Fic: The Dragon Within ~ Part 2 [PG-13] Merlin/Arthur

[gfeather]

It was long and tiresome work helping the city to rebuild. All servants were given extra duties within the castle and the corridors were crowded during daylight hours with people carrying construction supplies, moving items out of damaged rooms and into finished rooms. Outside of these extra tasks, Merlin found himself trailing along behind Arthur as the prince kept up a relentless pace assisting with repairs and reconstruction in the lower town. With several knights still injured, Arthur chose to focus the energies of his able bodied men on the assistance of the people rather than on training. Merlin knew Arthur was still upset by how little his father seemed to care for the losses of the peasants. Hearing Arthur criticize the king was rare, even if it was just between the two of them.

Merlin wished he could do more to help. His body ached all over from trying to keep up with Arthur, lifting, carrying, sawing and building. He was certain there must be some magical shortcuts that would make the task easier, but he acknowledged that it would be an exceptionally unwise thing to even attempt. He wasn’t above making the odd item he was carrying a little lighter or stopping a beam not yet fixed in place from falling on someone. Those things had been habit for so long he did so almost without thinking, though not without caution. The long days of work in the sun left him sweaty, exhausted and sore, but it was satisfying to see progress day by day.

There were still a number of displaced village folk living in one of the lower halls adjacent to the infirmary that had become much less temporary than could be hoped. After a full day performing duties within the castle and manual labour with Arthur, Merlin dragged himself to the infirmary to help Gaius. The physician spent long hours attending to those who were either too injured to return to their homes or had no homes left to return to. The numbers in the infirmary were slowly decreasing, however.

Many had recovered from their injuries and it had been several days since anyone had succumbed to them. There were still several people with broken limbs and rasping coughs from breathing in smoke, but Gaius was most concerned for those with extensive burns. Merlin spent much of his time in the infirmary ensuring burns were cleaned and properly dressed to prevent infection. His hands smelled overpoweringly of garlic and tansy from the infusions used to clean the wounds. When Merlin left the infirmary, he scrubbed his hands vigorously with soap and had even searched for a spell that might strip the pungent odour from his skin, but nothing had worked. He also found the infirmary an increasingly unpleasant place to be. He could smell the scent of burnt flesh and in a few cases the foul smell of pus and rotting flesh.

Although being near these people made his senses recoil, he did his best to help them. Gaius made the odd comment about how astute Merlin was becoming at recognizing the early stages of infection, but had not broached the subject of Merlin’s improved senses directly. It was a fact Merlin himself was finding impossible to ignore. He was no longer in doubt that his vision, hearing and sense of smell had improved significantly. It was overwhelming and unpleasant at times, though he supposed that no longer requiring a candle to avoid tripping over things in the dark was a positive thing.

Merlin sat wearily on the edge of his bed after another seemingly endless day. It was late. The sun had long since set and the waning moon was high in the sky. His entire body ached. He plucked at his dirty tunic and groaned aloud as his muscles protested at its removal. His back was incredibly stiff and though he couldn’t remember anything falling on him, he felt like there was a swollen lump across his back, between his shoulder blades. It was an aching burn, like knotted muscles, but he couldn’t reach his arms around to feel it. He thought briefly about having Gaius check his back and perhaps get something for the pain, but he could already hear the old man’s snores and didn’t want to wake him for something so trivial.

Merlin balled up the dirty tunic and tossed it across the room, ignoring the twinge in his back as he did so. The smells of the day clung to the shirt, dust and wax from polishing a wardrobe before moving it into one of the newly finished rooms, sawdust and straw from helping prepare a house in the lower town for thatching, and the cloying scent of burn salves and dried blood from his time in the infirmary. Though the distance wasn’t enough for the smell to disappear, his own scent and the wool and linen of his bed were strong enough for him not to care about the dirty shirt. He wanted to wash, to put on clean clothes, to somehow escape the smells that followed him everywhere, but sleep called to him.

He flopped down on his stomach, one arm dangling off the side of the bed and the other tucked under the pillow his cheek rested on, and tried to ignore the creaking of boards shifting and settling, the rustle and clink of the guardsmen on their patrols and the countless noises he had never noticed filled the night hours. All he wanted to do was sleep until his body didn’t feel sore anymore. He wanted to sleep until he could forget the sadness in his heart. He wanted to sleep until he could pretend that things were back to normal again.

Unfortunately, he knew that dawn was closer than it should be and that tomorrow would be another long and exhausting day.



As soon as the door to his chambers was closed, Arthur’s shoulders slumped and he allowed his face to drop from the fixed expression of pleasantness. He didn’t need to keep up appearances here. He didn’t need to be strong and positive and at ease. Now that the door was shut on the day, he didn’t need to pretend anymore. He leaned against the door and closed his eyes, breathing deeply for a long moment.

When he opened his eyes again, he looked around the room and shook his head. It wasn’t a complete disaster; the bed was made and the dishes from earlier in the day were cleared, but there was still a shirt hanging over the top of the changing screen and a pair of trousers and boots on the floor beside it. His desk was littered with various parchments and various items were out of place. There was also no fire lit, but Arthur wasn’t concerned about that. By morning he would feel the chill fingers of fall creeping into the room, but the days were still hot and the cool night air was a relief. Still, his rooms felt unsettled, which didn’t help when he had spent the entire day feeling unsettled, and Merlin was noticeably absent. He wanted to be annoyed with his manservant’s absence and neglect of his duties, but even the thought of chastisement felt wrong. Merlin was as run off his feet as the rest of them.

Walking over to the table, he noticed a jug of wine and a small covered tray. He lifted the cover to find some bread and cheese and a sizeable slice of currant cake. The corners of his mouth quirked up. Only Merlin was able to charm his way into the good graces of the kitchen staff enough to take liberties with the sweets, even if it was for the royal household. He sat down at the table and poured himself some wine which he downed quickly. Arthur poured another, though he sipped at it this time. The wine was watered; another sign that Merlin had brought it. Merlin could be a real mother hen sometimes, but just now Arthur was content with the fussing, even if Merlin wasn’t actually there while he did it.

