So many paths that wind and wind…
Disclaimer: Merlin and its characters belong to the BBC.
A/N: So very sorry that this chapter took this long - we can't even lie and say we were making it perfect (it was brilliant in the first draft itself...haha). School has been keeping us busy, as is the belief that our story is actually how season 3 should have unfolded. We'd love to know if you too agree (hint: review!) and whether you too spend hours deliberating over Morgana suddenly becoming pure evil. Not that we do that. Spend hours, that is...(more like days :P).
Many of you expressed your desire to have Arthur shape up - so we hope this chapter pleases you...or as Morgause would say, leave us a review and we'll "prepare you a feast you shall never forget!". By feast, we mean feast of words of course. What were YOU thinking?
Chapter 13
"It makes no difference how deeply seated may be the trouble, how hopeless the outlook how muddled the tangle, how great the mistake. A sufficient realization of love will dissolve it all."
~ Emmet Fox
"Never mind searching for who you are. Search for the person you aspire to be."
~ Robert Brault
Mary sifted through the flour, her sleeves rolled up and her hair tied back with a cloth. She had been waiting to bring this up for days and finally in the secrecy of her hut, she gathered her courage.
Her friend, Cara, had come in to borrow sugar and was searching through her pantry.
Mary cleared her throat. "Cara, has your husband Jonathan heard any news from the city?"
Cara turned to face Mary. "Strange that you ask! He did actually…" She lowered her voice. "But he cautioned me to not speak of these matters to anyone…"
They heard some noises outside and both looked up in fear. Morgause's men had been coming and going from their village of Clopton as they pleased, looting and harassing the villagers.
Mary spoke again when she noticed that it was only Simon the milkman walking by the hut. "Are we talking about the same thing…?"
Both paused, looked at each other and said at the same time. "The sword in the stone -" …
… "– who put it there? And who do you think it's for?" the farmer muttered to his son as he fiercely pulled out the weeds growing among his crops.
Marvin lounged under a tree as he replied, "If it is for anybody, maybe I should journey to Camelot and try to pull it out!"
His father stomped over and smacked the back of Marvin's head. "You aren't even fit to harvest these crops! And besides there are -" …
… "– guards everywhere! I passed by the courtyard and there are three stationed around the stone," Doris whispered to her new lover over their few scraps of dinner.
The lower town of Camelot was now like a prison. They were watched at every step and sometimes Doris didn't even feel safe in her own home.
"Do you know…sometimes I have thought of poisoning the witch's food," she exclaimed bravely.
Doris worked in the palace kitchens, and she was one of the fortunate few that had managed to retain her job. However, she failed to mention to her companion how her knees quaked every time she was in Morgause's presence; nonetheless, her lover seemed impressed at her words.
And so, she kept going, reaching across the table and stroking Rowan's beard. "We are treated like dirt now! We weren't treated this badly even when Uther was King."
"I know," he said soothingly. "But what can we do? All we can do is hope that our children see a better future," he said suggestively. Seeing that his hint was lost upon Doris, he continued. "And in the meantime, at least not all the magicians are bad. I have heard of some who give out extra rations to the elderly and young."
Rowan put down his spoon and reached for Doris' other hand. "I don't want to be treated specially. But I just want us all to be treated as human beings – magic or no magic."
Early in the morning, the frost glistened on the grass beneath Merlin's feet in the Forest of Shirlett. This forest separated the city from the Plains of Camlann and it was barely a half-hour ride from Camelot.
Merlin fidgeted around agitatedly, trying to keep himself warm as he concentrated on the dragon.
Kilgharrah.
There was silence around Merlin but leagues away, his voice boomed inside the ancient dragon's head.
The reply came back faster than Merlin expected.
What do you ask of me, young Dragonlord?
What the hell is taking Arthur so long? Merlin directed every bit of his restlessness into his question. I have given him more than enough time!
The dragon could sense Merlin's frustration. Patience, patience young warlock. The future king needs to conquer his own insecurities and forge a place in people's hearts before ascending the throne. It is too early yet…
It has been two weeks since I put the sword in the stone! Geoffrey has died because of my single-mindedness and the commoners are all but trampled to dust under Morgause's heel. Even as he silently communicated these words to the dragon, the tension was visible in Merlin's face.
