Πέρασμα των πορειών

Epilogue

He was drawing water from the well when the first tingle of something poked at his senses. Movement out by the fields drew his eyes, along with those of the girls washing sheets near the pig's cot.

Two horses were approaching, cantering their merry way through the wheat swaying in the beech field without a care for the plants' welfare. Immediately he saw them, Merlin knew that whoever their riders were, they were utter prats. Watching them approach he stood his bucket on the edge of the well, and folded his arms atop it to rest and stare in disbelief.

The lead rider was a lad of around his own age, possibly a little older, blonde and blue-eyed, and looking very much like there was a bad smell under his nose. There could well be, seeing as the pigs had not been cleaned out for about a week. Or it could simply be arrogance.

The second looked older, and perhaps a tad singed around the edges, a certain blackened quality to his head of bouncing brown curls. They were undoubtedly noblemen, and more than likely both Knights. That was fine, Merlin thought, watching them slow to a trot as they gained the dusty path into the village. They weren't in their livery, and two Knights were nothing to be afraid of. Certainly not Cenred's goons.

He straightened from his lean as they approached, snorting quietly to note that the blonde was doing that one hand on the reins thing meant to make a man look proficient and without a care, until he landed on his backside courtesy of an adder, or a low-flying crow, or a flapping piece of cloth. That one hand thing that was usually succeeded by 'both hands on the reins, boy'.

Seeing that the blonde seemed to be heading towards him of all people, probably with a demand of some sort, judging by the look on his face, Merlin raised both eyebrows and jumped in first.

"Got something against wheat, have we?"

The blonde looked confused, whether due to being questioned by a dusty serf with a slightly irregular lilt to his voice, or the question itself, it was difficult to determine. "Excuse me?"

Looking somewhat like a petulant housewife, or maybe his mother when he tracked filth all over her lovely new wooden floor before she could get the reeds down, Merlin stuck his hands on his hips and huffed. He nodded towards the beech field.

The blonde followed it, his eyes falling on the tall stalks dancing lightly in the wind. "Oh." There were two rather obvious trails, crushed flat by horses passing through. "Well. We're here on important business."

"More important than the village being able to eat this winter?"

"I – what?" The look on the blonde's mug into was hilarious and interesting in equal measure. "Now hang on-"

"Sire," the singed Knight halted him before he could tirade, disappointing Merlin a little as it was probably going to have been side-splitting.

He latched onto the Knight's words instead. "Sire?" He folded his arms over his chest, and canted his head to the side knowingly, "so you're not just a prat, but a royal one?"

The royal whatever-station-he-held, Prince, most likely, looked about to argue, but was stayed by a quiet tut from the Knight. He gave in, and raised his hand to massage the bridge of his nose. "Is there anyone less... insolent we could talk to?"

Steps behind brought Will to Merlin's side, the cheeky-faced young man looking up at the two newcomers with a frown. "Who are these idgets, then?"

Merlin looked from his friend to the royal and his Knight, barely containing his laughter. "Nope," he answered the royal's question, perhaps a little too gleefully.

The supposed Prince looked about to start yelling when the Knight again calmed him, "Sire, perhaps we should simply ask them?"

The rage ebbed, leaving 'Sire' looking thoroughly drained, as though at the end of a long, and very trying day. He conceded, and straightened in his saddle to address the boys in front of him. "We're looking for a man," he announced, drawing his no doubt learned authority about him in an attempt to cow the grubby peasants before him, "goes by the name Balinor." He did not notice the flinch Merlin gave, in the process of pulling a leather bag of coins from his belt. "We're willing to pay."

Merlin was about to deny any knowledge, when to his horror, he noted Will eye the bag thoughtfully, and nod his head.

"Alright then." He held his hand out for the bag.

Merlin stared at him, unsure what exactly he felt beyond hurt and utter betrayal as Will counted out a couple of the coins in his palm.

Satisfied that the total sum amounted to 'a lot', Will looked up at the Prince and Knight and shook his head. "He ain't here."

The Prince nodded, expectant expression on his face prompting him onward. Will shrugged, "what?"

"He's not here..." The Prince waved his hand in a circular motion, asking for more.

Will nodded. "Yeah. He ain't here."

"Where is he?"

"How should I know? Not here."

The Prince turned puce, the look of out and out rage on his face slightly worrying to Merlin, and apparently soaring straight over Will's head.

"What use is that!?" He bellowed, and thrust his hand out for the coin bag, "give that back!"

Will clutched the bag to his chest, "not a chance! You wanted information. I gave it. No refunds."

"It was useless information!"

"NO. REFUNDS."

"William!"

The Prince looked up, Merlin and Will also to see a tall, broad man approaching them along the path. The Prince huffed, relieved. Finally. A proper adult.

Despite the rasp of his initial shout, the man did not look angry. More exasperated. He halted a short way from Will and levelled what could only be described as a 'look' on him that made the boy squirm back. "What are you doing?"

Will did not answer. The 'look' intensified. "Huh?"

"Just messing with the towny boys." Will answered sheepishly. "Didn't mean anything by it."

"Give that gold back."

Will riled at that. "Oh, come on! He gave me this fair and square."

The Prince riled also, his bay horse shifting nervously beneath him, flicking its ears at his yell, "the information you gave was useless!"

"Yeah, well. You learned a valuable lesson about paying up front. That I threw in for free."

"William." The 'look' was back again.

Will fidgeted a moment, and huffed loudly, holding the bag back out to the Prince. "Fine. Take it."

Duly it was snatched back and stuffed inside the Prince's tunic that Will would not be able to get his hands on it again.

Merlin swallowed, and looked at his father, hoping to get his attention without using magic, just in case either of the two strangers were attuned to it. He did not have to worry, as Balinor looked up at the Prince, to his tired-looking Knight, and back again.

