Mykonos 16/16
| Masterpost| Part Fifteen|
Arthur Pendragon was crowned King two days later, sun shining above as the entire City watched the crown being placed on the young king. The large screens in the Square were watched by a mass of people, cheering and celebrations erupting when Arthur was announced, not once dying down. It was a benefit of a technological kingdom; things could move quickly and an entire coronation could be fabricated in hours.
It seemed that no matter where people were, no matter whether they lived on the land of the sky, they would always celebrate in the same ways. They weren’t so different, regardless of what the kings and sorcerers of the past may have convinced themselves.
Merlin watched the proceedings at the head of the Magicians, in his blue cloak and dressed smartly underneath. Arthur’s eyes kept seeking him out, and Merlin forced himself not to smile too much, aware of the millions of eyes watching them all around.
Hunith sat next to Ygraine at the side of the room, in the only seated area of the room. It was reserved for members of the royal family and their most trusted, and Merlin had had to force Arthur not to place him there, wanting to see Arthur properly as well as take his place with the sorcerers who were close to hero-worship. Merlin was just a man, and he needed them to understand that too.
Arthur stepped down from where he’d knelt before the thrones, a crown on his brow and a smile on his lips. Excalibur was at his hip, the true glory of the sword hidden by its sheath, and Merlin knew the Obsidian lay over his chest, hidden from the public just as Merlin’s was.
The day was still young, and Arthur had to entertain nobles of all kind, and he also moved through the crowds, Merlin by his side for protection (not that he needed it, the people loved Arthur), greeting the subjects he’d striven to protect no matter what.
The story of what Merlin and Arthur had done, as well as the truth, had leaked somehow. Merlin suspected Gwen and Morgana had something to do with it, but it was known throughout the City. People were thanking them - Merlin just as much as Arthur - for saving them all. If Uther had not abdicated, the kingdom would have been in uproar, no longer loyal to the king, but the prince. It would have ended in war and so many needless deaths.
The construction work was finished in part, empty buildings ready to be populated. Magic had never flourished like this before the start of the Floods, and Merlin marvelled at how long a balance had taken to form.
People had begun to reject magic, perhaps a partial cause of the severity of the Floods, but they were now welcoming it with open arms. It wasn’t twisted, but treasured, and that wasn’t even taking Merlin himself into account, or the things that he could do.
The day was late, and Merlin was led back to their rooms, the same ones that he an Arthur had stayed in before. The others in their little group - Mordred, Ygraine and Hunith - had chosen rooms closer to the heart of the palace, but Arthur had asked if Merlin wanted to stay, and he’d agreed. No other room had the view they did, and no other room would be their room in the same way this one was.
They drifted off to sleep, Merlin knowing that he had to wake early to fulfil a promise.
When it came to freeing Kilgharrah, Merlin had to dig. He went down into the darkness alone, save for the orb of blue light by his shoulder, and smiled when Kilgharrah shifted, already waiting.
“Where will you go?” Merlin asked, looking up at his kin and feeling a selfish urge to demand Kilgharrah to stay close. He couldn’t, though, not after the dragon had been locked away for so many years. No matter what Merlin wanted, he wouldn’t force Kilgharrah.
Kilgharrah blinked slowly, nostrils flaring as the blue orb of light circled them lazily, Merlin taking note of the landscape and formulating a plan while waiting for the reply.
“There’s only one thing I can do Merlin,” he said kindly. “I am the last of my kind, and there is little else for me to do save for remain with the last of my kin.”
Happiness bubbles inside of Merlin and Kilgharrah gave a toothy smile.
“I refuse to stay in Camelot, but if you need me then all you have to do is call for me. I’m going to fly, and I’ll look out for people who are in need.” Kilgharrah shifted his weight, the heavy chain clinking on the ground.
“Thank you,” Merlin said, meaning it with every fibre of his being. What Kilgharrah was going to do for him went above and beyond anything and everything Merlin had expected.
The light overhead spluttered before it expanded, flooding the area in light. It gave Merlin a clear view of the dips and grooves around them, as well as the other side of the cave. It was smoother than Merlin’s side, and he knew that that was the side they’d have a better time digging through.
“I need to use my magic to dig through the wall,” Merlin said, and Kilgharrah drew his head back slightly in surprise.
“No Dragonlord has ever had the audacity to ask what you want of me before,” he said, narrowing golden eyes. “But no Dragonlord before you has pledged to set me free or shown so much power. A dragon’s magic is eternal, unlike most of our Lords, but your magic is more like a dragon, or any creature of magic, than a human’s.”
Kilgharrah bend his neck down, squatting on his legs and offering a spine for Merlin to hold onto.
