Fic: The Dragon Within ~ Part 1 [PG-13] Merlin/Arthur

[gfeather]

"I imagined a dragon inside myself... We all have one, in one form or another. To me, this dragon is both the wild nature of ourselves and our conscience... At the same time, he's our unconscious, the place from which our dreams arise." ~ Dennis Quaid on Dragonheart



Although Merlin felt as much relief as anyone at the end of the dragon’s attacks, he didn’t feel particularly triumphant as he made his way back to Camelot. Arthur too, after the initial moments of joyful laughter, was subdued. The men who had followed him into battle, the men he had led, were laying dead or wounded in the clearing. They were burned, bloodied and broken, moaning in pain, and there was little Merlin or Arthur could do to ease their suffering. Their horses, although battle trained, were sensible creatures and had fled from the dragon. Arthur would not leave his men, so Merlin shuffled back along the road to the city alone. He knew time was of the essence for some of the injured men, but he felt a heaviness inside him that could not be prodded to greater speed.

Approaching the gates of the lower town, he heard the shouts and knew his return would be announced long before he crossed the gates himself. He pushed his pace a little, not wanting to cause alarm by his solitary return. A few guardsmen left their positions at the gate and met him partway down short hill leading up to the gate. As soon as they were close enough to speak without shouting he was beset with questions.

“What happened?”

“Where is the prince?”

“Is the dragon gone?”

“Why are you alone?”

Merlin lifted a hand to stall their questions and spoke tiredly. “The dragon was defeated. Prince Arthur is fine, but many of the knights were badly injured. I’ve come to get Gaius and horses or a wagon, or something to bring everyone back to the castle; our horses unseated their riders and bolted.”

The guards didn’t seem to take in his words about the many injured. One of the men hurried back up to the gate shouting, “Prince Arthur has killed the dragon! The city is saved! Prince Arthur is victorious!”

The others left Merlin’s side and hurried after the first, talking excitedly and seeming to forget all the tragedy and sorrow of the past nights. By the time Merlin reached the castle, the courtyard was filled with the hum of excited people celebrating the end of the dragon’s reign of terror. The crowd was thick enough that he wasn’t noticed until he pushed his way through to the steps where the king stood, awaiting his son’s return.

When Uther noticed him, his gaze was piercing. “Where is Prince Arthur?”

Merlin dipped his head and said wearily, “He would not leave his men, Your Majesty. There are many injured and our horses fled. The prince sent me to bring back aid.”

“He was not injured himself?” Uther demanded.

“No, not seriously. Many of the knights were. They need a physician... Sire,” Merlin said, nearly forgetting the sire at the end. He didn’t think the king would be bothered by forms of address at the moment, but did his best to tread lightly around him. Uther was one of the few people Merlin feared, not because of his power or the threat of being discovered, but because of his unpredictability.

Uther snapped an order for someone to fetch Gaius and turned his attention back to Merlin. “You have shown great bravery to follow the prince into such a battle. Tell Arthur that he may take his rest when he returns. I will hear his report in the morning.”



Merlin carefully followed Gaius down the steps of the castle, trying not to drop the multiple items precariously balanced in his arms. He had a bag filled with bandages and splints slung over his right shoulder, several water skins over his left, and half a dozen blankets piled in his arms topped with a box filled with medicines tucked under his chin. He would have complained that Gaius was only carrying his personal medicine bag, but the slow, slightly limping gait of his mentor revealed just how exhausted he was. Gaius had seen about as much of his bed as Merlin had this past week, possibly less. Merlin had at least had a proper night’s rest in the inn while they searched for Balinor...

He bit his lip to hold back the sob that wanted to escape and felt tears stinging his eyes again. Now was not the time to grieve. When he was back in his room and alone, he could let the pain out, but right now there was a task to be done.

The stable hands had been roused and had hitched a sturdy, old gelding to a fair sized wagon and had put several spare horse blankets in the back. They helped Merlin with his awkward load as one of the page boys came hurrying along behind them with the stretcher from the infirmary; he thrust it into Merlin’s hands before scurrying back up to the castle. Merlin was a bit startled by the boy’s haste, but the anxious glances of the stable hands made him realize they were afraid they would be asked to come along. By now everyone had been told that the dragon was gone, but he could understand their reluctance to leave the relative safety of the city walls. Even though buildings still smouldered, the danger of fire would seem less to them than that of encountering a dragon out in the open.

