaius cried, voice thick with frustration and grief. "God knows I've tried! Merlin is my son in every way that matters - but even magic can only do so much."
"How about the tonic you gave me after the Questing Beast?" the prince insisted.
"That was water from the Isle of the Blessed, sire - water infused with energy and poured from a chalice that only the high priestess of the Old Religion may summon."
"Then I'll find her and-"
"She's dead."
Morgana's words cut through Arthur's own like a knife.
"Merlin destroyed her when she tried to take Gaius's life. I wasn't there - but I Saw it," she explained. "Technically, Merlin is the high priest now - and he clearly isn't in any condition summon anything, let alone a holy chalice," she said bitterly. "It's ironic, isn't it? The only person who can save Merlin - is Merlin."
Merlin.
That was him, wasn't it? He was Merlin?
But no; that couldn't be right. If he was Merlin, then he would feel it, wouldn't he? How could he be Merlin without a body? Without sense? Without magic?
Perhaps he was Merlin, but not… Merlin?
This was confusing.
He couldn't remember much; had a vague recollection of falling, weariness, and hurt that had faded abruptly at the touch of a warm presence on his own. There were people close by, though, he realised suddenly. There were voices, murmuring.
"Merlin."
The name was repeated many times over - surely they were talking about him?
"Merlin is my son."
The statement startled him. It felt right, but he couldn't remember having a father - though he supposed he didn't remember much at all, right now. He must be Merlin-
"No."
No? This word, too, resonated in him. Did this mean he wasn't Merlin? Why couldn't these people make up their minds!
"Merlin is the high priest."
He certainly didn't remember that. His heart sank as the voices began to fade. Not Merlin after all, then.
"The only person who can save Merlin - is Merlin."
Too bad for Merlin, he thought, and allowed oblivion to claim him once more.
Arthur unwound the bandage from Merlin's wound, thinking hard.
"You have an… an aura about you."
His hands stilled.
"An aura…" he murmured. He looked up, desperate hope in his eyes. "Merlin said I had an aura."
"Such things have been known to exist," Gaius said slowly, "And not necessarily in people with the Gift - like when someone is improbably lucky, or charismatic. Like a blessing, I suppose - though I can hardly see how that would help us now…"
Arthur bit his lip uncertainly, then closed his eyes, reaching for the part of him that had responded to Merlin's words three days ago. It was not a new sensation - ever since Merlin had arrived he'd felt a vague energy that flickered and surged through his body whenever he made a decision that he knew was… right, on some instinctual level. Like when he'd fought Valiant. When he'd gone after the mortaeus flower. When he'd followed Merlin to Ealdor.
Whatever it is, Arthur prayed silently, Whatever blessing or luck that has been given to me - please, take it! Bring Merlin back!
With his eyes screwed tightly shut, Arthur never saw the radiance that blossomed in his hands, that joined with the dawn sunlight to bathe the room in hues of red, purple and gold. The room was filled with the scent of fresh rain on new grass and the sound of running water - though not a drop had fallen. After long minutes, light, scent and sound faded.
Arthur opened his eyes.
He found his hands cupped around a metal chalice filled to the brim with precious, healing water that sparkled like liquid gold. He met Morgana and Gwen's wondering gazes with his own.
"But… that's impossible!" Gaius breathed. "Only a True King of Albion may summon the Cup without the aid of magic - and you are not yet crowned!"
"I'm not complaining," Arthur mumbled. He tipped some of the water into Merlin's mouth and held his breath.
Merlin swallowed.
Encouraged, Arthur repeated the gesture; then dipped his hands into the bowl and ran a finger along the gouge on the man's shoulder, touch feather-light on the unhealed skin. Crimson light flared briefly along the injury, and Arthur felt something (magic?) flow out of him; a feeling of tension, like string being pulled through fabric. There was a brief sense of resistance, but he pushed and it crumbled, flesh and bone re-knitting, leaving naught but a pale, shiny scar to mark where the injury had been. He spread his hand over a bruise high on Merlin's cheekbone next, the motion slow and smooth. When he lifted it, the mark was gone, reduced to a mottled discolouration. Again, there was resistance, but Arthur steadfastly refused to give it purchase.
Smiling grimly, Arthur bent to his task.
Golden light spilled into the black void of Merlin's mind, bringing with it awareness, sensation, life - and pain. It vanished quickly, though, with each touch of the future king's aura on his own; lessened with each thread of magic that passed from Arthur to him.
--No! He is mine!
Nimueh. Her presence swamped his mind like a wave, suffocating him with anger and frustration. Merlin groaned. Tired. So… tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of losing.
--Come on Merlin, you lazy idiot! Fight back, or so help me I'll pile you with so many chores when you wake up that you'll be doing them fifty years from now!
Arthur's voice rumbled through him, a beacon of support, comfort, energy.