He had had difficulty escaping from the watchful eyes in Camelot just to find a moment with the dragon and now, Kilgharrah was telling him that Arthur needed more time. Merlin hated to think of all those who would suffer for every day that Arthur delayed.
Arthur has suffered a tremendous shock – it has changed his whole perspective. You have had years to know and accept your destiny…Arthur needs time to do the same. The dragon was barely one mile from where the Prince's camp stood and he knew it would not be long before Arthur was ready…
The dragon's voice calmed Merlin's restlessness slightly…for now. Even these few minutes communicating with Kilgharrah, who was close to Arthur, made Merlin feel like the earth beneath him was solid again. However, he knew that when he returned to Camelot he would feel just as isolated as before. Merlin had been unable to communicate with the dragon in the past few weeks because he hadn't found an opportunity to leave the city boundaries. So far, fortunately, Morgause had given no indication of attempting to seek out Arthur herself. Still, as a precautionary measure, he had kept the barriers up around the city of Camelot – this time, however, to protect Arthur from Morgause's malicious eyes. The thought of returning to Camelot where once again he would be friendless and alone saddened the young warlock.
But, a possibility struck him and even before he communicated this thought to the Great Dragon, Merlin felt his spirits rise. Maybe I have no business being in Camelot anymore. I should journey at once to talk to Arthur. Perhaps I can…
No, Kilgharrah interrupted quickly. You must do no such thing. The dragon now spoke imperiously. Let things take their course. Arthur should not be dragged to his destiny by you or anyone else…it is imperative that he should want to meet his fate knowing he is worthy of it.
Merlin sighed with resignation and shrugged his shoulders. I understand what you are trying to say. I want more than anything that Arthur should realize his significance himself. I only hope it doesn't take much longer because I am afraid he won't have any subjects left when he finally is ready…
Kilgharrah understood Merlin's urgency. He had continued to watch Arthur struggle in the past months, waiting for the Prince to rise to the occasion on his own. Kilgharrah's foresight had told him that Arthur would not sit idly by for long now, but Merlin's words reminded the powerful dragon that he may have to intervene.
Although dragging would certainly not be appropriate, perhaps it was time for a small push in the right direction…
Morgana sat alone in her usual spot, to the right of the ruler's seat, absently picking at her full plate. She had now become used to having her meals alone because Morgause was more than often occupied with state affairs.
To Morgana's astonishment, however, the doors to the dining hall slowly swung open.
Morgause briskly strode into the hall in her full regal splendor and nodded to the guards to close the door. She walked in the direction of her seat, but seeing that Morgana made no move to greet her, she paused at her sister's side and placing her hand on Morgana's shoulder, she kissed her forehead.
"Is everything alright, Morgana?" Morgause asked out of habit.
Morgana glanced at her sister rather coldly. Her voice was sullen as she replied, "I haven't seen you for days, Morgause."
Morgause went to her seat and sat down, smoothing her dress. One of the servant girls stumbled forward to pour wine for the queen. Morgause picked up her fork responding, "I've been busy, Morgana," she said indulgingly. "But I will try to have meals with you more often."
"It's not about the meals, sister," Morgana retorted, dropping her fork and now openly glaring at her sister. Words that she had been thinking poured out of her mouth in a torrent. "I feel like a stranger in my own home! You haven't involved me in the kingdom's affairs at all…you keep sending me on these useless excursions with this magician or that, forcing me to show them around the land when any country peasant could do it!"
Morgana took a deep breath to resume her tirade but her sister interrupted her. "Oh Morgana…I had no idea you felt this way. I thought you enjoyed leaving the castle and seeing the countryside. The magicians I talked to certainly found your company agreeable." The Queen gave a small smirk and began to cut her meat.
Morgana looked at her sister in disbelief. "Morgause! How can you make light of this? I'm not just a puppet that you can use to boost the morale of your magicians and keep busy with work of no consequence. I have been raised at court - I have been educated in this castle, I know this kingdom…Why do you not care to seek my opinion about anything? It's almost as if…as if I am of no value here. I might as well be a farmer in an outlying village and nobody would notice the difference!"