"Apologies, Sire. Boys will be boys. These two in particular." He cuffed both Will and Merlin around the backs of their heads, garnering an indignant scowl from Will, who slunk off embarrassed at having been chastised in front of the stuck up royal.

Graciously, the Prince inclined his head. "It is quite alright," the grudging quality of those words couldn't have been more obvious had there been a painted sign hung on them, "I. Assure. You. I am Prince Arthur of Camelot. This is Sir Leon-"

"I know who you are," Balinor told him flatly.

Arthur started, glancing at Leon a moment. "Well. Good."

"What information is it you seek?"

Merlin shifted a little closer to Balinor, nerves playing havoc in the pit of his stomach. "Father," he murmured, his low tone warning.

Arthur frowned at Merlin's strange behaviour, putting it down to bumpkin idiocy, and spoke again to Balinor, "We're searching for a man. Named Balinor. We were told that he had last been seen here some years ago."

"That is true." Balinor folded his arms, and flicked his hair over his shoulder, remarkably calm for the situation at hand, Merlin thought. "What would you want with him?"

Arthur blinked, and looked back at Leon, turning in his saddle to lift himself up and glance about the village. "Is he here?"

"What do you want with him?" Balinor repeated himself, silently indicating to Merlin to stand closer to him.

Merlin did as he was told, nerves not lessening.

Arthur hesitated, and flumped back down in his saddle. "Do you at least know where he can be found?"

Balinor inclined his head.

Arthur visibly deflated, relieved. "We must speak with him at once. On a matter of extreme urgency."

Unsure, Merlin stared up at the Prince, aware that his father was doing the same at his side. He appraised the young man and his companion, curious. It was an unusual opening line to prelude 'we're here to run you through and burn your family and village, evil fugitive from Camelot's righteous justice'. His father seemed to think so too.

Balinor again inclined his head, though did not drop his folded arms. "Go on, then."

Arthur frowned, surprise and uncertainty warring for dominance of his face. "You are Balinor?"

Unperturbed, the last Dragonlord shrugged. "What were you expecting?"

"I don't..." Arthur looked him up and down. "How old are you?"

Balinor almost allowed himself a smirk. Despite his greying hair and crow's feet, he did not appear to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders as one with the responsibilities and stresses of a King would. Judging by the look on Arthur's face, Uther had clearly not aged as well as he had. "Plenty old enough to put you over my knee with impunity, should you take that tone with an elder again, boy."

Leon drew his sword, levelling it at Balinor despite the distance between them as Arthur stared, dumbstruck. "Is that a threat to my Prince?"

"S'a promise to the pair of you, if you don't put that away, Sir Knight."

Leon faltered, surprised by the lack of threat he seemed to pose, and lowered his sword to look to Arthur for instruction.

The Prince, for all his arrogance boggled a moment longer, and bit back his surprise and in-built indignance at such an address, and politely bowed his head. Far from the dusty peasant this man appeared, he was in actual fact a Lord, and Camelot needed him. "Forgive me," he began, contrite, "you are not what we were expecting."

Exactly what that was, Balinor could only speculate. It must have been rather awesome, however, to have produced such a reaction. For a moment he wanted to ask, but forewent it in favour of a small smile. "I'm flattered, though I'm not sure I should be, so no harm done, Arthur. What was it you wanted to speak to me about?"

Arthur took a breath, but let it go, glancing about the village, and at Merlin in particular. "Is there anywhere we may go that is more private? It is not a matter I should like to discuss in the open."

Merlin folded his arms over his slight chest, and edged close still to his father. "I'm not going anywhere," he all but snapped.

Arthur looked about to protest, but the hand Balinor laid on Merlin's shoulder spoke of a desire that he should stay. To the Prince and Knight he nodded his head. "Come."

Leon shot a wary glance Arthur's way, but the Prince clicked his tongue, and guided his horse along the path after Balinor and Merlin.

The little house they were led to was... cosy. That was the best adjective Arthur could come up with for it. He found himself seated at a small table with Balinor, and a woman named Hunith. Hearing her name, Arthur understood how it was that Gaius knew where to find the elusive last Dragonlord. The old man had started to speak of his sister often as Arthur found himself spending more and more time in the physician's chambers of late. He spoke of the rest of his family also.

Through simple deduction, Arthur surmised Merlin to be the bright and friendly nephew Gaius mentioned, and the dark-haired girl currently folding washing on Balinor and Hunith's bed to be the quiet and studious niece. Both of whom were fully intent on listening in to what he had to say, Merlin with the demeanour of a thoroughly immovable object, and her with a vicious glare that spoke of immense distrust. As uncomfortable as they made him, Arthur found that he could not blame them. Doubtless they knew what had happened to their father before he had settled in Ealdor, just as Arthur knew that his father had hunted Balinor like a dog.

He forced his mind away from them, and all that had happened before, to the man and woman sitting in front of him. And the rather interesting cake that Hunith had insisted on feeding him. Because even though he was the enemy, she was intent on being a good hostess, even if not the best cook.

Hesitant, he cleared his throat, quietly glad of Leon's presence behind him where the Knight guarded the door that they would not be interrupted. "Thank you for seeing me," he began, somewhat lamely.

Balinor looked back at him levelly. "What is it you wish to discuss, Arthur?"

How could he put this? There was no way of easing into it. "The great dragon is attacking Camelot."

Silent, apparently thoroughly unsurprised, Balinor nodded his head.

Arthur hesitated a moment, but went on, "he is unstoppable. We have lost many good men trying. There is no choice left but to reach out to you." To the surprise of those around him, but not of the man he addressed, Arthur clasped his hands on the table, and bowed his head. "I humbly ask you. Please. Camelot needs your help."

The silence was deafening.

