Wintry Calm (so in love with the wrong world) 12/13

[ceeebee]

Merlin knew that Camelot's comprehensive was a car journey away and that, theoretically, it would take him perhaps an hour to reach there on foot.

But he had never been one to let the theoretical slow him down.

It wasn't a spell, but more like a natural force was surging through him as he ran, charging him like a battery and making him fast. He could feel energy pulsating through him as if he was being injected with adrenaline, and his eyes were hot and he knew, golden.

He wondered though, why he hadn't been able to do this when running from the Authorities with Morgana all those months ago and couldn't shake the feeling that somehow, Arthur was involved.

He reached the school in a matter of minutes, blurring past ordinary people on the streets without so much as glancing at them, and when the time came, he scaled the great black gate with an agility and grace he would never have normally.

He felt like a fucking superhero. Sure he was in his pyjamas, but whatever.

Breaking into the actual school building felt pleasantly rewarding-he charged headlong at the door and revelled in the feeling of it splintering around him, even though he staggered a little over the residue once he was inside.

"KILGHARRAH!" he shouted, stopping just inside the entrance, his voice resonating in the entry hall and sounding deep and guttural. Like someone else's voice entirely.

The dragon was before him in moments-and he seemed to move with even more ease than Merlin, still wearing the same clothes as two days prior, with the dark green material of his suit hugging tightly to his frame.

"I heard," he said, simply, and Merlin suddenly noticed that the speakers in the corners of the room were delivering the same messages as the radio back home. "It's a good thing you came here, young warlock. I might have been elsewhere."

"I knew you were here," the boy countered distractedly, "I could...I could feel it..." He frowned at Kilgharrah, speculating how this could be.

"Ah..." the dragon's lips quirked as he spoke. "The reason for that, I will explain to you another time. For now you must get me out of this blasted skin, and I will take you to the Pendragon's."

Merlin only blinked at him. "What? Wait, I have to do that now? But I don't know how! Also, I have a feeling that setting you free just...wouldn't be a good idea. You'll just kill everyone for what they've done to you!"

"Merlin." Kilgharrah's voice shuddered through them both, and the boy only just kept from flinching as the dragon's eyes flashed dangerously. "You don't have time for this. Arthur doesn't have time for this-I knew that this would all happen soon, but dammit, if only you'd been brought to me earlier. I met you two days ago." He shook his head with his eyes squeezed shut.

"Hey, that's not my fault," Merlin pointed out, distracted by the way Kilgharrah was drawing in deep breaths through his snout-like nose.

"I know, I know." His eyes snapped open, and he fixed Merlin with his gaze. "But you must set me free, or I cannot help you."

"I barely even know what I need help for!" Merlin cried out desperately, only just restraining from waving his arms in the air. "I thought Gwaine and Freya had been captured, and now apparently they're here, and-"

"I told you that you would see them again, did I not?" the dragon interrupted, shedding his blazer as he spoke.

Merlin flinched as the item of clothing fell to the floor and then disintegrated with a burst of acrid smoke, leaving behind a pile of black ash. "Y-yes," he stuttered.

"Well then. They are on this side of the Wall, and they are here to carry out one of Gwaine's more rash plans, I believe." the other smirked, and the boy instantly felt a surge of anger.

"How can you be so fucking calm about this? How can you smile? Gwaine and Freya...they might die! Uther has all kinds of protection, he has-"

"The knights?" Kilgharrah finished for him, "Arthur?"

Merlin swallowed, running a hand helplessly through his hair.

"Tell me, Merlin-do you think Gwaine will hold back, if he sees Uther's son? Do you think he'll care if you had some obsession with him? Do you think that'll stop him from killing him, or from Freya killing him?"

"I...I don't-"

"They don't know of his destiny, Merlin, and they do not know of yours. There will be bloodshed this day, and it is you who holds the power over who will die and who will not. Now, release me and we will fly."

Merlin's breath was harsh in his throat as he raised his hands before him, his whole body quaking with a power that had not yet been instilled within him. He waited, somehow already knowing what would happen before it did.

Kilgharrah's smile twisted like a snake on his face as he took a step forwards and pressed his fingertips to the boy's, his eyes becoming heavy lidded as a raw power ran through him and became absorbed into Merlin's skin.

In a split second, an overwhelming amount of magic was being charged inside Merlin's veins, and he let out a cry, knees buckling, eyes watering...

Kilgharrah caught him just before he fell, a scream tearing from his chest as change overtook his body and fire lit up his soul.

***

Arthur wasn't quite sure what had happened-one moment they had been striding along the border, with the Wall casting its shadow over the streets and houses, and the next Leon had been grabbing his arm and yelling into his ear.

