"Merlin…Merlin…"

Merlin sat up in bed, head cocking. Was she dreaming or did she hear someone calling her name…

"Merlin…"

"Not dreaming," she muttered, before getting out of bed and tugging off her sleep-shirt, wincing at the bruises from her bindings, and then trying to keep herself from crying out in pain as she retied them, only letting out a whimper as she heard the whisper again. "I'm coming, shush now…"

Dressing and tying her hair into a braid, Merlin made sure there was a glamour holding over all her soul-marks – including Arthur's one, just to be safe – before opening her door, undoing all the locks she kept on it – both mundane and magical – and making her way downstairs. In the healing rooms, Gaius was asleep on the bed that should have been hers, if Gaius hadn't cared more about her – him – than himself. Bare feet silent on the cold floor, she made sure not to bang into anything as she got to the centre of the room, but hesitated upon seeing his covers down. Smiling slightly, she used a dash of magic to pull them up over his form, before leaving.

Following the whispers were surprisingly easy though, so it didn't take very long before she came to where two guards were playing bets. It was childsplay to lead them away so she could go down the tall set of stairs, not taking a torch in case they counted. Going down the stairwell, she relied on her senses, until she stepped on a rock and grimaced. What if I could conjure a light? She'd never done it before – light was different from fire. Merlin stopped, glancing up the stairs.

Why didn't I just take a fireball from the grate? Rolling her eyes at her own stupidity, Merlin held out her hand, shutting her eyes before focusing on what she wanted. Light, please, let me bring light to this darkness. There was a whiteness behind her eyelids, subtle but enough – and then she felt the tiny tug on her magic, draining it less than controlling fire did. Opening her eyes, she smiled at the sight of a white ball of light, smaller than a baby potato. Cupping it in her hands, she started down the stairs again, humming to herself as she heard the whispers increase, all in that deep, bass voice.

Eventually, she came to the end of the stairs, where there was a stone ledge full of rocks that hurt her bare feet. But what she saw took her breath away.

"You're a dragon," Merlin's eyes were wide as she let the light in her palms fade, stepping forward to the edge of the platform. Huge and mighty, with golden scales that covered it from head to toe, the dragon took her breath away – and then she saw its eyes, a bright, unforgettable gold that she saw every time she looked at her hand. "You!"

"Merlin, it is an honour to finally meet you," the dragon bowed its head, baring its teeth in a warped, twisted version of a smile, "How small you are for such a great destiny."

"Destiny? What do you mean? What destiny? And what is your name?" It leant forwards, eyes closing. In reply, she took the glamours off her hand, reaching out without thinking. As soon as they touched, a light burst from them, rippling over everything until it ran back to them both, filling Merlin's eyes with gold before the eye on her hand slowly closed. "What was that?"

"That was our souls joining. Our lives are now tied together. If I die, so do you. We are Dragon and Dragonlord, a paired set, nearly the last of our kinds. Your powers were awoken from deep within due to our bond, before your father passed, which in some ways is good – the gift could be passed to more than just one. Though it is indeed unusual for a witch to gain the powers of a Dragonlord – it is passed from father to son." The dragon pulled away finally, getting comfortable on his rock. "But as to your destiny…it is your gift, Merlin. Your gift of magic. It was given to you for a reason."

Merlin's eyes widened, "So there is a reason…what is it? And what is your name?" She asked insistently, fists clenching.

The dragon looked at her with twinkling eyes, "I think you know as well as I what my name is."

It was like a poke to her subconscious, bringing forth a group of hundreds upon hundreds of runes – dragon runes. Kilgharrah.

"Kilgharrah," she repeated aloud, relishing the feel of his name on her tongue. "Your name means strength."

"And prophecy, and age, and time, and many others."

Merlin swallowed, before bringing her chin up slightly, "So what of my destiny?"

"Arthur is the Once and Future King who will unite the land of Albion."

Merlin looked at him sceptically in an instant, "Right."

"But he faces many threats from friend and foe alike."

"I don't see how this has to do with me unless Arthur gets his head out of his arse," she replied honestly.

"Everything," Kilgharrah stated firmly, "Without you, Arthur will never succeed. Without you, there will be no Albion."

"No." Merlin shook her head, feeling her anger well up again, "No, Kilgharrah, you have to have this wrong. Arthur is- Arthur's my soulmate, but he's an ass. A prat! I can't help him, I refuse!"

Kilgharrah looked solemn, "There is no right or wrong, only what is and what isn't."

"But I'm serious!" She exclaimed, incredulous. "I will not help Arthur do anything – you must have the wrong Arthur, because this one's an idiot!"

"Perhaps it is your destiny to change that, human mine."

"Well, dragon mine," she spoke in an angry, sarcastic tone, "If anyone wants to go and kill him, they can go ahead! In fact, I'll give them a bloody hand!"

Kilgharrah immediately roared, terrifying her as rocks under his claws rumbled. "None of us can choose our destiny, Merlin, and none of us can escape it! You have the choice out of one of three paths! In one, Arthur's soulmate disappears, and he finds happiness elsewhere, in another woman and places the Queen's crown on her head! You are nothing but a manservant, who eventually watches Arthur die after the battle of Camlin, never revealing yourself once! You then live, immortal, for centuries, when all soul-ties, all magic but yourself are gone and you live through it all, alone, until Arthur is finally reincarnated, and you lead him to glory with all the memories of your past years on your shoulders!"

"Kilgharrah, stop-" Merlin pleaded weakly.

"In another, you live out a ridiculous double life for years and years, filled with lies and treachery, until you are banished from Camelot with the heir of Pendragon in your womb! In that future, your daughter would return to the land of her father, where Arthur rules as a king who is worse than Uther ever was, and she dies at his hand because he is too blind to see! You returned looking for vengeance, but instead of killing Arthur, you changed him so irreversibly, you changed him back to the way he was – but then no-one could recognise him! His looks, his demeanour! You made him what he was, but no-one but Arthur thanked you for it! Then the battle of Camlin happened, with Arthur, you and the druids against the warped knights of Camelot, and the same fate awaited you from the first future!"

"STOP!" She screamed, tears running down her cheeks, "Please, stop!"

Kilgharrah calmed, though his eyes were still angry. "The third future, you became Queen of Camelot, after leading a short double-life. You made friends, you made a family – and then you were felled in the Battle of Camlin, leaving behind Arthur with Albion rallying at his command."

Merlin shook her head, "No, I- just no, Kilgharrah. You say all these things, tell stories of days yet to come, that could never come – but you forget the reason why those exist. Instead of whatever you were trying to accomplish today, you've convinced me instead that I'm powerful enough to change it. I make my own destiny, dragon mine." She turned, stumbling out of the cave system, mind haunted by what she'd just heard.

And that was when Kilgharrah grinned.