“It is unorthodox, but I have a feeling that unorthodox is a good description for your entire life.” Kilgharrah let out a rumble of laughter, causing Merlin to grip tightly to the scaled ridge in front of him, and then they were off, a powerful beat of his wings. Merlin only just managed to stay on, and that was with a liberal use of magic.
Hooking his claws onto the side of the wall with a grating screech, Kilgharrah landed and Merlin gathered his magic, feeling the wall and the elements that made it up. They were just above the ground at this point, and the earth here was fused partially with the metal from the Tower.
Still, it would bend to Merlin’s will, and as he pushed with his magic, the wall began to part, dirt pushing apart and a hole opening, not quite wide enough for them to fit through yet, but growing steadily. The blue light flickered and died above them, but Merlin was glowing again, filling the space with a brighter light than before.
The roar of the Ocean filled the cave when Merlin was done, sea spray licking the outer edge of the channel. They were just above the sea level, and Kilgharrah stretch out his neck and sniff he air, a delighted shudder running through his body.
As if reading Merlin’s thoughts, Kilgharrah moved back to the other side and touched down, letting Merlin climb off. Excalibur was at his hip, Arthur having shoved the sword at Merlin when he’d asked, explaining that Merlin didn’t technically need to ask for it, that it was as much his sword as Excalibur was Arthur’s (a lie, Excalibur would never belong to anyone but Arthur, but he hadn’t taken no for an answer, so what the king wanted apparently he got) and Arthur’s alone. It was heavy in Merlin’s hands, but it would be the only sword that could break the chain.
Kilgharrah arched his neck as Merlin drew the blade, and he snorted in amusement. Merlin looked at him, then the sword, and realised what Uther had said might just be true.
“You forged this sword?” he asked in amazement, using both hands to hold it out in front of him.
“In another lifetime, a long, long time ago,” Kilgharrah replied, eyes warm and amused. There was something hidden in his tone, but Merlin knew he’d never decipher it.
“Okay then,” Merlin said, looking at the chain on the dragon’s leg. “Hold still.”
With a rush of magic, Merlin drove Excalibur down onto the chain, splitting the links with a crackle of sparks. The residual magic that had been stored in the chain left in a rush, sending a shock through Merlin. It was uncomfortable, but not unwelcome, and then the feeling was gone in a rush of wind, Kilgharrah swooping through the gap in the wall and seeing true daylight for the first time in centuries.
At the very edge, though, the dragon paused and tuned his head back, twisting his bulk around awkwardly.
“Your people await a sign of change,” he said, tail lashing against the wall as he lost his balance ever so slightly. “The refugees down here know nothing other than there was a change in Camelot. They’ve lived in fear since that, but I do believe its time you opened the gates once and for all.”
Merlin had talked about this with Arthur. With construction almost finished, they had been planning on opening Camelot’s gates soon. The people from the Pickings were filling up the homes that had been created at the moment, but Merlin had imparted specific orders for more buildings to be built to his sorcerers, and they’d started work at once. They weren’t to be the highest quality homes, but they were better than what the refugees had now, and it would give them comfort and hope for a better life.
With a swoop of his wings, Kilgharrah was back by Merlin’s side, and it took only a moment for Merlin to decide what to do. Together, they passed from the cave and out into the sun - the weather had settled, and summer was warm and full of sun, just like all the stories had told - and merlin broke into laughter as he saw the rays glinting off the back of smooth, calm waves. Behind them, the hole in the cave filled back in on itself, the surface looking as though there had never been a scratch, let alone a hole, before.
From the air, the world looked so small, so insignificant. Kilgharrah stretched his neck, wings pushing them up and around the long, dark Tower. The support structures had spilt apart from the main Tower and crumpled into the sea, odd, spider-legged shapes. He could see dots moving below, masses of people clumped on each Island that the support towers had given birth to, and Merlin wondered why it had taken them this long to do something about these people.
They alighted at the base of the Tower first, Kilgharrah’s massive bulk landing mostly in the sea. People scattered, though they’d landed at the edge of the camp, people had scattered in panic, pushing up against the rest of the camp as much as they could. Everyone had seen their arrival, and Merlin jumped down from Kilgharrah, the gap between him and the people not much in distance, but a world apart in terms of trust.
“My name is Merlin!” Merlin shouted, magic catching in his throat and pushing his voice to every ear. “I’m a sorcerer from Camelot, and it’s been too long since you’ve had a safe home, shelter and enough food to fill your bellies.”
There were sceptics, Merlin could feel them, muttering about the fool before them and his lies.