Merlin and his sister watched their father, waiting for his answer with growing nervousness. Hunith closed her hand around her husband's arm on the table. Balinor swallowed, and shuttered his eyes.

"Kilgarrah seeks vengeance for many wrongs against both our kinds. He will not be dissuaded from his path easily."

That the dragon had a name caused Arthur pause, but only for a second. "You will not kill him?" He sounded slightly disappointed.

Balinor looked at him sadly, not with the anger he expected. "He and I are the last. I will not take his life."

"Then how will you stop it?" Leon asked, the breathlessness of disbelief to his tone. "You would simply try and dissuade it, as you say?"

"I am a Dragonlord, Sir Knight," Balinor reminded him, authority creeping into his voice., "when I speak to Kilgarrah as kin, he must obey my will."

Arthur watched him a moment, thoughtful. "Yet you are reluctant to do so," he realised, the way in which Balinor dipped his head confirming it.

"One does not issue commands lightly," Balinor explained. "Dragons have the blessings of free will and intelligence. To take that away is a heavy thing indeed."

"I believe I understand." Arthur rubbed a hand over his face, the thought of his own free will stripped away on the whim of another rather disturbing. "In this instance there are lives at stake. The dragon – Kilgarrah – rampages against the city every night. The citadel is holding for the most part, but it is the lower town, the people, who suffer most. It is for them that I ask for your help. Not for my father, and not for myself."

Balinor regarded him silently, his thoughts unknown to the young Prince before him. He still seemed hesitant, as though at war with himself. Then Hunith squeezed his arm again, and he heaved a great sigh. "I will help you, Arthur," he murmured, the conflicted expression not leaving his face. "But it does not sit easily, what may be required... as much as it may be right."

There was something in his tone that made Arthur wonder if it was only to forcing Kilgarrah that he referred. Still he released the breath he had been holding, and reached out across the table to clasp Balinor's offered hand, "thank you," he nodded his head, unable to stop from smiling, "thank you."

Across the room, the girl shook her head, picked up the hem of her skirts and stormed from the house, bodily shoving an unprepared Sir Leon aside as she went.

Merlin glanced at his parents and the Prince, and followed, leaving Leon watching after them dazedly.

"Ganieda!"

It took a little while, but he found her sitting on the fallen tree at the top of the beech field. Will was with her, twiddling a piece of wheat between his fingers.

Merlin approached in a subdued manner, unable to really muster any enthusiasm himself. He leant down to shove his sister with his elbow, "move up."

She and Will did, making it that he could join them.

The three of them sat silent, staring at Ealdor in the quiet afternoon sun. At length, Ganieda shook her head, and leant forward that she may fold her arms across her lap. "Why did he have to say yes?" she asked resignedly, uncaring which of them answered.

"Because he's a prize twat." Will returned, deadpan.

"Because he's the only one who can," Merlin told her levelly.

Ganieda nodded her head and twisted her hands up in her faded skirts. "I know."

They lapsed into silence once more, watching the village going about its business, Lucas tending the cow at the bottom of the meadow, and Matthew weaving rope on the wall beside the pigs' cot. The village carried on without a care for the Earth-shattering exchange taking place inside the one small house. Because it was only Earth-shattering for the one small family.

Will huffed loudly, and straightened. He cast the stalk away into the field and lost sight of it in the mass of its brethren. "Looks like Old man Simmons was right all along. It was only a matter of time before Uther came sniffing round if Balinor stayed. Really sticks in my craw."

"We all sort of knew," Ganieda muttered, her shoulders hunching.

Will cocked a glance at her, the corners of his mouth turning down. "You don't know anything, Nieds. You're only fifteen."

Irritated, she kicked him in the shin.

Merlin made no move to stop her. Normally it was down to him to stop their fights, but today he did not have the energy. Despite what Will had said, Ganieda was right. He felt that maybe they did all know that their time together was finite. Everyone's was, but theirs more so. Their father seemed more acutely aware of it than the rest of them. As happy as he was, Balinor always seemed to know that Uther would come for him again someday. He had always feared it, even if he did not say so out loud.

"What will happen, if he goes with Arthur?" Ganieda asked her brother this time, the fear quaking in her voice reflecting that quaking in Merlin, though he fought to hide it. "Once Kilgarrah is stopped. What will they do to father?"

Merlin did not want to tell her that he didn't know. Despite both of their ages, she expected him to know everything still, as she had always done.

To his irritation, Will answered for him,

"Probably turn on him, like that mad bastard-nutter does and execute him. That's what you get for giving a damn."

"Will," Merlin ground out, though not without sympathy, "not helping."

In response, Will heaved his shoulders and tore a fungus out of the tree beneath him to pull to pieces. "True, though."

"You're a git," Ganieda rested her head on Merlin's shoulder, her brother looping his arm around her, the angle allowing her to side-eye Will hatefully.

He took it in stride, well used to it.

Merlin let their pettiness go, and rested his cheek atop his sister's head. "I don't know what will happen," he told her quietly, "I believe in father, though. He can look after himself."

Silent, Ganieda nodded, well aware. They all knew that, but the knowledge did not stop the worry.

The arrival of Arthur after all this time meant that the shadow of Uther was well and truly over their heads. A terrifying prospect for any family of magic users, born or not. Will had lost so much already – his father had been killed some years past on a routine patrol of the Southern lands. His mother had succumbed to disease not long before whilst visiting her sister in a neighbouring village struck by the sweating sickness. All Will had left was Hunith and Balinor, and what they could share out between him and their own children. Materially he did have his father's house, used primarily as a bedroom by himself and Merlin, and a set of damaged and bloodied chaimnail. The prospect of more loss left him frightened, angry and prematurely bereft, and as always, when frightened, Will took it out on those around him.