Morgause suppressed a grin imagining Morgana trying to plough the fields in her fine dress. She rolled at her eyes at her sister's passionate outburst, but remained silent sensing that her younger sister had more to say.
"And why not at least tell me about the burdens you carry…I see it has been taking its toll on you because you don't have time for proper meals and you remain shut up in the council chambers all day…all I want do to is help!" Morgana's cheeks were turning pink in frustration, but she resolutely kept going. "You said over the past year that we would pass every hurdle together, but I feel like you've left me and gone somewhere…and I do not know how to follow!"
Tears glistened in Morgana's eyes. She knew she was being overly dramatic but she didn't know how else to express her feelings, her isolation.
However, for once, her sister did not understand what Morgana's problem was. "What do you want me to do? You have everything you wished for. When I first met you, your biggest concern was Uther and fear for your life because of your magic. Now he is gone and you are free to express your truest nature as you please. You have a comfortable bed to sleep in, food on the table, servants to do your bidding and you have me to love you…" She laughed out loud dismissively, shaking her head at her sister's childish behaviour and added, "I think perhaps you should eat some more so that your mind can think clearly."
Morgana's eyes burned with outrage at Morgause's neglectful words. She raised her voice. "Morgause, I know you are not being honest with me. Even though you have suffocated me with bodyguards everywhere I go – I have heard the whispers."
At this statement, the seasoned witch looked up sharply. Just how much had Morgana heard? Morgause wondered, for she had gone to great lengths to keep Morgana out of state business. She knew that her sister still held on to great ideals – ideals of magic and non-magical folks thriving equally…in a way that could never be - not after how those without magic had tortured and pillaged followers of the Old Religion during the time of the Great Purge. Morgause did not want Morgana to be at odds with her and though she wished that her younger sister would one day see her viewpoint, she knew for now that it was best to keep her blissfully ignorant.
Morgana's next words worried the new Queen even further. "I know of farmers, who, having no crop for their families, come to petition for aid in Camelot…and yet, I have seen them go away empty-handed. Did you even listen to their pleas? I have heard that disease is rampant in the lower town because of poor water supply. Have you sent healers there, Morgause? Have you truly heard the voices crying out for help in this land? Or, have you done nothing but sit on your throne…and surround yourself with your posse!"
Morgause dismissed the servants, who were holding full platters in their shaking hands, with a furious wave. "That is enough, Morgana," she spat. Her anger subsided though, when she saw Morgana's shocked expression, which reminded her that Morgana did not know; she had not been old enough to remember the atrocities that these very commoners witnessed – the massacre of magicians that they just stood by and watched.
In a more controlled tone, she struck back, "How dare you think I'm doing nothing of importance? Can't you see how in this short time I have returned magic to its full glory? Did you think it would be possible without the cooperation of the common folk? Yes, perhaps they are suffering a little now. But we have suffered for over twenty years – don't tell me you have forgotten that. Don't you think that a little pain on their part is not too big a price to pay for the future of magic?" Her voice was low and cautionary - she wanted Morgana to abandon her high horse and open her eyes.
"What do you mean by that?"
"Nothing great can be achieved without some loss. I know that some don't have enough food but think of all the magicians here that need to be fed…and I, as their Queen, will ensure they are well cared for," Morgause said firmly, crossing her arms.
Morgana was appalled that her sister had actually been an active participant in the misfortunate of the commoners...and what was more, Morgause's unconcerned manner disturbed her even more. Morgana was slowly beginning to suspect that there were more things that Morgause was hiding from her and that her daily trips to various townships were just as much for the Queen's convenience as for Morgana's amusement.
"But you are also the Queen of those from whom you are taking," Morgana appealed. "The harsher you are, the more people will believe in stories such as that of the sword in the stone. And Geoffrey's mysterious death has done nothing to squash the rumours…"
Morgana still hadn't heard that Morgause's cold-blooded hands had been the cause of Geoffrey's death.