"The house, Sire." The use of his title brought Arthur up short-he was rarely referred to a Prince Arthur, despite his father's status, and Leon only ever called him 'Sire' when he was taking the piss, or if something was seriously wrong.

"What?" He allowed himself to be pulled around by Leon's persistent grip on his forearm, until he could see what the other knight was seeing. "Hell," he murmured under his breath, as he watched the monster scaling the side of his father's home.

It was huge-big enough to be easily made out, even from this distance, as some kind of giant black tiger with claws gouged lines into the brick walls like they were chalk. The things that were most impressive though, or perhaps most terrifying, were the wings that were clamped to the creature's back. Even as Arthur watched, the animal threw back its head, the great sheets of leather rippling as it climbed...

"Is that a man?" The blond took a stumbling step forwards, squinting, as he saw the shape of a person, clinging to the monster's black hair.

"Sire, your father is still inside." It was Percy who spoke now, his shoulders knocking with Arthur's as he moved to stand beside him.

At that moment, Arthur blinked, disorientated as he tore his eyes away from the horrific sight of his old home being destroyed. "My father..."

"We have to move." And when he turned to look again, Leon was already running in the direction of the house, and the others were quick to catch up.

***

Kilgharrah's scales were hot beneath Merlin's fingers, as he struggled to find purchase on the green, diamond cut ridges that ran smoothly over his back and up his neck, turning a rusted amber-gold as they reached his great head.

Merlin couldn't un-see the way he had shed his human skin like a coat with the help of his magic, leaving it to burn on the floor as he rose up-majestic and the last of his kind, stretching his wings so that they crashed through the school, destroying it utterly. Merlin had yelled then in fear, bringing his arms up over his head only to find that he was completely protected by the dragon's wingspan.

"Onto my back, young warlock," he had boomed, his voice magnified a thousand times as he crouched low to the floor, allowing Merlin to hurry forwards and clamber up. He was surprised by how rough the creature's skin was-how easy to grip.

What didn't surprise him, however, was the delicious warmth that at once seemed to wrap around him, holding him in place like the seatbelt in Arthur's car.

Within moments, they had been flying: Kilgharrah beat his wings once, twice, and they were careering upwards into the white winter sky. Looking back over his shoulder, Merlin could see beyond the Wall, where the air seamlessly turned from clear to muggy and grey.

Riding a dragon wasn't comfortable. The warlock was jostled constantly by the movement of Kilgharrah's wings, and his thighs burned from both the heat and the chafing of the dragon's scales against his skin. There were even moments where the ex-professor would dip slightly, or speed up, and Merlin lurched painfully where he sat, fear clenching in his belly every time he thought he might fall.

All of this seemed like nothing, though, compared to the very moment they had left the school far behind them and were circling low over the centre of Camelot. Merlin had leant forward and screamed into the dragon's ear as people in the streets fled, their cries of terror twisting through the frozen air:

"HEAD FOR PENDRAGON ESTATE!" he bellowed as loud as he could, crawling further up Kilgharrah's back just to make sure he heard.

He knew he had heard...and yet, the dragon paid him no heed.

Pendragon Estate was so close-close enough that Merlin could see the damage being caused to it already. He even thought he had seen a black shape climbing the walls. The idea that he might be this near to Freya and Gwaine made his heart beat wildly in his chest.

But Kilgharrah simply ignored his request-ignored what they had both set out to do in the first place and opened his mouth wide to let out a wicked tongue of fire that licked cruelly at the pavements and lapped around the ankles of hundreds of innocent people...

"Stop!" Merlin shouted, pounding his fists against the dragon's back. "They haven't hurt you! It wasn't them-stop!"

But he didn't stop, and Merlin wondered whether he was even able to, for Kilgharrah seemed so charged with something other than flame and magic as he soared through the sky. Merlin could imagine the anger as a tangible thing, coursing through the dragon's body like a drug. Citizens of Camelot were falling like dominoes in a child's game: a man's head collided with a dead woman's feet when he fell, and they lay, a gruesome pair in revenge's sport.

"Please," the young warlock found himself crying out, kicking his heels against the creature's leathery hide. "Please-" No matter how much he tried, it just wasn't working. Merlin tipped his head back, trying to breathe in something that wasn't sickening smoke and the stench of smouldering death, and found himself muttering to the clouds, each word swept up among the snowflakes and stolen by the wind.

He wasn't even sure what he was saying. He wasn't even sure what language it was, but it spilt from his lips as easily as kisses against Arthur's mouth. They ran from him into the heavens, swelling in volume until he knew it would be all the people down below could hear-all Kilgharrah could hear. He himself was drowning in the omnipresent sound of his own voice.