They were all afraid. How could they not be? Merlin knew that it was up to him to remain strong. He had to, for his mother, and sister, and also Will. While he may not be the oldest, he was the more emotionally mature. It was what his father would tell him to do, before he left with Arthur. Possibly to never return. As afraid of that as he was, Merlin could not help but be proud of his father. Balinor was a good man, as he well knew, and with his mother, had brought him up to be the same. One must always do what was right, No matter how hard it may be.

They were to leave immediately the following morning. The atmosphere in the small house was tense as they ate, Hunith doing her level best to keep Will and Ganieda as far from Arthur as possible as the looks on their faces spoke of a desire to start an argument.

Merlin remained quiet. He found himself watching Arthur carefully, the Prince oblivious to his attentions while he spoke of Camelot, and gave news of Gaius. And shovelled food into his face. He tried to form an opinion on him, but found it difficult. Merlin knew that he'd a talent for gauging people. He had always been a pretty good judge of character. Arthur defied all of his efforts without even realising it. He seemed such an arrogant prat on the surface, braying and quick to talk about himself, but there were moments when he spoke of his home, and his people that he saw glimpses of a good and strong King in the making. Arthur truly cared for his people. That was plain to see, and it puzzled Merlin deeply.

He had heard tales of Camelot from his father since his childhood. As much as Balinor despised Uther, he had not urged his son to feel the same. Merlin had come to understand that the world was not black and white. Camelot had been a Kingdom of peace and safety for all her people once, and Uther a good and just King. The causes of the purge itself and its aftermath were known to him, and after all was said and done, Merlin would admit that he did not see Uther only as a monster. He pitied the man, and felt sorry for him as well as feared him. People were comprised of layers, he understood that as he tried to fathom Arthur out. The Prince intrigued him while simultaneously irritating him beyond measure. He simply did not know what opinion to hold.

After dinner, when Hunith's efforts finally failed and a shouting match erupted between Will and an incensed Leon, giving Ganieda the chance she had been waiting for to verbally lay into Arthur, Merlin escaped outside to sit on the bench beside the door and cut himself off from the yelling inside. He needed time to think, and work through his ideas and fears in private.

Ganieda had a point. When Balinor had outlived his usefulness, when Kilgarrah was gone, or dead, what would Uther do to him? Sorcerers, warlocks, witches: all were burned or beheaded for their magic. The Dragonlords had all been beheaded, Merlin had learned when he was old enough to understand. It was unlikely that the mad King would allow the last to simply go free. The very thought of his father being executed was utterly unbearable.

It was a selfish thought, one that refused to fade from his mind, but what if his father was killed, and his Dragonlord abilities passed on? Merlin understood well that he may inherit the ancient power one day, he may not. The great responsibilities of the sacred gift were well-known to him. Balinor had trained him well, but he did not yet feel ready to shoulder the mantle of the last Dragonlord.

There was also the dreadful thought that Uther would know of his family and come to Ealdor to see them killed. Balinor had formed a contingency plan for that eventuality, and it was well-known to his wife and children. Should they ever come under threat, they were to go to Merendra, to the cave. They would be safe there until Uther's interest waned, when they could move on. Merlin knew exactly where the cave was. Balinor had taken him, and Ganieda and Will there several times over the years that they would know and be familiar with the route. Though the thought of having to leave Ealdor under threat of Uther's 'justice' was a horrible one.

Chilly in the cool evening air, Merlin shivered and hunched his shoulders into his over-sized tunic. He set a small flame in the palm of his cupped hands with a flash of gold, and breathed a tiny sigh.

It would be strange, he found himself thinking as he gazed at his flame listlessly, to be so far from his father after so long. Since they had met, they had never been far enough apart that they could not reach one another with a silent call, or brush of magic. Even when Balinor hunted away from the village in the woods with the other men, Merlin could still reach him should he feel that he needed to.

His mother called their bond 'deep and profound'. Balinor equated it to their respective need to save and be saved when they had first encountered one another. Maybe it was finally time to grow up? He had been taught to stand on his own two feet through the example set by both of his parents. They were a partnership of two independent people capable of getting things done. Because of that they had raised three children and built a stable, warm home with very little to their names. Rarely could Merlin ever remember wanting for anything. Maybe it was time to step up and be ready to follow in their footsteps? He would have to, should the unthinkable happen.

"Do you mind?"

Merlin looked up, finding Arthur stood beside the bench, looking down at him. It took a moment to register that the Prince wanted to sit down. "Oh. No." He moved over, giving Arthur room on the bench beside him.

They sat silent for a moment, Merlin wondering what the royal prat wanted from him, Arthur rallying his thoughts. After the moment was up, the Prince glanced at Merlin, a curious expression on his face, "don't you want to shout at me as well?"

Merlin cocked an eyebrow, but didn't bother looking at Arthur to know that there was a challenge behind the rather light tone of those words. "Thought about it," he admitted with a shrug, "didn't think it's worth it."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, seeing as you needed my father's help to tame Will, then you'll definitely be needing him to sort out Kilgarrah for you." To his surprise, Merlin found himself slammed bodily with a whack from Arthur's shoulder.

"I did not need help dealing with Will!" The Prince exclaimed in a high-pitched tone of indignance that had Merlin caught between boggling and collapsing in a heap of giggles. "I had the whole thing under control."

"Yup. He was just about to give you back your purse when my father came along."

"Exactly."

"Prat."

Arthur sat forward that he could stare at Merlin in disbelief. "You're an idiot."

"Coming from the prat."

"I think I preferred being shouted at."

"Niedy was going easy on you."

"I think I could withstand being shouted at by a girl."

"Only because her words couldn't get through your thick skull."

"You're calling me thick?"

"Yup."

"You're an idiot."

"Ha."

