He hadn't realised how much he'd missed having time alone until he had the luxury of it, but the absence of others came as a relief after being seen by so many people, and the walls of Camelot felt claustrophobic. Not even the vague line of 'gathering herbs for Gaius' would be sufficient in itself to get some time in the woods now that there were others who could gather them correctly and safely. Disappearing without warning was fine when he didn't have to explain anything and flimsy excuses for injuries or absence were accepted or their absurdity overlooked; now he'd actually be unable to hide anything serious and there would be consequences to unexplained absences. The manservant of a Prince had far fewer rigid obligations than an advisor to a King. Let alone something more. Merlin had always considered himself sociable and enjoyed spending time with others, at least when those others weren't trying to kill him, and the acute desire for solitude came as quite a surprise to him. It would have been so easy before to give up or let bitterness take root, he knew perfectly well that he was still a pawn of Destiny and Fate in a game he didn't truly understand. The rules weren't his to make. He knew that his choices weren't going to be enough to change the outcome, and the shadows of visions and prophecies haunted him. Morgana and Mordred were still out there, but he was certain that something had been changed, and for one precious moment no-one was in immediate danger, Uther was waiting back in Camelot's dungeons, but he was no longer king. Merlin watching the leaves moving in the breeze, felt the grass swaying in the light breeze, the vibrations of life around him, the knives crossed underneath him cold and uncomfortable distracting him from the throbbing in his chest and shoulder. He reached up and stroked lightly over the lines, shuddering at the intense sensations it produced. No longer feeling like he was about to explode Merlin sat up, wondering if bleeding magic so close to a ley line might not be his best idea ever and wincing at the visible effect on the now in-bloom clearing as he looked around him. Deciding that it was too late to worry about that now he instead walked, leaving his surface mind almost open and finding himself a good vantage point to watch the sunset. Merlin wondered what caused the different colours in each one, they were never exactly the same, like the patterns of flames, and he was certain that the colours themselves weren't actually flames. Not that he'd ever dared fly before full dark, but Kilgarrah would know. He'd rather wait to find out himself, the lizard would probably enjoy messing with him and take the rare opportunity if one was presented. As the glorious colours faded into twilight Merlin sighed, considering his options. He needed to visit the vault with Lachlan tonight, tell Isildur what happened and request the presence of a small delegation, and he wanted to talk to Kilgarrah. He hadn't realised how far the vaults and caverns under Camelot extended. And was more than certain no mortal could go with him. Really he shouldn't have taken as long to calm down and relax, but Gwaine hadn't been wrong about the explosion or fire hazard he posed and that would probably be unwelcome anywhere there were other people. Even in a druid camp. Concluding that he should start with the people who had a normal perception of time and didn't need the cover of darkness to meet with him Merlin stood and reached out to Isildur and finding that he wasn't actually that far away. He smiled, in general the Druids still unnerved him with the whole reverence and Emrys thing, but he was beginning to trust a few of them and be able to hear the name without feeling nauseous. Learning to respond to it without immediate denial or defence. It helped that some of this clan had also managed to spend some time with Arthur and Gwaine without killing or gagging either of them; they had been accepted and welcomed with him. Neither had everyone been completely awed and cowed by the Once and Future King, which would be equally intolerable as a rejection of everything his life had been up to that point and the friends he chose. Even Merlin himself could recognise some of those friends were an acquired taste, but they were real. With the temperature dropping quickly as night approached, Merlin grimaced, unused to the lack of full sleeves and disliking the cool air on his sensitive healing skin. As a physician's apprentice he'd always been taught the importance of keeping the cold out of an open wound, and while it looked more bruised than open to Merlin he had no actual experience with these kinds of recoveries or rituals. He wandered without thinking clearly of his direction, relying more on instinct than sense, they always seemed to find him anyway- and he stopped mid-step, frowning. Hoping that the triple goddess wasn't too picky about manners and wincing at the stray thought about her association with the moon that immediately followed that, Merlin sighed and instead voiced his thanks for their continued breathing in and out, and wished for swiftly reaching Isildur. It felt very strange, talking to unseen spirits, deities, and forces, so far from what he'd grown up with and been forced into living in Camelot, but he'd get used to it, maybe. Not like he had much choice if he was expected to lead a people whose lives were so strongly linked to this land and governed by its spirits. It would be