Gaius pulled himself up onto the bench at the front and took the reins in hand. Merlin settled the last few items into the bed of the wagon and hopped up beside him. The lads moved away and disappeared back into the stable, expressions of relief on their tired faces. The guards at the city gate let them pass with a nod of their heads.

Once out of the city, Gaius asked gently, “Are you alright, Merlin?”

He shook his head. “I wasn’t hurt.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Gaius pressed.

“I’m fine.”

“Will you tell me what really happened?”

Merlin looked up into the night sky and tried not to feel anything as he spoke. “Kilgharrah landed in the clearing and the knights tried to circle him, but the horses were spooked by the fire. It was all really chaotic, and then everyone was on the ground. Some were burnt, some fell when their horses bolted, and some were hit by wings and tail... Arthur got up and tried to stab him with a spear. Kilgharrah sent him flying. I... I was able to speak to Kilgharrah. He stopped attacking and went still. I could tell he’d do anything I told him to do, anything I ordered, and I...”

Gaius put a hand on his knee and gave a small squeeze. “You did what you had to.”

Merlin brought his eyes down from the sky and looked at Gaius, whose face was compassionate and eyes were understanding. Merlin shook his head and stared down at his hands. “I couldn’t do it, Gaius. I couldn’t kill him. Even after everything, the lies, the revenge, the destruction... I couldn’t kill the last dragon, Gaius. I told him to leave, commanded him never to attack Camelot ever again. He said... he said that he was in my debt and he flew away.”

“Oh, Merlin,” Gaius said gently and moved his hand to Merlin’s shoulder and pulled him into a comforting half embrace. “Kindness and compassion are never wasted, my boy. I’m proud of you.”

“I told Arthur that his spear had mortally wounded Kilgharrah and that he flew off to die. I don’t know what to do if the king wants us to bring back the head or something as a trophy... I’m so tired Gaius. I’m so tired of hiding myself all the time, and sneaking around. I’m just so tired.”

“Someday you won’t have to hide anymore, Merlin.”

They didn’t speak as the wagon jostled them further along the bumpy path. The clearing wasn’t very far from the castle, but the journey seemed to take hours. As they neared the field, Merlin wrinkled his nose. The smell of smoke and charred flesh clung to the back of his throat so thickly he could nearly taste it.

The men were no longer scattered, but instead gathered around Arthur away from the smouldering trees. A few were sitting up and helping Arthur tend to the others, but several lay unmoving. Merlin couldn’t help the shudder that ran through his body, but he fought against another round of tears. He had shed far too many already and there would be time for more later.

When Gaius halted the wagon, Merlin jumped down to steady the horse. It was a sturdy animal, docile and trained to draw, but the smoke lingering in the air made it nervous. It whickered and shifted uneasily, but calmed when Merlin held the reins and stroked its velvety nose. Gaius climbed stiffly down from his seat, but moved in his usual brisk manner towards the knights on the ground.

Merlin tried breathing deeply to calm himself, but the strong odours were overpowering and only added to his agitation. He glanced towards the men on the ground, two already laid separate, and saw Gaius lean in close then sit back shaking his head. Arthur’s face was carefully blank. It was his prince face, calm and imperturbable, but even in the dark Merlin could see the glint of sorrow and unshed tears in his eyes. Arthur might have said that no man was worth his tears, but he clearly believed it as much as Merlin had.

Merlin turned away, biting hard on his lip, and jumped when a hand came to rest on his shoulders. Turning around, he saw Sir Leon clutching his left arm to his side and attempted a weak smile.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s alright.”

“I’m not much good to them, but I can stand and hold a horse.”

Merlin stared at him blankly for a moment, and then took in what the knight was saying. Merlin was unhurt and better able to move people around than an injured knight. He forced a smile and handed over the reins. “Thanks. Did Gaius look at your arm?”

Leon shrugged and winced. “It can wait.”

Merlin tried to school his features into a professional mask, the one he often saw on Gaius’ face when dealing with some of the less pleasant tasks as physician, in an attempt to control the roiling in his stomach. He was certain it fell well short of the mark, but he clung to the small pretence of detachment.