"And you have magic."

Merlin faltered, his eyes flying wide as they dropped to the flame cupped in his palms. "Oh..."

Arthur looked triumphant, but shrugged one shoulder almost thoughtlessly, "I thought you probably did," he said in a throwaway tone. "Gaius once told me it runs in families."

Merlin gaped. Gaius had told him that? His uncle? The same Gaius who had sent his father to his mother in order to be safe?

To his surprise, Arthur said nothing more on it. Neither did he leap up and draw his sword. The Prince of Camelot merely cupped his own hands and edged them closer to Merlin's.

Unsure, Merlin tilted his, the flame running like shimmering water to sit perfectly happily in Arthur's. If anything, it burned a little brighter.

"It is chilly out here tonight," Arthur remarked, his shoulders relaxing under the warmth from the flame. That Merlin was staring at him like a suffocating fish seemed only to amuse him further. "Something the matter?"

"I-" Merlin tried to form words, but the ability eluded him momentarily as he took in what he was looking at, what exactly was going on in front of him. "You... don't mind?"

"Mind what?"

Merlin shook his head, attempting to shake some sense back into himself. "You don't mind that I have magic?" he added quickly - "not that it's any of your business or anything."

Arthur shrugged a casual shoulder. "You're right. It's not my business."

"Right."

"Right?"

"Well," Merlin waved a hand, agitated, "why aren't you screaming 'Evil! Evil!' and dragging me off to the pyre?"

"Would you like me to?"

"No. Obviously."

"Then?"

"I.. just heard that in Camelot they think sorcerers make good kindling."

The mirth fell from Arthur's expression. He adjusted his position on the bench, grounding his eyes on the flame in his hands with determination not to look at Merlin's questioning face. "That's my father's belief," he said in a flat tone, one that harboured perhaps more than a simple recitation of a fact, "not mine."

Merlin did not say anything, only stared at Arthur with one eye narrowed as though trying to work him out. It unnerved the Prince, "I don't believe that all who practice magic can be evil."

"Really?" The flatness of that indicated far more of a reluctance to believe than the young warlock's face did. Arthur noted it, and remained remarkably composed.

"Really." The eyebrows went up, something in Arthur reminding him that this boy and Gaius were actually related at the sight. Gaius-related eyebrows seemed to have the same effect on him as the real thing, he found with a frown. "I understand that there is evil in the hearts of men," he murmured defensively, uncomfortable the longer Merlin stared at him, "no two people are the same. We all want different things. We all have different means of getting them."

"Clear as mud."

Arthur twisted his mouth, trying to avoid the suddenly overwhelming urge to slap Merlin around the back of his head. "Much has happened in the last year or so," he managed after a moment of incredible self-control, "I have met people, and... learned things that have helped me to understand better that not everything my father says is straightforward. He is a strong King, but... as much as it pains me to admit it, sometimes he is perhaps too quick to act and too slow to listen."

Merlin did not say anything to that. He held his own views on Uther, and they were sympathetic to the man's bereavements, but not so much to his character as the diplomatic description Arthur had given. He was not in the same position as Arthur, however. The Prince probably loved Uther – the man was his father, after all – and it was difficult to recognise the flaws in a loved one. As much as he loved his own father, and knew him to be a normally laid back, quiet man, Merlin recognised Balinor's sometimes far too quick temper, and the troubles that arose from it. Even utterly incomparable to Uther's actions, he did not like to acknowledge that his father was flawed. Arthur appeared to be holding something back, but Merlin chose not to pry.

"What people?" He asked suddenly, almost surprising himself with the abruptness of his question.

Arthur looked at him a moment, searching his face carefully before answering. "People."

"That's not an answer."

"Those who do not wish harm on the Kingdom," he expanded, "who wish only for a peaceful life."

"Druids, then."

Arthur hesitated, miffed at how easily Merlin saw through his proto-lie tissue, but inclined his head. "There are a few camps within Camelot's borders. Every now and again, four or five of us run supplies out to them that they need not come into the city." Merlin was staring at him. It made the Prince uncomfortable. He tossed his head, "they mean Camelot no harm. It's not like I get nothing in return. They offered advice on magic to Mor-those who need it, and they keep giving me these bracelets." He showed Merlin the plaited leather band around his wrist. "I have an entire chest full of them."

"They're friendship bands," Merlin explained, "the children make them to trade at market."

"Really?" Arthur looked at it with perhaps a little disappointment, "I thought they were protective charms. I have the chest near my chamber door that they would work more efficiently."

Merlin shook his head at that. "Clotpole."

"Excuse me?"

No explanation was given. Merlin rolled up his own sleeve to show the almost identical band around his own wrist.

Arthur huffed. "So they give them out willy nilly."

"Thought you were special?"

"A bit." he frowned, and cocked his head at Merlin, "you know Druids as well, then?"

"They pass through now and again," Merlin evaded, "father trades his carvings and Mother takes on hemming projects for them."

Arthur sensed that he was withholding information, inferred that 'pass through' likely translated as 'live nearby and visit frequently', but was gracious enough not to say anything on the subject.

"Leon," Merlin began cautiously, glancing back over his shoulder at the house, "is he one of the 'four or five'?"

Arthur shook his head, feeling perhaps a little guilty. "No. Leon is a good man. I trust him completely, but he is a dedicated Knight, and I fear it would be difficult for him to have his loyalties divided between me and my father. I wouldn't want to put him in that position."

Merlin nodded, understanding. He glanced at his flame, still flickering happily in Arthur's hands where the Prince held it as though it were precious, tiny and fragile like a gosling, and found himself wondering. Now and again as Arthur looked at it, Merlin thought that he detected sadness in his gaze, as though the magic upset him, but also as though it must be protected, kept safe from any who would seek to do it harm. It puzzled him, and made him wonder.