“I’ve lived amongst you,” Merlin persisted, and a few more people turned their attention to him fully. “I came from an Island called Ealdor and was told I had a great destiny, that I had to save those in need.”
A few laughs rose at his words, but Merlin had expected a far frostier reception, so smiled with them. They didn’t have to believe him, but he’d inspire perhaps a few with hope, so that when the boats bearing Arthur’s mark came, they would believe him.
“You don’t have to believe me, but when people bearing a golden dragon crest come to open the gates, you have my word that Camelot will be open to you. At last you will find peace,” Merlin said, looking over at the hundreds of people, grubby faced and full despair. “You will be safe.”
There was nothing else that Merlin could say, so he climbed back onto Kilgharrah, visiting each of the other isles, making the same speech and promising aid. He was still met with hostility and disbelief, but he’d done something, rather than ignoring the people.
Kilgharrah took them higher this sweep of the Tower, circling the structure as he pushed past the curve of the City itself, and Merlin could see that the top had bloomed like a flower. It was open to the sky, outer reaches blasted apart like flower petals, and they passed over the entire length of Camelot before Kilgharrah swooped down, past the tall, impressive buildings and to the heart of the City.
A few people called out in alarm as the huge shadow Kilgharrah made passed over them, but soon enough people were calling out in delight, having only seen dragons on the crest of Camelot. They flew low over a school, children running across the concrete playground, as if they could catch them, calling up in delight to Merlin, who waved down at them.
The wind blew against his face, but Merlin just laughed, throwing his arms up into the air. Kilgharrah suddenly shifted his flight, swooping up, and Merlin had to drab onto the spine before him, adrenaline pumping through his body as they came to the castle. They moved over the castle’s courtyard once before Kilgharrah set down, tucking his wings up neatly and letting Merlin slip down.
“Thank you,” Merlin said, touching the dragon’s cheek before he pulled away, preparing to take flight again. He didn’t, though, and Merlin turned to see the reason why approaching them, moving from the shadows of the castle.
“People are saying it’s a sign,” Arthur said as he walked down the steps. He was dressed in armour and cloak, traditional uniform for a newly appointed king apparently, and Merlin jumped from Kilgharrah’s neck, smiling.
“That a dragon was born on the eve of my coronation and grew overnight. He’s the first dragon, sacred to Camelot, and a sign that I am the rightful king.” Arthur raised an eyebrow at Merlin before turning to the dragon and bowing his head.
“My words are worth little, but I am sorry for what has been done to you.” Arthur paused, looking up. “If there is anything I can do, within reason, then it shall be granted to you.”
Kilgharrah bent his neck and came face to face with Arthur, snorting in his direction. His eyes were narrowed, and Merlin watched carefully, just in case Kilgharrah decided to take the past out on Arthur. No matter how deep their kinship was, he couldn’t allow the dragon to hurt Arthur.
“You will be a great king,” Kilgharrah announced, lifting his head back. “All I ask is that you take care of Merlin. I’m sure we will see each other again soon, but I will always be able to feel if you have hurt Merlin, no matter if I am beside him or half the Ocean away.”
Although he was a giant dragon, Arthur still looked at Kilgharrah as though they were equals, and nodded, the action heavily weighted with promise.
Without another word, Kilgharrah pushed off of the ground and up into the air. Merlin watched, hand cupped over his eyes and against the sun, until Kilgharrah was a dot in the sky, free and far away.
“Come on,” Arthur said softly. “There’s still so much to do, and your sorcerers will be wanting to get to know the real Emrys.”
Merlin laughed, shaking his head and jogging to Arthur’s side. “They’ll be disappointed when they get to know the real me,” he said, but Arthur shook his head.
“They won’t,” he promised. “Though if they are, perhaps I could pay you all a visit, let them remember that their Emrys isn’t the only one who they have to serve.”
Merlin shoved Arthur’s shoulder.
“You brute,” he said, not without affection. “I’ve got myself stuck with a complete brute haven’t I?”
The responding laughter bounced off of the corridor around them, and Merlin smiled too, feeling at home and peace for the first time in a long, long while.
.
Merlin frowned as a stray piece of hair blew into his eyes, and he knew he needed a haircut soon. He said as much to Arthur, tilting his head to the side, and Arthur laughed quietly, hunching his shoulders yet trying to keep the noise at a minimum. Morgana was close by and she was on a warpath trying to make sure they made a good impression on the people coming up from the ground level, led by Knights and Magicians, all kitted with the Pendragon Crest.
The noise of the first shuttles hit their ears and Merlin shifted in nervous anticipation. These were the people he’d made the promise to a few days before, with Kilgharrah at his back, and now he was seeing it through, Arthur by his side and other important people around.
