Author's Note - Woweee, I can't believe we're pushing on for nine hundred reviews. Its unbelievable. Thank you guys so, so much! I hope this chapter lives up to expectations.

It was close to midnight and the moon was casting a soft shaft of light through the window of the Great Hall. One of Arthur's brown boots was caught in the white puddle; shimmering. His blond head was tipped forward and his hands were clasped behind his back as he waited for his father to return. He tried to stifle a yawn but he was exhausted and desperately just wanted to collapse on his bed. They were heading to war tomorrow so surely something as insignificant as Merlin escaping could wait until morning? After all, he was just one sorcerer and there would be hundreds more in Vortigern's army.

Unfortunately, Uther didn't see it that way and had dragged his son to the Great Hall and ordered him to wait there until he came back. That had been about an hour ago and Arthur had been pacing up and down the hall, wondering what on earth he was going to tell his irate father. Once he had decided, he had come to a standstill in front of the window and was staring out at the silent city of sprawling thatched houses. If tomorrow didn't go well then the entire kingdom could be left in tatters, a smoking, ruined shell of its former glory. He could imagine the screaming now; the children crying for their missing parents, wives for their dead husbands and lost infants. It both terrified him and spurred him on. There was no way that he could allow such devastation to befall his people.

His hands dropped onto the window ledge, feeling the cool, rough stone beneath his smooth palms. Breathing in deeply, he tried to visualise the future but such a vision failed to come to him. Everything seemed so unstable in the present that he couldn't even begin to believe there would be a future for Camelot.

He hoped that Merlin was all right. He guessed that the youth wouldn't face much difficulty in his escape, especially now he had Alizarin with him, but what he worried about was getting Merlin to fight in the battle alongside him. The truth was that they needed his magical skills and the strength and power of Alizarin. Without them their chances of victory were severely hindered. They had to beat Vortigern at his own game: with sorcery. Arthur was sure that the rival warlord would never expect such a defence and therefore they had the element of surprise. But how on earth could he ever persuade his father? It was impossible.

There was a hefty clunk as the doors to the Great Hall swung open and knocked against the surrounding wall. Arthur turned away from the window and the beautiful night sky to face the wrath of his father. He felt his throat constrict when he saw the anger in the king's granite eyes.

"Father," he bowed, dutifully.

"Arthur, I want to know right now whether you are in league with that sorcerer," Uther declared, bluntly.

Arthur blinked. "Father, I-"

"I want a straight answer. No dancing round the issue, Arthur. You must tell me because if you don't then I'll…"

"Then you'll what?" Arthur asked, his voice beginning to rise. To be honest, he was fed up of his father's narrow-minded attitude. He needed to see the bigger picture and then perhaps Camelot would be saved.

When Uther didn't reply, the prince persisted.

"You'll what, Father?"

Uther looked astounded at his son's audacity. He was shaking with a mixture of anger and shock, like a volcano waiting to erupt. His fingers trembled as he held them up and pointed at Arthur. Repeatedly, his mouth opened and closed as he fought to squeeze the words out.

"I'll….disown you," he choked. It sounded like splintered stick had been dragged over his vocal chords.

Staring at his father with betrayed blue eyes, Arthur ran a hand over the crown of his head and felt the muscle in his jaw quiver. There was a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that was like an acidic ball of nastiness – stinging and sulphurous. At any moment it would rupture and his whole body would be awash with an overwhelming need to vomit.

"I didn't know you felt like that," the prince replied, slowly and calmly. "If I had then…well….maybe I wouldn't want to be your son."

"Arthur, you can't mean-" Uther looked stunned.

Arthur stared, stonily, at him. "If you would disown me for consorting with a sorcerer, then why shouldn't I?"

"It's the law, Arthur," Uther finally breathed, his eyes absurdly wide and frightful all of a sudden. "How could you think anything else?"

"Merlin's a good man, Father, but then again you couldn't understand that because you never see the good in people. You're so paranoid that one of them will betray you. Gaius used to be your friend, didn't he? And then you just pushed him away. You practically threw him from the kingdom at one point despite all he's done for you. I could never do that to Merlin."

