A/N: See, I said we'd be back to Merlin soon. Poor Merlin, so out of his element. Just give him some time, lol. Enjoy another chapter!

**EDITED**

Merlin woke up slowly, scattered memories of the last two days filtering back into his consciousness in a tiny trickle. He opened his eyes before full wakefulness had returned to him and was thoroughly disoriented. The sight of blue hangings drawn back and tied to the posts of a four poster bed confused him for a second; Arthur's hangings were red, he was pretty sure of that. And why was he in Arthur's bed anyway? He was never allowed to—

It all came crashing back then and he nearly curled up under the sheets and went back to sleep, desperate for the forgetfulness that it promised. But the sun was already up, trying to force its way through the cracks in the not-Camelot-red-but-Carthis-blue curtains, and he had something that he was supposed to do today. He could only avoid it for so long and there was really no point in putting it off anyway.

Merlin pushed back the blankets, immediately longing for their luxurious warmth again as the cool air nipped at his exposed skin. He levered himself onto his feet and his stomach growled at him audibly. It had actually been quite a while since he had last eaten. He wondered if someone would be kind enough to point him in the direction of the kitchens were he to ask. Or maybe he was supposed to stay here and send for a servant to bring him a tray instead.

Was his status secure enough for him to do that sort of thing or was it still in question? If he ended up not being crowned king, would he go back to being a lowly peasant or would his paternity still grant him some level of nobility? It was far too early to be thinking such things. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and scratched his head.

He spotted the razor he had put off using the night before and raised his hand to his chin, feeling the scratch of three days' worth of stubble. He shaved quickly, pleased with the fact that he actually had a mirror here as opposed to his rooms in Camelot where he had to shave by feel alone and hope he didn't injure himself too badly in the process.

Feeling slightly more human with a clean shaven face, he was finally willing to pull open the heavy blue curtains and let in the painfully bright early morning sunlight. It slapped him in the face and he had to squint for a moment until his vision adjusted to the drastic change.

The window gave him a good view of the castle courtyard below, already bustling with people. It was still pretty early, since Merlin was used to rising with the sun in order to fetch Arthur's breakfast before he woke and complete whatever chores he had forgotten to do the night before. This was probably the latest he had slept in in a long while, which was sort of sad considering the only people he could see moving about looked to be servants on their way to begin their duties for the day.

He stayed at the window for a few minutes, leaning against the window sill and just watching the townspeople go about their lives. This, at least, was no different than Camelot, with the exception of the occasional glimpse of magic that always had his heart racing.

He was pulled from his musings a few minutes later by the creak of the door behind him. He turned to see a young girl with a heavily laden tray in her hands pushing the door open with her hip. He hastened to help, having been in that situation before and knowing just how precarious a position it was. The girl let out a squeak and blushed, nearly dropping the tray in her surprise at seeing him there.

"My Lord!" she exclaimed. "Many apologies for my lateness, sire. I hope that I didn't keep you waiting for too long. I brought you extra—"

"It's quite alright, I assure you," Merlin said quickly, cutting off the girl's ramblings. "You're not late at all. I'm just an early riser. I was up before half the kitchen staff, I'm sure."

He smiled at her and she flushed even more deeply, ducking her head. She hurried across the room to deposit her burden of food on the table and then turned back to give him a deep curtsey.

"Sir Gerund wished for me to tell you that he will be along to collect you in an hour or so," she said. "He said that there are clothes in the wardrobe that are likely to fit you, if you would like to try them."

"Oh," Merlin said intelligently. "Thank you, er…what's your name?"

The girl looked up at him, more startled by the question than Merlin thought that she should be.

"My name, sire?" she repeated.

"Yes," he said with a smile that he hoped made him look approachable and less intimidating than she seemed to find him. "Mine is Merlin. What's yours?"

"F-Fran, my Lord," she stammered, wide-eyed.

"Well then, thank you, Fran. For breakfast and for passing on Gerund's message to me," he said. "Now I don't want to keep you from your duties. I'm sure you have vastly more important things to be doing than catering to the likes of me."

It took Fran a moment to get over the shock of being spoken to so familiarly by someone she was meant to be serving, but then she dropped into another curtsey.

"Of course, sire," she said. "Good day to you, my Lord."