Larger shuttles were waiting to fill up, to take the people to their new homes - blocks of flats with all the necessities - and there were knights and castle workers waiting at the flats to help. Other workers, social workers and members of the government used to dealing with these problems, were interspersed with all the other helpers, ready to be there for the people who needed them the most.
Today was about getting the refugees into their homes, giving them food and shelter. Tomorrow would bring about a new team of workers dedicated to providing the people with an identity, giving them cards and money from the government, a basic wage to get them on their feet. Camelot would do what it could to help the people it had left abandoned for so long.
The first shuttles approached, and Arthur stiffened. They’d had this conversation before, confiding in Merlin he was scared. What if the refugees hated him, what if they felt betrayed before he’d already tried…
Merlin had reassured him. Merlin had been one of them, and he knew the hope they all carried, buried deep inside. They’d love Arthur if he was true to his word and true to their needs. They’d love Arthur if he remembered the past, but didn’t let it shape his opinions of the individuals, if he sought forgiveness through help and moved Camelot forwards.
As people disembarked the shuttles, wide-eyed and scared, Morgana was the first to move forwards. She, Gwen and a few others took them aside slightly, welcoming groups to Camelot, reassuring them that they were safe now and would be cared for. Everyone had a hand-held device to record names in, so broken families could be reunited.
The stream of people was almost never ending and they remained down by the shuttle until nightfall, too tired to continue checking people in. Arthur and Merlin were replaced by Hunith and Ygraine, and they took a shuttle back to the castle, leaning against each other.
“It’s really happening,” Arthur said as he looked out of their window, staring into the darkness and squinting through the electrical lights, in the vague direction the shuttle platform was stationed.
Merlin came to stand beside Arthur, resting his arms on the window as he leant out slightly.
“It is,” he said. “And we can help all of those out there. It’ll be difficult, but it will be done.”
Arthur’s eyes crinkled as he turned to Merlin, smiling.
“There are still people who hate us,” Arthur said, and Merlin’s thoughts turned to Alvarr, hidden in the Wastelands and left to rule his own land.
There were no doubt others who had refused Camelot’s aid, and Merlin wondered how long it would be before they sought each other and festered anger and hatred in the darkness. There was nothing they could do though, except be prepare for that time if it came.
“And there will be those who love us,” Arthur added, sliding his gaze over to Merlin. Merlin smiled in return, shifting until he could catch Arthur’s hand and twine their fingers. He wouldn’t admit it just yet, but he loved Arthur, always had, and always would.
Rain began falling over Camelot, and Merlin took in a deep breath. The world smelt fresh, new and revitalised, and that was what they would become. Already the Sky City was shifting, becoming more than it had been, and Arthur was the reason. Merlin may be part of the force, but he’d never have left Ealdor if not for his dragon, if not for Arthur.
Arthur tilted his head until he was resting against Merlin, eyes half-closed as he stared out at their kingdom. Merlin leaned into the touch, smiling softly to the night sky. He could see the stars, though they were blocked by a large cloud on the most part, but it was something he’d never really seen before.
He’d come so far, been through so much, lost and gained almost too much in the process… and yet the world had just been sitting there, waiting for them to fall into their rightful places. The world had been waiting for Arthur and Merlin to be side-by-side, protecting their kingdom, and while the thought should be horrifying, it was reassuring.
Merlin thought back to the scared boy he’d been when Gaius had told him of his destiny, when Kilgharrah had imparted the knowledge he had of it and even when Arthur had mentioned it in Ygraine’s garden. He’d been afraid of it back then, afraid of it even to the point where he’d stepped into the Circle, but now he’d accepted it, rejoiced in it.
Arthur needed him, and Merlin needed Arthur. That much would never change, and it made destiny easier to swallow. They didn’t need to fear the future, because - unlike their ancestors - they could fight for what was right.
There would be no more stories told to children like the story of Mykonos Arthur had grown up on, instead the truth of two men who had fought for what was right and saved the people they loved.
Just as Merlin and Arthur did, Camelot fell into an easy peace that night, settling with the weight of its people, folding around them protectively and welcoming the new arrivals.
As the refugees entered their new homes, ate their first proper meals for a long while and slept in warm beds, the King and Emrys of the Ocean were dead to the word, wrapped up in each other with two Obsidian stones side-by-side between them, Merlin’s magic beating in time with Arthur’s pulse and flowing through them both as well as the entire City, leading Camelot into her Golden Age, forged on a bond of trust and love.
Nothing was perfect yet, but the world was healing itself, as was Camelot. It would take time, but they had plenty of that now, thanks to a man who had answered a dragon’s call and taken the brave leap to cross the Ocean he’d once tried to stop.