so much easier if they could just be like the Lady of the Lake. Destiny never seemed inclined to make his life easy though so he'd take whatever small mercies he could get and be glad when he was only expected to do two impossible things before breakfast. - The Druid elders had spent much of the recent days considering how to respond to the real Emrys and Once and future King. Most had until recently assumed a simpler scenario, been certain of their own reactions to the foretold leaders coming forth and taking their places. The prophecies had suggested a pair of wise and courageous men; leaders of men that inspired loyalty and respect. The reality was both exactly what they should have expected in light of that, and very different to what they had expected. Reasonably, for a man to be an active leader in battles, certainly without magic, he would have to be young and fit- and still learning. For the Balance to be in any way safe, Emrys had to be younger than the time passed since the massacre of the Dragons and Priestesses. If he hadn't been, then he wouldn't have been a man worthy of leadership at all having watched the atrocities and taken no action with the training he would have received. Young men made mistakes, and learned from them, no one was born with knowledge and wisdom the way so many elders had expected them to innately possess. It was acquired and developed, and Isildur knew that Merlin would have trouble wrangling some of the more arrogant leaders into line. None of them could come close to rivalling him in raw power, and he doubted any were stupid enough to outright challenge him to a duel, but they could undermine him. Most would accept him without making trouble, as he had, especially now he bore the symbols he did, which could only be given by a senior elder, a priest, or a priestess but he would be required by others to prove his claimed identity. He hadn't taken giving Emrys his first tattoos of recognition lightly. When the boy had contacted him earlier that evening he had already been considering the meeting planned for three days time, and wondering if he ought to try and speak to some of the other Clan elders about their intentions beforehand. Ultimately he'd decided not to beyond ensuring they knew where to be and when. Let them draw their own conclusions without his intervention and leaning on them first. Isildur had no doubt about Emrys and his King's capability, despite their initial appearance, and Emrys' obvious reluctance to assume the authority he couldn't escape. He knew that despite the visible surface layers Emrys was now showing seemed different, nothing about him had actually changed. The other Druid Elders may not have seen the serving boy, or the half-starved young farm lad in worn boots and a rough woollen tunic, but that was who Arthur first knew, and that detail mattered, because it influenced how they related to each other and what Emrys may need guidance in. Following the call tonight had been all too easy, far easier than it would have been to ignore the wild waves of magic, and the man couldn't deny that he was curious about what had triggered such disruption and excitement. The others, unable to sleep, had set a campfire behind the shields and were well into a night of storytelling when he left them. It took less time than he had initially expected to find the warlock, and when he walked almost straight into Merlin the man seemed only half aware of the world around him, pupils still dilated, taking a few minutes to fully register Isildir standing before him, looking mildly amused. "Tell me you haven't been eating mushrooms or henbane unsupervised." He raised an eyebrow as Emrys startled and immediately denied doing anything so foolish. Lips quirking upwards Isildur accepted his response, "Perhaps you ought to pay better attention in unfamiliar places Merlin, whatever you were thinking about isn't worth being eaten for, or captured by dark agents. Anyway, you called Lord Emrys." His eyes sparkled as Merlin's lips twisted with distaste at the title as he'd hoped they would. "Don't call me that. It- I have another day or three left before I have to answer to it, and my friends agreed to 'Merlin' outside of formal situations. I thought it might interest you to know that Uther is no longer the king of Camelot and is tonight cold in it's dungeon, as he was last night. There was a change of plans. The council are upset and divided, but about half have accepted it. Others have left despite the significant personal cost; they will probably rebel at some point, I can't see them going quietly into the night. There was a short trial held before them today for crimes unrelated to Uther's genocide, and a second one is to be held to address that separately. Soon." Merlin sighed, knowing he was asking a lot of them, and wishing there was an easier way, "If there is anyone you know willing to bring their grievances and losses to king Arthur I'd appreciate it. My mother is one of those who have agreed to witness against him, for what was done to her and Balinor, I will obviously do so, the archivist and 'Lord' Gwaine too. We need more. Catha have already offered, but the cost to our cause if they are first could outweigh the benefit, I've not decided yet. I'd rather the first open magic users they met were not elite warrior priests. Or have a reputation for exacting vengeance that way. We need real people to speak though, the lists kept of the dead aren't enough