Then she rushed out of the door, though she glanced back over her shoulder at him before she closed it.

His behavior seemed to have confused the poor girl, out of character as it must have been for someone as high born as he was supposed to be. But just because he was royalty now did not mean that Merlin was suddenly going to start acting like an arrogant prat. Servants did an awful lot of work and rarely got any sort of appreciation for it, Merlin knew that far better than any other nobleman ever would. He would see to it that they were not neglected, if only by thanking them for their efforts when he could.

The grumbling of his stomach alerted him to the fact that he now had a silver platter piled high with food all for him. Without a second of hesitation, Merlin sat down at the table and dug in. Growing up as he had, he had rarely had as much food as he probably should have had and as such had learned never to turn his nose up at food when it was offered. He knew that he would not be capable of finishing the entire platter, which contained more food than even Arthur could have eaten in one sitting, but that did not mean that he couldn't try.

He was two thirds of the way through the enormous helping of scrumptious breakfast foods before he was forced to stop, his stomach protesting the sudden over-usage. He didn't want to send the remainder back to the kitchens, though. He decided to just leave it there. It would keep for a while, and hopefully he would be back in these chambers later. He would eat it then.

Merlin got up and crossed to the tall standing wardrobe on the other side of the room, remembering what the girl had said about there being clothes in there for him. They were likely to be much more suitable than anything that he had brought with him from Camelot, even if they didn't quite fit him properly. The hinges on the wardrobe's doors were a little rusty, squeaking when they moved, but they opened easily enough to reveal a good number of very high quality clothes. They were a bit dusty, but all were clearly of good fabrics, skillfully made and well maintained.

He rifled through them, looking for something not made of velvet or brocade or any other ridiculously expensive material that would make him even more uncomfortable than he needed to be. He found some plain tunics near the back, softer by far than any that he had ever owned but essentially the same, and pulled out a purple one that looked to be his size. He discarded his sleep shirt and pulled the tunic on, marveling at the smoothness of the material against his skin as opposed to the much scratchier homespun wool that he was used to.

He moved on to the large bureau that stood beside the wardrobe, pulling open drawers in search of trousers. He tried on three pairs before he found some black ones that fit properly, the others having been the right length but a bit too large around the middle. He tied a belt from another drawer around his waist and pulled on his own boots, opting for comfort and familiarity in spite of the rat hole in the side.

Merlin went and stood before the mirror, back far enough that the reflection showed him from the knees up. He didn't look all that different than he usually did, but the transformation was noticeable anyway. Maybe there was something about wearing high quality garments that made him straighten his stance, feeling the need to live up to the image portrayed by the clothes he had on, but he seemed to be holding himself differently even without anyone there to see him. The rich color of the tunic made the blue of his eyes stand out more brightly while the faded blues and reds he usually wore dulled them.

The lack of his usual neckerchief did wonders for him as well even as it left him feeling bare and exposed. He had half a mind to put it on anyway, but decided against it. That thing was nearly as old as he was and it showed.

"Merlin?"

He glanced behind himself in the mirror to see the reflection of Gerund leaning through the doorway with the door still half closed, peering around for him.

"Here," he called, coming back into view around the corner of the connected rooms.

Gerund smiled, looking him up and down appraisingly.

"You clean up nice," he said. "The clothes fit you well enough. I knew you were about the same height as Balinor."

"These are my father's clothes?" Merlin asked in surprise, glancing down at them as if expecting them to suddenly look different. They didn't, of course, but they felt different all the same.

"Yes," Gerund said, coming all the way into the room. "No one ever got rid of them when he left. They've been here ever since. I thought that you might be able to get some use out of them." He paused, looking around with a small smile on his face. "I haven't been in here in nearly thirty years. It still looks just the same as it did back then."

"These were his chambers?"

Gerund nodded.

Merlin stared around, trying to imagine the Balinor he had known so briefly sitting at the table and reading paperwork, standing at the window and watching the people pass through the courtyard, rifling through his clothes from the wardrobe and tossing them aside, reading a book before the fire, but he couldn't quite manage it. There was no real sense of him in these rooms; it had been too long since he had lived here for anything to be left behind. Merlin felt the absence keenly.

Gerund seemed to sense it too. He let out a long sigh.