.The End.
Arthur Pendragon was crowned King two days later, sun shining above as the entire City watched the crown being placed on the young king. The large screens in the Square were watched by a mass of people, cheering and celebrations erupting when Arthur was announced, not once dying down. It was a benefit of a technological kingdom; things could move quickly and an entire coronation could be fabricated in hours.
It seemed that no matter where people were, no matter whether they lived on the land of the sky, they would always celebrate in the same ways. They weren’t so different, regardless of what the kings and sorcerers of the past may have convinced themselves.
Merlin watched the proceedings at the head of the Magicians, in his blue cloak and dressed smartly underneath. Arthur’s eyes kept seeking him out, and Merlin forced himself not to smile too much, aware of the millions of eyes watching them all around.
Hunith sat next to Ygraine at the side of the room, in the only seated area of the room. It was reserved for members of the royal family and their most trusted, and Merlin had had to force Arthur not to place him there, wanting to see Arthur properly as well as take his place with the sorcerers who were close to hero-worship. Merlin was just a man, and he needed them to understand that too.
Arthur stepped down from where he’d knelt before the thrones, a crown on his brow and a smile on his lips. Excalibur was at his hip, the true glory of the sword hidden by its sheath, and Merlin knew the Obsidian lay over his chest, hidden from the public just as Merlin’s was.
The day was still young, and Arthur had to entertain nobles of all kind, and he also moved through the crowds, Merlin by his side for protection (not that he needed it, the people loved Arthur), greeting the subjects he’d striven to protect no matter what.
The story of what Merlin and Arthur had done, as well as the truth, had leaked somehow. Merlin suspected Gwen and Morgana had something to do with it, but it was known throughout the City. People were thanking them - Merlin just as much as Arthur - for saving them all. If Uther had not abdicated, the kingdom would have been in uproar, no longer loyal to the king, but the prince. It would have ended in war and so many needless deaths.
The construction work was finished in part, empty buildings ready to be populated. Magic had never flourished like this before the start of the Floods, and Merlin marvelled at how long a balance had taken to form.
People had begun to reject magic, perhaps a partial cause of the severity of the Floods, but they were now welcoming it with open arms. It wasn’t twisted, but treasured, and that wasn’t even taking Merlin himself into account, or the things that he could do.
The day was late, and Merlin was led back to their rooms, the same ones that he an Arthur had stayed in before. The others in their little group - Mordred, Ygraine and Hunith - had chosen rooms closer to the heart of the palace, but Arthur had asked if Merlin wanted to stay, and he’d agreed. No other room had the view they did, and no other room would be their room in the same way this one was.
They drifted off to sleep, Merlin knowing that he had to wake early to fulfil a promise.
When it came to freeing Kilgharrah, Merlin had to dig. He went down into the darkness alone, save for the orb of blue light by his shoulder, and smiled when Kilgharrah shifted, already waiting.
“Where will you go?” Merlin asked, looking up at his kin and feeling a selfish urge to demand Kilgharrah to stay close. He couldn’t, though, not after the dragon had been locked away for so many years. No matter what Merlin wanted, he wouldn’t force Kilgharrah.
Kilgharrah blinked slowly, nostrils flaring as the blue orb of light circled them lazily, Merlin taking note of the landscape and formulating a plan while waiting for the reply.
“There’s only one thing I can do Merlin,” he said kindly. “I am the last of my kind, and there is little else for me to do save for remain with the last of my kin.”
Happiness bubbles inside of Merlin and Kilgharrah gave a toothy smile.
“I refuse to stay in Camelot, but if you need me then all you have to do is call for me. I’m going to fly, and I’ll look out for people who are in need.” Kilgharrah shifted his weight, the heavy chain clinking on the ground.
“Thank you,” Merlin said, meaning it with every fibre of his being. What Kilgharrah was going to do for him went above and beyond anything and everything Merlin had expected.
The light overhead spluttered before it expanded, flooding the area in light. It gave Merlin a clear view of the dips and grooves around them, as well as the other side of the cave. It was smoother than Merlin’s side, and he knew that that was the side they’d have a better time digging through.
“I need to use my magic to dig through the wall,” Merlin said, and Kilgharrah drew his head back slightly in surprise.
“No Dragonlord has ever had the audacity to ask what you want of me before,” he said, narrowing golden eyes. “But no Dragonlord before you has pledged to set me free or shown so much power. A dragon’s magic is eternal, unlike most of our Lords, but your magic is more like a dragon, or any creature of magic, than a human’s.”
Kilgharrah bend his neck down, squatting on his legs and offering a spine for Merlin to hold onto.