His sword was laid out on the end of the table, sharpened and polished as well as he would have done himself. At least Merlin had his priorities straight. He could tolerate untidy rooms a while longer, but he was glad his weapons and armour were tended to. Arthur turned his attention back to the food and picked at the currants at the edges of the cake while letting his mind turn over the day’s events.

Council this morning had been... odd. Arthur had sat in on council meetings regularly for years now. He was familiar with the way his father spoke to his councillors. He was aware of the petty squabbles and power struggles amongst those who sought to improve their standing at court. Arthur knew which men his father trusted implicitly, which men he was hesitant about, and which men he only pretended to trust so that he could keep them close enough to know what they were up to. It was a battle, as skilled as any on a tourney field, and Uther was very good at it. There were times when his father would lose his temper or reveal more of his mind than intended, but he was always sharp and focussed.

Today, however, that sharpness of thought had been disturbingly absent. Three times during reports Arthur had noticed his father staring out the window with the same unfocussed expression he had seen when he reported on the battle against the dragon. Uther called the councillors by the wrong names and positions and even asked why the north tower was in need of repairs. Every man at the meeting had turned to Arthur at some point with eyebrows raised in silent question, but he had resolutely ignored them and refused to let his concern show.

But he was concerned.

When council had adjourned, Arthur had joined his father for the midday meal, as was their habit on council days. Merlin was serving them, which he hadn’t done since his duties had tripled after the dragon’s attacks. He wore a blank expression, which would be normal on any servant other than Merlin while serving the royal table, but there was knowledge in his eyes. Someone had said something. It was likely just talk overheard between councillors, Merlin was notorious for eavesdropping, but he certainly wasn’t the only one. The castle walls had big ears. In a matter of hours, the castle would be buzzing with gossip about his father.

He had drunk more than he should have during the meal, but it seemed every time his father spoke his grasp on reality showed more signs of slipping. At first they discussed the upcoming harvest. Arthur had ridden out only the day before to see how the crops were faring and to ensure that none had been lost or damaged by the dragon.

“The fields look nearly ready to reap and the nearby villages were undamaged. It should be a good crop this year, if the weather holds.”

“That is good to hear.”

“It was nice getting out of the city for the afternoon. I’ve been so busy taking care of matters here. Having a proper ride felt good.”

“You should take it easy on that horse of yours, Arthur. Lug is getting long in the tooth. You shouldn’t ride him so hard or so far.”

Arthur covered up how much the comment unsettled him with his goblet. Lug had been his childhood horse, and had died three winters past. It had been years since anyone had even mentioned the animal.

“I took a younger mount, father,” Arthur mumbled.

That wasn’t the last slip, however. Although he knew that Merlin didn’t actively try to be clumsy, his servant was prone to knocking over goblets and dropping cutlery. When Merlin had spilled wine on Uther’s sleeve, Arthur had expected the standard angry shouting, but Uther’s light admonishment at Merlin to be careful was shocking. This was followed by Uther inquiring about his Latin studies and a few comments about how well Morgana seemed to be settling into life at court. The conversation jumped by years at a time, but Uther seemed completely unaware of it.

When the king rose and announced he had a number of missives he needed to have ready to be sent by the following morning, Arthur had met Merlin’s eyes for the first time during the meal and saw the perfect reflection of his own worry. Once Uther had left the room, Merlin’s passive servant act had vanished.

“Would you like me to intercept those letters for you?” Merlin asked with false nonchalance as he began to gather the dishes.

“Merlin...” he growled.

“It was Geoffrey. He came to see Gaius after council and said your father seemed a bit out of sorts.”

“Did Gaius send you?”

“Geoffrey was very vague about the details, but I could tell he was concerned. I know how gossip gets around. I thought it would be better if I served.”

“There were a dozen people at council, Merlin. The whole castle will have heard by nightfall.”

“Was it this bad at council?”

Arthur shook his head. “He only seemed distracted and slipped with a few names.”

“That’s something, at least. I think Gaius was planning on checking on him later. Would you... should I tell him?”

He didn’t want anyone to hear of what had just happened, but if he couldn’t trust Gaius, then he could trust no one. Arthur nodded reluctantly. “Yes. Gaius should know if he is to help.”

Merlin stopped bustling about the table and put a hand tentatively on Arthur’s arm. “We’ll figure this out.”

Arthur looked up at Merlin, but he didn’t see the endless optimism he usually saw when things looked bleak. “I stopped using Lug when I was fifteen because he was too old for the hard riding I did while I was training. My father gave me Llamrei when I completed training to be a knight. I haven’t had a Latin tutor since I was twelve and Morgana came to court when I was nine. You saw him, Merlin. He wasn’t talking to me here and now. How is it possible to just figure it out?”

“I don’t know. I guess we just try to do our best.”

He had spent the afternoon helping to finish the frame for a roof on one of the houses in the lower town. Reconstruction was coming along well, and his knights had taken to the task with little comment, though they all knew the orders to assist had come from him and not the king. Arthur had refused to allow himself to dwell on the state of his father’s mind. There was plenty of work to be doing, and the promise of the harvest also meant fresh thatch for the roofs. The work was as demanding as any of their usual training, but in some ways more satisfying. Hours of drills had their reward, but it was difficult to measure. It could take weeks or months to master a maneuver or notice an improvement in strength. Watching a building take shape was more immediately gratifying. He wouldn’t want to do it permanently, but it was satisfying work.

The candle on the table sputtered and flickered as it burned low and Arthur drank the last of his wine. Sitting here worrying wasn’t helping anything and it was growing late. He had spoken with Gaius after supper, but the physician had only just returned from tending to the many wounded still in the infirmary. They took immediate priority, as they should, Arthur acknowledged. Gaius had said he needed some time to research the affliction and in the meantime was providing a tonic that helped aid memory and mental focus. Though Gaius had also admitted that he hadn’t told Uther of its exact purpose, which Arthur knew was wise even though he resented it.