"Come, Merlin. There is much to be done today," he said.

Merlin nodded but hesitated, having to fight down another urge to don his neckerchief, to have that one measly layer of defense against the strangeness of it all. But Gerund was waiting for him in the doorway and no article of clothing would make this day any easier to get through.

"Right," he said, taking a deep breath. He nodded to himself a few times and managed to make himself cross the room.

Gerund led the way down the corridor and Merlin followed him, falling in a step behind out of habit. Gerund slowed down and Merlin slowed down with him, maintaining the distance automatically. Gerund stopped and gave him a look that Merlin didn't understand. He raised an eyebrow questioningly and Gerund rolled his eyes.

"You don't need to walk behind me, Merlin," he said. "I am not your superior. You can walk alongside me. If anything, I should be a step behind you, but seeing as I'm the one who knows where we're going…"

"Oh! Sorry. I didn't realize I was doing it," Merlin said sheepishly. "Force of habit, I suppose. Eleven years of trailing along after Arthur, you know. Might take me a while to get used to stuff like that."

Merlin made a conscious effort to stay in step with Gerund as he led them down corridor after corridor. Merlin tried to keep track of them, but he found himself getting stuck in his mental map of Camelot. Down that corridor should be the armo—no, wait, that's not this castle. The walk seemed to be taking a very long time, or maybe Merlin was just anxious and impatient.

"So where is this going to happen?" he asked curiously.

"Where is what going to happen?"

"Calling the dragon."

"In the courtyard, of course."

"The courtyard?" Merlin asked in surprise.

"Where else would we do it?" Gerund asked, giving him a sideways glance.

Merlin thought about it, but didn't have an answer.

"I don't know. I just wouldn't have thought of doing it in such a public place. But then, I have essentially been living in hiding for all of my life," he added with a shrug. "Whenever I wanted to speak to Kilgharrah, I had to sneak out of the city in the middle of the night and walk half an hour into the woods to find a clearing that was large enough for him to land in and far enough away that no one would spot him or happen across us."

"Of course. Well, you certainly don't have to worry about that here. The people will be overjoyed to see a dragon again after so long. Many of them have probably never seen one in person. It's been a long time since a dragon has graced our courtyard," Gerund said sadly.

"Still. I don't think I have ever called the dragon in another person's presence," Merlin mused. Then he remembered. "Oh, wait. Yes, I have. My friend Lancelot saw me summon the dragon once. But then, we were running for our lives from the Dorocha at the time, so I didn't have a whole lot of choice in the matter. And he already knew about my magic, so it wasn't that big of a surprise for him, really."

He was babbling, he knew, but the nerves were getting to him. Having people know about his abilities was one thing, but being expected to use his abilities in their presence was another thing entirely. For so long his life had depended on not being seen. Performing magic in front of an audience was probably one of the most terrifying things he could imagine. Or, in this case, summoning the dragon.

It was only when they reached the double doors leading out into the courtyard that Merlin realized that they were not, in fact, headed to the council chambers as he had assumed. Apparently they were going to do this demonstration right now. Already there were a number of people gathered around, mostly the same ones who had been in the meeting the previous night, with a sizable group of townspeople lingering around to see what all the fuss was about.

The councilors were gathered at the base of the steps, talking amongst themselves while they waited for Merlin and Gerund to arrive. Lords Tennison and Ellison were both there, looking very sour indeed. It took all of Merlin's strength to force himself to follow Gerund down the stairs, especially when all the people in the courtyard, councilors and townspeople alike, turned to watch them.

"Ah! Sir Gerund," Lady Penbrook called cheerfully, raising a hand to them in greeting. The golden net around her bun glinted in the sunlight. Merlin wondered if it was real gold, or if it hadn't somehow been spelled to look like it. "And Prince Merlin. I hope you have had a pleasant morning."

"Quite lovely, Lady Penbrook," Gerund responded.

"And a good morning to you as well," Merlin said with a relieved smile, the old woman's reassuring expression doing its job well. Just knowing that there was someone here who actually wanted him to succeed worked wonders on his anxiety. It set a nice counterpoint to Lord Tennison's vicious glare, if nothing else.

"Now that you're here, we can get started," Lord Melbourne said shortly.

