A/N This was originally written for the Hearts of Camelot challenge, which had the song 'Wicked Games' as a prompt. The version posted there had to be between 100-300 words, which was just abysmally difficult for me because I really felt the need to ramble to no end whatsoever. And so that's what you get here. Go visit Hearts of Camelot, if you haven't already. I am kind of in love with it.

The world was on fire and no one could save me but you.

Dragons could be bound by iron, if their dragonlord was foolish enough to believe the mad king who spoke of peace while he burned the world on his pyres. The knights of Camelot had made quick work of taming Kilgharrah while Balinor served as an unwitting distraction and by the time Balinor realized the depth of Uther's treachery, Kilgharrah's freedom was lost. Balinor dropped his compulsion on the last of the dragons, trying to give him time to get away, but the damage was done and all Kilgharrah could do was spit fire in impotent rage as Uther's men bound him to darkness and stone. The last dragonlord had no time to do anything more than turn to see Uther's pleased expression before the hilt of someone's sword made breaking contact with Balinor's temple and his world burned red before it faded to ash grey and black.

In the dungeons of Camelot, all Balinor could do was sit in the dark and listen as Kilgharrah raged. He pulled himself up onto the cot, his head spinning, and fell asleep to the voice of Kilgharrah's voice in his head, screaming his rage and fear and hopelessness. His own thoughts matched it scream for scream, but he would not reach out to the dragon, not after what he had done. Balinor tried to remember what the world was like before Uther had gone mad with grief, and all he could think was that then they had been happy, and they hadn't even known it.

Hours later, he was shaken awake by Gaius. As they crept down dark corridors and through a metal grate leading outside, Balinor tried to convince him that it was time to run, for the both of them. The physician would not leave his king (what kind of king was he, the world burning and everything magical lost under the weight of his hate?), and wouldn't listen to reason as Balinor begged. Standing in the moonlight under the wall, Balinor whispered all the reasons Gaius was not safe in Uther's kingdom, but guards were coming and there was no time to convince his old friend that the time to leave had come. He had always been surprisingly steadfast in his loyalties, had Gaius, for someone so unwilling to fight.

Gaius pointed him towards Ealdor and whispered the name of the person who would be able to protect him, the only safe haven Balinor had left:

Hunith.

I never dreamed that I'd meet someone like you.

In all the expectations Balinor had when Gaius had spirited him out of Camelot, he hadn't expected her. After weeks travelling on foot, hiding during the day and sneaking along roadsides, the few lights burning in the backwoods little village weren't even particularly reassuring. Though it meant the end of his journey, Balinor looked around at the small cottages and wondered what Gaius had been thinking; what safety and what solace could he expect to find here? There was no safety in these thatched roofs, no security to be found amongst the patches of herbs and vegetables, no protection on this narrow, uneven dirt road. It was just a village like any other village found in the outskirts and faraway places and Balinor knew from experience that when the world burned, the ends of it burned just as hot as the center. Uther would find magic here, too, no matter how remote and unassuming the village seemed, and there would be no safety in anonymity for any of them, ever again.

But Balinor had come all this way (and he had no where else he could go), so he found the cottage Gaius had described and knocked on the door.

He was exhausted, and he was heartbroken, and he was so angry it hurt, but she opened her door to him and she was so beautiful it took his mind off his pain for just a little while.

It's strange what desire will make foolish people do.

Balinor knew the king would not ever leave him be (would never let him go). He knew Uther's obsession would not allow him to let a sorcerer live, not even when most of Balinor's power had been locked away with Kilgharrah (what was a dragonlord without the dragons? Was Balinor anything at all?).

He had been surrounded by death since Camelot's prince had been born of that cursed magical bargain (every gift has its price, and a child was the greatest of all; Balinor wondered what clever Nimueh had thought the cost would be, if she had thought at all before condemning them all to this). He had been surrounded by pain, his own and that of (so many, so many, too many) others. He had been surrounded by hatred, and it had taken root somewhere deep inside him when he was too busy fighting to notice.

After all that darkness, Hunith was light: warm smiles, and kindness, and endless compassion and he was drawn to her, drawn to the flame of her. It was a bad idea. It was a horrible idea. Balinor knew he wasn't safe, that Uther's reach was farther than Camelot's boundaries, that he would find Balinor here, and the punishment for harbouring a sorcerer was as strict and unyielding and deadly as being one yourself. He knew that the best way to keep himself safe was to move on, that this would also protect this woman who was willing to pull him in from the darkness and save his life when it seemed like the entire world was against him.

But her face was lit by candlelight when she smiled at him, and he kissed her and was lost.

And I never dreamed that I'd lose someone like you.

Darkness came again as Balinor knew (he should have known) it would; Uther's knights rode into Ealdor. And Balinor, the last of his family and the last of his people and the last of his kind looked at Hunith and he knew that if she died, too, that he would never escape from the darkness. So he left, knowing he could never return and put her at risk again. He nearly broke then, her hand grasping his with all her strength, and him making the decision to never feel them, never kiss her, never be with her again. But the knights were so close that he couldn't even whisper goodbye, so he pulled away and held in his sorrow until after she was out of sight (for the last time). He fell to his knees for only a moment, taking deep rasping breaths that didn't have the time to turn into sobs and he pushed himself to his feet and walked with Ealdor at his back and wondered what the point of living like this was, anyway.

The voice in his head, screaming his rage and fear and hopelessness, was back, but he couldn't hear Kilgharrah from here; it was just him (alone).

And since it had been so very good, what he had lost, he let the bitterness consume him.

(until their child – their child – found him and dragged him back into the light)

(and it was worth everything to see that boy's smile)