“It is unorthodox, but I have a feeling that unorthodox is a good description for your entire life.” Kilgharrah let out a rumble of laughter, causing Merlin to grip tightly to the scaled ridge in front of him, and then they were off, a powerful beat of his wings. Merlin only just managed to stay on, and that was with a liberal use of magic.
Hooking his claws onto the side of the wall with a grating screech, Kilgharrah landed and Merlin gathered his magic, feeling the wall and the elements that made it up. They were just above the ground at this point, and the earth here was fused partially with the metal from the Tower.
Still, it would bend to Merlin’s will, and as he pushed with his magic, the wall began to part, dirt pushing apart and a hole opening, not quite wide enough for them to fit through yet, but growing steadily. The blue light flickered and died above them, but Merlin was glowing again, filling the space with a brighter light than before.
The roar of the Ocean filled the cave when Merlin was done, sea spray licking the outer edge of the channel. They were just above the sea level, and Kilgharrah stretch out his neck and sniff he air, a delighted shudder running through his body.
As if reading Merlin’s thoughts, Kilgharrah moved back to the other side and touched down, letting Merlin climb off. Excalibur was at his hip, Arthur having shoved the sword at Merlin when he’d asked, explaining that Merlin didn’t technically need to ask for it, that it was as much his sword as Excalibur was Arthur’s (a lie, Excalibur would never belong to anyone but Arthur, but he hadn’t taken no for an answer, so what the king wanted apparently he got) and Arthur’s alone. It was heavy in Merlin’s hands, but it would be the only sword that could break the chain.
Kilgharrah arched his neck as Merlin drew the blade, and he snorted in amusement. Merlin looked at him, then the sword, and realised what Uther had said might just be true.
“You forged this sword?” he asked in amazement, using both hands to hold it out in front of him.
“In another lifetime, a long, long time ago,” Kilgharrah replied, eyes warm and amused. There was something hidden in his tone, but Merlin knew he’d never decipher it.
“Okay then,” Merlin said, looking at the chain on the dragon’s leg. “Hold still.”
With a rush of magic, Merlin drove Excalibur down onto the chain, splitting the links with a crackle of sparks. The residual magic that had been stored in the chain left in a rush, sending a shock through Merlin. It was uncomfortable, but not unwelcome, and then the feeling was gone in a rush of wind, Kilgharrah swooping through the gap in the wall and seeing true daylight for the first time in centuries.
At the very edge, though, the dragon paused and tuned his head back, twisting his bulk around awkwardly.
“Your people await a sign of change,” he said, tail lashing against the wall as he lost his balance ever so slightly. “The refugees down here know nothing other than there was a change in Camelot. They’ve lived in fear since that, but I do believe its time you opened the gates once and for all.”
Merlin had talked about this with Arthur. With construction almost finished, they had been planning on opening Camelot’s gates soon. The people from the Pickings were filling up the homes that had been created at the moment, but Merlin had imparted specific orders for more buildings to be built to his sorcerers, and they’d started work at once. They weren’t to be the highest quality homes, but they were better than what the refugees had now, and it would give them comfort and hope for a better life.
With a swoop of his wings, Kilgharrah was back by Merlin’s side, and it took only a moment for Merlin to decide what to do. Together, they passed from the cave and out into the sun - the weather had settled, and summer was warm and full of sun, just like all the stories had told - and merlin broke into laughter as he saw the rays glinting off the back of smooth, calm waves. Behind them, the hole in the cave filled back in on itself, the surface looking as though there had never been a scratch, let alone a hole, before.
From the air, the world looked so small, so insignificant. Kilgharrah stretched his neck, wings pushing them up and around the long, dark Tower. The support structures had spilt apart from the main Tower and crumpled into the sea, odd, spider-legged shapes. He could see dots moving below, masses of people clumped on each Island that the support towers had given birth to, and Merlin wondered why it had taken them this long to do something about these people.
They alighted at the base of the Tower first, Kilgharrah’s massive bulk landing mostly in the sea. People scattered, though they’d landed at the edge of the camp, people had scattered in panic, pushing up against the rest of the camp as much as they could. Everyone had seen their arrival, and Merlin jumped down from Kilgharrah, the gap between him and the people not much in distance, but a world apart in terms of trust.
“My name is Merlin!” Merlin shouted, magic catching in his throat and pushing his voice to every ear. “I’m a sorcerer from Camelot, and it’s been too long since you’ve had a safe home, shelter and enough food to fill your bellies.”
There were sceptics, Merlin could feel them, muttering about the fool before them and his lies.
“I’ve lived amongst you,” Merlin persisted, and a few more people turned their attention to him fully. “I came from an Island called Ealdor and was told I had a great destiny, that I had to save those in need.”
