A/N: To Charis77, whose critical thinking skills are a blessing and a curse, a force within itself. Her probing questions pried every ounce of imagination out of me to get this right and eventually unraveled the mess in my head until we did so. She was grueling, unrelenting, and I really, really appreciate her for that. 😊 Thank you, my friend, for your time and effort in assisting with my last handful of chapters. IDOM.

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Chapter 29 Bonds Beyond Blood by Doberler and Charis77

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Morgana had spent her tears last night pleading with the goddess. Morgause had once told her a high priestess could not die by a mortal blade, but when she'd been imprisoned, her magic bound by the hands of her enemies, she knew she'd been abandoned by both mortals and divine. Standing on the platform facing the high and mighty on the balcony, her faith depleted, she expected no rescue. What else had been a lie, a fiction fed to her by the one person she'd had left to love?

When the blade didn't fall and the giant beast hovered above her after the failed attempts to strike it down with magic, she had not been afraid. And when the dragon gently lifted her with a clawed foot, she knew it was nothing short of a miracle, the will of the goddess. Cradled in an inclined position, the dragon's toes a perfect seat, the rapid ascension should have terrified her with the earth tumbling away at a frightful speed. Yet as they soared into the sky and the wind rippled across her body, she found herself breathless, the burdens of living and dying now weightless and forgotten. A shiver tremored through her body when they passed through a thick, moist cloud. Gripped in euphoria, she glorified the Triple Goddess for not forsaking her in her darkest hour.

Morgana looked up at the belly of the dragon, great golden scales filling her vision. Such bulk and power, yet gentle in its care of her. She didn't know this creature, had not been present when it escaped and nearly razed Camelot years ago. She wasn't sure she'd even believed the stories of its imprisonment below the castle since she'd never ventured there to see for herself. Uther's deceits had deluded so many about so much.

When word that the dragon had been killed by Arthur had reached her during the year of training with Morgause, they had not believed then either. Her dimwitted brother didn't possess the mettle to vanquish such a magnificent creature. Even so, upon her return, she'd had to endure many nauseating tales about the cretin's quests in her absence, the constant praises of his victories sickening her and deepening her desire to engineer his demise. Great satisfaction now filled her to know Arthur was as big a liar as their father and she hoped he'd burn in Hellfire for his fiction. She relaxed in the dragon's grip and submitted to the fate that awaited her, the taste of freedom filling her nostrils and wrapping securely around her.

She'd overheard the conversation between Merlin and the dragon, whispers really since their words weren't channeled toward her. Merlin could control the beast, at least without the Triple Goddess' interference. How long had he possessed such power? How long had he even known he was a dragonlord? Had he known when she'd desperately sought assurance that she was not cursed through her nightmares? Oh, what a coward, the meddlesome runt, holding his tongue and leaving her in fear and despair.

The stab of betrayal was deeper than it should have been for Morgana. They were kin, bound to ancient magic, and he'd abandoned her. Had she meant so little to him when they had been friends? It didn't matter now. Morgause's nurturing arms had welcomed her, had shown her that her magic was good, had never rejected her. Though Morgana hadn't learned to master her powers until her sister's mortal injury, the year she'd been anointed high priestess after an arduous journey to Catha. She no longer needed Merlin's affirmation, nor anyone else's.

The dragon started its descent and Morgana craned her neck sideways to see mountains ahead. She could tell by their shadow they weren't heading east anymore, but south. There were several ranges south of Camelot but she hadn't seen the land pass below. The dragon had flown so very high, perhaps to avoid detection, and she could not make out any distinguishable landmarks. They hadn't been airborne long, but Morgana knew nothing about the flight speed of dragons. They may not even be in Camelot for all she knew.

"Where are you taking me?" she called to the dragon.

The creature turned its head and gazed at her with disdainful, yellow eyes. Only wind sounded in her ears when it looked away and Morgana was left with a disconcerting feeling that it had just dressed her down and gobbled her up. Swallowing the elation she'd had just moments ago, she figured she'd learn where they were going soon enough.

The mountain range they approached was covered in clouds, smooth veils of cotton drifting down steep slopes while others caressed its numerous peaks. She'd never seen mountains so high; certainly they were no longer in Camelot. The dragon circled the highest peak wrapped in the soft mist, soaring gracefully around the tip before slowing down and gently placing her on a smooth rock shelf. Morgana steadied herself and looked around, her legs wobbly at the sudden weight of her body.