To emphasise his point, Arthur slammed the butt of his closed fist on the wall, getting a slight satisfaction from the jolt of pain he received. He glared at the rock for a few seconds, instead of his father, and imagined punching it again but this time with Uther's face attached to it. They were treacherous thoughts but he couldn't help how he felt. The Pendragon's were known for their passionate feelings and fiery temper. Well, they used to be. Now though, after Ygraine's death, all Uther was passionate about was the eradication of magic. Arthur felt like he was the only one with real, raw emotions left.

"He's a servant and a sorcerer!" Uther cried, "Arthur, why are you doing this to me?"

"Because you need to see!" Arthur shouted, "You need to understand." He paused, collecting himself. "You need to understand that it is the person that defines magic, not the magic that defines a person. Magic is neutral. Its part of the earth, Father! Just like the trees and the sky."

"Don't be ridiculous, who told you that? Merlin?" Uther retorted, scathingly.

"No, Alizarin."

"Alizarin?"

"The dragon."

Uther's face contorted; his tone accusatory. "You did know about the dragon? You spoke to him?"

Arthur wasn't perturbed; his feelings were boiling over, everything he wanted to say spewing out. "Yes, like a human being. He's probably more intelligent than the majority; he's certainly more level-headed than you. He told me that magic is everywhere and that you can never hope and never should hope to get rid of it. Without it the world would probably end."

"Lies," Uther said with some vehemence.

"Have you ever wondered whether some sorcerers could be different Father? Have you every wondered whether they might not all be bad? They are people after all. Not everyone has to be evil." Arthur paused, heaving in a big breath. "Take Merlin for example, he was born with magic and had no chance of ever getting rid of it; should he be punished for that? He's never committed a crime. Well, unless you count crimes of clumsiness," he added as an after thought.

"Is Vortigern's army not proof enough to you that all sorcerers seek to undo us? To harm our people?"

"No," Arthur said, darkly.

Uther lurched forward as if to hit his son but then restrained himself, pulling back before he did irreversible damage. He stared at the young man that would soon be heading out to fight in what could be the last of his battles; the young man who had once been the little boy who listened to everything he said without question; the young man who had been conceived, from the magic he was now defending, at the expense of his mother's life. How had he changed so much? When had he changed so much?

"I've always taught you magic is wrong," he said, slowly, "I've sent you out to fight magical foes enough times for you to know the threat is real." He frowned, obviously bewildered. "I just don't understand, Arthur! Why now? Is it because of that idiot Merlin?"

"Perhaps." Arthur shrugged. "But perhaps, I'm just finally seeing the world without you to guard me from it. I can make my own judgements without having you to blinker them with your archaic grudges and petty disagreements. What would my mother have said? She's the reason this stupidity all started, isn't she? Would she agree with you killing thousands of innocents - thousands of children - just because they come with the fatal label: magic?" His tone was bitter and accusing.

Staring, shocked, at his son, Uther took a couple of steps back and touched against the cold stone of a column, unable to support the weight of his own body anymore. Heavily leaning on the structure, he continued to gaze at his heir as if he'd never seen him before. Arthur glared back, his cobalt blue eyes gleaming. The king was reminded so much of Ygraine in that moment - seeing every inch of her beautiful face in Arthur's - that he dropped gradually to the floor and placed his head in his shaking hands, imagining her fury at what he'd become as well as his son's.

"Arthur," he whispered, "I'm sorry."

"And so you should be."

Without looking up at his son, Uther heard the footfalls of the young prince leaving and the heavy thud of the doors closing. He was alone with his inner turmoil.

Merlin couldn't help but feel strange. After all, he had just fled Camelot as an accused sorcerer on the back of a massive crimson dragon. That didn't happen often – even in his chaotic, abnormal life. There was an odd mixture of relief and worry and pleasure balled up in his stomach. His secret was finally out, for everyone to see, and there was no hiding now. The shadows were no longer where he could linger.

Really, he had no idea what would happen next. He doubted whether Uther had been pleased to see him leave and whether he would ever want him to return. It was an unlikely prospect. However, he was anxious for the fate of Arthur and those others close to him. Would they be in trouble? He had thumped his master pretty hard so hopefully that aided his appearance of innocence. That had been a priceless moment and one that would stay with Merlin until the day he died. If he ever had grandchildren then he'd love to tell them the story of how he punched the future king of Camelot on the nose.