And then it was over, and the dragon was pulling away, spiralling upwards once more as though obeying a sudden command.

Merlin slumped forwards, his cheek pressing against hot scales, gasping over and over until he felt dizzy.

"Why-"

"You know why," Kilgharrah growled, his voice vibrating through his body. Anger stirred inside Merlin's chest.

"Don't do it again," he instructed firmly, and he knew that his tone conveyed all that he felt: the grief and silent fury that so many people's lives had just been destroyed but wouldn't have been if Merlin had kept Kilgharrah's soul wrapped up in human skin. He didn't voice out loud how he already thought it had been a mistake to let him go, because he knew he didn't need to, and he knew the dragon understood.

"You are just like your father." Another rumbling beneath the great expanse of flesh. "He was an expert at dragon-speak, too."

Merlin's stomach plummeted as Kilgharrah dived downwards, the same time as his mind whirred: dragon-speak. So that was what he had been yelling in. And that was why Kilgharrah had brought his wrath to an end.

He had, after all, done as Merlin had told him. "Pendragon Estate, young warlock."

The boy looked up, feeling the breeze whip across his face and pushing sharp fingers back through his dark hair. Before him now stood Arthur's old home, with the roof caved in and the doors blown out, teeming with people from both sides of the Wall-and they collided with each other in clashes of bright magical lights and the flashes of metallic weapons.

It would almost be beautiful, Merlin thought as he watched a great black cat stalk forwards, her eyes gleaming like gems, if it weren't for the wet spatters of crimson that soaked the once spotless furniture and the sight of Arthur Pendragon facing Freya from over a yawning chasm in the floor.

***

It wasn't a war, exactly, that awaited the Knights when they arrived at Pendragon Estate. It wasn't even a battle, despite the fact that there were at least thirty sorcerers who had somehow made it over the Wall without being detected, dressed in the drab clothing that Merlin and Morgana had once worn and aiming curses at the Authorities who had arrived on cue. Arthur had never liked the Authorities-had never liked the way they seemed to cloud like insects, buzzing and lethal.

All in all, it was more like a rebellion, but on a larger scale than any that Arthur had ever witnessed in his lifetime. The sorcerers, the blond soon realised, were acting as nothing more than a distraction for it was the thing on the roof, which trembled ominously, that they ought to be focussing on right that second.

He guessed, as he quickly charged through the battered front door, alternatively calling to his Knights and yelling hoarsely for his father, that he should have seen it coming. There was only so long that a brick wall could stand up against so much anger and resentment. But he only wished that all of this could have waited another day-his head flooding with thoughts about how he had left Merlin that morning, with the boy so obviously on edge and with something to tell him...

Arthur jerked to a halt so suddenly that Leon collided into him.

"God damn it, Arthur! Move! We have to get to your father-that thing on the roof is here for him!"

Arthur's eyes blinked as he spun around slowly to look at the other man, words seeming to come to his ears slower than usual. Had Merlin known about this? Is that what had been wrong with him?

Anger twisted in his gut as he imagined it. How could he have been so foolish to think that Merlin cared about him? That Merlin had been in love with him, the son of the man who enforced the laws of the Wall-who endorsed the execution of children and petty criminals, who were probably only trying to survive?

"That...the thing," Arthur just barely managed, gesturing to the ceiling, which shook again as they all heard the animal screech up above them. "What did it look like to you?" At first, Leon opened his mouth, looking like he was going to ask why the hell it mattered as long as they killed the bloody thing, but Arthur yelled, leaning closer to his friend and spraying him with spit as he grabbed the front of his jacket. "What did it look like?"

"A...a cat," Leon gasped in one breath, "a winged cat."

In an instant, Arthur released his grip, inhaling deeply. It was her. He knew it was her. The girl Merlin had grown up with and then told him about-the very kitten who he had carried back to Morgana and whom they had raised between them.

"Sire." And there it was again, the use of his title. "You go find the king-I'll stay here with the others."

Arthur looked around, feeling sick as he watched a bolt of light hit the mantelpiece, sufficiently cracking it and shattering a family photograph in which Uther's fingers had been curled possessively around the back of his son's neck while Gwen stood a little way off to the left. The picture had never done justice to her smile.

"Okay," he finally exhaled, pulling away from Leon and beginning to run towards the crumbling stairs, yanking his gun from his holster as he went and slamming the butt into a man's face as he ran towards him, feeling his nose crunch on impact beneath the metal. "Keep them all down here!" he yelled back to Leon, hoping that he heard him. It would be hard enough attacking a monster-and he wasn't even going to think about how it was in fact a young girl-without a dozen sorcerers on his tail.