Thick haze hugged the mountainside, obscuring the view below them. Here and there steep spikes of shale punctured the mist. It was barren, inhospitable, and cold, and she had no power to generate heat or any other comforts. No one could get to them here, nor was there any means for her to escape without magic.

The rock shelf opened up into a cave and she peered into it momentarily, wondering if this was where it devoured its prey. She looked back at the dragon, now sitting on its haunches right next to her, wings tucked in. Yellow eyes still scrutinized her disapprovingly, but a few gentle tugs with its talon and her shackles clanked when they hit the rock floor. Hades' Lock stayed firmly in place.

"Thank you … for saving me," she said, massaging her raw wrists.

"Don't thank me, witch," the dragon growled, its raspy voice penetrating her skin and prickling nerves. "It was the will of the Triple Goddess."

"The goddess is merciful," Morgana said with the authority of a high priestess. "Free me from this bracelet and she will look kindly upon you."

The dragon ignored her veiled command and brought its great head closer to her. "She has bid me speak this message: You have defied her will and used your power for vengeance instead of restoring the ways of the Old Religion. You have abused a gift from the goddess in your destructive fight against the kings of Camelot. You'll wear the bracelet until she deems you worthy to hold such an honor again … if ever. You have failed her."

Fear crept down her spine for the first time since her rescue. It was true she'd utilized her power and resources with one goal in mind: the utter destruction of Uther and Arthur, leaving the crown for her and the spoils of Camelot to Morgause to manage and use for the restoration the Old Religion. Was that not the will of the goddess?

The dragon continued, clawing other, harsher truths into her soul. "It was her desire you should seek out the gifted, train them, nurture them, rebuild the shrines and holy places to honor the gods. Her message was clear, delivered by a vates to the last high priestess, Morgause, many years ago. Surely, she shared it with you."

"Of course, she did," Morgana scoffed. "She was very clear as well: 'Restore my worship to this land. Return my children to my bosom.' That was what we tried to do."

"How foolish you are. How blindly you followed her. Morgause told you part of the message to soothe her arrogance and fuel her own ambitions. She never revealed the goddess' command to cease hostility against the Pendragons. A stronger power has always worked against you, the will of the Creator. The Triple Goddess, as a servant herself, knew fighting the destiny of the Once and Future King a losing battle, but Morgause would not believe. She defied the goddess and turned your efforts toward coveting a throne rather than being the high priestesses you were meant to be."

"That's a lie!" she shouted, but in her heart admitted Morgause had made a few wrong decisions. In the beginning, Uther had been their only target. They hadn't planned to seek out the crown until her parentage had been revealed and then her sister had pushed for nothing but rule of the kingdom, losing sight of fortifying the followers of the Old Religion. After her sister's death, she'd continued the vendetta, convinced Gwen, Merlin, and all her other friends were obstacles to her right to rule. She never thought to seek out the Triple Goddess' will for herself, driven by her own self-righteousness. Hadn't Uther and Arthur caused more harm to the Old Religion than she, deserving to be wiped off the earth?

Kilgharrah chuckled as if he heard her thoughts. "She turned you against your friends so she could stand beside a hollow queen. She cared little for you."

"Shut up, dragon. You know nothing about her love for me."

Kilgharrah laughed. "Love? What love can there be between creatures as selfish as yourselves? Morgause couldn't see past her own dark heart as far as Uther was concerned. She wanted revenge for his atrocities against her kind and used you to carry out her will."

"That's not true." They glowered at each other until Morgana backed down and lowered her eyelids. The creature's yellow eyes weren't the only things disturbing to her. Her hands twisted over and over as she prowled the rock shelf, her mind racing for answers. Had Morgause purposefully withheld the message of the goddess? Had they been destined to fail in their pursuit of the crown, the death of kings, no matter what she and Morgause conspired to do? Had her sister used her just to get to Uther? What was the purpose of going to Catha to be anointed if not to pursue the ways of the Old Religion and to gather worshippers? Yet, they'd spent little effort seeking to restore the Triple Goddess' worship. Instead, they'd focused on increasing her own powers and devising delicious ways of eliminating her father and brother. Had she been led astray by the only person she loved? "She said it was for the best … for both of us."

"Your sister thought she knew better than the Triple Goddess. She misled you to fulfill her thirst for revenge."