His view was that Arthur could probably look after himself. He was Prince of Camelot after all and capable of standing up to his father even though he himself didn't believe it. In Merlin's opinion, Arthur was the strongest and bravest man in the land and therefore he would be able to deal with the king. Whether he could persuade Uther to allow Merlin to live was another question entirely. They hadn't planned it like this at all; when they had discussed it Arthur had decided that it was better for all their safeties that the king wasn't told. So how did he know that a sorcerer was among the party?

Merlin couldn't even think of a single person who would have known and told the king. After all, he was meant to keep the magic secret and hadn't exactly told a million people. There was his mother and Gaius and Lancelot and the Great Dragon. They were his only suspects and he knew none of them would ever do that to him. It didn't make sense.

Then again, he supposed, whoever it was had done him a favour, in a round about way, because now King Uther knew he didn't have to hide anymore. He could swoop into the battle without any misgivings about being discovered because he'd already been discovered. This was a freedom he'd never experienced before. Now he could reach his true potential without fear of repercussions. And the fact that Arthur had still supported him even when his father found out really gave the manservant a boost. Admittedly, he had nursed a small fear that the prince would turn round and desert him at the last moment. But he hadn't.

That meant more to Merlin than he could ever express.

"Thinking hard, Merlin?" Alizarin's soft, rich voice pulled him from his thoughts and he turned his head to glance up at the dragon.

"Yeah."

"About what?" the dragon asked, curiously.

"Just….life."

"That's a broad topic," Alizarin said, dryly.

Merlin smiled. "Yeah and pretty damn complicated as it turns out."

"Yours more than most."

"You can say that again." The manservant sighed and leant back against his friend's massive leg.

What was odd was that he didn't even feel uncomfortable leaning on the hide of a dragon. He never really had been fearful of Ali, even when he grew this big, and didn't have any qualms about touching him. In fact, he'd quite happily sleep here as the dragon was a constant source of warmth and the feeling of protection. It couldn't just be any dragon, though; he would never have felt so comfortable with Kilgharrah. He wouldn't have even gone within a few feet of him if he could help it. However, with Alizarin it was different; they had a bond. Almost as strong as the one he had with Arthur.

"Merlin, I can't hope to understand what's going through your head-"

"Oh, I'm sure you could," the warlock interrupted with a chuckle. He shifted against the dragon, lifting up his fingers and counting off a list. "Wondering whether people will accept you; wondering whether tomorrow will be your last day on this earth; wondering whether Arthur will be able to persuade Uther that we're really good guys. You're practically in the same position as me."

Ali smiled, warmly. "I guess you're right. But, Merlin, I'm sure everything will be fine."

"Hmm…" Merlin replied but didn't sound convinced.

The fell into a companionable silence and stared up at the navy sky. The place they'd chosen to stay the night was a rocky valley which was uninhabited and shielded Alizarin's huge bulk from prying eyes. The bottom of the gulley was scattered with scree and sparse shrubs so they had had to dig around a bit further afield to find Merlin some food. He'd never got the pack that Arthur had prepared for him. Now, they were just waiting until morning.

Because the night was so clear, there was a certain chill to the air and they couldn't have a fire because they didn't want to draw attention to their whereabouts. Therefore, it was fortunate that Alizarin was as warm as he was because he acted like a ready-made hearth for the shivering village boy.

Merlin broke the quiet.

"Did you speak to Kilgharrah then? I never asked, sorry." He looked rueful.

For awhile, Alizarin didn't reply and the manservant wondered whether he'd fallen asleep but he saw a flash of gold of the dragon's eyes and knew he was still awake. He nudged the beast, gently, with his elbow.

"Ali?" he asked, concernedly.

"I saw him, yes," Alizarin finally answered. "We talked. He said that I had to defeat the white dragon of Vortigern so that Arthur could become king."

"Well, I could have guessed that," Merlin said, offhandedly.

"Yes," the dragon agreed and seemed like he was about to say something more but stopped short.

"Alizarin?" the warlock persisted.

The dragon blew a long, hot breath into the cold air. "Kilgharrah's dead, Merlin."

"What?" Merlin yelped.

"He's dead."

"You're joking," the boy spluttered but then he saw the young creature's face and the tears that welled up. He didn't even know dragons could cry. "Oh, gods, Ali….I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me too," Alizarin said, quietly. "It means I'll be the only one left."