--His destiny is mine, Pendragon!
--My destiny is my own, Nimueh. - and you have no part in it! he snarled.
He knew who he was, now. He was Merlin. Emrys. He was Hunith's son; he was Gaius's son and Gwen and Morgana's brother in every way save blood. He shaped that knowledge into power, beating back Nimueh's claws with fists of magic.
--I told you that you would pay for what you did, Emrys! Your death will spell the end of the reign of Pendragon!
--Authority is not given to you to deny the return of a True King of Albion, Priestess!
(--'True King'? Arthur thought to Merlin bemusedly. --You really think that? And am I actually in your head? Because it is really strange… though I suppose I knew that already.)
(--Yes I do, and yes you are, and now if you're quite done making fun of me - a little help would be nice?!)
Grumbling, Arthur swiftly gathered the last few threads of his aura, shaped it into the first weapon that came to mind, and passed it to Merlin.
--Albion is mine! Nimueh screamed. Camelot is mine! Should be mine - and no other's!
--You're mad, Nimueh, Arthur shot back scornfully. --And Albion has no need of mad witches - so get out! OUT!
--You heard the man!
Merlin swung the sword in Nimueh's direction, severing her connection to him with a grunt of effort.
With a howl of frustration, the sorceress was gone.
--Whew! We showed her, didn't we, Merlin? Merlin...?
Arthur recovered a stunned Merlin and 'dusted' him off briskly.
--Can't leave you for a second, can I?
Pause.
--Are you alright?
--I'll live. And what was that you said earlier about me and swords?
--Ha! You're still hopeless! Arthur cackled. --So. I'll… see you topside, then?
--What - back to you? I think I'll stay down here, thanks!
--Don't take too long, or I'll come down and get you!
Merlin grinned. This was who he was.
Merlin, the warlock.
Merlin, the idiot.
Merlin, the other side of Arthur's coin - the brighter side, obviously.
He felt Arthur smile and kiss him softly on the forehead, and allowed himself to be lead back to consciousness.
Title: The Last Dragon
Author: hovercarracer
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: OT4-ish?
Length: ~5,900 words
Warnings/Spoilers: Uh... abuse of italics? =P
Disclaimer: Merlin (c) Shine and BBC
Comments: First fic I've posted - beware, lol. Unbeta'd. Written for glenien 's wishlist prompts: "The Great Dragon vs Merlin. Merlin kicks ass" and "Healing hands of the King. LOTR reference, Arthur is able to do magic, just once: to heal Merlin". Incompatible with S2, I'm guessing. Oh yeah - and the concept of 'Gating' is from Mercedes Lackey's 'The Last Herald Mage' series.
The Last Dragon
{Prologue}
"Swear to me," the cloaked magician hissed. Her eyes flashed with madness and malice as she shaped her magic to a spell that would destroy Camelot and all she no longer stood for. "Swear on your blood that you'll do it! I will have your oath, Dragon! Remember what I told you - The boy must die!"
"Remember who you speak to, Priestess!" the Great Dragon, bitter now with age and confinement, snarled. "I will do as you ask - not because you ask it, but because it suits me."
The answer was good enough for her. She released her power with a loud cry of command, and it slammed into the dragon's chains with a ringing crash that echoed and reverberated throughout the underground cavern.
The chains cracked.
Again, the priestess struck.
The dragon roared, adding the heat of dragon-fire to the power of the Old Religion.
At the third strike, the chains shattered.
The ancient stone of the prison crumbled the instant the shackles fell; the very foundations of Camelot shuddered as the Great Dragon - the Last Dragon - reared, tail lashing as it sought the witch who had dared demand his oath. Too late.
Nimueh had vanished as mysteriously as she had appeared.
{Part One}
"Morning, sire!" Merlin called cheerfully, clattering into Arthur's chambers with his usual grace. "I brought breakfast!"
"Do you have to be so loud, Merlin?" Arthur groaned. He rolled over and flung his arm over his eyes.
"If I don't, you just go back to sleep - and then I get put in the stocks when you don't turn up to court on time, and-"
Something screamed through Merlin's mind - a wordless, furious shout that shot through him with stunning force.
The plates shattered on the ground with a loud crash.
"Merlin? Merlin!" Arthur was out of bed in a flash, flinging a blanket over the shards of crockery as he darted to the fallen man's side. "What-"
"Gods," Merlin groaned, clutching his head. "My head is-"
The rest of his sentence was lost in a pained cry just as every single glass, mirror and vase in the room shattered. Arthur swore as a flying shard cut his cheek near to the bone.
--Free! FREE!
"The dragon!" Merlin gasped, blood draining from his horrified face. "Gods - oh gods - the dragon's free!"
"What dragon?" Arthur began, and would have continued had the earth not shuddered beneath him, shifting beneath the whole of Camelot and sending whole sections of the castle cascading into the hidden caverns below.