"Arthur has been king for two seasons," she retorted, "and has done nothing towards the acceptance of magic. He's no better than Uther."

"Now who's lying," grated Kilgharrah. Morgana flashed him a resentful glare and then looked away again. "You sensed he was different. He possesses a destiny to unite the land of Albion and bring about a time of peace and prosperity for all, yet you have struck out against him at every turn, giving him every reason to distrust magic and sorcerers."

"Destiny?" Morgana cackled. "He possesses no destiny but submitting to me as high priestess of the Old Religion. His head should decorate a pike!"

"You cannot usher the tides of change with your hatred. You've killed needlessly anyone who stood in your way, some of them your kin. How can you conceive unity when your heart is so twisted and black? King Arthur will father a new age that even you can appreciate—if you are still alive. And Emrys will be at his side."

At the mention of Emrys, the sickly-sweet ilk about her brother's glorious days fled from her mind. That name haunted her all year, chased her in her dreams since she'd been warned about him by the Cailleach. She'd battled Emrys earlier this year and he'd defeated her despite how feeble and old he'd appeared. Her bottom lip trembled. "Emrys?"

"The most powerful wizard ever to walk the earth and a servant of the Creator."

"He is my enemy," she spat through gritted teeth.

"Only because you make it so. The world needs Emrys as much as you do. He is magic itself, protected by light and more powerful than you will ever be. He and the young king are destined for greater things."

The same rage that fueled her magic bubbled to the surface, her hands balling into fists and teeth grinding when a soft trill came from within the cave and a baby dragon emerged from its mouth, tottering toward her on all fours. The beautiful white dragon displaying no fear stole both her breath and her ire.

Only as large as one of Arthur's hounds, a layer of thin scales covered its body, thicker plates tracking down its back, throat, and onto its belly. It pressed its head into her hip and Morgana touched its cold crown of tiny horns. Thin membranes draped from bony arms, a network of thin veins sparkling in the light. Bright blue eyes so clear and innocent shone up at her. She trilled again, bringing a smile to Morgana's lips.

"Her name is Aithusa," the great dragon said. "It means 'the light of the sun'."

"'The light of the sun'," Morgana repeated as she softly stroked Aithusa, mesmerized by the creature. "It's beautiful, as is she."

"Merlin rescued her and named her."

"Merlin." The name was muttered with soft resignation. He'd been a constant thorn these past few years. She should have known he could not have survived all that she and Morgause had thrown at him without some sort of magical aid. How could she have been so blind? Morgana didn't stop stroking the baby dragon as she looked up at the ancient one. "What is your name?"

"I am Kilgharrah. Merlin is our master."

She grunted at what she'd already determined as true. "A dragonlord."

"He is many things, Morgana, as you have yet to learn."

Kilgharrah finally called her by name, she noticed, but he was still gruff.

"I hate him," she sulked, her anger and resentment toward Merlin ever rich. "Just as much as Arthur and Gwen."

The great dragon laughed in his throat. "I know."

…..

The hanged dangled like grotesque watchers uncaring of the violations against them, silent observers of the chaos around them. The two fleeing sorcerers had a long way to run, and they stumbled into bodies as they crashed down the road out of Camelot packed with people scattering like wild and frightened animals. The mass stank of fear and sweat, bile and vomit to Killian. The boy running in front of him fell, tumbling over a kick box and rolling to a stop. Killian caught up with him, jerked him to his feet, and they kept on.

Their flight through the forest full of tents and enemy soldiers was no better, the whole countryside in an uproar spurred by the peal of the bells and the attack of the dragon. They ran straight through, not caring if their sprinting drew any attention. They ran nearly a league further, putting as much distance between themselves and the cursed city.

Strangers to each other, Killian had made eye contact after he'd flung the executioner off the platform and the boy had taken out the guard seconds later, somehow finding each other without difficulty in the mob. He had not expected to fail regardless of the odds. He had gotten very close to Morgana's platform and once he had obscured the area with the fog and dispatched the guards, he planned to employ a teleportation spell to escape with her. He could never have predicted the dragon saving Morgana, and he didn't know whether that had been a good thing.

Late morning brought air thickening with humidity, the cooler start of the day now a thing of the past as sweat poured down Killian's face and drenched his clothes. He stopped and leaned over, his hands on his knees as he hungrily gulped for air, the young man beside him doing the same. He had to be no more than fifteen years old, skin pale and smudged with dirt. His dark peasant clothes were stained and crinkled from days of wear and a sack that looked empty was strapped across his lean shoulders. He must have been on his own for some time.