even with Lord Geoffrey testifying to their authenticity, I swear I will keep anyone who does come forward safe." Isildur watched him carefully, nodding in consideration and remained silent for long enough that Merlin began to think he wouldn't get any answer at all. "I'll stand for us. Does it have to be someone from Camelot, or can they be from outside?" he asked hesitantly. Merlin shrugged, "Mum isn't- wasn't- ugh, well she's recently in Camelot. It's not like the genocide stayed nice and neatly here within Camelot's borders and no-one fled to other kingdoms. Or was pursued or murdered there." He shuddered as memories assaulted him and thought of how many stories like Percival's there must be and made a mental note to ask him personally to give an account. The Elder pressed his lips into a thin line. "I'll see if there are any survivors who might be willing and able to return, if only to keep anyone from recklessly attempting necromancy." He snorted at Merlin's answering grimace, both had learned never to underestimate the lengths desperate men would be willing to go to. Both for justice and for vengeance. "The great dragon has already aired his grievances and his presence would not help your cause." Merlin sighed and nodded agreement. "None of my friends will help my cause. Seriously, you've met the two of the most normal ones. Several fail on the sole basis of lacking corporeal form. Others by not being human, and several on the basis they may actually kill several of those required to be present. Goddess I wish Morgana hadn't skipped off to play with dark magic and tried to kill Arthur, she might be an evil bitch now, but she knew how to work a crowd like no one else and get whatever she wanted without them ever noticing they'd been manipulated. Even after she turned evil it took them ages to notice. Her brother's skills lie elsewhere. Not so much in subtlety." Isildur's lips twitched, "Few young men have that particular gift, Emrys. Especially ones accustomed to resolving their differences with a sword." Merlin grimaced, "Or fireballs I suppose. Not that I was ever raised to that, but Gaius was always frustrated by my own lack of subtlety in interventions. At least when I was new to Camelot." The druid frowned, "Yes, well, you are both addressing the consequences of the biggest mistakes you have made, and unlike some are taking responsibility for damages. Even Nimue was loath to accept that. As a girl and as the High Priestess." Merlin shuddered. "Somehow I don't think Destiny, Fate, or whoever keeps the Balance is going to overlook that and play pretend for her. I doubt dressing up as a pretty girl will help her there either." Isildur raised an eyebrow silently at his almost- confession, "Shut up. I was new. She was the first woman with decent magic I met." Merlin rubbed the back of his neck at the memory. In fact the only human then or since with stronger magic that he'd felt was Morgana. "Somehow she knew enough to try and get rid of me." The older man rolled his eyes, "Nimue was a self involved bitch by then. She'd have done better to try and seduce you to her side, it's just as well for all of us she didn't notice that or things might have unfolded very differently." Merlin shuddered, "Perhaps. So many forks in the road I didn't even know I was walking." The older druid snorted, "We're all walking a path, Emrys, and they cross each others often. Yours is laid out alongside another and you have both more choices and less freedom to make them. With greater consequences. Most of us are blind in the woods, alone and fumbling. I do not envy you, but anyone carrying such weight has more than earned my respect. Even the Witch deserves that, despite her abhorrent actions." Merlin hummed noncommittally, wondering how much freedom Morgana had really ever had and where the forks for them both had been before he arrived in Camelot, he had surely had many by then to shape the core of who he was. How much would it have taken to tip him over into the same bitterness and anger? The kind he'd tasted at discovering the deceptions and betrayals, the kind he'd found the strength to reject, but goddess had it been tempting to succumb! "I want to meet them in a place tied to me, not someone else. Kilgarrah's glen. In view of the three springs. No one else has a claim to it and there won't be any dispute over territory dynamics between the Clan elders." Isildur looked up as the breeze seemed to stop and hold its breath, waiting, the old man knew many would not wish to venture there, but it would make Emrys' birthright impossible to deny. "Of course Emrys. Will you come alone?" The leaves rustled normally again. Merlin's frown spoke volumes. "Not alone, no. I just haven't decided yet who exactly to bring, every time I think things are clear they become unclear again." Isildur smiled softly, "I think many things are less uncertain than you believe, Merlin. Do not doubt your friends, they do not doubt you, not only in ability, but in their conviction. They follow you for good reason, just as you follow your King for good reason, and believe me, I was witness to just how awful and lost a boy he once was, before you found each other. He is not that boy who deals in blind cruelty. You have changed just as much. Forget Destiny for a moment, remember who you are, and meet them as you are now." Merlin ran a hand through his hair, it wasn't quite so easy to forget for those who actually existed the way he and