It was then, with his gaze focussed solely on Merlin's face, that Arthur finally saw it.
Merlin's eyes flashed golden.
Once.
Twice.
"No," they breathed together.
Outside, the falling masonry froze in place granting the screaming nobles and servants time to flee. The Great Dragon, unfettered after decades of confinement, roared in fury as it took to the skies.
--PENDRAGON!
Merlin's awareness returned to him in a swirling rush. He sat bolt upright, blue eyes suddenly clear and bright with focus.
"Arthur. Take Morgana, and take Gwen, and your father, and get out of here. Tell everyone to get as far from Camelot as they can. The city is no longer safe for you."
"But - you're a warlock!" Arthur blurted, mind still reeling with the sudden revelations of 'Merlin', 'magic' and 'dragon'. A distant part of him wondered how an ordinary morning had dissolved into this nightmare.
"We don't have time for this!" Merlin said impatiently. "Yes, I have the Gift - have had it ever since I was born. Yes, I lied to you - though I took no pleasure from it, and no, I have never - and will never - wield my power against you or Camelot. Now if you want to live, you'll do as I say and leave!" he said, voice ringing with authority.
Arthur stared at him; gaped at this new Merlin so different from his own. Gone was his clumsy, inept, and somewhat endearing manservant - instead he saw a determined, commanding young man just as confused at the turn of events as he was, but who was determined to do all in his power to put things right.
A young warlock who, by the time Arthur had assembled his thoughts into coherency, had long since vanished down the corridor.
Merlin sprinted through the castle, all but flying through the halls as he made his way back to his room, retracing the steps he'd taken only a few minutes ago.
The incident with the Isle of the Blessed had made him realise how malicious and manipulative the Great Dragon could truly be. He'd known it would not be content to sit in its lair for much longer; had realised that some day soon it would break free… and that when it did, it would come for him. He didn't know what the catalyst had been. Neither did he care.
"Gaius, get out of here," Merlin gasped out as he flashed past the physician, already stuffing bandages and balms into a travel pack, to his room. "The dragon's out - I don't know how - and it's really, very angry."
"Merlin." Gaius stood between him and the doorway. "I hope you're not planning on confronting him. It's too powerful - even for you."
Merlin sighed heavily, suddenly tired to the bone. The cuts on his face and hands from the broken crockery stung; his head felt like there was someone with a hammer inside it, trying to escape through his forehead.
"If Uther caught it, then so can I."
"It took the power of every single druid elder to trap it, Merlin!" Gaius snapped.
"Then I'll find them! I've never met one, but-"
Merlin blanched as realisation struck.
"The effort of imprisoning the dragon was so great that every one of the elders was struck down," Gaius said gravely. "It took the druid community a very long time to recover - why else do you think Uther hasn't moved against them?"
"What are you saying? That I should just… leave it, and hope that the dragon will just… fly away? He wants Arthur, Gaius," Merlin said bleakly. "You know I can't let that happen - won't let it happen. Destiny, remember?" he said with a sad smile. He hefted the Sidhe staff, retrieved from its place under the floor, in his hands.
And then he was gone.
Again.
"Merlin?" Gwen called as she caught sight of a familiar gangly silhouette making its way across the courtyard. "Where are you going? What's happening?"
"Gwen!" Merlin exclaimed, turning. "What are you-"
Gwen was not alone. She, Arthur and Morgana wore full battle dress and matching expressions of grim determination, grips hard on the heavy spears they bore.
"We couldn't get the horses," Morgana said awkwardly after a beat of silence. "They're spooked-"
"What in the name of all the gods do you think you're doing?" Merlin cried. His eyes sparked furiously. The wind suddenly picked up.
The others stared at him, shocked.
"I told you to leave! I told you to get out of here! The dragon wants you, Arthur!" Merlin scanned his friends' faces, desperate for them to understand. His heart sank with what he saw there.
Fear.
The anger drained out of him as suddenly as it had come, leaving him abruptly weak-kneed. "The dragon wants you, Arthur," he repeated quietly. "And if he finds you or your father… you'll be ash before sundown. I can't let that happen," he said simply. "Not to any of you."
"The more help you have, the better chance we'll stand," Arthur argued. "Come on, Merlin, you're a hopeless fighter and we both know it."
"Arthur," Merlin said, smiling sadly, "This is not an enemy you can face. The dragon cannot be harmed with mortal steel, no matter how stout the heart of he who wields it. That includes you, Morgana," Merlin added as Morgana opened her mouth to protest. "One day your Gift may become equal to mine - but not today."
Both Arthur and Morgana's eyes widened.
"It seems everyone has a secret to tell except me," Gwen offered.