Gaius didn’t look up from the man he was tending when Merlin approached. “He won’t be able to sit properly for the journey back, but he shouldn’t lay flat either. Once he is on the wagon, have Sir Bors help prop him up.”

“Alright,” Merlin replied.

There was a moment of silence, then Gaius glanced up at him. “Well? He’s not going to get up and walk there himself. We brought a stretcher for a reason.”

Merlin looked at him blankly for a moment, then started and hurried to the wagon to retrieve the stretcher.

The process of moving those unable to walk was a painful one. The men moaned and cried out in pain as they were shifted onto the stretcher and each footfall made their features contort in pain. Arthur and Sir Bedivere moved quickly and efficiently with very few words. Merlin climbed up onto the wagon and settled each of them into place, wrapping them in blankets and doing his best to make them more comfortable. Once the fifth was lifted on, so far gone that his shallow, raspy breaths were the only gauge of his discomfort, Gaius moved onto the wagon to tend his most injured patients. That left two who were still mobile enough to get up on their own, but the remaining two...

Bedivere and Arthur wrapped the fallen men in their cloaks and brought them to the wagon as well. Merlin left Gaius to his patients and went to retrieve the forgotten pile of swords. The sharp, metallic clanking seemed unnaturally harsh in the quiet of the dark clearing, a stark contrast to the low moans and hushed words. Everything seemed much louder in the dark, even the creak and jangle of the harness on the cart horse. The horse stamped its feet and whinnied.

Merlin’s head snapped up when he heard an answering whinny. Clutching his armful of swords, he hurried over to Arthur.

“I think I heard our horses.”

Arthur gave him an incredulous look. “They must be scattered throughout the forest by now, Merlin.”

“Just now, the cart horse whickered at them and they called back. Perhaps they didn’t run far. I’ll go see if I can find any of them,” said Merlin.

“Gaius needs to get the men back to the castle quickly.”

Merlin shook his head. “Don’t wait for me. I can ride back on my own.”

“You get lost in the lower town,” Arthur said, not unkindly but a far cry from his usual teasing manner. “Bedivere can drive the wagon back. If you’re certain you heard them, I’ll help you look.”

“You should go back with them. The king is expecting you.”

Arthur ignored his words. “I’ll help you look.”



The moon was nearly full and still high in the sky but once in the shelter of the trees very little light filtered in. Arthur was fairly certain they were not going to find any horses and get completely lost searching, but Merlin had seemed just as certain they would, and so he followed along behind his manservant. This was becoming an increasingly common occurrence. At first it had been Merlin tripping along behind him, but now stumbling along in the dark behind Merlin didn’t seem that unusual.

The narrow path they were following split and Merlin paused looking between the two. It was too dark to read the trail. Arthur put a hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “It’s too dark. We could come back in the morning. We’ve more chance of finding them in daylight, even if they have wandered farther.”

Merlin cocked his head suddenly, and pointed down the right hand path. “That way.”

“You think so?” Arthur asked, feeling sarcasm creeping into his voice.

Even in the dim light, he could tell Merlin was giving him one of his ‘and you call me an idiot’ looks.

“I know you’re the brilliant tracker here, but I hear a horse making a huge fuss in that general direction. It can’t be far.”

Arthur stilled and listened, but all he could hear was the sound of Merlin breathing. He shrugged. “We’ll look a short ways up here, but I don’t hear this huge fuss.”

Shaking his head, Merlin turned away and took the right hand path. Arthur’s eyes strained to seek the path clearly ahead of him and avoid tripping on the uneven ground. Despite his usual clumsiness, Merlin didn’t appear to be having the same difficulties navigating around roots and stones in their path. He was just about to comment on this, when he heard the sound of a horse whickering in distress. Arthur stopped to listen as he heard another, different from the first.

“There’s two,” he said under his breath.

Merlin glanced back over his shoulder. “I told you.”

They hurried their pace and soon came upon a bay charger stamping and tossing its head. The lines were snagged on a branch and it was frantic to pull itself free. Arthur stepped forward first, speaking calming nonsense to the animal. The reins had not become too tightly knotted and came free easily enough. Once the horse had calmed down, he tried to identify it.

“It’s hard to tell in the dark. It could be Leon’s mount,” he said to Merlin, only to glance around and find Merlin gone.