"What do we do?" the boy asked, his chest heaving and breath shallow. "Do you think she's safe? The Lady Morgana?" His straight brown hair had curled from the moisture in the air and his keen blue eyes dripped with concern.

Killian could hear the trepidation in the young man's voice and had wondered the same about his mistress. He didn't know this boy, but he'd risked his life for Morgana, had good instincts and quick reflexes to take out the other guard. He had courage. He had earned a modicum of respect, if not trust.

"I don't know," he replied, straightening himself and surveying the area, ensuring they hadn't been followed. He should change back to Dodd just in case, but he was confident they'd made a clean escape. "What is your name, boy?" he asked while puffing out his shirt. "Who are you to Lady Morgana?"

"My name is Mordred. She saved my life when I was young."

"You're still young, boy." He eyed Mordred as intently as the lad stared back. Dodd was the one who excelled at making friends. Killian had a hard time keeping them. Then again, Mordred was brave to attempt such a rescue on his own and demonstrated extreme loyalty to his mistress, however foolish his action had been. "Call me Killian. How did you learn magic? You control your power well for one with your years."

"I'm a druid. I've had many teachers to help me with my skills. Most of them are dead now. Killed by the king or his men."

Killian spat on the ground. "That hypocritical bastard. He has sorcerers in his ranks and yet he still seeks to exterminate us."

"It's puzzling to me. Both he and Emrys saved my life once. They knew I was a druid."

"The king?" he scoffed. "I find that hard to believe."

"He was a prince then, and later led soldiers against my people. Everyone I've cared about is gone because of them."

"I don't know this 'Emrys'," Killian said, ignoring the glaze in Mordred's eyes, the tears forming on red rims. "But Pendragon's treachery is well known and I promise he will suffer greatly for his crimes against us."

"I no longer owe King Arthur after his raids on my homes." Mordred's features darkened as his tears dried up and his lips drew tight, reminding Killian of himself when loss fed his ambition. "I will help you. I must avenge my people."

Killian's half smile turned sinister. "Not just the king will feast on our wrath. Those who captured Morgana, this Merlin and Gwen…" Their names dripped like venom from his lips. "They, too, shall die." He hadn't forgotten about the sorcerer knight either, Sir Maxwell. Killian wasn't sure he'd be able to get close enough to that one to inflict any harm. He'd have to come at him sideways, but he would come.

The young druid shifted uncomfortably. "M-Merlin is the king's servant. He's a sorcerer."

Killian scoffed, disgust on his face. "What kind of men are these sorcerers to aid a king who has no quarrel killing their kind? Charlatans and traitors. This gives me all the more reason to see them dead."

"Lady Guinevere will be queen of Camelot soon."

The magician snorted. "Then Guinevere will meet the same fate as her husband." In the courtyard, Dodd couldn't help but notice how beautiful the lady had been standing on the balcony, and his old crone had nibbled her bottom lip with desire, the horny wretch. He had not recognized the woman in all her finery as the one who had assisted in Morgana's capture, but he had recognized Merlin and had traded his lust for revenge.

"What is your plan?" Mordred asked, despite his expression bordering on concern at the mention of the future queen.

"I hadn't expected the king to be protected by sorcerers but that changes little. We'll strike when least expected, when he's at his most vulnerable." Leading the boy off the path and into the thick forest of Brechfa, he continued to head away from Camelot. He would have presented his plan to Morgana had he rescued her, but now leaned on telling her of his victory when they crossed paths again.

"What about Morgana?"

Killian slowed his pace. Did the boy just read his thoughts? "I'm not sure what we can do against a dragon or where she could possibly be. My instincts tell me the hand of the Triple Goddess intervened and to interfere with such power invites despair. Right now, our main objective is Pendragon, the queen, and that servant. I intend to make them suffer greatly for what they have done, and then I will kill them."

It could cost them their heads if they failed, and he caught apprehension in the boy's eyes when he slowed to a stop. Killian stopped, too, and faced him squarely. The lad may not have even killed yet or seen battle. He knew all about vengeance, though. Killian just needed to feed his desires to keep him sated. He grabbed Mordred's arm and jerked him with some force. He was so skinny and had such little muscle Killian thought he could snap him in two. Still, he had magic and Killian could use him.