Arthur snuffed the candles and went to bed, but even though he told himself worrying would do him no good he found it difficult to fall asleep. His mind turned over thoughts and concerns long into the night. He wondered if this is what Morgana felt like when she couldn’t sleep or when she had troubled dreams. For all they had constantly quarrelled with each other, he missed her greatly. She had always been there for him after he had argued with his father or when the strain of being the heir to the throne became too great. She would tease him or goad him or even agree with him when he needed it. He wondered where she was and if she was alright and more than ever before he wished for her company.



It was hot. It was the dry, scorching heat of a fall afternoon. Merlin had spent more days than he cared to remember harvesting oats and wheat in the breathless, burning heat of a fall afternoon. Even though he had not worked in the fields since arriving in Camelot, the weather brought to mind a memory so strong he could nearly feel the dust chafing at his skin as much as he felt the very real sun burning hot on the back of his neck. There were times when he missed Ealdor. Times when nostalgia got the better of him and he would wish for the simpler life he had lived there. A life without demanding princes, stomach turning illnesses and injuries, and infuriating dragons. Sometimes he wished to return to the simple life, but there were memories that clearly reminded him that life in Ealdor had been just as difficult and exhausting and just as confining.

Merlin snuck a drink from the skin of water he was holding and looked across the practice field at Arthur and the knights. Today was the first day they had returned to formal drills and training. As he watched, he could see that despite the familiar tone of command, Arthur was easing his men back into the routines. Leon was still obviously favouring his left arm. Kay's footwork had small hitches in the movements. All the men who had faced Kilgharrah and were on their feet again still bore signs of their injuries. Even Arthur, commanding them all, was not moving with as much fluid grace as he normally did.

The usual lighthearted teasing that would have accompanied such failings was absent, however. There were no recriminations towards the men who had not ridden out against Kilgharrah. Arthur had been sincere in his speech to his men, but none of those men were making the sorts of jibes they would have made on any other day, or after any other battle for that matter. It was comforting to watch them train, though. The usual routines were gradually resuming. Even though they still spent time helping build and repair the town, the pace had slowed to something more sustainable. There were no longer dozens of people living in the lower hall with no place to go. Not all the homes had been rebuilt, but enough were habitable again that the temporary accommodations were no longer necessary.

When the men paired off to spar, Merlin usually found the match ups entertaining enough to keep his attention, but today he was restless and uncomfortable. As it had been for days, the spot between his shoulder blades was sore. The swelling seemed even larger today and it throbbed when he reached with his arms or accidentally leaned back against the wall. He had been meaning to talk to Gaius about it for several days now. The pain seemed to be more than could be accounted for by a simple muscle strain and it was becoming distracting not just when he tried to sleep at night, but during his daily duties as well.

Merlin gave up on standing properly at attention on the side of the field and sat down on the bench beside the weapon rack. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees and let the waterskin sway back and forth, feeling the water sloshing against the sides. He rolled his shoulders again and winced, trying to alleviate the discomfort and let out a quiet sigh that might have sounded a bit like a whine if anyone had been close enough to hear him. Merlin ignored the sparring and focussed his attention on the rocking motion of the waterskin, tuning out the world around him.

He startled when someone flopped down on the bench beside him. It was nearly impossible for anyone to sneak up on him since his hearing had so drastically improved, but the discomfort in his back and the nearly hypnotic motion of the waterskin had caused his mind to drift. Merlin looked up to see Arthur's sweaty, exasperated face looking back at him.

"Are we boring you, Merlin? I'll have to tell the lads they’re failing to keep my manservant entertained. Obviously they aren't working hard enough," Arthur joked.

Merlin handed over the waterskin and squinted his eyes against the bright sun as he looked across the field at the pairs. He knew enough about swordplay now to know they weren't moving as swiftly and gracefully as usual, but they were working hard. Their faces were ruddy and sweat slid down their cheeks and dripped off their chins. Swords clanged together regularly. Blows were blocked and dodged. If the pain in his back hadn't been throbbing again, he would have enjoyed watching them.

"I'm not bored, I'm just hot," Merlin offered weakly.

Arthur passed the skin back. "Drink if you need it. You'll be no use to me or Gaius if you collapse in the heat."

Merlin took a small sip from the waterskin and returned to dangling it between his knees. Arthur quirked a half smile and slapped Merlin's back companionably.

Stabbing pain exploded between his shoulder blades and Merlin cried out, dropping to his knees on the ground, his back arching in a futile attempt to lessen it. Through the buzzing in his ears he thought he heard Arthur ask if he was alright but he found that despite thinking it quite clearly, he couldn’t make his voice answer. It should be rather obvious he was not. A moment later hands under his arms were pulling him to his feet and Arthur's face swam into view.

"Your back is bleeding. We need to get you to Gaius," said Arthur, dragging one of Merlin's arms across his shoulders for support.

"Alright," Merlin said weakly, and stumbled along beside Arthur, gasping as the position of his arm caused the agony in his back to burst white hot behind his eyes with each step.

The trip was a fog of pain that seemed unending and Merlin paid no attention to his surroundings until Arthur directed him onto a chair with a clipped, "Sit."

The room swam into focus, and Merlin realized that he wasn't in the main infirmary, but in Gaius' workroom. He blinked slowly in confusion as Arthur disappeared out of the door. He leaned forward and rested his head against the table, breathing slowly and trying not to think about the hot, angry throbbing that seemed equally determined not to let him forget.

A few minutes or a few hours later, he couldn't tell, he heard the sound of footsteps in outside the door and looked up to see Arthur return with Gaius.

"What have you done to yourself now, Merlin?" Gaius asked with concern and affection.

Merlin gave Gaius a miserable, pained look and returned his head to the table. "My back hurts."

"Your back is bleeding, Merlin," Arthur said, displaying a hand with unmistakable blood smears on it. "Your shirt is soaked through."

Gaius traced a finger around what must be the stain on his clothes and said, "If you can manage it, you need to take off your shirt. Otherwise I'll have to cut it."

Acutely aware that Arthur was still there watching, Merlin tried to hold back the whimper that wanted to escape as his muscles pulled and the fabric dragged against his swollen skin. He sucked in a sharp breath as the cool air of the room hit his exposed flesh at the same time as Arthur sucked in a breath at the sight of it.