"I do not want to hear anything about that damned sword!" Morgana's words had struck a chord and her sister's patience had run its course. She sat up straighter. "I am first and foremost the Queen of magic and I cannot see why you do not appreciate the kingdom that you helped to create. You speak of suffering as though you have known it but the truth is that I have seen much more than you." In her mind's eye, Morgause could still see the fires that consumed the Isle of the Blessed. But Morgana's innocent and unmarred face contrasted sharply with the devastating image in her head. "You are nothing more than a child, Morgana. You don't know what it takes to be Queen."
Morgana gripped the table tightly for the words that Morgause had just spoken reminded her of the dead king who lay outside the city. For the first time, it dawned on her that Morgause's demeanor marked her as the daughter of Uther Pendragon. She instinctively pushed her chair away from the table.
Morgause continued relentlessly. "I was able to take care of you in this past year but now I no longer have the time. And you complain that I am overprotective of you…you still haven't proven to me that you can look after yourself at all. Every step you take forward requires people behind you to make sure you don't fall!" Morgana needed to be taught a lesson and this time, Morgause wasn't backing down. "Don't pretend you've lead anything but a sheltered life before I came along and it is no different now. I don't care what you do as long as you respect me and do not question me in front of my people. You feel for those starving people? Then give your food to them! But don't come to me later complaining that you're hungry."
Morgana sat stunned. Morgause was chastising her as if she was a toddler. She stood up abruptly and threw her napkin on the table. "Don't think I won't!" she rebelliously countered.
She stomped towards the door, tripping slightly over her train, feeling more and more like a young child.
"This time…just don't get yourself poisoned by someone you trust blindly. You will do well to remember that I am your only well-wisher," Morgause called, her tone almost casual as Morgana slammed the door shut behind her.
Morgana paused outside the door realizing that she really had nowhere else to turn. Morgause had spoken the truth on some level…and as much as she disagreed with her sister on principle, she was obliged to her for not only saving her life, but showing her who she really was.
How had it happened that the once beloved King's ward now only had one well-wisher…?
Dusk was creeping over Camelot as the Lady Morgana stood at the stained glass window overlooking the courtyard.
Snowflakes fell lightly from the heavens covering the cobblestones with a delicate, white blanket.
Pulling their black luxurious fur coats closer, magicians bustled around the courtyard eager to get inside. However much they pretended not see it, they were forced to acknowledge the large obstruction in the middle of the courtyard as they made their way around it. The sword in the stone negated their very presence with every atom of its existence.
Normally during winter, the fires lit by the guards would flicker out, but today, the courtyard was warmed by floating orbs of light. The scene was picturesque - like something out of a book that Gorlois had read to Morgana as a child.
Morgana stood silently for a few minutes, trying to ignore the pangs she felt in her stomach, which kept reminding her of her uneaten lunch. On a matter of principle she refused to go to dinner and face her sister with whom she had quarreled in the afternoon.
All of a sudden, there was a disturbance she spotted from her vantage point. She threw open the window and the ice cold air blasted her face as she leaned out to hear the cause of the commotion.
Three guards dragged a man in chains against his will – it was a man dressed very much like the rest of the sorcerers. Behind them followed another guard marching a woman and young child, also in chains, but they came without resistance. The child seemed frail and was crying pitifully as his mother tried to hush him, but her face betrayed her own fear. Morgana could tell from their tattered attire and thin faces that mother and child were from the lower town.
Then, Morgana did something that she hadn't done in a while. She delved into another's mind. Probing into the young woman's past, she searched for the reason of their arrest. She saw visions of the chained magician laughing and handing the young boy some sweets…but when she tried to See their future – there was nothing, just blackness and death. Morgana gave a shudder…
The wanderers in the courtyard had stopped in their tracks and watched the captured magician struggle and shout with mild interest, as if this scene was not an uncommon one.
"If you're not one of us…then you can snivel like the rest of them," leered a guard to the prisoner.
The man in chains finally stopped resisting and declared loudly so Morgana had no trouble hearing his words. "Is it wrong to feed hungry mouths? If it is…then I accept Queen Morgause's punishment. But spare them…" Though his voice sounded confident, his eyes gave him away, slipping a look of love and protectiveness to the woman and her sobbing child.