A few laughs rose at his words, but Merlin had expected a far frostier reception, so smiled with them. They didn’t have to believe him, but he’d inspire perhaps a few with hope, so that when the boats bearing Arthur’s mark came, they would believe him.
“You don’t have to believe me, but when people bearing a golden dragon crest come to open the gates, you have my word that Camelot will be open to you. At last you will find peace,” Merlin said, looking over at the hundreds of people, grubby faced and full despair. “You will be safe.”
There was nothing else that Merlin could say, so he climbed back onto Kilgharrah, visiting each of the other isles, making the same speech and promising aid. He was still met with hostility and disbelief, but he’d done something, rather than ignoring the people.
Kilgharrah took them higher this sweep of the Tower, circling the structure as he pushed past the curve of the City itself, and Merlin could see that the top had bloomed like a flower. It was open to the sky, outer reaches blasted apart like flower petals, and they passed over the entire length of Camelot before Kilgharrah swooped down, past the tall, impressive buildings and to the heart of the City.
A few people called out in alarm as the huge shadow Kilgharrah made passed over them, but soon enough people were calling out in delight, having only seen dragons on the crest of Camelot. They flew low over a school, children running across the concrete playground, as if they could catch them, calling up in delight to Merlin, who waved down at them.
The wind blew against his face, but Merlin just laughed, throwing his arms up into the air. Kilgharrah suddenly shifted his flight, swooping up, and Merlin had to drab onto the spine before him, adrenaline pumping through his body as they came to the castle. They moved over the castle’s courtyard once before Kilgharrah set down, tucking his wings up neatly and letting Merlin slip down.
“Thank you,” Merlin said, touching the dragon’s cheek before he pulled away, preparing to take flight again. He didn’t, though, and Merlin turned to see the reason why approaching them, moving from the shadows of the castle.
“People are saying it’s a sign,” Arthur said as he walked down the steps. He was dressed in armour and cloak, traditional uniform for a newly appointed king apparently, and Merlin jumped from Kilgharrah’s neck, smiling.
“That a dragon was born on the eve of my coronation and grew overnight. He’s the first dragon, sacred to Camelot, and a sign that I am the rightful king.” Arthur raised an eyebrow at Merlin before turning to the dragon and bowing his head.
“My words are worth little, but I am sorry for what has been done to you.” Arthur paused, looking up. “If there is anything I can do, within reason, then it shall be granted to you.”
Kilgharrah bent his neck and came face to face with Arthur, snorting in his direction. His eyes were narrowed, and Merlin watched carefully, just in case Kilgharrah decided to take the past out on Arthur. No matter how deep their kinship was, he couldn’t allow the dragon to hurt Arthur.
“You will be a great king,” Kilgharrah announced, lifting his head back. “All I ask is that you take care of Merlin. I’m sure we will see each other again soon, but I will always be able to feel if you have hurt Merlin, no matter if I am beside him or half the Ocean away.”
Although he was a giant dragon, Arthur still looked at Kilgharrah as though they were equals, and nodded, the action heavily weighted with promise.
Without another word, Kilgharrah pushed off of the ground and up into the air. Merlin watched, hand cupped over his eyes and against the sun, until Kilgharrah was a dot in the sky, free and far away.
“Come on,” Arthur said softly. “There’s still so much to do, and your sorcerers will be wanting to get to know the real Emrys.”
Merlin laughed, shaking his head and jogging to Arthur’s side. “They’ll be disappointed when they get to know the real me,” he said, but Arthur shook his head.
“They won’t,” he promised. “Though if they are, perhaps I could pay you all a visit, let them remember that their Emrys isn’t the only one who they have to serve.”
Merlin shoved Arthur’s shoulder.
“You brute,” he said, not without affection. “I’ve got myself stuck with a complete brute haven’t I?”
The responding laughter bounced off of the corridor around them, and Merlin smiled too, feeling at home and peace for the first time in a long, long while.
.
Merlin frowned as a stray piece of hair blew into his eyes, and he knew he needed a haircut soon. He said as much to Arthur, tilting his head to the side, and Arthur laughed quietly, hunching his shoulders yet trying to keep the noise at a minimum. Morgana was close by and she was on a warpath trying to make sure they made a good impression on the people coming up from the ground level, led by Knights and Magicians, all kitted with the Pendragon Crest.
The noise of the first shuttles hit their ears and Merlin shifted in nervous anticipation. These were the people he’d made the promise to a few days before, with Kilgharrah at his back, and now he was seeing it through, Arthur by his side and other important people around.