"You have a kind heart, Guinevere. A pure heart." Merlin said, folding his hands over hers. He bent and spoke his next words into her ears alone. "Arthur will need you if he's to shape Camelot into the city it could and should be. He will not do it alone… but he cannot do it without you."
Tears welled in Gwen's eyes.
"Be careful," she whispered. She hugged him tightly and stepped back.
"'What if magic chooses you?'" Morgana recited ruefully, shaking her head at the remembrance. "How long have you known?"
"I thought I… sensed something, in you - when you came to Gaius when Sophia arrived in Camelot. After that," he should his head, fiddling with the staff in his hands. "After that, I just started… noticing things, I guess."
The corner of Morgana's mouth quirked upwards. "Me too," she admitted, earning a startled exclamation.
"You See too much, Morgana," Merlin smiled.
There was another moment awkward silence.
"Thank you for looking after us, Merlin," Morgana said suddenly, green eyes overbright but unwavering. She slipped a mail shirt over his shoulders, hands squeezing briefly in wordless encouragement, and stepped back.
"I don't know you at all, do I?" Arthur's voice was low and strained in Merlin's ears.
"I'm still… me," he protested lamely.
"Still an idiot, then," Arthur grinned briefly, startling a laugh from his companion. The ground rumbled beneath them, cutting the moment short. "Here," Arthur said suddenly, pushing his dagger into Merlin's hands. "I know you said it won't help," he said quickly, "but I know enough about magic to know that it… 'runs out' - and when it does, you'll need a weapon - a real weapon, that is - and I don't trust you with a sword." Arthur took a deep, steadying breath in an attempt to settle his conflicting emotions. "I don't care how tough that beast is - you get that through its head, and it will die."
Merlin found himself pulled into a rough embrace.
"You're a good man, Arthur," Merlin said, drawing back. He hesitated, choosing his next words carefully. "You have an… an aura about you. Not magic," he said hastily, "More like… I don't know - like sunlight? I can't explain it. But I know you'll make a great king - your reign will be the stuff of legends."
Merlin shook his head dismissively.
"Now get out of here, or so help me, I'll-"
Too late.
--PENDRAGON! The red sun will bleach your bones before this day ends!
Debris whirled through the courtyard in a deadly hurricane with the backdraught from the dragon's wings, knocking Gwen to the ground and forcing Merlin to erect a hasty shield around his companions. Arthur reeled, a bloody gash on his forehead.
--Get out - as far as you can! Merlin shouted into Morgana's mind. She nodded, pale-faced, and began leading her stunned companions to safety.
"What happened to 'two sides of the same coin'?" Merlin shouted, "What about Destiny?!"
--I bow to no force! The dragon roared. Orange flame spurted from its mouth to splash against the barely visible nimbus of Merlin's shield.
--I see it all, now - so clearly! I am the Last Dragon - it is not I who must bow to destiny, but it to me! Camelot will burn! Its people will pay for the sins of its rulers. I will kill Arthur Pendragon and his death will birth a new age!
It was then that Merlin realised.
The Great Dragon was mad.
He had to get the others out.
Merlin gestured, eyes glowing golden, and roof slates peeled themselves from the buildings, swept into a whirling funnel of air that began hurling its contents at the dragon in a continuous barrage. With his other hand he began weaving a new spell - a Gate that would lead his friends to safety.
That was the theory, anyway.
Sparing only a few moments to regain his breath, Merlin plunged his senses into the magical weavings of Albion. He wove the Gate fast - dangerously fast. He clenched his hands and brought Air and Earth together in a pounding clash of energy; wreathes of Fire twined with streams of Water until the foundation of the portal stood glowing in the sunlight. But even with the magic Morgana was channelling to him from her shelter, his energy levels plummeted quickly.
There was no time.
He reached further; stripped the life from the area around him, though it sickened him to the core. Birds, insects, plants - all were used to feed the Gate, steadying and supporting the spell where his magic alone could not. He struck the Sidhe staff against the cobblestones, bright cyan light flaring with each blow.
Once.
Twice.
Faster! his mind screamed as the dragon stalked towards him, ceramic shattering uselessly against its toughened hide. FASTER!
A touch of Fate - the one element that was his alone to command - ripped the hole to the portal's destination. Merlin shuddered to his knees, vision wavering, but held the spell stubbornly.
"Run!" Merlin shouted through the raging wind. Gwen supported an exhausted Morgana, and the two stumbled through the Gate to Ealdor. Arthur hesitated on the threshold, a pained expression on his face.
It was all the opportunity the dragon needed.
It spun, tail smashing into Arthur's hastily raised shield and sending the knight flying across the courtyard.
"Arthur!" Merlin shouted. Desperate energy coursed down his fingertips. He shoved his magic in Arthur's direction. The earth rippled, caught him, and then flung him unceremoniously through the portal. Safe.