"So…just call Kilgharrah?" Merlin asked uncertainly. "Just bring him here?"

"Yes," Melbourne said, already sounding impatient with him.

Merlin had to physically restrain himself from rolling his eyes, but he managed it. He stepped forward out of the cluster of men and women to stand alone, his heart rate picking up drastically. He glanced back over his shoulder in time to see Gerund's encouraging nod.

He turned back and lifted his head to the bright morning sky, trying to forget about all the people watching him, and reached down deep into that part of himself that felt primal and powerful, untamable in a way his magic was not. The hoarse roar forced its way from his throat as it always did, without any conscious thought and in a language which he only barely understood.

"O drakon, e male so ftengometta tesd'hup'anankes!"

The silence that fell over the courtyard was absolute. Merlin was almost afraid to look at the faces of those around him, but when he did he saw that most bore expressions of awe rather than fright. Murmurs broke out among the servants and townsfolk, hushed and reverential. Merlin turned back to face the members of the council. Many of them, to his surprise, seemed similarly affected. None of them said anything and Merlin could not think of anything to do but wait for Kilgharrah to show up.

Thankfully, Merlin didn't have to wait long. Kilgharrah must have already been in the nearby woods, probably anticipating a moment such as this. He wheeled overhead, blocking out the sun for a moment and throwing huge shadows across the flagstones. Gasps and cries of amazement rose around him as people pointed up, many of them too young to ever have seen a dragon outside of picture books and tapestries.

Kilgharrah spread his wings wide and touched down in the large open space of the courtyard, landing quite gracefully for a creature of such an enormous size. He folded his wings neatly back along his sides and settled himself comfortably, craning his neck to take in his surroundings.

"It has been many years since I was last in this place," he said in lieu of a greeting.

"Hello to you too, Kilgharrah," Merlin called up to him, crossing his arms over his chest. The dragon chuckled low in his throat.

"Hello, young warlock. Or should I say, my Lord?" he asked wryly.

The reminder did not send the same wave of panic and dread through him that it had up to this point. Maybe it was just being in the presence of someone who knew him well, someone whom he had known for many years, someone with whom he was comfortable. He was back on solid ground. This, talking to the dragon, he knew how to handle. Everything else would come after.

"Well, actually, I think that might be up to you at this point," Merlin said. He stepped to the side and held out an arm to showcase the gaggle of robed men and women standing at his back. "While the main purpose of this summons was to prove my heritage before the council, I believe that a few of the council members may have some questions to ask of you, if you would be so kind as to provide answers for them."

The dragon leaned in closer, his eyes narrowing as he examined each in turn.

"Lady Penbrook," he said, sounding mildly surprised to have found the elderly woman still alive; no doubt she had been old the last time Kilgharrah had seen her as well. "I am glad to see you well."

"And I you, Kilgharrah," the Lady responded with a small bow.

"And Lord Melbourne," the dragon said with a nod.

The councilor bowed but did not respond in any other way, which Merlin found a little rude but did not comment on. Kilgharrah greeted a few more people with whom Merlin was unfamiliar before his eyes fell on Lord Tennison and a slow draconian smile spread across his face, sharp and feral and a little threatening.

"Ah," he said. "Tennison, is it not? You were but a boy the last I saw you."

"That is no longer the case," Tennison said through gritted teeth.

Merlin could see how much the reminder of his comparative youth rankled with him and was petty-mindedly glad for it; call it recompense for the disrespectful way in which his son had treated Merlin the day before. Let him see how he liked to be looked down upon.

"So it would seem. But it would appear that you have a boy of your own now," Kilgharrah said, his gaze falling on Lord Ellison, who was standing by his father's side. "By the Lady Imogen, I would imagine?"

"Indeed, O Great One," Ellison said in an overly deferential tone, sweeping into a low bow. "My name is Ellison."

The thinly hidden amusement on Kilgharrah's face was obvious to Merlin and he had to bite his lip to keep from laughing, but he didn't think that any of the others knew Kilgharrah well enough to see it. The dragon did not bother to respond to the ingratiating gesture, instead turning back to Merlin expectantly. Merlin addressed the councilors.

"If any of you have questions that you would like to ask of Kilgharrah, now would be the time to ask them," he said, stepping back to give them the floor.

