Winter tightens its grip on Camelot and Arthur, forced to abandon training for the day by yet another snowfall is feeling bored. It isn't that he can't entertain himself, its just usually inside entertainment involves Merlin, who is actually doing his job for once and is not to be disturbed at all. Arthur only finds this out when he drops by Gaius' chambers with the intent of bothering his manservant, only to be sternly told Merlin was busy, and no, he would not be finding out where.

Which is, in a roundabout way, how Arthur finds himself grinding herbs for Gaius. The good thing about this is how much time it gives him to think, and one problem in particular keeps coming to mind.

Lancelot.

Arthur likes Lancelot, really he does. He's as good a fighter as Arthur remembers, better even. He is steadfastly loyal and wears Camelot's colours with more pride than any knight Arthur has ever seen, dedicated to every task he is appointed and at the training grounds each morning, practicing as the sun rises.

It is only by extreme good luck he is a knight at all, as Arthur knows full well. Saving the life of Sir Bors had given him a father and he became a son in turn for the old knight who had many beautiful daughters but lamented his lack of male heirs. It had surprised Uther indeed when the young man had arrived in Camelot with papers, this time real, and once again expressed his desire to join the knights. Not even Uther could deny the son of a knight, whether by blood or not, and Lancelot had been knighted promptly and with rather less pomp than the first time he had knelt before the king.

After all, Uther was more than a little humiliated at being shown what was what by a man he'd once threatened to have killed.

None of these things are particularly distressing to Arthur, he can't find complaint in an extra knight, especially one as good as Lancelot, what with the turnover rate Camelot usually manages. What he does find distressing is said knights infatuation with Guinevere. True, Lancelot hasn't done more than make eyes at her whenever she appears at the training ground, and even that doesn't bother Arthur a great deal. A knight has no better chance of winning Gwen's hand than a prince after all.

What bothers him is his willingness to accept this development. It's that same sense of rightness that goes along with every thought of Gwen. However much he loves her, whatever she feels towards him, she and Lancelot fit together. Much as Arthur hates the idea of losing her to another man (and it hurts, even the thought) he knows somehow, that it's meant to be this way. Merlin would say destiny, and Arthur would roll his eyes and snort at such foolishness, but maybe, just maybe, that's what it is.


Merlin has problems of his own, which at this moment concern a rather angry dragon.

He's bellowing, thrashing his wings around and Merlin can't quite understand how this is his fault. He tries venturing this opinion and earns himself singed eyebrows for his efforts.

"I cannot see young warlock, and it is your doing! Your destiny with Arthur has all but gone. I look to your future and I see nothing!" Merlin balks. There's only one reason he would suddenly be lacking a future and he had rather thought Arthur was dealing quite well with the whole magic situation.

"I see no future of his either" The dragon intones, leaning rather too close for comfort, one large eye regarding Merlin coldly. "You must fix it"

"How?" Merlin asks, perhaps stupidly, because the dragon gives a snort and the world goes black with smoke for several moments.

"I cannot give you the answer, you must find it yourself" He says finally, and he's flapping away before Merlin has a chance to argue.

He settles for yelling "you enigmatic bastard!" at the darkened cave and kicking the closest wall.


Arthur can't help the grin that spreads across his face as Merlin storms into Gaius' chambers. It fades quickly however, when Merlin completely ignores his presence and disappears muttering into his room. There is a great deal of crashing and a few high-pitched curses before Merlin appears again, a large book in his arms.

"Merlin!" Gaius admonishes as he dumps the tome on the table, directly within Arthur's view, and indeed his reach. It is clearly very old, and very worn, and almost certainly magic. Arthur ignores the curl of discomfort in his stomach and instead goes to lock the door. It would not do to have this book seen by anyone else.

"He knows, it's fine" Merlin waves a hand idly at Gaius as he hurriedly flips through the pages. Arthur sees the flashes of gold and silver and wonders how Merlin has managed to keep this a secret so long.

"Why isn't it here?" Merlin cries and his head falls against the pages in exasperation. "I want it gone, I want it fixed!" There's a degree of hysteria in his voice Arthur has never heard before and it seems completely acceptable to scoop Merlin into his arms and hug him close while he howls nonsense into Arthur's shirt.

Gaius gives them both a very odd look and shakes his head with the air of someone who has seen this kind of thing far too many times.

"You cannot lift the curse Merlin" He says quietly and Merlin gives another outraged cry against Arthur's chest. "All we can do is wait until it has run its course" Arthur feels Merlin deflate against him, all the fight slipping his body. He can't imagine how Merlin must feel, trapped in a body that isn't his own. It is a lovely body, but it's the wrong body, and while his mind knows that, Arthur's body doesn't, as evidenced by its sudden interest in the curves pressed against it.