--NO! The dragon raged. The full weight of its fury struck Merlin like a physical blow, sending him reeling. He whited out, shuddering with shock and pain, and fought to drag himself back from the edge of unconsciousness. White-hot dragonfire streamed against his flickering shield.
"That the best you can do?" Merlin screamed.
--You will pay for your treachery, Emrys! My power will consume you!
"Yeah?" Merlin muttered, eyes sparking. "Well - eat this-!"
He dissembled the Gate with a gesture and channelled every drop of power through the staff and in the dragon's direction. The stream burned through its defences like fire through paper and impacted its chest with a dull boom, sending it hurtling skywards.
Summoning the winds beneath him, Merlin followed.
{Part Two}
"Sire? Arthur?"
Arthur groaned. His eyes fluttered open and his vision slowly focussed on the blurry figure above him, revealing Hunith's concerned features. For a few blissful moments his mind was completely blank - and then he remembered.
That self-sacrificing idiot! God damn you, Merlin!
He struggled upright, only to have Hunith press him gently back onto the pillows.
"Easy, sire-"
"Hunith! Merlin's-"
"I know," Hunith quietly, to Arthur's surprise. "Gwen told me. Your friends are fine," she added, seeing the sudden panic on Arthur's face. "Lady Morgana woke a short time ago - she's resting, now."
"Thank god," Arthur mumbled, closing his eyes tiredly. His body was as stiff as a corpse; he felt like he'd fallen off a galloping horse - several times.
For a few minutes there was silence.
"I'm… sorry, Hunith," Arthur said in a pained voice. "I shouldn't have let him- should've stayed-"
"You did as much as you could - as much as he let you. Merlin is more powerful than you give him credit for," Hunith said bravely.
"Power… isn't everything," Arthur said bitterly. "Hunith… it was the dragon - the Great Dragon."
Hunith's face paled, but her gaze remained steady.
"Rest," she repeated. "The sooner you recover, the sooner you can find him."
"Die, gods take you!" Merlin screamed, or would've, had his voice not been hoarse from use. He speared yet another lance of magic at the delicate membrane of the dragon's wing, the Sidhe staff long since turned to dust with the force of the powers wielded through it. The magic struck true, but the blow was too weak to inflict anything more than a superficial wound.
He'd followed the Great Dragon across Camelot - chased it all the way to the White Mountains, where Merlin had been forced to take the offensive and turn the fight around, unwilling to allow the dragon's corrupt magic any nearer to the Blessed Isle. The sun had long since set and risen again over the land. Never had Merlin imaged - never had he even dreamed - that he held so much magic within him.
And yet - here he was. Just.
Hot blood dripped from a deep wound on his thigh, a painful reminder to keep well away from the dragon's razor-sharp talons; he could barely see the beast through the golden wyrd burning in his eyes, and he was weary beyond belief, yes - but so was the dragon.
He could tell by the lack of homicidal ranting.
And the dragon was kind of hard to miss.
Distracted, he plummeted several feet to avoid the dragon's retaliatory strike, regaining his equilibrium a scant sword-length from the treetops of the Darkling Woods they now battled over.
He summoned lightning and sent it fizzing towards the dragon with a cry that was all but lost in the deafening crack of thunder that accompanied it. It did little but blacken the edges of the dragon's scales, and only another plummet towards the treetops saved Merlin from being clawed from the sky by his opponent's retaliatory attack.
"Enough!" Merlin shouted. "Why can't you just leave? Just… crawl back to whatever hole you came from and leave us be!"
A stabbing gesture stripped the branches from the trees and ripped them from the earth below. A few syllables in the Old Tongue and the trunks became sharpened stakes tipped with motes of blue energy, just as Lancelot's weapon had been so long (days? months? years?) ago. He sent them shooting at the dragon, one by one.
"Stop… fighting, you… stupid… ugly… excuse… for a… lizard…!"
Arthur would never forget the nightmare scene that played out in the skies of his city the night he returned to Camelot. The citizens of the city - those few who hadn't fled - lined the streets, light flickering on their upturned faces. A few bore candles; a few offered prayers for their unknown defender. Most simply watched.
He couldn't see them clearly; just shadowy figures - one small, one impossibly huge - battling it out, surrounded by blinding flashes of lightning, roaring thunder, screaming wind and raging fire. Merlin's power had caught them all by surprise. It awed Arthur and scared him in equal measures, and he realised, finally, that he may - may - have underestimated his manservant.
Just a bit.
"Come on, Merlin," he muttered, signalling his archers to ready themselves. It wouldn't help, probably - but he had to try. And besides - he never listened to Merlin. "Just a little more…"
Buy he could only watch as a bolt of lightning sent the smaller figure hurtling into the central tower.
Hurgh-!
Merlin grunted breathlessly as he slammed into the open window of the central tower, magic all but exhausted. For a moment he lay still, too weary even to open his eyes.
