It took the dragon several hours to locate where he thought the hideout of the Mortdestin was. He had to look for people with the correct markings, first and then follow their movement, but he couldn't be seen. He told Merlin that it was a very complicated process. Merlin tried to look sympathetic, but he didn't really care. As long as they found Arthur.

At last it was located and Merlin was pretty sure he knew the direction on how to get there. It wasn't quite a castle, but a rather large house, Kilgharrah told him. And a good deal of it seemed to be underground. He described it so that Merlin would hopefully recognize the place. But once they reached it, getting in would be up to Gwaine and Merlin.

"And now, young warlock," the dragon said, leaning close. "I will leave you, because morning draws close, and I believe you have many questions to answer before then."

Merlin's triumphant smile faded and his eyebrows drew together. "What do you mean by that?" he said.

The dragon simply looked pointedly behind Merlin and rose up on his haunches, flapping and pulling up from the ground.

Merlin jerked around, his eyes going wide. Then he looked back to Kilgharrah. "Wait!"

But Kilgharrah was already gone. Merlin bit his lip hard and turned back to the woods behind him. He'd already spotted what the dragon had been referring to in the trees, and now he was just trying to comfort himself that the Great Dragon would not leave him if there were danger.

"Alright," he called, resigned. "Come out, Gwaine."

Gwaine stumbled from the woods, his hair in disarray and his sword out. But it just hung limply by his side; it didn't look as though Gwaine planned on killing him or anything. And that was a plus.

Gwaine looked him in the eyes, and he croaked with a flabbergasted expression, "A dragon?"

"Yeah," Merlin said, shrugging. "My father was a dragonlord."

"Magic?" Gwaine said, raising his eyebrows. "That's illegal, isn't it?"

"No," Merlin said, grasping at straws as Gwaine took several steps forward. It wasn't too late for someone to end up dead. "Being a dragonlord isn't magic. It's just… close. Arthur even asked a dragonlord for help once! That was my father… He died… But the point remains the same."

"That dragon called you young warlock."

Merlin pursed his lips. "Well, yes, he did. And people think I can't keep secrets."

Gwaine stared at Merlin in disbelief for a second—and then he began to crack up like that was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. He put his sword up and laughed, patting Merlin on the shoulder. At last he wiped tears from his eyes and looked at Merlin. "Alright," he said. "Now, assuming that you haven't just lost your mind and decided to be evil, there must be a reason you use magic and Uther was wrong about it. That's not surprising." He grinned a little. "The old king was wrong about a lot of things. I just have one question before we go on our merry way and you explain everything to me."

Merlin's head was spinning. This was going too fast. Gwaine was okay with this? He didn't even sound all that surprised. He wished the knight would slow down… "What?" he asked.

Gwaine's eyes narrowed. "Were you the old man who knocked us all out in the forest and told me I had ale in my ears?"

Merlin swallowed. "Oh," he said. "That."


"No luck," Claude told Samuel as he walked down the hall, the guide of Merlin slipping off of his limbs. He lifted his real, burly arms and began to strip off the black leather gloves he'd worn.

"I still say he's too strong," Samuel said. "But what choice do we have but to try? Where are you going?"

"I'm going to report to her," Claude said, not stopping.

"But we have nothing to tell her!"

"Maybe she'll have suggestions. She needs to know it will take us a while…"

"Why are you bothering her with this?" Samuel said, looking uncomfortable. "Aren't you the one who thinks we can make him talk by ourselves?"

Claude, who had once looked like Leon, shrugged. "I thought the sight of his servant and friend betraying him would at least rattle him a bit more. We can make him talk… if we want to be here for weeks. And I would like to see my wife within the month, I don't know about you."

Samuel sighed unhappily and followed Claude down a flight of stairs until they reached her room at last. Claude stopped by the door, brushing his dark hair down and clearing his throat before knocking on the door. There was no answer.

"Maybe she's sleeping," said Samuel.

Claude knocked again.

"A moment!" came the voice from within.

After a moment, the door opened to reveal the brown-haired woman within the room. "Good morning, Claude, Samuel," she said. Her hair was damp, and she was still twisting it over her shoulder into a braid. Her face was angular, with high cheekbones and lips that turned up, which nullified her slightly sharp appearance. Her gray eyes met the men's unfalteringly. "I trust you have good news for me? He has told you about Emrys?"

"No," said Claude. "That's why we came to you. He… won't tell us. He keeps insisting he doesn't know anything."

"Pendragons are such liars," she said sadly. "It's a shame. So you are still working on him? Here, come in."

"I don't mean to disturb you…" Claude started.

"No fear!" she said pleasantly. "I understand. Come in, both of you." She waltzed inside the room, and the men said down at her direction on two wooden chairs. She perched on her bed, pulling on her tunic. "So, tell me what the problem is."

"We just think that the way we're going about this is going to take too long," Claude said.

"Longer than you wanted it to," Samuel added quickly.

"The king is very strong," Claude told her. "We just wanted to tell you that… It might take longer than we wanted before we got back home. That's all." He winced at his cowardice.

Her delicate face fell. "I'm very disappointed," she said. He nearly cried. That's what he'd been afraid of. "And I imagine my father will be, too, when it takes us too long to come back." Claude and Samuel both stiffened. That's what they had been really afraid of.

She stood and thought this over. "Well," she said. "If it takes long, it just does. All the same, I think I should do what I can to speed up the process. I will oversee everything."

Claude objected. "Ma'am," he said. "Vera, ma'am, please. Your father wouldn't want you…"

She waved away the protest. "My father put me in charge. So in charge I will be. Maybe I'll have an idea!"

Claude and Samuel looked at each other and sighed, sinking back into their chairs.

"Cheer up, boys," she said blithely. "He'll talk."