Merlin's features creased in sympathy and he ran a comforting hand along the smooth scales of the dragon. He could feel the animal trembling beneath his touch. Unfortunately, Merlin had no experience with distressed or grieving mythical beasts so he had no idea what to say.

Alizarin continued, "If I kill Zalmon, the white dragon, then it will just be me. If I kill him then I will be responsible for the extinction of my race. Even if I live to two thousand, like Kilgharrah, I will still die eventually and then there will be no more dragons left. How can I do that?"

"Even if you don't kill him then, well, to be frank, you're both male… and you, er…" Merlin looked awkward. "Well, you couldn't repopulate the dragon race between you."

"I know that," Alizarin replied, sharply. He paused and then said, more calmly, "But I would have his companionship. Without him I would have to live the rest of my life alone. That's not exactly a nice prospect."

"You have me and Arthur," Merlin suggested, hopefully, "We're not dragons but…"

"Exactly," Ali interrupted, "You're not dragons and neither of you could fill that void."

"Alizarin," the manservant sighed, "There's nothing I can say to make this any better because you know you have to kill Zalmon. It is prophesised about, like Kilgharrah said. It's your destiny."

"Would you kill Arthur?"

"What?" Merlin frowned. "That has nothing to do with this."

"Would you?" the dragon continued, "Would you kill him to save the kingdom?"

"I-I…"

"You couldn't," Alizarin said, quietly. "Now you know how I feel. I may not be close to Zalmon and he may want to kill me but he's still precious to me."

With that statement, the young dragon clammed up and dropped his great head onto his forelegs. His golden eyes closed and no matter what Merlin did, he would not be roused. Eventually, the manservant had to go to sleep too – very unsure about what tomorrow would hold.

Dawn broke with the ringing of the warning bell. The clanging sound echoed across the city and dragged the peasants from their beds. Every single one of them knew what it meant: Vortigern had arrived. Farmers, blacksmiths, carpenters, bakers, millers; they all made their way up to the gleaming white castle. It was time for them to take up arms and protect their friends and family.

The orangey glow of the early morning sun bathed the courtyard as hundreds of men gathered their clothes and weapons. Frantic noise filled the space which usually would have been quiet at this hour in the morning. Horses neighed and stamped anxiously on the cobbles as they were saddled and clad in war garments. All of them, men and animals alike, wore the blood red colours of the Pendragon house. The smell of nervousness hung in the air.

Standing on the white stone steps of the castle, stood Prince Arthur, his golden hair shining in the dawn light. He was wearing full battle armour and the golden dragon of his family crest stood proudly on his chest, emblazoned on scarlet cloth. There was an aura surrounding him that all the peasants and knights could sense – he would win this war or die trying. His bright blue eyes surveyed his men's preparation and there was a hint of pride glinting in them. His gaze was caught by three of his closest comrades: Erec, Seg and Tristram. They were all already mounted and ready to head out to fight in the most important war of their lives. He nodded at them and they nodded back.

Suddenly, he was aware of running footsteps and he turned just in time to be caught in an almost painful hug. His first thought was that it was Gwen but when he looked down and saw the dark, shining tresses of Morgana he was stunned.

"Morgana," he breathed, "You haven't hugged me since we were....well, probably five."

"So precise," she whispered into his chest with a hint of humour.

"Well, I remember because it was the time I almost got eaten by that mountain lion that you bet me I couldn't kill with my sling shot. You'd never looked so guilty." Arthur smiled, wryly. "So can you explain to me what this is about?"

Morgana released him and took a deep breath, her striking green eyes capturing his. "I know that nothing I say could ever make you stay so I just wanted to tell you to be safe and that…well, I do care about you an awful lot, Arthur Pendragon, no matter what I usually tell you."

"Likewise." Arthur grinned.

"Try not to get killed, please?"

"Well, that is rather high on my list of priorities, if I'm being honest."

The young woman punched him on the arm. "I'm serious. You look after yourself." She paused. "And Merlin."

"Wait, how do you know-"

But Morgana had turned back into the castle, her blue dress swirling behind her, and vanished from sight.

Okay, so you probably weren't expecting the bit with Uther and Arthur but I thought that its always the kids that can make their parents feel extremely guilty for what they've done. Its like a gift we seem to have. Then again, they can do the same to us. Therefore, I thought it made sense. Uther may have been a little easy to break but meh, its my story. :)

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