Gaius had been right. He couldn't do this - couldn't fight a dragon. He should have listened - he was no use to Arthur dead.
Come on, Merlin - keep it together! he berated himself. The dragon's after you now, so you either kill it, or be killed!
Oh - how helpful!
The others are depending on you - Gaius, Morgana, Gwen… Heddy, the kitchen maid; Thomas, the stableboy; Aric, the huntmaster… Arthur. You have to save them - because no-one else stands a chance.
How could he save anyone if he couldn't even save himself? Hadn't he done enough? He'd tried his best, hadn't he? Gods, he was tired…
But there was never really a choice. Merlin heaved himself to his feet, more or less, and something metal clattered to the floor - Arthur's dagger.
He stared at it stupidly.
"I don't care how tough that beast is - you get that through its head, and it will die."
An idea sparked in his brain.
It was an indescribably stupid idea.
Suicide at best.
"Hell, it's not like I've got any other ideas," Merlin muttered grimly. He tucked the knife into his belt and staggered upwards. To the roof.
--Where are you, little bird? The dragon panted. It crouched on the roof of the neighbouring building, each swish of its tail and clack of its claw sending roof tiles sliding to shatter on the floor far, far below.
Merlin gulped and wedged himself a little more firmly into the niche he'd hidden in - the hollow section where the circular lookout post abutted the vertical stone wall. It was a long way to fall.
--Where are you hiding, little traitor? The dragon snarled.
Wouldn't you like to know, Merlin thought sarcastically. He could feel the hot dampness of its breath on his face as it craned its neck over the walkway above, black-gold eyes darting erratically as it sought its prey. Merlin drew the dagger again and clutched it in one white-knuckled hand. Just a little closer, and the dragon would be in range.
Just a little more…
Merlin was still alive.
Arthur knew he must be, since he himself was not currently fighting to stop becoming dragon food. He watched as Morgana drew her bow, stretching the string back to her cheek, and took careful aim.
"Come on, you stupid excuse for a lizard," she growled.
Arthur took a deep breath.
"Hey! Hey!" he shouted. "Looking for me?!"
Immediately, the dragon's head whipped in his direction. It smiled at him, age-stained teeth glinting in the flickering light of their torches.
"Arthur!" Morgana hissed. "What are you, mad? Are you trying to get us killed?"
Arthur fought down the insane urge to laugh - because really, what sort of question was that? They were trying to take down the Great Dragon with arrows, for god's sake!
He shot his sister a fierce grin, white teeth flashing darkness. Then he turned his face upwards once more and screamed, "Come on, you stupid excuse for a lizard!"
"Idiot!" Merlin snarled when he heard Arthur's challenging shout, though he couldn't deny the way his heart leapt wildly in his chest. It would make little difference now, he supposed - this was the best chance they'd ever get of defeating it. His fingers clenched on the cold hilt of Arthur's dagger.
The dragon's mad laughter was not a sound any of them would ever forget.
It took one step forward.
"Now! Fire!" Arthur thundered. The night was filled with the buzz and twang of arrows being released. The deadly cloud arced towards the dragon… only to burst into a ball of brilliant flame as dragonfire consumed it.
"Now, Morgana!"
Morgana released her arrow with a grunt of effort, and it sped straight and true into the gaping maw of its target. The dragon roared, more with surprise than pain, and stumbled backwards, head ducking below the level of the tower.
A small figure flung itself from the tower top, a small object glittering in its hand.
Merlin, Arthur realised. Idiot! What did he think he was--
"I know enough about magic to know that it… 'runs out' - and when it does…"
Oh.
This was it. Merlin was out of magic.
But Arthur was wrong.
Damn.
He'd misjudged. He'd aimed to land on the dragon's head - not in front of it! Merlin cried out and waved his arms wildly; somehow managed to keep himself in the air and retain his grip on the dagger.
The dragon growled and began to open its mouth, smoke billowing forth in ominous warning.
"No-no-no…" Merlin moaned, frantically gathering what little magic was left to him.
A torrent of dragonfire gushed from the dragon's gaping mouth.
Arthur and his companions held their breath as the figure in the sky was engulfed by flame. Surely this could not be it - the end of their world as they knew it? Surely not…
A faint cry rose above the roar of the inferno and a shimmering blue orb appeared at the centre of the flame. As the dragonfire began to clear a figure appeared, arms aloft, fingers clenched around the hilt of a glowing knife. The blue shield flickered a bare palm-length from its body.
Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. As long as Merlin was still alive, they had a chance.
His fingers trembled on his own bow, but he drew it smoothly and swiftly, his posture one of grim determination. The practiced movement calmed his mind as he sighted, aimed… and shot.
Lunging, the dragon ducked its head and burned the arrow from the sky.
Just as Arthur had known it would.