He could hear branches snapping and the horse he was holding snorted and whickered in response to another horse. The path here was very narrow, and after a few minutes of waiting Arthur moved back up to the wider path. The horse he was leading had calmed considerably and followed him without complaint. Arthur waited a few minutes longer at the split, but when Merlin didn’t return, he resigned himself to going back in search of him.

Arthur didn’t have to go far before he found Merlin heading towards him leading his white mare.

“So you didn’t get lost and fall in a ditch,” he tried to tease, but he knew the joke fell flat.

“Some gratitude. Your cantankerous horse tries to bite my hand off and this is the thanks I get,” Merlin grumbled thrusting the reins at Arthur and turning back.

“Where are you going?”

“There wasn’t room for two abreast and the other one is really spooked. I didn’t think he’d come just tied to Lamrei’s saddle.”

“You found another one?”

“And I think there’s a fourth nearby, but the path disappears and I can’t be sure which way it went.”

“Don’t worry about it, Merlin. Finding three is more than I had hoped for.”

Merlin disappeared back into the dark without a reply, leaving Arthur to guide his horse back towards the first. Her white coat seemed unnaturally bright in the dim and unlike that of the bay charger he nearly ran into when he arrived back at the main path. He attached the reins of the bay to the saddle of his mare and checked his horse over as best he could while he waited for Merlin to return. Running his hands down her legs and over her sides, he found nothing more troubling than a scrape on her foreleg. Then he checked the straps on the saddle to make sure they hadn’t been damaged or come free during her flight through the forest. Just as he was beginning to get restless waiting for Merlin, he heard footsteps coming towards him.

The chestnut horse Merlin was leading was still snorting and tossing its head in agitation, but he seemed to have control of it. After a few minutes of soft words and reassuring touches, it calmed enough for Merlin to check over for injury.

“There’s a bit of a scrape on his hindquarters, but other than that he seems fine,” said Merlin.

Arthur nodded. “If that’s the worst of it, we’ve been fortunate.”

“I can still hear another. I could look around some more,” Merlin offered, but he wasn’t able to hide the exhaustion in his voice.

“It’s been an incredibly long night and we were up at dawn. We’ll leave some signs along the trail and send someone out in the morning to search.”

Merlin acknowledged his words with a small nod, but cast another glance back over his shoulder. Arthur looped Llamrei’s reins back over a branch and walked over to Merlin. Taking him by the shoulders, Arthur gave him a light shake.

“It’s enough, Merlin. You’ve done more than enough. You rode out to certain death tonight and showed as much bravery as any of my knights. You brought back aid from the castle and helped get the men back. I’m glad you were at my side tonight,” Arthur said with sincerity.

Merlin met his eyes and took a shaky breath. “Alright. Let’s go home.”



The sun seemed unnaturally bright to Merlin when he woke. He squinted and rubbed his eyes groggily, feeling out of sorts. His muscles were stiff and his head hurt. He felt much like he did after drinking too much, though thankfully his stomach didn’t seem to be affected. It took a few moments for him to remember the events of the previous evening, but then he noticed the small wooden dragon on his table and everything came rushing back to him.

Tears stung at his eyes as he remembered everything from holding his father as he died to returning with Gaius to the clearing and the smell of smoke clinging sickeningly to the back of his throat. The memory was so vivid, he felt his stomach respond in ways it hadn’t last night. Merlin bolted off his bed and retched into a small basin, but only a bit of bile came up. His water jug was empty, so he staggered out of his small room in search of something to rinse the foul taste from his mouth.

Gaius looked up at Merlin’s abrupt entrance. “I was beginning to think you would sleep the entire day away.”

Merlin shakily poured himself a cup of water and slumped down on the stool across the table from Gaius. The water was cool and washed away the harsh bile at the back of his throat, though he rubbed his tongue on the top of his mouth at the lingering mineral taste.

Looking at him frowning at his cup, Gaius asked, “Is something wrong with the water?”

“No. I’m certain it’s just me,” he said, and looked up, furrowing his brow. “Sleep all day? What time is it?”

Gaius gestured to the meal on the table. “It’s not long past the midday bell.”

Merlin swore and got unsteadily to his feet. “Arthur will be livid.”