Arthur did, the assurance was well meant though so he smiled and didn't answer the man, biting his tongue. "Come. Share a cup of mead with us before you go on, you are distracted, and we aren't going anywhere for now, I at the very least will speak for my Clan. Then you can go and enjoy the night while I tell the others the good news." He dragged the unprotesting boy along behind him. "Alright. Don't tell Gwaine, but your mead is sooo much better than the Rising Sun's. Oh, and while you are in Camelot I want you to give me an opinion on something I found in the vaults. You need to see it, a description won't work. It may slip down my priority list before then." He grimaced, it was barely worth him trying to keep his lists coherent anymore, any of them, but perhaps he could delegate at least remembering some things, and he was still feeling a little hazy. Following Isildur back to the camp Merlin discovered how easy it was to be drawn in the music and lose track of time, the drumbeat blending with his pulse and the flames dancing as though guided by the low chanting of the gathered Clan. Younger members watched fascinated as older ones competed to tell the best legend, not yet onto a bawdy part of the evening, some trying to mimic the actions accompanying their favourites. The next generation of teachers he thought, who had so nearly been the last.. The warlock watched, equally enthralled, understanding much better now how Gwaine could have earned shelter and food doing exactly this, perhaps less educationally, as he travelled through the five kingdoms. It truly was a skill that they must learn and practise, one that Merlin realised now he was going to have to learn if he was to connect with the people who saw him as their Emrys. Their record keeping and teaching was not like Lord Geoffrey's, runes aside, their consideration of 'literacy' and learning was entirely different. He'd been accused of being melodramatic before, especially in Camelot, or ridiculous in exaggerationor on a few occasions having missed his calling as an entertainer. He just hoped that would be enough to serve him well in this. For now he observed and learned. Druid legends and history were not something he had been exposed to, and being included this way it felt as though he was finally welcome in the community as a common member, rather than just an honoured and revered visitor. Whether that was due to his coming with Isildur or not he didn't know, but it didn't feel that way and Merlin chose not to over analyse it for once. Camelot held more than enough for him to do that with. The moon was high before he finally broke away from the trance like state, but the fire still burned hot. Merlin looked around at the still animated adults and concluded that this may be intended as an all night thing. He hoped it wasn't an annual celebration he'd forgotten or was supposed to do something about. He must have asked as much when a low chuckle sounded next to him, "No, nothing like that. There is just a surplus of energy and natural magic tonight, those with magic can feel the vibration and excitement in the air and the water. Druids without it see the renewal of nature around them. You haven't forgotten or neglected anything, just unintentionally dosed some up with euphoria. I haven't seen it in a while but unplanned joy or impromptu celebrations used to be common enough." Merlin felt his throat constrict at the idea. It seemed too intimate, sharing his magic this way, still, at least this time his magic was making someone Happy. Was it even his anymore after it was released or did it become part of the Wild Magic? It hummed through him, warm and reassuring. "I have to go. Thank you, all of you for sharing with me, there are just some things that need done - uh, that I need to do." The clan Elder nodded an acknowledgement, " Of course Lord Emrys. You're always welcome at our hearth." Merlin smiled tightly but spoke sincerely as they parted ways, "Goodnight Isildir. Enjoy the rest of your night." He set off into the forest without leaving a trail.

Morgana couldn't sleep. The dreams were back, and the bracelet did nothing to protect her any more, as if it had weakened with her sister. The images didn't make sense anymore and it seemed as though there were too many sets of eyes watching the same thing. Blurring any wisps she could grasp, and the emotions that usually accompanied such visions were as complex and confused. Surging in a way she could not control or block no matter what she tried. Not clear as they should be when Seeing something. Some of it simply had to be wrong or contaminated because the images just made no sense. That was worrying, because if one could be obviously wrong, or influenced, how could the others be trusted? She pushed the thought away, refusing to dwell on it. Must be the weakening of some boundary or other, Morgause was rarely conscious now, but had been muttering about them for some time. She was a priestess, and priestesses did not indulge in self doubt, or question the magic. Did they? There was something different, she could feel it, but it was impossible to identify what, the magic felt more now. More complete maybe, but how could that be possible when they hadn't done anything. She hadn't even realised that it was incomplete before. There was no one she could ask safely now, no equal to herself. Finding a true Seer she had discovered was rare enough. Sleep did not come easily to her that night.