"That looks rather painful. What happened?" Arthur asked.

Merlin shrugged, and grunted in pain at the movement. "Dunno. It's been sore for days. I figured it was just from building houses and moving furniture."

Gaius took a cloth soaked in tansy water and gently wiped at his back. The astringent made his skin sting as well as throb and ache. "How many days, Merlin?"

"Maybe ten? Less than a fortnight."

"Ten days, Merlin?! If you've been hurt for ten days, why didn't you tell me?" Arthur asked, his voice equal parts exasperation and concern.

Merlin craned his neck around to glare at Arthur, but the motion sent another stab of pain searing into his back and he dropped his head down on the table. "Well it was only a bit sore at first, like a knot in the muscles back there. Not a big deal. Everyone's got aches and pains these days."

"And I've been dispensing tonics and liniments for them, as you well know," Gaius observed.

Merlin could almost hear the eyebrow of disapproval rising as his mentor spoke, and groaned. "It's just been busy whenever I thought to ask you, or it was late and you were sleeping..."

"Merlin," Gaius said, infusing his name with disapproval and empathy in equal measure, then turned to Arthur. "I will tend to his back, Sire, but he may not be fit to resume his duties for a few days."

"Of course. Tell that idiot not to show up without a clean bill of health-"

"-I can hear you just fine, prat."

"There are plenty of competent people to help repair houses, and his other duties will keep," Arthur said, and left the room.

Gaius walked across the room, peered out into the corridor, then closed the door securely before returning to Merlin's side. "He's gone. Now, do you have anything else to share with me?"

"What do you mean? I've told you everything. My back started hurting about ten days ago and I meant to get something for it, but it's been so busy that I never think to ask until I'm in bed. It's been sore and it felt like there was some swelling even before today, but I can't remember anything specific that might have caused it."

Gaius traced a finger around the swollen area, about the size of two fists, then dabbed the damp cloth at a spot to one side of his spine that made his vision go white and an involuntary shout of pain to escape his lips.

"What was that?"

"Hmm. I'm not sure. There's another spot just like it, though," Gaius said, bringing the cloth back to Merlin's back.

He had been expecting the pain this time, but wasn't able to hold in the shout completely.

"You said you could feel that it was swollen before today?"

"Yeah, for a few days."

"And there was no blood before today?"

"No. It hurt more this morning than before, but it wasn’t bleeding until Arthur slapped me on the back."

"Hmm," Gaius said, his frown evident.

Merlin sat up and turned to look at Gaius. "What is it?"

Gaius sat down on a chair beside him and shook his head. "I don't know. It appears as if you have some sort of growths coming out of your back, one on either side of your spine. I've never seen anything like it before, but I wonder..."

"Wonder what?"

"Are you still finding things taste and smell differently?"

Merlin nodded. "Everything smells and tastes stronger. I can hear better. I can even read without a candle at night."

"That's odd, but I can't see a direct connection. I'll have to do some research."

Merlin groaned at the prospect.

"Not you. I'm going to put some salve on your back and give you a tonic for the pain. Then you are going to rest. Regardless of what is wrong with you, sleep is the best medicine and we've all had little enough of it lately."

Gaius coated the swollen area of his back with a pungent but pleasantly numbing salve. Merlin drank a truly revolting pain tonic that very quickly made him feel heavy lidded and stumbled up the steps to his bed. He collapsed on his front, burying his face in the pillow and, soothed by the familiar the sound of Gaius flicking through pages, he fell asleep.



He awoke many hours later and squinted in the dim light for a moment as his eyes adjusted. Through his open window, Merlin could hear the footsteps and murmurings of a few people in the courtyard, but it was much quieter than the usual bustle and he guessed it was past evening bell. The burning heat of the afternoon had eased, but his skin still felt warm, hot even. He wondered if perhaps the lumps on his back were some sort of infection, and tried to shake the notion from his head. Gaius was experienced at diagnosing and treating such things. Letting his imagination run riot wasn’t helpful, although it was a bit difficult to control his racing thoughts.

Merlin still felt groggy and tired, but he could smell food and his stomach growled loudly. Pushing himself up off the mattress, the pain in his back made him wince, but it wasn’t the blinding agony it had been earlier. He didn’t bother with a shirt, though he did listen carefully at the door to make sure there weren’t any unexpected visitors in the room beyond. He could hear Gaius fussing with the kettle, but nothing else, so he opened the door and shuffled over to his usual spot at the table.

“How are you feeling?” Gaius asked.

“Still sore, but much better than earlier.”

“Yes, well I suspect what happened this afternoon would naturally be more than a little painful.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think I may have found some answers about the growths on your back, Merlin.”

“What are they?”

Gaius picked up a bowl of steaming water infused with herbs and came around the table to tend to Merlin’s back. Merlin bit his lip in anticipation of the pain, but found it hurt much less than when Gaius had cleaned it earlier. It stung a bit when Gaius carefully dabbed around the swollen edges of the growths he had described earlier, but nothing near the blinding agony it had been earlier.

When his back was thoroughly cleaned, Gaius set the bowl down and picked up an unfamiliar jar of salve. The physician carefully coated the area muttering, “Remarkable. Simply remarkable.”

“Gaius? What is it?”

“I had thought it nothing more than a legend, but then I suppose I should have known better as it’s you.”

“Gaius!”

“I believe that these growths are due to your recent magical inheritance. They’re wings.”

“What?” Merlin half laughed, “You must be joking.”

“I’m afraid not. There are stories, legends, that long ago the Dragonlords were more than men, more than sorcerers. It is said that they once grew wings and could fly with their kin.”

“You think I’m growing wings?”

“I was not able to find much information about it, but yes. It seems to be a not unreasonable explanation of what is happening to you.”

“Not unreasonable?!? What am I supposed to do with wings?! How big will they get?” Merlin said, feeling panic rising.

Gaius put the lid back on the salve and wiped his hands off with a damp cloth. “I can’t say. I would expect they would need to be fairly sizable to be capable of flight. Several feet at the least.”