“Sit down, Merlin. I doubt very much that Arthur is awake right now. He stayed in the infirmary until nearly dawn and looked completely spent when he left.”

“Dinaden?” Merlin asked, knowing the answer already.

Gaius nodded. “Arthur wanted to be there in case he awoke, but he never did.”

The horrible feeling of his throat closing and bile rising threatened again, but Merlin swallowed it down. “I’m such a fool.”

“What? Why do you say that?”

“None of this would have happened if I hadn’t set Kilgharrah free. So many people are hurt or died or lost their homes. It’s my fault.”

“You need to stop thinking that. Kilgharrah’s wrath was not of your making and if it weren’t for you all the knights would have been lost and the city as well. You’ve saved us all and you did so with mercy and compassion. I’m proud of you.”

“So much has been lost and destroyed. I’m glad Kilgharrah’s gone, but I still feel terrible.”

“It was a terrible thing, but the city will rebuild and things will get better.”

Gaius ladled a bowl of soup for Merlin and set it down in front of him. Merlin looked at it mournfully, but began to eat all the same. After a few spoonfuls, he looked down at the bowl and frowned.

“Are you alright, Merlin? I know you told me last night that you were uninjured, but you seem unwell.”

“Does the soup taste strange to you?”

“No. I believe Gwen had it brought up from the kitchens. It doesn’t taste any differently than it normally does to me.”

“And the water?”

“Brought up from the well by one of the page boys this morning. Are you certain you didn’t hit your head at all? Sometimes a blow to the head can affect your sense of taste and smell.”

“And hearing? Everything last night was so loud; I heard the horses way off in the forest but they didn’t sound very far away. I don’t remember hitting my head, but I do have a headache.”

Gaius thoroughly examined Merlin’s head, feeling for abnormalities and checking for tenderness. He also used a lens to look closely into Merlin’s eyes and ears before shaking his head and returning to his chair.

“I don’t see or feel anything unusual. Your headache is just as likely to be caused by the long days and unusual hours you’ve been keeping lately. As for the rest of it, I can’t say. Perhaps it is something temporary.”

"Perhaps," Merlin quietly agreed, but without conviction. He wasn't injured, but he felt a lingering sense of unease. He felt like something wasn't quite right, but he had no idea what it was. Unable to make sense of it, he turned back to his soup and tried to focus his attention on the various tasks that would require his attention, both with Gaius and with Arthur.



Waking up with various aches and pains was something Arthur was well acquainted with. He had trained in the art of swordplay since he was a boy and the heavy feeling of stiffness in his limbs was familiar. The heavier feeling in his heart that quickly followed with the memory of why he was so sore was one that had not always accompanied the aches, but had become no less familiar in recent years. The reality of life as a knight was going into dangerous situations with good men, good friends, but not always coming out with them. At times he worried for himself, for what his loss would mean to his father and the line of succession, but since becoming first knight his chief concern had become almost exclusively for his men. The loss of one was hard to face. The loss of three at once with another four who might not recover enough to fight again was a painful blow.

Dragging himself out of bed, Arthur had a fleeting feeling of annoyance that Merlin was not there to assist him, but the thought vanished from his mind as quickly as it had entered it. Merlin had looked ready to collapse when he had left the infirmary last night and he would most likely be assisting Gaius now, if he were even awake. By the angle of the light streaming through his window he could tell it was at least midday. His father would be expecting a report and Arthur was not eager to relive the night before. Not only would he have to report the loss of men, but he would also have to tell Uther that he did not have the body of the dragon to display. The beast had flown off to die somewhere in peace, and Arthur was all the happier for it, but his father would want a trophy, something tangible to hold up to the world to say that he was mightier than the fiercest of magical creatures.

Arthur was loath to criticize his father. He admired him and the strength with which he ruled, but Arthur felt Uther’s greatest failing as a king was letting his pride rule him in the face of adversity. It was somewhat ironic, Arthur admitted to himself, that he was the one to make this observation, but the more he was allowed leadership under his father, the more he realized that his own approach to leadership was very different. He wanted people to follow him out of respect, not duty or honour. He wanted his own merits to be enough, not the privileges afforded him by his birthright. He didn’t want to be a servant to his faults... faults which his manservant didn’t hesitate to point out. It was Merlin who had prodded him the most into seeing his father as a man with feet of clay.