The stairs were slick with blood when the prince began to climb them, and shards of glass were crushed beneath his feet, from the windows that had been blown in from either side. His hands slid on the banisters as he stumbled upwards, feeling a strange terror curling in his stomach as his eyes landed on household objects that had once been so familiar to him but were now stark and broken-an umbrella stand that smouldered and glistened. A bookshelf on the landing that lay splintered, saturated by thousands of smoking black holes.

He could hardly breathe at all when he at last reached the top floor, where his old bedroom and his father's room resided. Down the hallway was a glass door, and behind that would be a ladder that would take him up onto the roof. His father had made him climb it once when he was little, as a test of his endurance-he had fancied himself afraid of heights at the time. Once standing on the roof, however, all Arthur had felt was freedom, even when he spied the Wall, oppressive and grey on the other side of town.

He made to turn towards it, ignoring the breaths that tore through him in heavy, painful pants. As he passed by his father's door though, he couldn't help but pause...he had to check, to see if the man was in there and not doing anything foolish-such as 'donning his armour' and preparing to wade downstairs. He had to make sure he was safe, and his hand was hovering over the handle when it happened.

The roof, which had admittedly been undergoing a lot of strain over the last half hour or so, groaned loudly, and Arthur looked up in time to see a crack, spindling out from one corner of the ceiling to another.

"Dad," he murmured, almost faint enough that the sound was swallowed by the loud rumblings of the house.

Then everything fell apart.



Arthur screamed.

It started all backwards, spilling from his mouth and throat before it sank through his body to rest heavily in the hard heels of his feet. It was like ice, cutting him inside until his soul bled snow and frost and he was cold all over.

He just stood there, like he was still ten years old, his mouth wide open to let out the sound, and he wasn't sure if he was screaming a name-wasn't sure if he was calling for Uther or Merlin, or anyone at all.

In the end, it didn't really matter.

Half of the roof had fallen in, great chunks of it tearing through the floor and falling to crash into the basement, creating huge black holes in their wake. Arthur was on the edge of one such void, his yells turning into whimpers and then silence, as he teetered dangerously, too afraid to look to his right, where his father's room was-would it still be a room, when he finally did look?-and too afraid to look down. All he could do was stare ahead, trying not to sway from lack of oxygen after not taking a breath for so long, and shaking his head to rid it of the echoing, reverberating clashes left over from the crumbling walls and fighting down below.

In front of him, the only thing he could safely lay his eyes on was the monster. Its hair shone dully in the harsh sunlight, and it blinked at him curiously, like it was deliberating what would be the easiest way to cut him down-with teeth, or with jagged claw.

Upon its back...her back, was a man, just like Arthur had thought. His expression was grim as he pushed tangled brown hair back from his face, while his other hand was resting in the creature's hair, caressing a spot on her neck as he shifted and angled himself to face Arthur.

"I know Merlin," the blond instinctively choked out, not sure if this would help him or not, not sure if he even wanted help, or if he would be happy to have his heart torn out. "He...he's safe."

The man stared at him, eyebrows pulling together in confusion, as the cat took a step forwards so that her claws were clutching at the other side of the gaping hole in between them. Arthur thought she looked like she might leap over and maul him where he stood, but before she could even begin to spread her wings, a sound suddenly rent the sky apart.

Arthur looked up in disbelief as the noise roared and whistled through the now dilapidated building, making him wish he wasn't holding a gun so he could simply clamp his hands over his ears. Across the precipice, the cat jerked backwards, yowling as she peered up into the air.

The blond glanced back towards them in time to see the other man's jaw go slack. He didn't hear the words that were yelled, but he could read them in the twisting of the latter's lips: Merlin.

At once, his gaze returned to the skies, and he saw what they were seeing-saw what was impossible to miss:

The dragon was immense and looked almost exactly how Arthur had imagined such a creature to look, minus the lithe young man sitting astride it. He stared at the familiar outline, feeling something winding unpleasantly inside him, at the same time as a yearning threaded its way through the thrumming of his heart. He reached out a hand, almost blindly, and took a staggering step forwards.

***

Merlin had been sitting up straight, feeling the bright sunlight hit his back before it spread out around him, casting his black shadow across the back of Kilgharrah's neck, when Arthur moved. He had already been dangerously close to the edge-so close that Merlin had been finding it hard to breathe, but now he was seconds away from falling through the air, with his arm outstretched in a way that made Merlin's heart ache.

He had never seen Arthur look truly vulnerable before.

Of course, he did the first thing he could think of to save him, gasping as the spell disconnected from his veins in order to fly down to the older man and wrap strong, invisible limbs around his torso to force him back.