Larger shuttles were waiting to fill up, to take the people to their new homes - blocks of flats with all the necessities - and there were knights and castle workers waiting at the flats to help. Other workers, social workers and members of the government used to dealing with these problems, were interspersed with all the other helpers, ready to be there for the people who needed them the most.
Today was about getting the refugees into their homes, giving them food and shelter. Tomorrow would bring about a new team of workers dedicated to providing the people with an identity, giving them cards and money from the government, a basic wage to get them on their feet. Camelot would do what it could to help the people it had left abandoned for so long.
The first shuttles approached, and Arthur stiffened. They’d had this conversation before, confiding in Merlin he was scared. What if the refugees hated him, what if they felt betrayed before he’d already tried…
Merlin had reassured him. Merlin had been one of them, and he knew the hope they all carried, buried deep inside. They’d love Arthur if he was true to his word and true to their needs. They’d love Arthur if he remembered the past, but didn’t let it shape his opinions of the individuals, if he sought forgiveness through help and moved Camelot forwards.
As people disembarked the shuttles, wide-eyed and scared, Morgana was the first to move forwards. She, Gwen and a few others took them aside slightly, welcoming groups to Camelot, reassuring them that they were safe now and would be cared for. Everyone had a hand-held device to record names in, so broken families could be reunited.
The stream of people was almost never ending and they remained down by the shuttle until nightfall, too tired to continue checking people in. Arthur and Merlin were replaced by Hunith and Ygraine, and they took a shuttle back to the castle, leaning against each other.
“It’s really happening,” Arthur said as he looked out of their window, staring into the darkness and squinting through the electrical lights, in the vague direction the shuttle platform was stationed.
Merlin came to stand beside Arthur, resting his arms on the window as he leant out slightly.
“It is,” he said. “And we can help all of those out there. It’ll be difficult, but it will be done.”
Arthur’s eyes crinkled as he turned to Merlin, smiling.
“There are still people who hate us,” Arthur said, and Merlin’s thoughts turned to Alvarr, hidden in the Wastelands and left to rule his own land.
There were no doubt others who had refused Camelot’s aid, and Merlin wondered how long it would be before they sought each other and festered anger and hatred in the darkness. There was nothing they could do though, except be prepare for that time if it came.
“And there will be those who love us,” Arthur added, sliding his gaze over to Merlin. Merlin smiled in return, shifting until he could catch Arthur’s hand and twine their fingers. He wouldn’t admit it just yet, but he loved Arthur, always had, and always would.
Rain began falling over Camelot, and Merlin took in a deep breath. The world smelt fresh, new and revitalised, and that was what they would become. Already the Sky City was shifting, becoming more than it had been, and Arthur was the reason. Merlin may be part of the force, but he’d never have left Ealdor if not for his dragon, if not for Arthur.
Arthur tilted his head until he was resting against Merlin, eyes half-closed as he stared out at their kingdom. Merlin leaned into the touch, smiling softly to the night sky. He could see the stars, though they were blocked by a large cloud on the most part, but it was something he’d never really seen before.
He’d come so far, been through so much, lost and gained almost too much in the process… and yet the world had just been sitting there, waiting for them to fall into their rightful places. The world had been waiting for Arthur and Merlin to be side-by-side, protecting their kingdom, and while the thought should be horrifying, it was reassuring.
Merlin thought back to the scared boy he’d been when Gaius had told him of his destiny, when Kilgharrah had imparted the knowledge he had of it and even when Arthur had mentioned it in Ygraine’s garden. He’d been afraid of it back then, afraid of it even to the point where he’d stepped into the Circle, but now he’d accepted it, rejoiced in it.
Arthur needed him, and Merlin needed Arthur. That much would never change, and it made destiny easier to swallow. They didn’t need to fear the future, because - unlike their ancestors - they could fight for what was right.
There would be no more stories told to children like the story of Mykonos Arthur had grown up on, instead the truth of two men who had fought for what was right and saved the people they loved.
Just as Merlin and Arthur did, Camelot fell into an easy peace that night, settling with the weight of its people, folding around them protectively and welcoming the new arrivals.
As the refugees entered their new homes, ate their first proper meals for a long while and slept in warm beds, the King and Emrys of the Ocean were dead to the word, wrapped up in each other with two Obsidian stones side-by-side between them, Merlin’s magic beating in time with Arthur’s pulse and flowing through them both as well as the entire City, leading Camelot into her Golden Age, forged on a bond of trust and love.
Nothing was perfect yet, but the world was healing itself, as was Camelot. It would take time, but they had plenty of that now, thanks to a man who had answered a dragon’s call and taken the brave leap to cross the Ocean he’d once tried to stop.
.The End.