Before Merlin had stumbled into his life, it was Morgana who had tried to make him see that Uther was merely a man, capable of making mistakes and poor judgements as much as any other. It was difficult for him to take her seriously, she was only a girl after all, but he remembered her words and her fierceness. It had only been a week, but her absence was palpable even in the middle of the dragon’s attacks. Her voice had been missing in the discussions and arguments they’d had over what to do. He hadn’t had much time to wonder why Morgause had taken her, but he hoped that Morgana was strong enough to defend herself.

Shaking off his thoughts of Morgana, Arthur readied himself to report to the king.



The council chamber was surprisingly quiet when Arthur arrived. The two guards on the door nodded to him as he entered. As they closed the doors behind him, the sound echoed off the walls and faded into silence. Arthur looked around the room, for a moment wondering if the page he had found was mistaken about the king’s whereabouts, but then he spotted Uther standing by the window looking off into the distance. When he approached, his footsteps seemed inordinately loud, and yet Uther startled in surprise when Arthur cleared his throat.

“Father.”

Uther blinked a few times, nodded, then turned back to face the window. “Arthur.”

“My apologies for being so late with my report. I was awake until the early hours of the morning. Gaius instructed me to get some rest. He told me he would inform you.”

“He did,” Uther said distractedly and continued to stare out the window.

Arthur was startled by his father’s lack of attention or concern, but cleared his throat and continued. “As you were told last night, my men and I were successful in defeating the dragon. It sustained a mortal blow to the chest and flew off. I cannot be certain where its body may be found, but it was sufficiently wounded that I am in no doubt that it perished.”

Mentally wincing in anticipation of his father’s reaction, Arthur wondered if he shouldn’t have sought out Merlin to get a more complete account of the dragon’s wounds and departure. He had very few details and his father was likely to be highly disapproving of receiving a servant’s account of the battle, even if Merlin was an unfailingly loyal servant and proven in his reliability. The silence stretched between them for long moments, but when his statement received no reply, he asked tentatively, “Father?”

“Mmm? What was that you were saying?”

“I said that I am uncertain of the location of the dragon’s body. It was mortally wounded, but flew off before it died.”

Uther frowned. “I suppose that saves us the trouble of disposing of it.”

“True,” Arthur said cautiously, but when Uther did not react further, he continued his report. “Sir Girflet and Sir Sagremor were killed in the attack. Caradoc, Lucan, Kay, Cador and Dinaden were seriously injured. Sir Dinaden died of his injuries before dawn, but Gaius said he is hopeful that the others will recover. He was most concerned about Cador as his face was badly burnt. The others were less seriously injured, though none of us is unscathed. I took a blow to the head myself. Gaius assures me it isn’t serious, though he did stitch the wound closed as a precaution.”

Once again, when Arthur finished speaking there was a long silence. He wondered if Uther was even listening. His father’s eyes were unfocussed and sad. In that moment, Arthur didn’t see the strong king he had admired for so long. Uther seemed to have aged a dozen years overnight and with that aging did not come the wisdom evident in Gaius’ eyes, nor the quiet contemplation that filled Geoffrey’s. Uther looked weary and worn, lost in his thoughts.

Arthur didn’t want to think too much on what that look might mean. He ignored the silence and continued, “I have yet to check on the men since waking. With your permission, Sire, I ask your leave to attend to them before seeing to my other duties today.”

Uther seemed to register the ‘Sire’ and appeared to regain his focus. “I’m sorry, Arthur. What were you saying?”

“I wish to check on the condition of the men in Gaius’ care before attending to my duties. Is there anything of particular importance you wish for me to attend to in the city?”

“The council is currently cataloguing the damage done to the castle and our supplies. They should be ready to report by morning. See to your men and care for your own injuries.”

“What of the lower town?”

“Patrols have been increased with what men are available. They should be able to keep the peace.”

Arthur bit back a sharp comment that tried to surface at the apparent lack of concern for the damages to the lower town, and tried to be pleased that his father’s distraction appeared to have passed. Inclining his head in a half bow, he turned and left the room feeling unsettled and concerned by his father’s demeanor.



