SUMMARY: When two sides of a coin break apart, a second prophecy brings hope to the repressed magical community. It is foretold that Emrys will lead them to a new, prosperous land, and Merlin is determined that this will come to be. With Kilgharrah, Morgana, Mordred and the Druids all at his back, they turn their sights to Alagaësia.
CATEGORIES: M/M; F/M
RATED T: Content is not suitable for children below 13 years of age.
Contains some violence, minor coarse language, and minor suggestive adult themes.
UPLOADED: 13/11/2011
UPDATED: 24/03/2019
(This is a complete chapter rework)
WORD COUNT: 508
Lord of Dragons and Riders
Prologue
Arthur threw himself to the ground, narrowly avoiding the roar of flames even as Merlin's own magic pulled him from its path, tossing him onto smouldering grass. The prince swiftly rose, dashing forth with his sword poised, and thrusting forward when in range of the ancient beast.
Kilgharrah roared, even as his true voice screamed in agony within Merlin's mind. The warlock ground his teeth together as he rose, eyes wet with the pain of the dragon he too could feel through the bond he newly sensed stretched tight between them.
Ever since the last Dragon Lord had died in his arms, he had felt something pulling him back to Camelot. And now he knew it for certain; that his father's gifts had been passed on in full.
He felt the clawed foreleg swipe Arthur off his feet as if it were his own, and for a moment he teetered, forgetting that he had two legs, not four.
Arthur did not rise. He laid face down on the hard, compact earth and not a muscle twitched.
And Kilgharrah roared in pain again as he tore the sword out of himself. A roar that Merlin reciprocated even as he gathered his resolve and threw his head back.
He saw himself -tears quivered and threatening to run down his waxen cheeks- through ancient golden eyes. Felt as the bond trembled between them as something shifted and ancient words fell from his lips.
The language spilt forth, a strange echo and lyrical quality to them, even as they were spoken with rage and grief and sorrow. And he felt each word settle like rain upon them, binding to their bond. Binding to the both of them. Dragon and Lord.
Kilgharrah left. Forbidden from returning; forbidden from carrying out his long-sought revenge.
And then Arthur rose. Not dead. Not dying. He seemed bewildered, but Merlin went to him, assured him that the Kilgharrah was gone. That his aim had been true, and the dragon would trouble Camelot no more.
They gathered the few knights that had survived the encounter and retuned to the castle victorious. Merlin numbly accepted Gaius' embrace, felt his uncle's hands shaking where they came to rest upon his back and knew that he had worried the healer, more so than any of his previous escapades.
Arthur, a few feet to his right, was clapped on his arm by the king. Congratulated on defending the kingdom from the threats of magic.
The prince's cold blue eyes turned on Merlin and so too did the king's as the damning words of treachery were spoken. For when Arthur had not risen, had laid breathless upon the ground, he had not been senseless as the warlock and dragon had believed him to be. He had heard Merlin speak with forbidden tongue, had seen him let the dragon that had been terrorising the citadel go.
And he returned this betrayal with his own.
No sooner had Merlin near fallen into Gaius's arms was he torn from them and thrown into Camelot's unforgiving dungeons.