Thankfully Merlin is too far gone to notice any of these things and he allows himself to be extracted from Arthur's hold and led to his rooms where Gaius wastes no time giving him a rather unpleasant looking (and tasting, by Merlin's expression) draught which has him asleep in no time.

"He'll wake in a few hours. I'm sorry you had to see that sire" Arthur blushes, immediately unsure as to why he has done so.

"Does that happen often?" Gaius sighs, weary.

"Occasionally. He is under a great deal of stress you understand. Not just his own either I'm afraid" Arthur cocks his head in confusion.

"It takes a great deal of power to change a persons physical form. Even more so when that person has power of their own. Merlin is strong, his magic fights against the bond that keeps him in this form" Arthur nods, suppressing the discomfort he feels whenever Merlin and magic are mentioned in a sentence together. he is disconcerted by how easy it has become.

"And if he breaks it?" Another weary sigh.

"He will change back. But it is hard to recover from a broken curse. He will experience far more pain than if it were simply lifted" Arthur blanches, momentarily consumed by the distress he feels at the idea of Merlin's pain.

"And the witch? What will become of her, if the curse is broken?" Gaius shifts uncomfortably.

"She would die" He pauses for a long moment, then continues, quiet and even, "Perhaps she deserves such a fate. Certainly she underestimated his power when she cast the spell. She should never have bound herself to someone so powerful"

A painful flash of memory streaks through Arthur's mind and for a moment he's disarmed by the sting as the magic that had kept it hidden from him burns away. He remembers a meeting in tent, in the mud and the rain and the way the witch had spoken to him.

"She never underestimated him. She knew how strong he was, she knew she was going to die and she did it anyway" Gaius looks alarmed.

"Why would anyone do such a thing?" Arthur shakes his head.

"I don't know" They are both silent for a very long time.


The dragon is larger than he remembers, looking at him with the reptilian equivalent of amusement. He scowls back.

"It has been a long time since I have seen you, young Pendragon" The voice is larger than he remembers too, a deep vibration in his chest that steals his breath. For a moment he is six years old again, at his fathers side, staring up in fear and fascination at this strange beast imprisoned beneath the castle.

"I need help" He says, only slightly disconcerted by the large teeth glinting in the torchlight.

"I cannot lift the enchantment" The dragon says and then fixes Arthur in the gaze of one enormous yellow eye. "But that is not the purpose of your visit now is it?"

"You know magic" Arthur says quietly and the dragon laughs.

"Magic beyond your wildest imaginings young Pendragon"

Arthur remembers his fathers words, the first time he set eyes upon this creature.

"Dragons are creatures of wisdom and magic, Arthur. But you must deal with them carefully, for they speak only in riddles and nonsense..."

"Why did she do it?" He plunges onwards, ignoring the puffs of smoke from the still wheezing dragon. "The sorceress. Why would she cast the spell knowing it would kill her?"

"Why do any of you humans do anything?" The dragon replies. Arthur stares back, wondering if the creature plans on being anymore forthcoming than this.

"Love, young Pendragon. But you must know the question before you seek an answer" Enormous leathery wings unfold from the dragons back as it readies itself to fly away to whatever dark spaces it usually lurks.

"What question? What are you talking about?" He hears only laughter as the dragon disappears upwards into the darkened cavern.


Some hours later, when Arthur has finished making a mess of his chambers, and then halfheartedly cleaning it again, Merlin arrives. He is calmer than he was, and Arthur is pleased to see he's brought dinner with him, and a rather large pitcher of sweet wine.

"I'm sorry for earlier" Merlin says quietly when he's set the tray on the table and Arthur looks up in surprise.

"Merlin, it's not your fault"

"Thank you my lord" Merlin blushes, attempts a curtsy and turns to leave the room. The pitcher of wine goes with him, tipping from the table and spilling across the floor, red liquid oozing between the cracks in the stone. The front of Merlin's dress is a deep pink, having being splashed during the wine's descent, and he's on the floor, trying to mop the mess with the first piece of cloth he could find.

Arthur's formerly cream shirt. It is now red and Arthur knows the fine gold embroidery will be stained forever. He had planned on wearing it to the feast of Imbolic in a few days time, though it is beyond saving now. Merlin drops it with a wet squelch into the puddle of wine still on the floor, having just realised his mistake.

Arthur clenches his fist as he feels every bit of kindness for Merlin slip away.

'Get out!" He hollers as Merlin retrieves the sodden shirt from the floor, holding it at arms length. "Leave it, just get out!" He throws his goblet at the wall, making a satisfying crash as it connects. Arthur feels better at that and proceeds to follow it with most of his dinner and his plate. In the flurry or thrown items Merlin has disappeared with his shirt which is a shame since there's still wine all over the floor and Arthur has no desire to clean it.

He settles for behaving rather childishly indeed and throwing his dirty clothes in a heap on top of the puddle, leaving them for Merlin to find. Let him scrub a few extra stains out, the useless bumbling idiot.