Merlin released his windcrafting, plummeting downwards in a mad freefall towards the dragon's head - now below him once more. He landed squarely, this time, feet slipping slightly on the shiny smoothness of the dragon's scales.
Brilliant crimson light blazed from his free hand as he pressed it onto the crown of the dragon's head, ripping the scales from its skin with brutal, ruthless energy. The dragon bellowed; smashed its head against the tower in an attempt to dislodge him, but Merlin hunched his shoulders, wedged his bare feet between the dragon's scales and, impossibly, clung on. He could see the watching crowd of knights far, far below them; could almost see the startling blue Arthur's of his eyes; the ebony of Morgana's hair; the mahogany of Gwen's skin. Almost.
"CAMELOT!"
Merlin howled and plunged the now burnished dagger downwards. It crunched through the bone of the dragon's skull with magic-borne strength and sank deep into the thing's brain.
And, with a long, low groan, the Great Dragon - the Last Dragon - died.
Merlin sensed an unexplainable and irrational euphoria emanating from it - and a feeling of long-awaited rest. The Great Dragon's heart stopped beating.
So did its wings.
Oh, hell!
Arthur watched as the Great Dragon's body tumbled gracelessly from the sky. It impacted the courtyard - the place where it had all begun - with crushing force, beauty and magnificence reduced to a steaming carcass of flesh, scale and bones.
It was from this smouldering ruin that they pulled Merlin's body.
Arthur bowed his head, silent prayers spilling from his lips, Morgana's hand clutching his shoulder tightly. Gently - oh so gently - Gwen placed her hand on Merlin's chest.
Thump.
Thump.
{Part Three}
They bore him to Gaius' chambers, features concealed in the folds of Arthur's scarlet cloak. It was an image that would haunt Gaius' memories on lonely nights for many long years.
That night, however, he forced himself to push his emotions aside, working feverishly to draw Merlin back from the brink of death, if not restore him to the state of the living. Though Gaius was arguably the best healer in the realm, it was simply not enough. He called them in at dawn.
Wearily, the three of them stumbled forwards. They stopped a few paces from the cot, stunned by the sight that greeted them. Merlin's skin was almost translucent, bruises and burns showing as clear as ink on paper; fresh stains on a white bandage marked the existence of a bloody gouge that refused to close. His eyes, closed in uneasy rest, were sunk deep in his suddenly gaunt face and the flesh hung from his frame as though he'd spent the year on bread crusts and water. His breathing was shallow; laboured. The three days of magic overuse had exacted a hard toll on Merlin's body.
"My medicines will not work," Gaius said helplessly. "I don't know why. It's like there's something damping them, preventing them from taking effect. I've done all I can."
"No."
Arthur's voice resonated in the stillness of the sickroom, echoing with heartache, fatigue, shock - and an absolute and utter refusal to accept this situation.
"No," he repeated. "This… this is wrong."
"There is nothing else I can do, Arthur!" Gaius cried, voice thick with frustration and grief. "God knows I've tried! Merlin is my son in every way that matters - but even magic can only do so much."
"How about the tonic you gave me after the Questing Beast?" the prince insisted.
"That was water from the Isle of the Blessed, sire - water infused with energy and poured from a chalice that only the high priestess of the Old Religion may summon."
"Then I'll find her and-"
"She's dead."
Morgana's words cut through Arthur's own like a knife.
"Merlin destroyed her when she tried to take Gaius's life. I wasn't there - but I Saw it," she explained. "Technically, Merlin is the high priest now - and he clearly isn't in any condition summon anything, let alone a holy chalice," she said bitterly. "It's ironic, isn't it? The only person who can save Merlin - is Merlin."
Merlin.
That was him, wasn't it? He was Merlin?
But no; that couldn't be right. If he was Merlin, then he would feel it, wouldn't he? How could he be Merlin without a body? Without sense? Without magic?
Perhaps he was Merlin, but not… Merlin?
This was confusing.
He couldn't remember much; had a vague recollection of falling, weariness, and hurt that had faded abruptly at the touch of a warm presence on his own. There were people close by, though, he realised suddenly. There were voices, murmuring.
"Merlin."
The name was repeated many times over - surely they were talking about him?
"Merlin is my son."
The statement startled him. It felt right, but he couldn't remember having a father - though he supposed he didn't remember much at all, right now. He must be Merlin-
"No."
No? This word, too, resonated in him. Did this mean he wasn't Merlin? Why couldn't these people make up their minds!
"Merlin is the high priest."
He certainly didn't remember that. His heart sank as the voices began to fade. Not Merlin after all, then.
"The only person who can save Merlin - is Merlin."
Too bad for Merlin, he thought, and allowed oblivion to claim him once more.
Arthur unwound the bandage from Merlin's wound, thinking hard.
"You have an… an aura about you."
His hands stilled.
"An aura…" he murmured. He looked up, desperate hope in his eyes. "Merlin said I had an aura."