Morgana slammed the window shut, not wanting to hear anymore, but she watched as the guards ignored the man's pleas and dragged him along with the peasants into the door leading to the dungeons.
Within moments, the courtyard was back to how it had been except now, in Morgana's eyes, the fairy lights held a sinister glow.
She turned her head away in sadness of what she had witnessed. Morgana jumped upon seeing a shadow behind her, and realized that she had not been alone.
Only a few paces from her stood Nilrhoem, the magician who always seemed to catch her off guard. He made a move as if to walk onwards, but the sorrow in her eyes reflected in his and held him there.
Nilrhoem was a highly regarded magician now in Morgause's eyes and Morgana was well aware of this as she turned back to the window and spoke bitterly, "You must be so proud of your men who tear apart families and deny the poor from the plenty we have…"
His voice was barely audible. "It was your sister's men…not mine."
Morgana faced the young man sharply but a few seconds later, she replied in a soft tone. "I wish that were not true, but…" Sighing, she returned her gaze blankly to the courtyard.
Nilrhoem strode forward till he was level with her and he, too, followed her gaze out the window.
Still staring ahead, she whispered, "I didn't want to believe that this was happening. I thought things would be better once he was gone."
Merlin knew instinctively that she was referring to Uther, but when Nilrhoem answered to Morgana, he tried to appear nonchalant. "Things are better in some ways…magic is no longer a crime. People can practice without fear of persecution – that is no small feat."
"Yet, things are worse. Arthur is dead…and my dearest friend has disappeared. I know my sister means well…" Morgana corrected herself, "…I mean, at least to the magicians, she means well. But the others are suffering. You just saw what I saw and I cannot bear it. I don't even fit into this climate. You are all magicians and I am a Seer. My power is useless against your mental barriers…not that I would wish to pry," she clarified. "I just feel useless – I didn't fit in before as Uther's ward and I belong even less as the Queen's sister."
Nilrhoem remained quiet, surprised at her forthcoming and Morgana continued, not knowing what possessed her. "And how can I openly disregard her wishes? Morgause has loved me, taught me magic, given me life again…" It felt as though she was confiding in an old friend. She was comforted because something within her told her that she could trust Nilrhoem, that he wasn't like the rest of the magicians.
Her words reverberated in Merlin's head: "...given me life again…" He had relived the guilt of poisoning her a thousand times over, but each time, it struck him as painfully as the first. However, he knew that he had cut the bonds of their friendship long before he had given her the hemlock…he had helped her discover that she had magic from the Druids and then, he had abandoned her to face the unknown, new world alone. No wonder she had turned blindly to Morgause…
But here, once again, he was drinking from the same cup. He was rebuilding their ties, but this time as an impostor...and he wanted to end this before he violated her trust again.
Seeing that she was waiting for his response, Nilrhoem spoke abruptly, "It's not in my place to say anything…"
He tried to edge away stiffly, but she looked at him, eyes full and lips trembling with vulnerability. "I cannot command you to tell me what you think, but you don't seem like the rest of them. That poor man…he tried to help and look what happened. I feel so helpless, I can't do anything!"
"You can always do something," Nilrhoem muttered, now looking at her with an inscrutable expression.
"It's not that easy. It will hurt me to betray her openly…also, there are others I have dragged into this. Mordred…he is the one who sent you here. He does not know what he has helped create and I don't want to leave him in this. He's still so young…"
Mordred. There was someone Merlin hadn't thought of in a while. The numerous warnings of Kilgharrah began to flash in his mind.
The ancient prophecies speak of an alliance between Mordred and Morgana, united in evil.
Was she still the enemy, even though she spoke as a friend? And as for his half-brother… Merlin hadn't seen him, but the way the other magicians spoke of him riled him a little. Within such a short period of time, Mordred had gained a tremendous reputation and Merlin was stuck, still playing the role of a servant – now maybe a middling magician at best.
"You must worry about yourself first. Sir Mordred can take care of himself…" Nilrhoem said with distaste that went undetected by Morgana.
They stood in silence for some time but the seriousness of the moment was broken by a loud rumble from Morgana's stomach.
Nilrhoem couldn't help himself and he let out a low chuckle.