“How am I supposed to hide massive wings from Arthur? From the king? From everyone?” Merlin asked, feeling utterly stricken. “I have to leave.”

“Not just yet, I shouldn’t think. What has broken through the skin is about the size of a radish and the skin is already well on its way to being healed. The salve I applied is one I use to prevent scars from becoming hard and inflexible. This may be all that develops. There is very little recorded history about the Dragonlords. Even before the Great Purge, they tended to be reclusive and insular.”

“Balinor... my father... he couldn’t have had enormous wings Gaius. I’m sure I would have noticed.”

“Which is part of the reason I think it would be premature go into hiding. Though they have always been reclusive, Dragonlords have also concealed themselves amongst ordinary folk easily enough through the years.”

“How?”

“I suspect we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Merlin didn’t find this especially comforting, but he also couldn’t think of anything else he could do. Despite sleeping the afternoon away, he still felt very tired. He accepted the soup and bread from Gaius without further comment.



Arthur was most of the way back to his rooms after leaving Merlin in Gaius’ care when he nearly tripped over Leon and Bedivere. His mind had been awash with a mixture of concern and annoyance at Merlin’s injury and he hadn’t been paying much attention to his surroundings.

“Sire, the king has sent for you,” Leon said.

Bedivere nodded. “The page who found us was very agitated. He said the king told him it was a matter of greatest urgency.”

“What on earth could be so urgent?” Arthur wondered aloud. “If it’s Cenred or perhaps Bayard...”

“Do you think there is an army on the move?” Bedivere asked.

Arthur shrugged and tried not to leap to conclusions. “We’ve kept regular patrols along the border, even during the attacks. Perhaps the latest patrol saw something. I’ll go find out what it is right away.”

“Is Merlin alright?” Leon asked as Arthur turned to head towards the council room.

Arthur gave a rueful expression and shook his head. “He’s managed to do some kind of damage to his back. Gaius said he’ll need a few days to recover.”



The corridor outside the council chamber was empty save for the two guards stationed at the doors. He didn’t usually do more than nod at the men by the door, but Arthur still felt unsettled after the abrupt end of this afternoon’s training session and the purported urgency of the summons. Before he entered the room he asked, “Is it a full meeting today?”

The man on the left shook his head. “Only four today, Sire. The king sent them away after the latest patrol brought its report.”

Arthur nodded his thanks and tried to keep his features neutral as he entered the room with a sense of foreboding.

The scene before him was strikingly similar to the one he had found when he delivered his account of the battle with the dragon. His father was once again staring out the window looking lost in thought, though he did notice Arthur’s presence more quickly.

“Father.”

Uther turned away from the window and looked gravely at him. “Arthur. The latest patrol from the western border has returned.”

“Is something amiss?”

“The villagers near the border reported a group of a half dozen or so travellers, including several women. They would not say where they were from nor where they were going,” Uther said, as if this detail were of great significance.

Arthur frowned in confusion. “That’s... a bit odd, but not overly suspicious.”

“They have Morgana!” Uther thundered, his voice echoing loudly in the empty room.

In the silence that followed, Arthur watched his father carefully. He had seen his father angry, irritated, disapproving, even murderous, but he didn’t see any of those things now. He saw a man teetering on the edge of madness. Very calmly, Arthur asked, “What are your orders, Sire?”

“You must ride out at once! She must be rescued.”

“I will ride out as soon as a group of men can be readied,” Arthur said, and with a small bow turned to leave the room.

Uther called out after him, “You must find her.”

Arthur didn’t look back.



Servants in the corridors scurried out of his way as he strode towards his rooms purposefully, but without undue haste. It wasn’t uncommon to see people in a hurry, but breaking into a run often led to panic. Despite his orders, Arthur was not inclined to rush, but he was impatient to reach the privacy of his chambers. At the base of the staircase nearest his rooms he found Leon and Bedivere rather conveniently lingering in the corridor. They looked up as he approached and with the barest of nods they followed him.

When they reached his rooms, Arthur shut the door securely behind them and let out a heavy sigh.

“Sire? What is it?” Bedivere asked.

Arthur shook his head and walked towards the table, pulling off his gloves and tossing them down. “He thinks the patrol has sighted Morgana.”

Leon noticed him fumbling with the buckles on his armour and began helping him remove the plate. “Really?”

“I can’t say, but I doubt it. The patrol said there was a group of travellers. Probably the only reason they were noteworthy was the number of women in their party. I need to speak with the head of the patrol, but if they had seen Morgana, they would have just said so. My father is... has he seemed not himself to either of you?”

Freeing the pauldron, Leon set it down on the table and met Arthur’s eyes. “It has seemed to me that, in matters concerning the Lady Morgana, he has not always been the most level headed.”

“And even more so since her disappearance?” Arthur asked, already knowing the answer.

Bedivere cleared his throat. “To be perfectly honest, since then he has been less than entirely level headed on most matters.”

Arthur closed his eyes and nodded. “I have orders to ride out immediately with a group of men to ensure her return. It will have to be a small group. Bedivere, if you could find three other men to join us?”

“Of course,” Bedivere nodded, already heading towards the door.

“Leon, I... The king holds you in high esteem, and you are welcomed into council when I cannot be there. I would have you ride with us, but...” Arthur trailed off.

Leon nodded his understanding. “I will stay close to the king and aid him as best I can.”

“Be cautious. I... I am a terrible son to say this, but he has not been predictable or entirely reasonable these past weeks. If he feels he has been undermined, I fear he will lash out.”

“You are not a terrible son, Arthur. You have been charged to protect the kingdom and all her people and it is your duty to serve the king. Sometimes, in doing your duty, in doing what is right, the tasks seem to conflict with each other, but they do not. I have no words to make this easier, but I see the necessity as clearly as you do.”

Arthur shook his head, thinking back to the conversations with his father that spanned decades. “You don’t. It’s worse than you know, but I can’t do anything about it now. I don’t know what I can do about it.”

“Whatever you choose to do, you have my support. I trust your judgement,” Leon said, and the confidence in his voice was nearly a physical blow to Arthur.

