"Merlin, get hold of yourself. You have magic. It is part of your heritage. Embrace it. ….You are a dragonlord, Merlin, just as your ancestors were. Look inside yourself."

When Kilgharrah first spoke to him of his destiny, Merlin could not have been more confused. Newly awakened to his powers, he had not even known that magic existed - let alone snarky talking dragons shaped like a book.

"Merlin," the pocket book dragon hissed, "wake up. We're going to be late."

Merlin covered his ears, as if he could shut the voice out. "Merlin," the voice insisted, "WAKE UP!"

"What're we gonna be late for again?" came a muffled reply.

"You promised to take me to the gallery."

"Kilgharrah, the museum is open all day."

"So? I'm ready. You're awake. Let's go."

Merlin groaned. "I'm awake, no thanks to you! You just want to see that painting again. I think you have a girlfriend."

Indignant, the voice said, "I do not have a girlfriend, Merlin. I am a connoisseur of art."

Merlin snorted. Having known the dragon for a few months now, he knew that his appreciation of art was a cover, but he also had a soft spot for the beast, probably due to their link.

"Ok. Whatever you say. Let me get ready and I'll take you to the museum. Maybe if I buy you a postcard of that picture, we can stop this nonsense."

Kilgharrhah chuckled with pleasure as Merlin put on How to Train Your Dragon before stepping into the shower.