Morgana stated rather defensively, "I told Morgause I would not eat…and so, I refuse to go to the dining hall."
"Starving yourself is not going to feed the commoners, Morgana." He used her first name without thinking - for the first time since Morgause's reign began, he felt less alone within the stone walls of Camelot.
This was because Merlin did appreciate her sentiments perfectly. He himself smuggled three-quarters of his meals to the lower town everyday…but, he also knew that he too had to eat, if only to live another day to provide another portion of his meal to the poor.
She reluctantly smiled at him. "I know that…I think I was a little hasty in my outburst."
"I will bring you some food to your chambers, my lady," Nilrhoem said, his voice warm and kind.
Merlin had all but forgotten his resolve to dissociate from her and he was now grinning broadly, allowing himself to be drawn in by her familiarity. He gave a small nod and turned toward the kitchens, neglecting his other duties, but she grabbed his sleeve, holding him back.
"I will help them in whatever way I can. These people - all of them - are my people. And when I think of it like that, though it is hard, I don't feel so alone here. Do you understand?"
Nilrhoem took his free hand and put it on hers. "Better than anyone."
This moment, his presence, his words, his warmth – they all felt like she had been here before. Like she had unknowingly lost something in a previous life and was discovering it again while wondering how she had ever lived without it.
The slope of the tent was becoming annoyingly familiar. Arthur Pendragon had never felt so lethargic. The Prince who once used to bully his men in training at the crack of dawn was currently lying flat on his back in the middle of the day, tossing from side to side restlessly.
He groaned in misery. How he had managed to spend so much time in this confined space was a mystery to him…he had always been so active and energetic. And now he was reduced to a lazy slob, who did nothing but eat, sleep and eat more…
Arthur raised himself on his elbows and looked down at his abdomen. He was definitely no longer fighting fit…he almost laughed, imagining the expression on Merlin's face and then scowled immediately. How could he laugh when his life was presently so filled with horrors - his father's murder by Morgana, and that too, in a scheme planned by his half-sister who now occupied the throne of Camelot! He scolded himself for feeling less mournful about the whole situation.
The heaviness in his chest from these painful memories had been lightening over the past weeks, but he had fought to keep them and the accompanying sentiments alive in his head. He had no good reason as to why he continued to torment himself…truly, the only heaviness that now remained was the fact that he hadn't seen Gwen since Gawain's death and that his men had not uttered a single word to him.
Suddenly, he rose uneasily to his feet. Perhaps he was growing soft in his tent yearning for the presence of others - a walk in the cold would harden his resolve and remind him why it was best for everyone that he remained in his solitude.
He crawled clumsily under the back of the tent so as to avoid the men he knew would be sitting around the fire at the front end. Once outside, Arthur ducked his head and swiftly ran into the thicket.
Without turning back, he continued to run through the trees, occasionally jumping over fallen logs and protruding branches. His boots met the snow with a crunch at every step and the chilly air made his eyes water. He only managed to run a short distance into the forest before he began to pant with exertion. He paused and stooped over, hands on his legs, breathing heavily. His breath formed clouds of fog in front of him and he began to shiver…he had not remembered to bring his cloak.
Out of the blue, the air whooshed above him. He looked up but there was nothing there except the overarching branches of the trees. Frowning, he walked onwards slowly, making his way through the forest until he came upon a clearing…
"AHHHHHH!" he screamed at the sight that met his eyes...
He turned and bolted, only to run into the beast's gleaming eyes again at the other end of the clearing. Panicking, he stumbled backwards, reaching for his sword, which wasn't there since he had not retrieved it after the night with the bandits.
His eyes were fixated on the mythical creature, and not watching where he was going, he tripped over a large branch and fell with a thud on his backside.
The dragon loomed over him and the creature's face almost seemed to be contorted into a smile that to Arthur appeared to be the look of a predator that had cornered its' prey.
Except Kilgharrah was only expressing mild interest and amusement at the mere mortal prince…
Years of experience had taught the Great Dragon that this was one conversation that he would have to begin. "At least, you still have the will to fight for your life, Arthur Pendragon."