"They are our enemies, Mordred. Do not be troubled by what we must do. We'll be hailed victorious when the king and queen are dead. We'll be heroes for our kind." Mordred nodded finally and Killian released him.

"Merlin," Mordred said. "My grievance is with him."

Killian's grin was dark, pleased with the boy's toughening resolve. "Then he is yours … if you serve as my apprentice."

"I've lost many masters," the boy mumbled.

Killian laughed. "You won't lose this one." He patted Mordred's shoulder and guided him forward. "Now come, I have a dwelling a half day's journey from here. We have much work to do."

…..

Veins protruded from his temples, his neck, his jaw as he ground his teeth. Arthur stalked through the castle halls swarming with people who dashed out of his way, Gwen doubling her steps to keep parallel with him, Merlin and Fredrick lengthening their strides behind them. The dragon had stolen Morgana right out of their hands and they had been powerless to stop it. He'd come to terms with executing his sister; by God, she deserved to pay for her crimes! Would there be no end to her?

The sorcerers failed rescue attempt hadn't helped either, and neither had Merlin, though he understood why. Insomuch, many people had been injured in the fray to find safety, one person surely killed by a sorcerer. Who knew how many others might have been wounded during their flight out of the city.

"What the hell happened?" Arthur yelled several octaves higher than this normal tone, throwing his crown on the table as soon as he entered his chambers. It landed perfectly upright with a heavy clunk, skittering to the edge where it stopped. Gwen and Merlin followed him in. Fredrick stopped at the door and simply closed it, remaining on the other side. Merlin shadowed Arthur further into the room.

"It wasn't her time, Arthur!" Merlin shot back just as exasperated. "He had no choice."

"It rescued her!" Arthur exclaimed, stopping and whirling around to face Merlin, unclasping his cape and tossing it across the back of a chair at the long wooden table. "He stole her!" Divine intervention or no, it had no right to subvert justice. "Why did I ever defend that creature?! I somehow thought it held a greater purpose than any of us could realize!" The king was almost shrieking.

"Arthur," Gwen interjected, coming around the table to stand beside him. "Please. Calm down."

"He made this sword for me, for goodness' sake!" Arthur shouted, pulling Excalibur with too much force and slicing through the leather scabbard that held it. He drew his lips in tight and skewed shards of crystal blue into Merlin. This was the third one he'd damaged.

"I'll fashion a better one as soon as I can," Merlin replied with hands held up and a grin held back. Arthur's eyes narrowed. He found no humor in the irritating repeat of his blunders at the worst of times.

"Make it out of metal," the king growled, shoving the sword into Merlin's hands so he could unstrap the belt. He then thrust the belt at Merlin after he'd taken it off and relieved him of Excalibur. "Now, let's go talk to that dragon. I want some answers." He pecked Gwen on the cheek and strode past her.

"Arthur?" There was worry in her voice, but the king kept going.

"We'll be all right, Guinevere," he assured her just as Merlin opened the door and Fredrick peeked over his shoulder.

"Arthur Pendragon, you stop right there!"

The king did stop, catching Frederick's eye as the knight gulped and looked away. He swiveled on the balls of his feet, turning in tandem with Merlin. Arthur cringed when she used that tone of voice. It conjured up those same feelings of when Sir Lucan chided him when he was a boy or when his father punished him for his mistakes. She stomped up to him with hands on her hips and he actually recoiled as she glared up at him.

"What do you think you're doing?" she asked.

"Look. Gwen." He held her by the shoulders with one hand and a fisted Excalibur pointed upward with the other. Both of their eyes flicked to the weapon before meeting each other. "Merlin is a dragonlord and a powerful wizard. We'll be all right."

"I know, but…"

"I must do this. I need answers. Surely, you understand."

"Of course, I do, but…"

"One more thing. I'm marrying you as soon as I return, Guinevere. No more waiting. Who knows what tomorrow will bring in this insane world. I want you as my wife today." He pulled her forward and kissed her with the passion he'd reserved for months, lifting her upwards before he quickly set her back onto her feet. Excalibur really was very close to their heads and she was swooning. His eyes flickered toward it again as she slowly opened hers and chewed her lips with delight.

"Fine," Gwen said, her eyelids heavy and a smile on her lips. "But if you think the two of you are going without me, think again, my lord."