Merlin watched as Arthur stumbled, his pale blue eyes wide and shocked as they judged where the magic had come from. As they landed on his face and suddenly became intent with understanding.

"Forgive me," Merlin murmured, even though there was no way the other could hear him. Then he was tying Arthur in those translucent arms once more, ignoring the way he yelled and struggled and screamed at him to-

"Stop, Merlin-stop this!"

-andtransporting him down through the abyss and out of sight.

The other knights would keep him safe. They had to keep him safe.

***

"Merlin," Gwaine slid from Freya's back at the same time as Merlin was lowered to the floor by Kilgharrah. He fell into the older man's arms with a soft cry, burying his face against the familiar chest and shuddering, his other hand going to tangle in Freya's hair.

"I'm...so, so glad you're okay," he could barely get the words out between sobs, and he was clutching at Gwaine as if his life depended on it.

"Of course we're okay." His voice was gruff but shaking as he ran fingers through the boy's dark hair, holding him as tightly as possible. "We came back for you and Morgana."

At this, Merlin pulled back slightly, his tears blurring down his face. "But why are there so many of you? What's happening, Gwaine?"

The other took a sharp breath, looking slightly unsteady on his feet even though, for once, he didn't seem to have been drinking. "Morgause," he breathed, not missing the way that Merlin's body stiffened at the name. "She organised us...broke me and Freya away from the Authorities but did something to the people holding us, so they wouldn't realise we'd gone. She rounded up some people-people who wanted Uther and Aredian gone, like me. Then she put this spell on Freya, to make her change early...all of us have instructions to kill the Pendragons."

"Instructions?" Merlin spat, suddenly furious. "Arthur hasn't done anything. You can't just-"

"I know," Gwaine interrupted him, "I never intended to hurt Arthur. I only came for you, Merlin." He released his grip on the boy and stood back a little to take in his appearance. "Are you all right? And please tell me you're going to, at some point, explain the ruddy great lizard." With that, he gestured, with a dumbfounded expression, to Kilgharrah, who snorted in displeasure.

"I'm fine," he whispered, knuckling his eyes with his shoulders hunched. "Uh, that's Kilgharrah. He's sort of...well, a dragon." He couldn't be bothered to offer much more of an explanation, even if it made Gwaine roll his eyes, before he was pressing on to more important matters: "But Morgana's gone-she...she was working with Morgause. She's gone and..." He shook his head, eyes glistening as Gwaine rocked him gently.

"Morgause told me that, too..." he murmured quietly, "about how they had both been coming up with a plan...but I don't believe it. Morgause is cruel, and Morgana isn't."

"But Morgana's gone," Merlin stressed, feeling anguish swirling in his chest and unwilling to tell his old mentor and friend what he had done to the girl he cared for so much.

"Then we'll get her back."

***

It turned out that, although when Gwaine had said 'we'll' and had meant it, only Merlin ended up leaving Pendragon Estate, his feet pounding against the ice covered ground, feeling the wet slush squish in between his toes with each lung-tearing step.

For, just seconds after Gwaine had spoken, a stinging zap of orange light had shot upwards and sank deep into Freya's belly. The two men had cried out as one when she fell, her body twitching as the magic in her rebelled and she suddenly began to shrink and mutate, turning more fragilely human with every second. She hadn't died but had merely laid there, her head in Gwaine's lap as she took a thousand little gasps and fluttered her eyelids as she tried to focus in on Merlin.

He had leant forwards and embraced her gently, for a moment cradling her thin form against his own, breathing in the smell of her hair and pressing his cheek to the skin of her neck. Then he lowered her back down, a hand trailing over her stomach where there was a mess of blood that smeared over her pale skin when he touched it. He wanted to heal her, and he'd tried in that moment, eyes squeezing shut in concentration, but then Gwaine was yelling at him to go, to go find Morgana, because he would take care of Freya:

"She'll be okay! Just go, Merlin!"

Kilgharrah had offered to take him at first, but Merlin had merely scowled. "I think you've done enough," he'd said, only to have his words painfully proven now as he ran past the dead, burning bodies of all the dragon's countless victims.

He had seen Arthur just before he left the house-fighting beside the other Knights, and for a second, his eyes had connected with Merlin's, and his mouth had opened...

The boy even thought he saw the other's gaze flick towards his bare feet with a look of disapproval flashing across his face, and it had been so Arthur that Merlin almost turned right back around. Almost cast a spell which would be so powerful that there would be no survivors apart from him and Arthur, and that would be all that mattered.

But he hadn't gone back. He just kept on running.

Gwaine had been the one to eventually find his way down to the ground though, and snag the Prince's arm, even as his lungs burned with the effort of not crying and not looking up to where Freya lay on the floorboards high above them.