For a moment it seemed as though no one was going to be brave enough to raise his voice, but finally Lady Penbrook broke away from the group to stand at Kilgharrah's feet. She was laughably tiny in comparison, but she held herself with a grace and strength that Merlin envied, and she did not seem small.

"Will you confirm before these witnesses," she said loudly enough that her voice carried around the entire courtyard, reaching the ears of council members and common folk alike, "that Merlin is indeed the eldest son of our late Crown Prince Balinor?"

"I will do so gladly," Kilgharrah said. "There is no doubt that Merlin is his father's son. If he were not, then he would not have been capable of calling forth the white dragon Aithusa from his egg."

Rustlings from the crowd followed this pronouncement; Merlin assumed that many of them had not known about Aithusa's existence.

"And would you attest to his character?" Penbrook asked formally.

"I would indeed. His strength and his compassion are unmatched," the dragon answered.

Merlin was a bit surprised; he was not entirely sure that he could remember ever having been complimented by the dragon before. And yet here Kilgharrah was singing his praises to the council without the slightest hint of sarcasm.

"Do you believe this man fit to rule?" Penbrook inquired, her voice heavy with the weight of import.

Merlin wondered if maybe this was a ceremony or a ritual of some sort, a tradition maybe that all those ascending to the throne underwent. If a Dragonlord did not receive the dragons' stamp of approval, what would happen then, he wondered idly.

"I do. Gladly would I follow Merlin to the ends of the earth, if he were to ask it of me."

Ask, not command. The distinction was not lost on anyone.

Lady Penbrook bowed to the dragon, her hairnet sparkling like drops of molten sunlight and then turned to do the same to Merlin, who flushed a bit but acknowledged the gesture with a respectful nod. The Lady smiled at him and returned to her place in the council. No one else spoke. Apparently, no more questions needed to be asked. They had heard all that they needed to hear.

There was a crowd of people surrounding them now, servants and townspeople pressing eagerly in to get as close as possible to the first dragon to set foot in their kingdom in nearly thirty years. They were whispering behind their hands, staring at him, Merlin knew, but he didn't care. Let them look. This was who he was, a Dragonlord, and this was where he belonged. He experienced another of those dizzying rushes of freedom to be standing here, out in the open with a hundred eyes upon him and a dragon at his side.

Kilgharrah turned away from the council, his part finished, and leaned down to be on a level with him.

"Thank you, Kilgharrah," Merlin said quietly. "For all that you said."

"I spoke nothing but the truth," the dragon said.

Merlin reached out to place a hand on Kilgharrah's snout, feeling the surprisingly smooth texture of the scales beneath his fingers. Kilgharrah leaned into the touch, again reminding Merlin of a very large cat. The image made him smile.

"Go on, O Great One," he said teasingly with a wave of his hand. "You have done all that you can for me here. Fly freely, my friend. You waited far too long for the chance."

"And you were the one to give me that chance," Kilgharrah reminded him. "Your mercy has not been forgotten."

Merlin smiled and patted his snout, glad in his whole heart for the choice that he had made that night. To have struck Kilgharrah down would have been the gravest mistake of his life.

"I know. Now go back to flying or hunting or whatever it is you do all day."

Kilgharrah laughed, warm puffs of air making Merlin's hair flutter.

"I believe Balinor may have said that very same thing to me in his youth," the dragon said. "Seeing you here, in this place, makes it clear. You truly are very much like your father."

"So I've been told," Merlin chuckled. "Go on, get out of here."

"If you have need of me—"

"I will call for you," Merlin promised.

Kilgharrah nodded and raised himself up to his full and considerable height. All eyes were immediately on him, eager to see what the dragon would do. He looked down upon Merlin with a small smile on his reptilian face.

"Until we meet again, my King," he said solemnly.

And then he bowed low, his scaly neck bent in a graceful arc. Merlin was stunned. Kilgharrah had only ever bowed before him once, on the night when Merlin had first asserted his newfound authority over him. He had been forced into submission then, cowed by the strength of Merlin's words, but now he humbled himself before Merlin willingly. Nearly overwhelmed with gratitude, Merlin bowed back. Then Kilgharrah took to the sky and Merlin watched his form grow smaller and smaller until he disappeared from sight.