“Thank you, Leon. I have great faith in you as well,” Arthur said, setting down the last of his armour. “Would you see if there are any pages about? I seem to be without a manservant and this rescue party is going to need provisions.”

“Of course. I’ll send one down to the stables to ready the horses as well, shall I?”

Arthur nodded and Leon took his leave.



Within the hour, five horses left Camelot, heading west at a gallop. Just before the castle disappeared from view, Arthur glanced back and hoped all would be well when he returned.



The air had cooled considerably overnight and Merlin curled his toes against the morning chill. The rest of him felt wonderfully warm and content to stay in bed but his feet protested. He tucked his feet up under the blanket, humming in contentment at the warmth. For the first time in days his body didn’t ache and he knew that at the very least he could stay in bed for a while longer if he wanted to. He supposed that since he was feeling better he would be back to his usual duties today, but for now he drifted halfway between sleep and wakefulness, warm and content.

His mind wandered, gently taking hold of an idea, perusing it lazily then letting it go again without letting it register too deeply. He thought about the times he and Will had gone off into the trees to play when they should have been feeding the geese. He thought about the goose down pillows on Arthur’s bed and a glorious afternoon spent napping on the bed while Arthur was off on patrol. He thought about the first time Arthur had dragged him along on a patrol and the way Arthur’s eyes had crinkled with mirth at how difficult he had found it to get into the saddle. He thought about urging the horse he was riding into a gallop and the feel of wind rushing past his face as the ground flew by beneath him. He wondered what it would be like to fly and feel the wind buffeting him as he soared up into the sky and then swooped low along the tops of the grain fields. He imagined the tops of the barley tickling his toes... and then his blanket twitched... which was odd. Blankets didn’t normally twitch of their own accord. They generally just stayed there, warm and soft and leathery...

Merlin pried an eye open a crack, coming more fully awake than he had been. He rubbed his chin against his blanket and instead of the scratchy wool he expected, his blanket felt leathery. It was warm though. He couldn’t remember feeling cozier under the covers than he felt right now. It was so nice, he wanted to drift off again, but a niggling thought at the edge of his mind wouldn’t let go. Perhaps Gaius had seen that he was cold and brought up another blanket while he was sleeping. Except that all the blankets they had were woolen. There was no goose down and linen for them and certainly not leather. He peered down at the blanket and the wrongness increased. The blanket covering him was a dull grey brown and seemed to catch the light from the window almost like scales. He brought a hand up to the edge of it near his chin and ran a finger along it to feel the texture.

Merlin squirmed and flailed and struggled to his feet at the ticklish sensation of fingers on his skin. He stumbled and knocked his hip against the edge of the table, batting wildly with his arms trying to get free of the not-blanket that enveloped him. He hopped about and struggled and then suddenly there was a sound like a tapestry falling to the ground from a great height, a loud crash, and he was free. Sort of.

Warily, he glanced over his shoulder, the suspicion of what he would see growing in his mind, but what he saw was difficult to make sense of. He could see more of the grey brown he had noticed earlier, but he knew it wasn’t a blanket. He reached up to touch it, and startled again at the feeling of fingers on skin but didn’t withdraw his hand. His fingers felt warm, heavy leather beneath the pads, but he could also feel the sensation of them stroking his... Craning his neck to get a better look, Merlin ended up turning in a circle and the large, grey brown wings attached to him moved as well sweeping books off the small shelf above his bed, knocking over candles, spilling a jug of water on the floor and generally making a lot of noise.




Merlin stopped turning, but twisted his neck around, still struggling to see what his mind already knew to be true. He had wings. Really big ones.

The commotion must have been loud enough to hear beyond the walls of his room, because a moment later Gaius called up to him, “Merlin, are you alright?”

He looked back and forth to the wings on either side and could only manage a weak, “I think you should come here.”

A moment later, his door opened and Gaius stared in at him in shock. “You have wings.”

Merlin felt panic rising in him and nodded shakily. “Looks like it.”

Gaius’ stared at him with wide eyes a moment longer before stepping completely into the room and shutting the door firmly behind him. “My goodness. I’ve never seen anything so remarkable.”

“That’s not the word I was thinking of. What do I do now, Gaius? They’re massive!”

Gaius hummed in thoughtful agreement that was in no way comforting or reassuring to Merlin and reached a hand out to touch the tip of the wing closest to him. His wing twitched in reaction. Merlin could feel the hand as well as he might feel a touch to his arm, but the movement the wing made was beyond his conscious control. He wanted to hold still and let Gaius have a closer look, but he didn’t want to hurt Gaius with uncontrolled flapping.

“You can feel my hand then?”

“Yes. It feels very strange, like it’s me, but not at the same time. I don’t know how to not move them either.”

Gaius nodded. “The skin is thick and a bit rough, but it isn’t scaly. I must say they’re rather large to have grown overnight.”

“I can’t hide these, Gaius! How am I going to get out of Camelot without someone seeing them?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Merlin. We know very little about them just yet.”

“I don’t want to know anything about them. I want to get rid of them, Gaius!”

“Be calm, Merlin. Let me first see what we are dealing with and then we can find some way to work with it. I’d like to check your sensation first, then get a sense of your range of motion.”

Gaius took hold of the tip and nudged it away from the wall so he could stand at Merlin’s back. It was crowded and awkward with all the things Merlin had knocked over, but Gaius started at the spot on his back where the bumps had been last night and slowly ran his hands along the leading edge of the left wing. Initially the brush of fingers was light and made him squirm, but Gaius seemed to realize this and felt along the line of bone and muscle more firmly.

“How well can you feel that?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m certain you’ve noticed your fingertips can feel things far better than your elbow. Can you feel as well as you would with your hands or is it more like an arm or a leg?”

“Oh. Well aside from being really strange to feel anything at all, I guess it’s more like an arm than a hand.”

As Gaius felt his way down from the bone along the broad leathery expanse of wing, the sensation decreased to a feeling of weight and pressure. Gaius thoroughly looked over both wings before he began to test the movement of the joints. The outermost joints were the easiest to manipulate.