"I have to tell you something," he rasped, ducking and dragging Arthur out of the fray. "About Merlin-he had nothing to do with any of this, believe me."

The blond man's eyes had narrowed, but for a moment he was isolated from the battle and prepared to listen to the ragged man before him.

***

Gwen ran forwards, gasping as she dropped to her knees beside where Morgana laid, hands flitting in terror over her chest and trembling with each heaving breath. Then, she was roughly shoved aside by the other blonde woman who just seconds before had had her tongue in Morgana's mouth.

"Is she all right?" she finally asked, because now was not the time to start clawing some stranger's eyes out. Even though her hands shook with the need to do something...

"She's been poisoned," the other woman spat out and spun around on her, steely eyes flashing. "Did you do this?"

"Of course not," Gwen hissed, even as she reached out to tangle a hand in Morgana's hair, tears building hot and heavy in her eyelids. "I don't know who you are," she managed to utter steadily, "but if you can save her...if you're magic, or...I don't know, whatever, you have to save her."

"Merlin," Morgana suddenly gasped, lifting a hand to press over her heart as though something inside was hurting. "He gave me..." In that instant, her eyes were wide with misunderstanding.

Gwen stared down at her, mouth falling open as it clicked into place what she was saying. "Merlin wouldn't, Morgana, he-"

But before she could finish her sentence, there was a clang of something hitting the metal walls of the warehouse, and she looked over her shoulder to see the boy in question, still wearing his pyjamas and stumbling inside after having thrown the doors open as wide as they could go.

***

The connection between Merlin and Morgana was a unique one-they hadn't been brought together by fate or destiny, as Merlin and Arthur had, but forced into each other's arms by circumstance. Their relationship had developed quickly, but that was not strange seeing how alike they were: stubborn and brave and good, the pair of them.

Ever since they had met, they had spent almost every night curled together to keep warm and to feel safe. There had been no romance but so much care and affection that a lot of people would probably find it hard to believe that they had never even kissed. But even that was not what made them special-what made them different was the link that had been built over time between them, with their magic creating bridges between their hearts every time they brushed hands or whispered a secret into the other's ear.

Merlin and Morgana were joined by a brittle bond of their own making, even if they hadn't set out to create it on purpose, but because they never really understood that it was there, it had never been put to use.

Never, until the girl with her dark hair curling delicately around her throat and fluttering against Morgause's hands, met eyes with Merlin. And she didn't utter a word because she didn't have to. Her thoughts flowed effortlessly down some invisible wire straight into the boy's head, making him reel from them. It was different to those few times when he had purposefully invaded someone else's mind-and in fact, he had only ever done that twice in his life-once to Will, by accident, and on the first occasion he had met Gwaine.

Instead of feeling even marginally in control of what he was seeing, the pictures came in an unprecedented rush of colour and sound and taste, and he found himself gasping from it. Morgana appeared to be experiencing something similar because she slipped a few inches farther down the wall, tears sliding down from her eyes and over her nose.

It ended as quickly as it had begun, the connection breaking as soon as Morgana tore her eyes away from his. He had seen all she had wanted him to-the love she had for Gwen and for him had been so poignant that he was left dizzy and disorientated and horrified.

He had been wrong. Kilgharrah had been wrong. Morgause had been wrong.

All of them so very, very wrong about the girl who now had poison winding its way to her heart.

"Morgana-" he croaked, taking a stumbling step forwards because he knew that she was aware of what he had done. She knew it was his fault she was dying and the betrayal was something neither of them would ever be able to get over. Her eyes snapped back to his and there was something swirling in the depths of her irises that Merlin didn't like.

What had he done?

"Get back." Morgause's voice cut through the silence like a blade and Merlin flinched, turning to look at her. He opened his mouth, although to say what he wasn't sure. He was pretty certain that Morgause was as much to blame for this as he was, somewhere along the line...or perhaps that was just some small part of him that still wanted to believe he could make this better.

But, whatever it was and whatever he might have said didn't matter when Morgause's eyes darkened to a whirling amber and he was sent flying back, crashing into the wall and cracking his head against the metal.

Someone screamed, and Merlin dazedly lifted his head to see Gwen getting to her feet, obviously unsure which way to turn-to run to Merlin or stay with Morgana. She had her back to the girl on the floor for only a moment, and the boy's tongue was too heavy, his mind too disorientated to tell her to look back. To please, please look back...

Because Morgause was lifting Morgana into her arms with a graceful ease, her gaze malicious as the younger girl failed to truly realise what was happening, her eyebrows pulled together in confusion...

"Gwen?"

