Secrets of Draconis - 5A/11
Title:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin"> Secrets of Draconis
Author: MoonFireFic
Artist: ettoby
Beta Action and Brit-Picking: Milady Dragon
Pairings/characters: Arthur/Merlin, Morgana/Gwaine, Mordred, Kilgharrah, Leon, Aithusa, Others
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 31K
Warnings: Violence, Ghosts, Mythical Beings of All Sorts
Summary: After Mordred aligns himself with the essence of a Dark Dragon Lord, Camelot is lost and magic itself begins to fade. Centuries later, Merlin now working for the British Museum, makes a discovery that could change everything. With the help of Morgana and a few old friends, he begins a race against time to restore Camelot and bring balance to the magic of Albion before darkness reigns forever.
Author's notes: This is my first foray into writing Merlin fanfic and taking on a globe-trotting Indiana Jones style adventure was a bit of a challenge. I hope you like it.
Art link: Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin;color:windowtext">Link to ettoby's art - go check it out!
Chapter Five-A
Romanian Countryside
“I’ve finally lost it haven’t I?” Morgana asked in disbelief as Gwaine led them deeper into the woods surrounding Costesti-Bildaru. “I thought I dreamt it but Gwaine is really here isn’t he?” she asked Merlin as she stared at the man in front of her with wide eyes.
“Dreaming about me again, Milady?” Gwaine teased once they reached a small clearing. “Always knew you had a crush on me.”
“I do not have a crush,” Morgana said with disdain as Gwaine unpacked the duffel bags he had left in the clearing and pulled out a couple of bedrolls for the night.
“Sure you don’t,” Gwaine replied as Morgana snatched her bedroll from his hands.
Merlin watched the exchange and tried not to laugh. Morgana was still proud as ever and afraid to admit that she had spent more than a few hours watching Gwaine on the practice field. Later when they were enemies, the two of them spent as much time flirting as they did trading blows.
“I’ll just get the firewood shall I?” he asked in amusement as the two of them carried on sniping at each other in a vain attempt to one-up each other and emphasize that they were most certainly not besotted with one another.
Merlin’s mind reeled as he fell into the familiar rhythm of gathering firewood to set up camp. Gwaine had been alive all this time and he had never known. While part of him was hurt that his friend had never announced his presence, he knew that Gwaine of all people knew the meaning of friendship and never would have kept his distance without a reason.
His arms full, the warlock started making his way back to camp, looking forward to catching up with his long lost friend, and maybe getting a few answers as to where he had been all this time.
The sight that met him when he reached the clearing nearly made him drop the branches he’d gathered in shock.
Gwaine was holding a seething Morgana tight in his arms as she ranted at him for being an overgrown horny beast with an overdeveloped sense of importance. Before she could start another rant, Gwaine bent down and kissed her fiercely. Morgana started and her face contorted in rage as she struggled to break free until she finally seemed to relax and closed her eyes to enjoy his embrace. When things started to get more heated, Merlin discreetly coughed, causing Morgana to open her now golden eyes and throw Gwaine across the clearing to land with a thud against a nearby tree.
“Hope I’m not interrupting anything?” Merlin said in amusement as Gwaine wiped his mouth and stood up.
“Just proving a point,” Gwaine answered as Merlin set the wood down and lit it with a flick of his fingers.
“And what point was that?” Morgana asked, raising her eyebrow in his direction as if daring him to use the word crush a second time.
“That even a great sorceress like you still has feelings,” Gwaine said as he went to the duffel to pull out a couple of tins of stew and a pot.
“Well, keep your lips and your feelings to yourself,” Morgana huffed as she sat down on a nearby stump.
“As Milady commands,” Gwaine replied with a bow. “Besides, as King I have my pick of the pack. I can’t go tossing my affections about where they are unwanted, can I?” he asked winking in Merlin’s direction.
Merlin just shook his head and started dumping the stew into the pot.
“Won’t be as good as one of your trail meals by any means,” Gwaine said as he tossed him a spoon. “But it’ll be hot and keep us until morning.”
Merlin nodded as he placed the pot atop a large cooking stone at the centre of the fire to cook their meal.
“So what have you been up to?” Merlin asked, hoping a change of subject would ease the tension between his companions. “Besides being King of the Wolves and all that.”
Gwaine stared into the fire as images of times and people long gone dancing within the flames.
“I was in Mercia on an errand for Arthur when Mordred attacked,” he began his tale. “Word reached us just as the battle started and I rode hard for two days to get back there in time.” He stopped to pull a few canteens of water from his pack and handed the second one over to Merlin who took a sip before handing it to Morgana.
“I saw the dragons spiraling overhead as they fought and knew that you were somewhere in the thick of it, in trouble as always while Princess fought on oblivious down below,” he continued giving Merlin a fond smile.
“He always hated that nickname,” Merlin said with a grin.
“Yeah, suits him though,” Gwaine replied with a laugh. “Always needed to be reminded to keep his paws on the ground our Arthur did.”
Merlin chuckled.
“There were times I debated telling him who and what I really was,” he said as he added a log to the fire. “It’s not easy growing up heir to a kingdom, even if you have been run off it due to warring within the clans,” he said resuming his perch atop a nearby log. “I was never truly meant to be king you see,” he explained. “Father had run off when he was younger and married a human woman, wanting to add new blood to our line as females were few and far between and he needed an heir,” he continued as Merlin and Morgana listened in silence. “He ended up a knight and married to my mother. But the need for the hunt is a siren song that all wolves most follow, and ultimately he met his end at the point of a sword that some fool had asked a wizard to enchant as protection against magical beasts,” he paused shaking his head. “It wasn’t even a mortal blow. But no knight expects a wolf to wear human skin and fight in the manner of men.”