"Do they do much magic around you, then?"

Arthur looked at him. Merlin nodded to his flame, "you said that they helped change your mind."

Arthur hesitated, only to shrug his shoulders thoughtlessly. "There was someone else," he murmured, his expression pinched as though pained, "someone close to me who had magic. She'd known for a while before she told me, and was terrified. Of what would happen to her if she did not learn to control it, of what my father would do. I still remember her face when she told me. She said that she couldn't hide it any longer, that she felt so alone. I really didn't know what to do. We couldn't go to my father, obviously, so we went to Gaius. He admitted that he knew she had magic, that he had always suspected, and that he believed that by keeping her in ignorance, he was keeping her safe." He shook his head, weary, "there have been many lies, Merlin. So many lies that it's become difficult to tell what is false and what is reality. She had dreams about things that had yet to happen."

"A seer?"

"Apparently. There were so many times she told me to change my plans or be careful." He quirked a smile, "she even told me that my idiot servant Morris was going to hurt me. I didn't believe her until he threw a target at me."

"A target?"

"Big, wooden thing-"

"I know what a target is. Why'd he throw it at you?"

"It was during knife practice. He was running with it, must have panicked, and threw it away. I was standing too close. Hit me pretty damn hard. I missed a banquet because of it."

"Poor you."

"Shut up, Merlin."

"What happened to Morris?"

"What do you mean?"

Merlin shifted, uncomfortable, "don't servants get punished for knocking out their masters?"

"He spent the night in the dungeons by order of my father."

"Oh."

"Father allowed him to keep his job. He pushed Lady Helen of Mora out of a window. She tried to kill me as I slept, he caught her and panicked. Again. Turned out she was a witch, so it was alright."

The look on Merlin's face was not encouraging. Arthur remembered himself, and cleared his throat. "Yes. Well."

"What about your friend?" Merlin asked, changing the subject and rather intrigued himself. "What happened to her?" A horrible thought struck him, that may go some way to explain the change in Arthur's views, "did your father...?"

Arthur shook his head hurriedly, though the sadness that had hitherto been no more than a flicker became all too clear. "No. She is... missing. Something happened that put Camelot and her people in danger, and she was... a part of the solution."

Merlin did not ask any more. Arthur was grateful for that. The hurt and the sadness was still there, and he hated that it made him feel so much. How could it not? Morgana had been his sister in all but blood. She had been his lifeline on more than one occasion, and sometimes in the very literal sense. All that he knew about magic, he had learned alongside her, to help her. In the end, they were both manipulated and betrayed. He acknowledged that he had been stumbling about in the dark from the moment Morgana told him that she feared she had magic. Now he felt lost without her.

How exactly Kilgarrah had escaped, he had no idea. Who should have released him as his chain had certainly been cut, the stolen sword of one of Morgause's Knights discarded beside it, he did not know. What he could not doubt was that there had been deception involved. The dragon had lied to and manipulated both himself and Morgana from the moment she introduced him to the damn thing. Now it was destroying the very Kingdom it had pledged that he would make so great and just for all. Sod.

Despite that, he understood. There were those who wanted to see Camelot fall, such as Kilgarrah and Morgause, and the 'Lady Helen', just as there were those who meant no harm, such as Morgana, and the Druids, and Balinor. It was difficult to know who to trust sometimes. Though he believed that he could trust Balinor.

He had heard all about the last Dragonlord from Gaius, had gone to the physician off his own back as he had first suggested Balinor in order to learn all he could about the man he was going to find. Nothing Gaius said gave him reason to distrust Balinor. According to Gaius, he had been an honourable and loyal member of the court before the purge. A Lord, though he had no lands to speak of. Apparently Dragonlords were not the same as conventional Lords, though in the old order, had been considered just as noble. The man he found in this small village in the back of beyond was all that Gaius had said that he would be.

"What will happen to my father," Merlin asked suddenly, drawing Arthur from his reflection, "after he's dealt with Kilgarrah?"

The Prince was silent a moment, staring at the flame in his hands. "He will be free to go."

"Is that the truth?"

"If I have my way."

"And if you don't?"

Arthur regarded Merlin a long moment, reading the all too open expression on the boy's face. Finally, he nodded his head, unable to lay a hand on Merlin's shoulder as he should have liked due to the flame, "I swear to you. No harm will come to your father on Camelot's lands. You have my word, and I will not do anything to break my word." He gave what he hoped was an encouraging smile, "you don't have to be afraid of me."

Merlin snapped up to look at him in incredulity, "afraid? Of you?"

"Well, yes. I am a Prince. You are a serf, after all."

For a long moment, Merlin simply stared at him. Eventually, he shook his head, unable to believe it. "You really are an arrogant prat."

"You can't call me that."

"Oh, yeah?" He couldn't help it, Merlin knew he was off on one as he fell into a full out rant before his words even registered, "What are you going to do about it? Put me in the stocks? Lash me to the whipping tree up in the woods? Oh, wait. You can't. It's Cenred's tree, not yours. I'm guessing he doesn't know you're on his land? Of course he doesn't. That would be an act of war. The accord struck with Essetir – that one that took years to secure – is close to crumbling, isn't it? Trespassing would be the end of it, wouldn't it? Then what would I know? I'm just a simple peasant, aren't I?"

"... I didn't say simple."

"Sorry. Forgive me, Sire. I got it wrong. I'm just a peasant."

Arthur didn't say anything to that. What could he say without chancing sticking the rest of his foot in his mouth? Simple pointing out of facts offended Merlin, so what could he say? Though, it wasn't exactly a fact, was it? Merlin was actually of noble birth. As much as he may appear to be a huskless hayseed, the gangly creature in front of him was in actual fact a Lord. He was certainly as prissy as some of the others Arthur had met. He found himself intrigued by him.