Upon hearing the dragon's voice, Arthur shook his head as though he was hearing things. "You can talk…." he squeaked in a most undignified manner.
"I can do more than talk. I am the Great Dragon that Uther Pendragon imprisoned for twenty years beneath Camelot. I have seen many eons come and go, but it is your era I have been anticipating..."
The dragon studied the miniscule being shivering in a mixture of cold and fright, still on his back.
Upon hearing Uther's name, his son clambered to his feet and began to speak spontaneously. "How dare you speak of my father! And I remember you…you destroyed my city, my people…and I will not give you the satisfaction of killing me as I lie helpless."
Arthur tried to straighten his stiff back and stand proudly, which required quite a lot of effort, but the dragon only continued to stare at him.
After a lengthy and uncomfortable pause during which the dragon made no move to harm him, Arthur announced, "Stop me if you wish, but I will have nothing to do with you." He turned on his heel and stomped away.
Before he had taken two steps, he knew that he was not walking alone. The ground trembled behind him as the dragon lumbered through the forest, following his charge.
Arthur began to feel as if he was in a very strange dream…
Why, in this dream, was this dragon following his every step? To throw the dragon off his scent, he walked around a tree hastily and crawled through a thorny hedge of bushes, but when he emerged, dirty and scratched up on the other side, the dragon was already there.
The dragon yawned loudly, exposing his fangs and before Arthur could move, he was suddenly in the air, held in one of Kilgharrah's claws. He struggled futilely against the iron grip until he was lowered down firmly onto a log in a sitting position. The dragon opened his jaws wide and Arthur shrunk back, but the flames that came out of the dragon's mouth only lit up a few logs at Arthur's feet.
The fire crackled merrily and in an instant, warmth seeped into Arthur's bones. He looked up with less hostility at the ancient being and the dragon grasped the opportunity to speak again. "The last time we met, I was consumed by revenge… I hope that in the weeks to come, I will be able to amend those wrongs…" Kilgharrah bowed his head, rather abashed.
"I dealt you a mortal wound…" Arthur said disbelievingly. He was talking a dragon – a dragon!
The dragon snorted, steam coming from his nostrils. "You did no such thing. As brave as you are, it was Merlin who banished me."
"Merlin banished you?" Arthur blurted before he remembered that Merlin had magic. So this was just another of his victories that Merlin had been responsible for…but this time he found that it didn't bother him. Maybe it was because he had fallen as low as a man could possibly fall and his ego no longer craved for superiority in battle…
The dragon settled comfortably, tucking his wings to each side. "Yes, Merlin has the power of the Dragonlords. He is a Dragonlord like his father before him…"
"Do you mean to say that man we searched for to help us defeat you…" Arthur paused and looked at the dragon, feeling awkward, but the Kilgharrah only bared his teeth innocently…so he continued. "…he was Merlin's father?" He stared up at the dragon's amber eyes questioningly, forgetting his initial fear of the great creature. Arthur appeared more willing to converse with this beast than he had with a human being as of late.
"Yes, Balinor was my master and Merlin inherited his powers after his father's death…"
Arthur felt guilt and sadness for another wash over him for the first time in a long while. He remembered that troubled time and his words to Merlin: No man is worth your tears. And he knew after the many tears that he had shed for his father, who was perhaps less deserving than many men, that he had been wrong. He now wished he had been able to offer Merlin the comfort and support that Merlin had always given him.
"…Balinor brought me to Camelot on Uther's orders and I was chained there for twenty long years. Merlin was drawn to my cave when he arrived at Camelot for we are both bound by the Old Religion, brothers in magic. He came often to seek my help…any time you were in danger. The more I saw Merlin, the more I felt trapped in my cave…and my advice to him became increasingly manipulative…until I finally succeeded in convincing him to free me."
Arthur gasped and was too shocked to speak upon hearing this revelation.
The dragon looked more and more ashamed as he resumed his story. "I don't know what happened to my powers of reasoning over those years but when I escaped, my only thought was of revenge…revenge on Uther and Camelot. And thoughtlessly, I murdered innocents and even attacked you…the one soul our kind had been waiting for…Merlin could have killed me, but he spared my life and in doing so, he reminded me of the nobility that I had lost. And that is why, young Pendragon, I stand before you…charged to protect you with my life until you return to Camelot where your servant – nay – your friend is awaiting your arrival."