Arthur walked through the streets of the lower town surveying the damage that the council was not accounting for, assessing just how difficult it would be for the peasants to be ready for winter. Dozens of houses had lost their roofs, the burning thatch of one easily spreading to the next. Some had been lucky and the fire had not consumed the entire building, but many had lost everything they owned. The people of Camelot were already hard at work salvaging what they could, but the sadness in their eyes was impossible to miss. These people hadn’t just lost a little used tower, one with a few rooms out of hundreds. They had lost all their clothes, furniture, tools, food, keepsakes, and even family members. Arthur was upset by the loss of three good men, and the possibility of a fourth if Gaius’ furrowed brow and concerned comments about infection were anything to go by, but as upsetting as it was to him and no doubt would be to the families of those knights, a noble family was not likely to starve for the loss of a son. It was a reality for commoners.

The acrid smell of smoke lingered and when he had looked down at the town from above the air was hazy. The brilliant blue of a late summer afternoon was dulled in the narrow streets. Here the day was dreary and filled with quiet grief. He sidestepped a growing pile of half burnt timbers and turned down the next street. The worst of the damage was confined to the higher end of the street closest to the castle. Three buildings were completely destroyed with a fourth that appeared to be on the brink of collapse. Arthur stepped closer to the precarious building to ensure no one was inside.

Through a gap in the wall, he saw a young girl, perhaps eight years old, on her knees in the ruined house clutching a filthy bit of cloth to her chest. She seems oblivious to the world around her, even though what remained of the roof and walls creaked ominously. He was reluctant to disturb her, but was concerned for her safety. Carefully stepping into the building, he crouched beside her and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Are you hurt?”

The girl started. When she turned to look at him, her eyes grew wide and she stuttered, “S-s-sire.”

“I don’t mean to disturb you, but this building doesn’t look very safe. I don’t think you should stay in here,” Arthur said gently.

Her surprise turned back into sadness and she dropped her head, clutching more tightly to the filthy bit of cloth. “I have nowhere else to go.”

“Where is your family?”

She sniffled and shook her head. “My father brought me to the tunnels. He told me to hide there, with the other children. He said he was going to help put out the fires. That was three nights ago. I don’t know what happened to him.”

“What about your mother?”

“She was very sick and she died,” the girl said, her voice trembling. Thin shoulders shook beneath his hand and the sniffling became hiccupping sobs. Arthur had no idea how to comfort a distraught child. He awkwardly patted her shoulder and stayed close while she cried, but felt rather helpless.

When the worst of her grief was spent, she looked up and him, knuckling tears out of her eyes. “I-I’m sorry.”

“You’re allowed to be sad. Everyone is sad right now.”

“Are you sad?”

He nodded. “I’m sad that I didn’t stop the dragon sooner, and I’m sad that so many people were hurt and lost their homes.”

“Is the dragon really gone?” she asked.

“Yes, he’s really gone.”

“Did... Did the dragon kill my father?”

“I don’t know. There are many people in the infirmary in the castle and there are many people who died. We don’t know who everyone is yet. I will try to find out for you,” Arthur promised.

“Thank you.”

Arthur stood and extended a hand to the girl. “Will you come with me? It really isn’t safe here.”

“Where can I go?”

“I’ll find someone you can stay with.”

The girl slowly got to her feet and looked mournfully around the remains of her home. She clutched the dirty brown fabric in one hand and placed her other tiny soot smeared hand in his.

“What’s your name?”

“I’m Iola.”

“I have a friend I’d like you to meet, Iola.”



Arthur felt a bit guilty turning up at Gwen’s door asking for a favour. He has scarcely spoken to her since the rather inexplicable kiss they had shared during his equally confusing duel with King Olaf over a month ago. He couldn’t for the life of him remember what he had been doing to get himself into such a situation in the first place, and there was no way he was going to ask. The kiss with Gwen made a bit more sense, he had felt affection for her for months, but he felt no great urge to pursue her. She was undeniably beautiful and good hearted, but the attraction that had stirred when she had allowed him to stay in her home had faded back to the fondness and friendly affection he had felt for her since Ealdor.

Despite his misgivings, he knew she would help. Iola’s grip on his hand was surprisingly tight and the look on her face was sad and frightened. Gwen had been assisting Gaius in the infirmary for days and even if she had no news of the girl’s father, she would have a better idea of how to help. Arthur had seen Gaius send Gwen away for rest when he had been up in the infirmary to check on his injured men. Arthur didn’t want to disturb her rest, but he didn’t want to make the young girl wait either.