He didn't know Merlin, but the boy was well aware that he was a Prince, yet showed no deference to him. Even Merlin's father was more respectful to him, and the man had good reason to throw him to the dogs, should he have had any.

Merlin was outright rude to him in challenge. That was... new. Morgana had challenged him also, but that was more along the lines of attacking his masculinity, or playing his moral fibres like a well-tuned lute. She manipulated him to do the things she wanted, and he didn't particularly mind, as she was normally right. She had also taken to smirking at him and reminding him that she could defenestrate him with a glance when he was being stubborn. Not that she would, but he had to give her something for teaching him such a brilliant word.

Leon never challenged anything he did beyond offering gentle advice in training. Guinevere had told him he was rude once or twice, but then apologised almost immediately. He hadn't much to do with her really beyond the odd interaction at Morgana's behest, though... perhaps he should like to...

Lancelot was occasionally good-naturedly pushy, usually in his limited capacity as a guard, and Morris tended to do as he was told and look a tad panicked about it. Merlin however, seemed more than happy to speak his mind, and to tell him what was what.

In this instance, that he was a prat, apparently.

Currently he was staring like a petulant housewife, much the way his mother had been staring at Will and Ganieda just prior to his escaping outside. As gentle as the woman seemed, Arthur was in no doubt that she ruled her household with the iron grip of a barbarian Queen. It was a look that could cow an army, let alone a husband and three teenaged children.

Far from angering Arthur, as his behaviour ought, Arthur found himself strangely receptive to it, and wanting to fight back.

Perhaps he shouldn't have bothered trying to reassure Merlin? He heaved a sigh, not really sure why he cared about reassuring the fool of anything. Balinor had already agreed to accompany him and Leon back to Camelot. What Merlin thought of the situation really didn't matter. Yet, here Arthur was, sat outside with him, when he was perfectly welcome at Balinor's table inside. From the moment he had set eyes on Merlin hunched over a bucket at the well, Arthur had felt drawn to him. There was something about the lanky idiot. What, he couldn't put his finger on.

Something twanged at the back of his mind – something that Aglain had said about coins and prophecies the last time he, Lancelot and Morris had run supplies out to the camp. It couldn't have been too important, or else he'd have remembered it. He vaguely recalled being talked at while watching Mordred make bird calls, but that was about it. Maybe he should have listened more closely?

Strangely disturbed, he passed the flame back into Merlin's hands, and folded his arms across his knees, watching it be shaped into different creatures as Merlin played with it thoughtlessly.

...It really couldn't have been important, or he would have remembered it, surely?

"Well," he made to stand, slapping his hands down on his thighs. "Like I said, you have my word."

"I know. I appreciate it, but it's not you I'm afraid of."

Of course. Arthur understood. He could give as many assurances as he wanted, but in the end, it was not what he decided that would count. He was not the King, after all.

He did not say anything on the subject, but quietly he resolved. He may not be able to predict exactly what his father would do, but he swore to himself silently, as well as to Merlin, that he would see Balinor safely home to his family, and whatever provision would be necessary to ensure the continued safety of them all. In gratitude, of course.

He offered Merlin a nod, and went back inside the house, intent on finishing his dinner. As... delicious as it was.

Merlin watched him go, feeling conflicted.

He really didn't know what to make of any of that. Arthur was not what he seemed. Not completely. He'd heard much over the years about Uther, but nothing about Arthur beyond his existence. Certainly not that he was a smuggling baron, running a ring right under his father's nose.

Normally he would be disinclined to believe it, or that he had a seer at his disposal, but his reaction to magic was very much that of one accustomed to it, even if not wholly comfortable with it. Merlin sensed no insincerity from him, which was annoying as he so wanted to dislike Arthur.

He huffed, confused, and focused on the flame in his hands. "Upastige draca.*"

The flickering tongue of flame rose from his palm, shaped itself into a dragon, flapped its wings, and dissipated into the air. He watched the space it had occupied a moment, finding himself captivated by the idea of a dragon, when he became aware of a warm, familiar and very safe presence behind him. One that his magic still instinctively reached for.

He was unsurprised when his father sat down beside him on the bench, their shoulders bumping together in greeting. Neither of them spoke for what seemed a long moment. Instead, Merlin sighed and leant into his father's side, Balinor's arm circling him that he ended up resting his head against his father's chest. There had been a time when he was small, that his father's arms, or his mother's arms, or both were his very favourite places to be. Rarely did he seek comfort from them nowadays, but tonight he felt that he needed to. Just as he knew that Balinor needed to give it.

"What do you think of Arthur?" Balinor asked, his voice vibrating through his ribs in that way that always made Merlin feel safe and nostalgic.

"Cabbage head."

It surprised him, when his father did not laugh. Instead he felt a shift as Balinor looked down.

"Anything else?"

Merlin shrugged a shoulder. "He is a cabbage head, but a good person. I think."

"Hm." That seemed more pleasing to Balinor. "He's been reaching out to people with magic."

"He said."

"Iseldir told me a while ago. Do you know why?"

"Because he's a guilty cabbage head?" Even as he said it, Merlin knew that he did not believe it himself. Not really.

His father rubbed his arm affectionately, but did not say anything more on the subject of Arthur, or mention his boy's cuddly mood. A sure sign of unrest in his son. He remained uneasy, and drew a breath instead, looking up at the darkening sky. When he did speak, it was a low murmur, and not what Merlin expected to hear.

"I've tried. Gods know I have tried, but it seems there's no hiding from it any longer."

Unsure, Merlin looked up at his father, finding him with an unusually pensive expression. "Hiding from what? What is it?"