After a lengthy silence in which Arthur stared steadily at his feet, feeling the warmth of the magical fire, he spoke with his voice full of emotion. "When we parted, I told him I did not know him. But the truth is, I did know him…his spirit, his good-heartedness, his loyalty…all of those things have not changed with my knowing of his magic."
Arthur did not tell the dragon but he knew that what had actually changed was the fact that Merlin's magic had revealed Arthur's own insecurities. And looking back, he concluded that it didn't matter whether it was him or Merlin who had saved Camelot all those times…all that mattered was that he had the most trustworthy friend on his side.
Kilgharrah waited patiently for Arthur to come out of his reverie.
The wind continued to whistle fiercely, and the clouds threatened to drop snow upon them at any moment. But the crackling fire warmed the air between the unusual pair.
"I can't believe after what I said to him he still remains in Camelot on my behalf…while I cower here," Arthur said bitterly, not meeting Kilgharrah's eyes.
"You're right," Kilgharrah responded in a deep rumbling tone. "You are cowering…everyone has tried to wake you up. I have watched Gaius, your men, Guinevere all attempt to reach out to you, to remind you of your duty. Your destiny is not to lie here; your destiny is to unite this land and its peoples."
"That is what Guinevere has been telling me. I am not afraid for myself, but I am afraid of letting my people down." Arthur raised his head slowly to meet the dragon's eyes again. "What if I am not worthy?"
"All your life has been leading to this moment…the moment when you cease to be a Prince and become a King. A Prince can still push the responsibility onto another's shoulders, but a King cannot. He must face his fears head-on. The courage of his people becomes his strength. The hope of his people acts like his shield and the love of his people forges his sword. A King lives and dies with his people." Kilgharrah measured each word carefully, knowing that this conversation would change the pages that would be written afterwards.
The Great Dragon was not telling Arthur anything he didn't know before. But to be told by a creature of such stature that had seen many ages come and go…something that had been stirring inside of Arthur began to roar.
He stood up agitatedly. "I am sick of who I have become. What can I do? Will I even be able to fight anymore like I used to?"
"Arthur, you are a formidable fighter and you will always be. But being a leader is not just about fighting. Violence alone, without reason, breeds fear…and that is what Morgause has done to Camelot. Commoners are trembling in her grasp while magic used for dark means is thriving. Each day you do nothing, her grip tightens, suffocating more and more." The dragon also rose on his hind legs and towered over Arthur. "Morgause is wrong in her ways…for her heart is driven only by hatred for those who destroyed her kin."
"I had convinced myself that Morgause would be better suited to rule than me." Arthur's voice became stronger, his words clearly audible against the howling wind. "I cannot make a claim that I will be the better ruler, but I do know that I cannot stand by any longer and ignore the cries of my subjects and my friends." He stood straighter, feeling ever more rejuvenated by the second. For once, he wasn't overwhelmed by what the dragon had told him. Though he was still unsure of exactly what he was going to do, he knew he was going to do something and that gave him a sense of pride and purpose. He wasn't the Arthur Pendragon of old and neither was he foreign in his new skin…he was transformed from within and at last, the once and future King looked upon the dragon, waiting for words that he knew would be his inspiration for the years to come.
Kilgharrah inwardly acknowledged his triumph and sensed that Merlin would be very pleased with this outcome. The dragon had found and given Arthur guidance at the most opportune moment and now, it was time to strike while the iron was hot.
"Arthur Pendragon, it has been foretold in the prophecies of the Old Religion that you will go down in history as the greatest King of all, and that Merlin will come to be regarded as the most extraordinary sorcerer that ever lived…" The dragon stretched his wings and looked Arthur squarely in the eye – their fates were now inextricably linked. "Years will pass, the walls of Camelot will crumble and fall to ruin…pages of history will turn into myth. Yet, Camelot will live on forever, as the legendary land of King Arthur. Though one day people may wonder whether you truly existed in the flesh, they will never question your legacy."