“The ridges here,” Gaius said in a hushed voice, tracing a finger down the width of the wing, “are strong, but I don’t think they’re bone. They seem flexible. Is it uncomfortable when they bend?”

Gaius pressed down with one hand and pulled up with the hand holding the trailing edge.

Merlin let out an exasperated breath through his nose and tried not to snap at Gaius. He hoped the poking and prodding was actually accomplishing something more than satisfying the physician’s curiosity. “It doesn’t feel amazing, but it doesn’t hurt, I suppose.”

“And when I pull them together?” Gaius asked awkwardly attempting to collapse part of the broad expanse.

“It’s fine. When you let go, it feels a bit like stretching the muscles in my arm or something.”

“Hmm,” Gaius acknowledged and moved on to the larger, elbow like joint where the heavy skin that formed the wing narrowed.

He could feel the muscles bunching as they resisted Gaius’ manipulation and tried to relax. It took a few tries, but eventually Gaius was able to prod the joint into bending and the rest of his wing folded up against his body without any further encouragement. He felt a brief moment of triumph, though Gaius’ next observation quashed the feeling.

“It doesn’t tuck away quite as nicely as a bird’s does. The top is above your shoulder and the tip is past your knee, but we might get a cloak over them with a bit of effort.”

“That doesn’t really help me much.”

“Perhaps not,” Gaius agreed, coming around to face Merlin again, “but I’m afraid there is very little I can do to help you myself. I could spend years researching, but I doubt there will be more than the smallest passing mention of your situation if it has anything to do with the powers of a Dragonlord, as I strongly suspect it does. I can think of only one place you would be able to find any amount of information to assist you.”

“Where is that?”

“From the dragon’s mouth itself.”

“No. I don’t want to see him again.”

“I fear he is the only one who has much knowledge about the Dragonlords. I was a friend to Balinor, but he was always reserved about sharing anything about his people and their powers. They were little more than legends, even before the Great Purge.”

“He lied to me and manipulated me, Gaius. I only let him leave because I don’t like killing things.”

“He owes you his life and he is yours to command.”

Merlin screwed his eyes shut and fought against the tears that wanted to flow. He whispered, “No.”

A moment later, he felt himself drawn into an awkward hug. “I can’t imagine how unsettling this is for you. There isn’t much I can do to help you, but I don’t believe that there is nothing to be done. If I knew of another option, I’d suggest it.”

Merlin pulled away, not particularly wanting comfort just now. “Can’t you just... cut them off or something? Like you do with an infected limb?”

Gaius held Merlin at arm’s length gripping his shoulders tightly. “Such a thing is a very last resort to save a person’s life from infection. It is extremely painful and has only limited success, as you know. No, Merlin. I would not do such a thing to you, even if I did not already suspect that your magic would resist an attempt.”

“I don’t have any other choices, do I?” Merlin said in resignation.

“None that I can think of, but I do truly believe that the dragon will have answers.”

“I highly doubt I’ll like them.”

“But knowledge is better than ignorance.”

“I guess. I’ll have to wait for nightfall, though. There’s no way I could sneak out like this in broad daylight.”

“I’ll see about finding you a suitable cloak.”



The heavy winter cloak he was wearing was much too warm, but it was the best he and Gaius had been able to manage to get him out of the castle without anyone noticing the eight foot long wings on his back. They still felt incredibly foreign and it was odd having sensation for a part of his body that didn’t feel like it was a part of him. The way they were jointed meant they could be folded up close to his back almost like a bat, but there was no way he would be able to conceal them with ordinary clothes. Gaius had said he wouldn’t have to leave and they would work out some way to hide them, but Merlin couldn’t imagine a way that didn’t involve amputating them. Gaius had stated outright that amputation was far too dangerous and he refused to even consider it, and Merlin had backed down. He didn’t want the wings, but he didn’t want to upset Gaius either. Still, cutting them off didn’t sound wholly unreasonable, just very painful.

Once he reached the treeline and was out of sight of the castle, Merlin broke into a jog, easily navigating the rocks and roots in the dark. The moon had waned to the thinnest of slivers and for a moment he was grateful for the improved senses. If they were a part of this nightmare he had woken up in this morning, at least they were to his advantage.

The clearing he had chosen was several miles from the castle, beyond the rise of the forest behind Camelot. When he arrived, Merlin took a moment to listen and check to be certain he was alone. He heard the sounds of mice scurrying in the grass and something a bit larger, perhaps a fox hunting further in forest, but nothing that sounded like a person. He unclasped the heavy cloak and felt his wings flick open as it dropped to the ground, then walked out into the clearing. Taking a deep breath, Merlin threw his head back and the strange draconic roar he had used for the first time to send Kilgharrah away echoed in the sky calling him to return.

The sound seemed to resonate in the trees for long moments before it faded away and it was quiet again. The mice had fled to their holes and the animals he had heard rustling in the forest were still. Merlin wondered where the dragon was and how fast he could travel, or if he had even heard the call. After decades of imprisonment, he wouldn’t be surprised if the dragon were thousands of miles away across the waters.

For long moments Merlin stood there in the still night and waited.

The sound of wings beating against the air came sooner than he would have imagined possible. He looked up beyond the tops of the trees and saw Kilgharrah approach. The dragon’s massive wings made the air in the clearing swirl and shake the trees at the edges as he landed on the grass heavily, but with surprising grace for a creature so large. Kilgharrah cocked his head and peered down at Merlin intently, before throwing his head back and laughing so loud the ground beneath Merlin’s feet shook.

Merlin scowled and shouted, “I’m sure this is very amusing to you. What am I supposed to do? How do I get rid of them?”

“Get rid of them?” Kilgharrah said, looking askance at Merlin. “Why on earth would you want to get rid of such a marvellous thing?”

“If you can’t help me get rid of them, then I will have to leave Camelot. I’ll have to leave Arthur. How am I supposed to protect him then? And where can I go with these things sticking out of my back?” Merlin yelled, feeling his chest constrict and the hot sting of tears burning at the corner of his eyes.