Balinor blinked, unwilling to look his son in the eye, something that made Merlin exceedingly nervous. The Dragonlord shook his head. "Fate and destiny are cruel masters, son. They make us dance to the tune they have set for us, however much we may try and change them for the ones we love. Your mother and I have made a decision."

"Decision?"

Balinor nodded, and turned his gaze up on the sky once more. "You're coming with me to Camelot tomorrow."

Merlin sat up at that, a frown on his face, "but what about mother and Ganieda? If you-you don't-"

"William can look after things here for a while," Balinor assured him, straight faced. "He is perfectly capable, when he gets his head out the clouds, and knows the plan should Camelot Knights come. They will be alright."

"And Uther?" Merlin pressed, "what will he do to us?"

"You'll be fine, boy." The lack of 'we'll' did not go beneath Merlin's notice. "It is important that you be there, when I face Kilgarrah." With a warm smile, Balinor laid his hand on Merlin's shoulder, pride clear in his voice as he told him "I have no doubt that you will be a Dragonlord one day. I want you to know what it is to face a dragon, as does your mother. It is a part of you that you must know. With only one dragon remaining, this may be the only chance you have."

Merlin searched his father's face a moment, seeing the sincerity, the whole-hearted belief there, but also a shadow. If he didn't know better, he would say that it was perhaps regret. He nodded, "I understand, father."

And he did. It was something he wanted wholeheartedly, to engage with that part of himself he had been trained so diligently to observe. This may well be the only chance he got to face a dragon, and he did not want to pass it up.

Pleased, Balinor ruffled his hair, gazing at him with what his mother termed his 'soppy' look. "You're a good boy, Merlin. I'm proud of you."

"Thank you, father."

Balinor's smile became soft, the slight shake of his head nothing if not emotional. "When did it stop being 'da'?"

Chuckling, Merlin shrugged.

On one level, he could not be more exited about going to Camelot on the morrow. As frightening as the prospect was, he knew that the excitement rose from the chance to finally see the place for himself after hearing so many tales of the city, and that finally, he would get to meet a dragon. The idea left him almost breathless with excitement, something that his father picked up on, and chuckled about.

To finally meet Kilgarrah... It was something that stayed with Merlin throughout the evening, that kept him from sleep far longer than Arthur's and Sir Leon's snores, and the hushed conversation between an escaped Ganieda and Will through the window. Eventually, however, he managed to drift off to sleep, alternating between anxiety and anticipation for what may come tomorrow.

As the small party of four rode out the following morning, Hunith stood with her daughter and adopted son on the path, waving their goodbyes and swallowing their anxieties as the horses moved out of sight beyond the trees at the top of the beech field.

- "What sort of a name is Mud?!"

"He's brown! What sort of a name is Spumador?"

"A perfectly fine name for a great war horse!"

"It sounds like snot and spit. Like he's got a horrible disease and can't stop foaming."

"It does not! At least he's alive. Which is more than I can say for that sack of bones."

"Mud's old. He's been my pony since I was little."

"Horse, Merlin. Only little girls have ponies." -

Even then, she knew in her heart that only one would return. For all their hiding him from it, destiny had finally caught up with her baby, now a young man, and his life would never be the same.

- "It can barely stand. Are you sure it can make it to Camelot?"

"He'll be fine! There's nothing wrong with him."

"Most people bury an animal once its dead. They don't ride it halfway across the countryside."

"That's really mean. Don't listen, Mud."

"Oh, now you're talking to it like it's people?"

"He is people. Got a better personality that you."

"Oh great. I'm less agreeable than a dead animal."

"He's not dead!" -

As the Druids had told her beloved and herself so many times, there were two sides to every coin. Emrys' path had crossed with that of the Once and Future King. The golden age of Albion was on its way at long last.

- "You know I'll have to have Morris bury it when we get to Camelot. It'll attract crows."

"Charming."

"There's nothing charming about a horde of crows, Merlin. Loud and messy, and eat everything in sight."

"Just as charming as you, then."

"Pardon?"

"There wasn't any cake left for anyone else this morning, was there?"

"Are you calling me fat?"

"If the belt fits."

"I am not fat!"

"You're a dollophead."

"That's not even a word." -

Even as she feared for her son, that thought brought her greater comfort than she would have imagined.

- "'Tis."

"Alright. Describe 'dollophead'."

"In two words?"

"Yeah."

"Prince Arthur."

"Right!-"

"Ow!"

"Sire!"

"Merlin!"

"Oof!"

"... Pair of bloody idgets." -

She forced a smile, watching the two figures fallen from their horses wrestling in the long grass just beyond the trees. Yes, her Merlin had found the second side of his coin, and now his destiny could truly begin.

Fullgearwe

*Upastige draca – Dragon, rise.

AN: And there we have it. Thank you all so much for staying with this, and all the wonderful feedback and reviews you gave, and all who followed and favourited. Especially to Patiku, DwaejiTokki, Kas3y, The Hope Lions and Drag0nst0rm. You guys have been amazing and been the suppliers of lovely conversations over the past couple of weeks. Thank you again! For one of the stupid little stories I wrote just for the sake of writing and my own enjoyment, the response to this has been more than I ever thought it would be. Really glad I published it now, seeing as so many enjoyed it. I hope you all enjoyed this novel-length epilogue. Also that it answered some questions, as well as posed some more. The idea that outside forces will intervene to set destiny right is one I love toying with, and I wanted to try an open to magic Arthur as he was heading that way so nicely at the beginning :( One who still needs Merlin, though, as he's got a long way to go in himself, and a lot to learn about magic.

It's not the end for this little world. There will be some bonus chapters going up as and when, now that I'm back at work. They'll be stepping back a bit, and not continuing on from here though. Some questions may be answered in the bonus chapters, or they may not. What happens from here on in this world is entirely up to you and what you choose to believe. X