“How old were you?” Morgana asked as she joined the conversation for the first time.
“I was ten,” Gwaine answered looking up to see the pain of losing Gorlois, the man she had assumed was her father shining in her eyes. “But age doesn’t matter. No child should be without their parents.”
Merlin didn’t answer as he thought about how briefly he had known Balinor. “But even the shortest time with them is worth the pain,” he said quietly as he stirred the stew.
“Aye it is,” Gwaine answered, turning his gaze back to the fire once more. “As I’ve told Merlin before, the King of Caerleon had no time for a knight’s widow. He cast us aside and refused to help us, leaving us to starve.” His face twisted with anger and Gwaine’s eyes flashed amber as he remembered the pain of that day. “I was a pup, young and stupid and barely able to keep the power that comes with being wolf in check,” he said as the amber faded back to blue. “I almost changed right there in the throne room when he dismissed my mother. It took four men to haul me away that day, and I swore no king would ever have my allegiance from that day on,” he added with a smirk. “Trust a fledgling warlock and a blonde prat to prove me wrong.”
“Why didn’t you go back to your father’s people?” Merlin asked when Gwaine went silent.
“The clan wars had gotten so bad that many had left Wallachia altogether,” Gwaine replied with a shrug. “And with Great-Grandfather still on the throne and Grandfather the next it line, it made sense to stay with my mother’s people.” He threw the stick he was holding into the fire and pulled out a trio of bowls and some spoons to place at Merlin’s side.
“He visited us when I turned eighteen,” he said as he settled back down. “Decided to sneak up on me while I was out with the lads chasing down deer,” he continued and chuckled at the memory. “I recognized the family scent trace and knew him right away, but the rest of our party ran away as fast as they could.” He turned and took a bowl from Merlin with a nod of thanks. “Seems a wolf that is five feet at the shoulder is a bit intimidating for most humans,” he added with a grin.
“Five feet?” Merlin asked as he blew on his stew to cool it down. “Are you telling me that you are the same size when you change?”
Gwaine grinned wider. “Grandfather was a runt,” he answered causing Merlin to stop with the spoon halfway to his mouth.
“Close your mouth, Merls,” Morgana chastised and Merlin promptly clacked his mouth shut.
“Anyway,” Gwaine continued as he shoveled stew into his mouth. “Grandfather taught me to hunt, father had already taught me to track, and I had learned the sword from a friend of my father. Once I was grown I decided to strike out on my own. Made things easier on mother not having to feed me all the time,” he turned to Merlin who groaned as suddenly all the times Gwaine had complained of being hungry even after a third helping suddenly made sense.
“Wolves have a voracious appetite, don’t they?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
“Got it in one,” Gwaine answered with a smirk. “Why do you think I was always trying to snag an extra chicken from Camelot’s kitchens?” he asked. “Couldn’t exactly skip guard duty to get furry and hunt down a deer, now could I?”
Merlin laughed.
“What happened to you after Mordred destroyed Camelot?” Morgana asked, knowing that Merlin was curious as well. “I am assuming that wolves have a longer life-span, how is it that you haven’t sought us out until now?”
Gwaine frowned and turned away to stare in the distance. “When I was little, my father told me of a prophecy, one that wolves have held onto since his great-grandfather’s time,” he said choosing his words carefully. “When we agreed to help the dragon-kin all those years ago, the wolves were placed under a geis to not speak of it until the crystal called us to the aid of the Last Dragon Lord,” he said turning back to look at Merlin. “When you first told me you were the last Dragon Lord, I was so surprised, I fear I may have hurt your feelings,” Gwaine said sadly.
“Just a bit,” Merlin replied with a lop-sided smile. Gwaine had walked away from him with wide eyes of disbelief and hadn’t spoken to him in a week. It wasn’t until they were in the midst of a battle that he had finally broken his silence, and then continued as if nothing had changed. Merlin had been so grateful to have his friend back that he hadn’t second-guessed it and they never brought it up again.
“I’m sorry, my friend,” Gwaine said sincerely as he patted him on the shoulder. “I was afraid to break the geis or the prophecies of my people and knew that you would call me when the time came. Though I have to confess I didn’t expect to wait this long.”
Merlin laughed and Gwaine soon joined in.
“Is that why you stayed away?” Merlin finally asked.
“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” Gwaine answered with a sigh. “Grandfather went off on some fool quest to stop a wayward flock of griffins from attacking Wallachia and got himself killed in the process, leaving me as the only heir of our line.”
Merlin winced.
“Yeah, I had been tracking the two of you for a week after you left Camelot when I got the news,” he continued. “Great-Grandfather even sent an honor guard to ensure that I made it back safely,” he added shaking his head. “I had always been such a lone wolf, suddenly being thrust into the middle of an inter-clan war and having to learn how to properly look after my people was not an easy experience. I didn’t take over properly until after the Drăculeşti were finally ousted by the Craiovești in the 1500’s.”
Having finished his second helping of stew, Gwaine sat back and stretched his legs toward the fire.