Merlin felt his heart break for what seemed to be the seventeenth time that day when Morgana whispered the name of the only girl she had ever loved, before there was a swirl of black and blonde, and in the next second, he and Gwen were alone.

It was odd, he thought, when Gwen realised what had happened and started yelling, dropping to her knees and running her hands over the spot where Morgana had vanished...it was odd because he had assumed everything would go silent. His head hurt so very much, and he wanted quiet. He didn't want to think about what had just happened, and it was too hard anyway. Everything seemed to be moving sluggishly: Gwen slumped forwards in slow motion, curling up and shaking in a way that was fuzzy and blurred around the edges.

And Merlin wanted to go to her and put his arms around her, but when he tried to move, something pulled. A sharp, twisting pain in his shoulder, and then a thin cry tore through him, wailing through the warehouse like a ghost calling out to the living.

Like a small boy yelling for his mother.

But Gwen didn't move from where she lay, and he wanted to know why. Everything spun and ached and burned, and he decided that if she wasn't going to move, she might be dead, and he liked her. He didn't want her to be gone, so he shut his eyes as tightly as he could because the emptiness behind his lids was so much nicer than the emptiness of her not being there anymore.

He didn't fully register the hands that came to wrap around him, moving him gently. Words penetrated his ears like they were being spoken underwater-so that he thought he could almost see bubbles floating through the air even with his eyes closed, round and shining, and he reached out to pop them, only frowning when they refused to disappear.

"God, he's...please, oh my God, help me!"

The next thing he knew, a voice was ringing slightly clearer than all the other noises-one that sounded so worried, and Merlin frowned even harder at that, trying to ask the voice to repeat itself, because he hadn't heard it properly the first time. Besides, he liked the way it sounded-familiar and soft like a bright yellow blanket that Merlin wished would smother him.

"Gaius, quickly..." it spoke again, and the boy thought he made a noise in response. It might have been bad-a noise that screamed and screamed because that's just what he felt like doing at that moment. Or it might have been quiet because Merlin couldn't imagine finding a scream inside him right now, not when his throat felt so closed up and his eyes so salty. He wanted to open them wide. He could do that, couldn't he? He could-

"Open your eyes for me, my dear boy," another murmured, then there were more hands and more sounds, different but still nice. Still strangely recognisable, talking to him softly. Merlin thought it sounded shaky, like this voice might cry.

His eyeballs flicked left and right beneath their lids, and his brain seemed to be slamming against the inside of his skull. He was scared that if he did manage to open his eyes, blood would come pouring out of them from inside him, and then he might stain his pyjamas, which would be awful because they weren't even his, they belonged to-

"Arthur."

***

Arthur let out a small sob of relief when Merlin finally spoke, and it wasn't a scream or a mumble, but a name. His name.

The boy's eyes still hadn't opened, but Arthur was cradling him in his arms while Gaius looked him over with trembling fingers.

"Merlin, my dear boy, Merlin," he kept saying as he examined him, and the Prince took this to mean that Gaius actually knew Merlin, although he couldn't begin to clue that one together right now. Leon was kneeling beside Gwen, checking her for injuries as instructed, and Arthur silently prayed that she was okay.

He had seen, from a distance, all that had happened. Through the warehouse doors he had watched as the blonde witch sent Merlin crashing backwards, hitting the wall with a crack as his arm broke, almost at the same time as she stole Morgana away. And Arthur was sure his pulse had stopped then, from the shock of it.

But now Merlin was pressing his nose up against his neck, his breath hot and shaky. Arthur wondered if the boy even knew where he was, or who was holding him, but he hoped he could tell.

"I've got you," he promised, blinking rapidly as Gaius tested the warlock's shoulder, nudging it gently and making Merlin whine from pain. "Shhh, I've got you, Merlin. You're going to be okay."

As he crooned softly into the boy's ear, he spied Gwen getting to her feet and tugging away from Leon, making her way unsteadily to the door to look outside.

"What happened?" she asked, her gaze directed towards Pendragon Estate, which Arthur knew was now aflame. He wasn't quite sure what to tell her though. She looked like she was about to break into a run any moment.

He opened his mouth, struggling internally with finding somewhere to begin, when the boy in his arms twitched and began to yell.

In an instant, Arthur looked down in shock at the words streaming from Merlin as his back arched and his eyes finally, finally opened, only to reveal a set of irises that burned a terrifyingly beautiful gold. Nothing the boy was saying made sense-it was all in another language, or perhaps it was just nonsense that he had made up, his body trying to rid him of a thousand haunting nightmares.

And he continued to consider these possibilities as he shifted, trying to angle Merlin better for Gaius to calm him, when there was a familiar roar shrouding the air, and Gwen sucked in a shocked gasp, stumbling backwards as the dragon flew into view, russet scales winking in the sunlight as he landed.