Kilgharrah laid down on the ground in front of Merlin and rested his head on his front paws like an enormous dog settling down to watch the world go by. Kilgharrah gave a small shake of his head saying, “If you do not wish your wings to be seen, retract them.”

“I tried holding them close to my back, and I can’t do it. Not for very long, anyway, and they’ll still show under my clothes. They’re too big.”

“I didn’t say fold them in, I said retract them. Your wings are not meant to fold in as mine do,” Kilgharrah said, stretching out his wings and then tucking them against his back easily.

“What do you mean by retract them?”

“Have you not seen a cat’s paw?”

“Of course.”

“That is what I mean by retract them. If you wish to conceal your wings, then pull them inside of yourself.”

“But how? A cat’s claw fits in its toe just fine, but these wings are too big!”

“I cannot imagine what it is like to live so ignorant of one’s nature and abilities.”

“How could I possibly know anything about this? I woke up this morning with wings. Until yesterday, I had no notion that was even possible and even Gaius wasn’t sure because there are no written records!”

“That is because the knowledge has always been passed down father to son.”

“Something that has worked out so very well for me,” Merlin snarled bitterly, turning his back on Kilgharrah. “I can see it was foolish of me to think you would help.”

“You could simply command me, as you did when you called me here.” Kilgharrah observed.

Merlin shook his head, refusing to turn around. “I called you because I didn’t know where you were or how to find you. If I had known, I would have travelled there myself.”

“What is the point of having a power that you do not use?”

Merlin spun around angrily. “When did I ask for this?”

“None of us chooses to be what we are. Our only choice is how we are.”

“And I choose not to take that choice from anyone.”

Merlin stood in front of Kilgharrah’s massive paws and head, glaring at the dragon, while Kilgharrah observed him in silence for a long while. The anger that had sustained him slipped away, and Merlin felt tired. The wings at his back were beginning to feel very heavy and his back was stiff from adjusting to the shift in balance. Certain Kilgharrah would say nothing more, or at least nothing useful, Merlin walked over to where he had dropped the cloak and tried to figure out how he was going to get his wings covered again. If he had to leave Camelot, he would prefer to have more than his trousers, boots and a cloak.

Merlin was startled when Kilgharrah spoke. “I must apologize, my Lord. It has been a great many years since I have been allowed the freedom to choose for myself and I have chosen poorly. The liberty you have granted me deserves my respect, which I have failed to give you.”

“I’m not anyone’s lord and I’m not looking for an apology. If you don’t wish to help me, then leave me alone. You have my word that I will not trouble you again.”

“Whether you wish it or not, I am yours to command. I will admit it chafes to have found the illusion of freedom so briefly before being reminded that there are still bonds to which I must be held accountable. The balance and order of Albion has been upset for a great many years, longer than your lifetime and that of your father and a dozen fathers before him. I cannot say if Balinor had ever heard the stories of how things once were, but I remember them. There was a time when we flew together, as close as kin. I have not known a Dragonlord with manifest wings for nearly two centuries, even when there was still more than one line of descent. It takes powerful magic for them to manifest because they are in large part made of magic. They look and feel and react as flesh, but they are, to a certain extent, as transitory as any spell. While released, they will behave as any of your limbs, but they can also be pulled within your magical core.”

“How?”

“It is difficult for me to say, as it is not an ability I have. Focus on the place where your magic comes from.”

Merlin closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on how he did enchantments. He had always found them more challenging than the instinctual magic he had done accidentally since before he could talk. Finding the magic when he had to think about what it was doing was the hardest thing about all of the spells in his magic book. While he was trying to concentrate, Kilgharrah huffed out a long sigh and Merlin flicked a hand up to block the cloud of smoke blowing in his direction.

“Yes. Exactly. Where did it come from?”

Merlin opened his eyes and looked up at Kilgharrah. “What?”

“Do not think about the spells and enchantments you have been taught. When you blocked the smoke your shield was as an extension of yourself. That is what your wings are. Pull down your shield and feel it return to your body.”

Merlin let the barrier drop and felt a small tendril of magic coil back inside of him. “Oh. It’s like a thread coiling up again. I’ve never noticed that before.”

“No one taught you to look. Now do the same with your wings.”

He tried to imagine the wings on his back as nothing more than a very solid shield he might raise against wind or rain. The night was calm and there was no need for that kind of protection and...

Merlin stumbled forward half a step at the sudden change in balance. The weight of the wings was gone and he rolled his shoulders, feeling almost normal again. He looked up to see Kilgharrah watching him with an odd expression on his reptilian face.

“Thank you.”

“I cannot tell you how to work this new ability you have, I can only point you in a direction that might help. I do not know what it is like to have a human body.”

“The direction was enough. I know how to hide them now.”

“I expect extending them will work in a similar manner.”

Merlin furrowed his brow and thought about uncoiling the thread of magic within him and his wings flapped open like snapping a sheet out on a bed. He tugged the thread in and the wings retracted again. He grinned.

“I think I’ve got it.”

“I would caution you against attempting any strenuous tests of your ability to fly. It takes nearly a full turning of the moon for a hatchling to become skillful at flight. You will need to practice before it comes as naturally to you as walking.”

“That’s fine. It’s not like I intend to actually use them.”

“Says one who has always had his feet firmly on the ground. The lure of the sky is great for all dragons. My confinement beneath the castle was most unbearable for the lack of space to properly stretch my wings. You may find the sky beckons to you more than you yet realize.”

“I can’t say I foresee many opportunities to attempt it, even if I feel the urge.”

“If you have need of guidance again, I will come. You have the power to command me, but you deserve my willing assistance.”

“I don’t...”

“And that is the reason why you deserve better. The night grows late, however, and there is no place closer to the castle I could bring you without being seen.”

“Goodbye, Kilgharrah. Enjoy stretching your wings.”

“Be safe, my Lord. Do not keep your wings forever confined.”

With two powerful flaps of his wings, Kilgharrah kicked off the ground and took to the air. Merlin watched the dragon disappear into the distance before gathering up his cloak and hurrying back along the path towards the castle.



Masterpost | Part 1 | Part 3