"Such things have been known to exist," Gaius said slowly, "And not necessarily in people with the Gift - like when someone is improbably lucky, or charismatic. Like a blessing, I suppose - though I can hardly see how that would help us now…"
Arthur bit his lip uncertainly, then closed his eyes, reaching for the part of him that had responded to Merlin's words three days ago. It was not a new sensation - ever since Merlin had arrived he'd felt a vague energy that flickered and surged through his body whenever he made a decision that he knew was… right, on some instinctual level. Like when he'd fought Valiant. When he'd gone after the mortaeus flower. When he'd followed Merlin to Ealdor.
Whatever it is, Arthur prayed silently, Whatever blessing or luck that has been given to me - please, take it! Bring Merlin back!
With his eyes screwed tightly shut, Arthur never saw the radiance that blossomed in his hands, that joined with the dawn sunlight to bathe the room in hues of red, purple and gold. The room was filled with the scent of fresh rain on new grass and the sound of running water - though not a drop had fallen. After long minutes, light, scent and sound faded.
Arthur opened his eyes.
He found his hands cupped around a metal chalice filled to the brim with precious, healing water that sparkled like liquid gold. He met Morgana and Gwen's wondering gazes with his own.
"But… that's impossible!" Gaius breathed. "Only a True King of Albion may summon the Cup without the aid of magic - and you are not yet crowned!"
"I'm not complaining," Arthur mumbled. He tipped some of the water into Merlin's mouth and held his breath.
Merlin swallowed.
Encouraged, Arthur repeated the gesture; then dipped his hands into the bowl and ran a finger along the gouge on the man's shoulder, touch feather-light on the unhealed skin. Crimson light flared briefly along the injury, and Arthur felt something (magic?) flow out of him; a feeling of tension, like string being pulled through fabric. There was a brief sense of resistance, but he pushed and it crumbled, flesh and bone re-knitting, leaving naught but a pale, shiny scar to mark where the injury had been. He spread his hand over a bruise high on Merlin's cheekbone next, the motion slow and smooth. When he lifted it, the mark was gone, reduced to a mottled discolouration. Again, there was resistance, but Arthur steadfastly refused to give it purchase.
Smiling grimly, Arthur bent to his task.
Golden light spilled into the black void of Merlin's mind, bringing with it awareness, sensation, life - and pain. It vanished quickly, though, with each touch of the future king's aura on his own; lessened with each thread of magic that passed from Arthur to him.
--No! He is mine!
Nimueh. Her presence swamped his mind like a wave, suffocating him with anger and frustration. Merlin groaned. Tired. So… tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of losing.
--Come on Merlin, you lazy idiot! Fight back, or so help me I'll pile you with so many chores when you wake up that you'll be doing them fifty years from now!
Arthur's voice rumbled through him, a beacon of support, comfort, energy.
--His destiny is mine, Pendragon!
--My destiny is my own, Nimueh. - and you have no part in it! he snarled.
He knew who he was, now. He was Merlin. Emrys. He was Hunith's son; he was Gaius's son and Gwen and Morgana's brother in every way save blood. He shaped that knowledge into power, beating back Nimueh's claws with fists of magic.
--I told you that you would pay for what you did, Emrys! Your death will spell the end of the reign of Pendragon!
--Authority is not given to you to deny the return of a True King of Albion, Priestess!
(--'True King'? Arthur thought to Merlin bemusedly. --You really think that? And am I actually in your head? Because it is really strange… though I suppose I knew that already.)
(--Yes I do, and yes you are, and now if you're quite done making fun of me - a little help would be nice?!)
Grumbling, Arthur swiftly gathered the last few threads of his aura, shaped it into the first weapon that came to mind, and passed it to Merlin.
--Albion is mine! Nimueh screamed. Camelot is mine! Should be mine - and no other's!
--You're mad, Nimueh, Arthur shot back scornfully. --And Albion has no need of mad witches - so get out! OUT!
--You heard the man!
Merlin swung the sword in Nimueh's direction, severing her connection to him with a grunt of effort.
With a howl of frustration, the sorceress was gone.
--Whew! We showed her, didn't we, Merlin? Merlin...?
Arthur recovered a stunned Merlin and 'dusted' him off briskly.
--Can't leave you for a second, can I?
Pause.
--Are you alright?
--I'll live. And what was that you said earlier about me and swords?
--Ha! You're still hopeless! Arthur cackled. --So. I'll… see you topside, then?
--What - back to you? I think I'll stay down here, thanks!
--Don't take too long, or I'll come down and get you!
Merlin grinned. This was who he was.
Merlin, the warlock.
Merlin, the idiot.
Merlin, the other side of Arthur's coin - the brighter side, obviously.
He felt Arthur smile and kiss him softly on the forehead, and allowed himself to be lead back to consciousness.