"You called, young warlock," the creature murmured, but even that was loud, and Gwen's hair fluttered slightly in the breeze created by his breath as she turned to stare incredulously at Merlin. Arthur's arms tightened protectively around him.

"I am angry with you," Merlin's voice was bitten off because there was no denying that he felt betrayed by Kilgharrah. He had thought that, at last, there was someone who could truly teach him about his powers. And then the bloody great monster had gone on a murdering rampage, as well as making the biggest mistake about Morgana that was possible to make.

He inclined his head. "I am sorry, Merlin," he uttered solemnly, his voice rumbling through the floor and up Merlin's spine.

"Merlin..." Arthur whispered, "Why have you brought him here?"

The boy curled closer to him, his brain still riddling through everything that had happened. It was disorientating, and he continued to feel sick, with the pain in his shoulder spiking unpleasantly. "For Gwen," he replied hoarsely, his forehead damp with sweat.

The Prince's nostrils flared for a moment, although not out of anger-it was more like he simply needed as much oxygen in his lungs as possible, as he came to an understanding. "Gaius," he sighed and gestured for Gaius to take over holding Merlin, shifting his weight gently before getting up and edging past the dragon to join Gwen, who was staring up at the creature with a look of awe painted on her face.

"Gaius?" Merlin's voice was small and confused when he twisted in the old man's grip, his fingers running disbelievingly over the veined and knotted hands. "You're not dead."

"No," he chuckled, and the boy let out a small whimper of relief as he was hugged gently. "The King kept me on when he heard about the way I am with medicine. I am court physician now. But I confess, Merlin, I didn't think I would ever get to see you again-although I prayed for it every day." His voice trembled slightly, and Merlin tilted his head to see that Gaius was crying softly. He sighed and pressed back, not having the energy to do anything but lie there. "I'm so proud of you, my boy," Gaius told him, careful not to jostle his shoulder as he pushed some of the dark hair out of Merlin's eyes, so he could better see the dragon waiting before them.

***

"I saw your brother, up at the Estate." Arthur watched Gwen for her reaction-the way she gasped slightly, her hands balling at her sides.

"Was he..."

"He was fine, when I left. Fighting...for the other side, of course." His voice was almost fond, although it had been frustrating, darting left and right and trying to avoid killing his friend, despite the fact they were meant to be fighting against each other.

"Good," she whispered, and Arthur wondered at how stunning she looked and how out of place.

"Merlin called him for you," he said softly, taking her arm and turning her gently to face the dragon.

She stared up at it, swallowing when it turned to meet her gaze. "Why?" she asked, choosing that question over the thousands of others that were eagerly making themselves known.

"To find her." he replied simply.

She blinked before stepping forwards, tentatively reaching out.

"My name is Kilgharrah," the dragon spoke and lowered himself so that Gwen would be able to climb up onto his back, if she wished to. At this, Arthur's mouth immediately fell open, and Kilgharrah chuckled.

"You used to teach me!" Gwen's voice was only slightly hysterical. "There was a man called Kilgharrah at my school, before I got transferred."

"I remember you well, Gwen," he laughed with a kind voice. . Affectionate, even. Fate had not treated her kindly, he thought. It never really did.

"Can you...can you help me?" she asked, taking a step closer.

"I can," Kilgharrah assured, feeling Merlin's gaze on him-the gaze of a dragonlord, no less, although the boy didn't know it yet.

Gwen only hesitated a moment longer, and then she was climbing up with a wonderful grace, settling just behind the dragon's head with her hands resting on his neck. She looked so different compared to how Merlin had.

Merlin, who was a child of Winter and Snow and the hot things that accompanied the cold, like tea and quilts and warm meals.

Merlin wasn't made to sit astride creatures of such fire, but Gwen, who had always revelled in the high temperature in her little house even when Arthur thought he might faint from the heat, appeared at home on Kilgharrah's back. Her hair streamed out behind her, the sunlight catching on the waves and clinging to them, so she looked almost dazzling where she sat.

"I want to find my brother and father, first," she spoke clearly, although her voice faltered ever so slightly as she wondered how her life could have been so entirely altered in such a short amount of time. "Then Morgana."

"Of course." Kilgharrah straightened up, his wings unfolding from where they were clamped to his back. "Goodbye, young warlock," he uttered with a curt nod, "Prince Arthur."

And then they were gone, and the two men whose hearts beat the same frantic rhythms, whose souls twisted together in the same golden shapes, watched them disappear as the dragon took off into the air once more, breathing summer into the sun as he shot like wildfire through the sky.

The End

Epilogue