Before he could change his mind, Arthur knocked on the door. He resisted shifting impatiently from foot to foot and tried to think of what exactly he was going to say to her. A few moments later the door opened and a weary Guinevere looked out at him in surprise. “Arthur? What are you doing here? Um... I mean, you’re welcome to stop by anytime you like of course, it’s just I’m very tired and Gaius said he’d need some help again tonight and...”

Before she could work herself into a full babble, Gwen noticed the young girl attempting to hide herself behind him. She crouched down and smiled warmly. “Hello there. What’s your name?”

The girl buried her face against Arthur’s side and didn’t speak. Gwen looked up at him inquiringly and he said, “I was looking to see how bad the damage was and I found her in one of the burned out houses. It looked about ready to collapse. Her name is Iola. She said her father was helping put out fires a few nights ago. She hasn’t seen him since.”

Gwen stood and opened the door for them. “You had best come in.”

Arthur stepped inside, Iola’s grip almost painful, and shut the door. He turned and knelt facing her. “This is my friend, Gwen. She’s a very nice person.”

Iola peered over his shoulder and looked at Gwen warily.

“Does she know where my father is?” she whispered.

“I don’t know, but I do know she will do her best to help you. Will you let her help you?”

The little girl bit her lip and looked back and forth between Arthur and Gwen before nodding.

Gwen smiled down at them and extended a hand. “How about we get you cleaned up a little?”



Iola allowed Gwen to wash her face and hands and ate the offered soup and bread as if she hadn’t eaten in days, which Arthur realised she probably hadn’t. At one point he attempted to edge his way to the door and leave Gwen to care for the girl, but a pointed glare from Gwen in his direction had him fixed in place. He wasn’t getting away that easily. Once Iola was washed and fed, her eyes drooped, mirroring the exhaustion in Gwen’s face. Gwen tucked Iola into her own bed and once the girl was asleep, gestured towards the smithy door. Arthur followed her into the gloomy workroom.

“What are you doing?”

“I don’t know. She’s alone; her mother died, her father is probably dead, and no one is going to care for her. You’re the only person I could think of who could help.”

“I don’t mind giving her some food and a place to sleep for a few days, but if she is orphaned what am I supposed to do?”

“She might have other family, perhaps, or you could keep her...”

“Keep her?!” Gwen hissed, “She’s a young girl, not a stray cat! Besides, I can barely keep myself at the moment.”

Arthur’s brows furrowed. “Are you alright?”

“I... Well, I expect the steward will find me a position somewhere in the castle, since I’ve been part of the royal household for so long, but everything has been hectic with the attacks, and Gaius needed help, so I helped out there, but I don’t know what is going to happen now, and Morgana is still missing, and...”

Arthur put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed them. “You will always have a place within the castle. I promised you this after your father’s death and I hold to that. You’re right; things in the castle have been chaotic since Morgana was taken. I’ll take it upon myself to bring your situation to the attention of the steward. Given recent events, there is no lack of work to be done. Perhaps it would be best for all concerned that you continue to work with Gaius for the time being. He will be in need of extra hands for some time yet. Does that suit you?”

“Of course. I’m happy to help Gaius. He’s been run off his feet. What about the girl, though?”

“I don’t know anything about children. I don’t know what should happen if it turns out she has no other family. She’s probably not the only one to have lost parents, and I haven’t the first clue what to do about it. I’ll try to figure something out, but at the moment I just don’t know.”

Gwen drew a breath to say something, then hesitated and glanced back at the closed door. Her irritation with him drained from her face and she said, “Maybe the king will...”

Arthur turned away, not wanting to see the hopeful expression on her face. “I think he’s more concerned about rebuilding and making sure there are enough provisions for the winter. I can bring it forward at the next council meeting, but I wouldn’t pin too much hope on that.”

“I know, Arthur. I know. Of course repairing the city comes first. I don’t mean to sound like that isn’t important.”

“I should let you rest. You’ve had as little sleep these past days as the rest of us. I’m sorry for dropping the girl on your doorstep.”

“She needs someone. Could you tell Gaius I might be a bit later than I had planned tonight?”

Arthur nodded, and left through the smithy door.



Masterpost | Part 2