Merlin made his way to the place he usually met Kilgarrah and roared to the sky. It should leave a man's throat raw, but instead of pain he felt a deep burning filling his chest. Pride and a sense of belonging. Of family. The ancient dragon didn't take long to arrive, often the frustrating lizard seemed to dither and play at resenting being called but Merlin suspected he had just been waiting for the call this time. Settling on his massive haunches Kilgarrah looked down at the young warlock, eyes blazing as he spoke, "Whatever did you do now to have everything so excited?" Merlin blushed as he saw the same raised eyebrow look he used to get from Gaius after doing something particularly reckless. He winced. Well at least this time they'd thought it through, and he hadn't even acted alone. "We removed Uther. He's alive, for now, but he's no longer king of Camelot -or anywhere- and Camelot sort of has a new King, since Arthur's been rightful king from birth anyway….ish… but he's not coronated yet, and there are some dissenters to deal with. So Uther's being kept in the dungeon until the second trial, having been found by the first to be unfit to rule, and I need some people willing to testify against the bastard and his brutal 'war against' magic'. Which I'm going to have to be a part of, which would be so much easier if I wasn't also now a kind of official advisor to the new King of Camelot. Not you. Definitely not you. That would not help us." The dragon snorted at the mere suggestion he might ever go there, and Merlin waved away the smoke, rolling his eyes. "Don't sulk. Anyway, so far that means I have to be a united front with my Mother, Gaius -sort of, since it's not exactly a secret we've clashed recently- Lord Geoffrey, and hope half of them don't actually understand what Catha are, with a few possible druids. Oh, and Gwaine. Who outed himself to the council, and may yet cause someone an aneurism."
"Is he the reason you smell like mead then?" Rumbled the massive dragon. Merlin chuckled. "No. No not this time, that was the druids too, Isildir invited me to a campfire and there was singing and dancing, and mead and things. It was nice. There was meant to be one before, after the tattooing, but this was good too. Maybe better. They're still a little suspicious of Arthur I think. I mean they trust him, but there's still scars there. Maybe there always will be but we have to try and heal them."
He rested his head against Kilgarrah's. "I wanted to tell him you know? They deserve to know immediately, I'd want to. It just seemed wrong to tell only one specific clan earlier than the others when it's so close. I don't know whether not telling Isildir tonight, or not telling everyone together and getting accusations of favouritism and conspiracy would cause more problems. Of course now by wondering I've guaranteed there being some sort of leak by then about healing magic. Seriously, he should have clarified that with me first- and how am I meant to tell him how blood magic links in to so much potential healing magic when it's also involved in the very darkest acts?" Leaning into him he sighed, "Is it easier as a dragon to make these choices? Or do you get to cheat with foresight?" His friend huffed disapprovingly, "Well, speaking as the only dragon of your acquaintance, I assume you are asking if I find it easier. Frankly I neither care for nor coddle any humans, young warlock. In most cases their problems are trivial and irritating, their lives abysmally short and stagnant, and the opinions of those who do not have destinies or the interest of Fate are meaningless. Perhaps a narrower field of people one wishes to please or spends energy trying to appease makes such 'choices' simpler."
Merlin made a rude sound at the creature. "If you look at it like that it would. I can't imagine not caring about the feelings or opinions of anyone." Kilgarrah gave a draconic shrug. "I never suggested you stop caring, only refine the number of people you try hard to please. No-one can please everybody, and every man is judged by the others. Especially powerful men. Pick those most important to you, whose opinions honestly matter to you and ignore the others. You are Merlin Emrys. The last Dragonlord, Child of Magic, High Priest of the Old Religion, you are due their respect. As to the King, use short words and weapons to illustrate your point. Violent imagery seems to work best on him, when not using participation violence to demonstrate concepts." Merlin tried to glare at him and failed as he broke into peals of laughter. He felt closer tonight to accomplishing his goal than he ever had before. It was only one type to be sure, but magic was finally legal in Camelot again, and goddess he wanted to be the first to use it, he desperately wanted to but it had to be something healing first rather than the battlemagic that Merlin had more natural practice with-he put it down to temperament. Healing required patience and Merlin- well Merlin didn't naturally have an overabundance of that, so occasionally his magic got a little carried away and instead of the absolute precision work Gaius was reliably capable of, his patients got a little extra-healed. The only time Uther had noticed was when a retired knight had accidentally grown back a leg that had been missing for almost a decade. The old man had been delighted. Gaius, having to try and make up a story about a fictional curse that required no one nearby to cast it and was actively beneficial, was decidedly not. His poor apprentice had spent a lot of time that week cleaning leech tanks, enough that Merlin suspected he had actually sourced extra leeches to drive home his point. As a result Merlin had more experience with non-magical healing than anything that would risk revealing him as a warlock before. It was odd. Whenever he had allowed himself to think of it in the past, any discovery of confession fantasy, there was always an imposing Uther yelling 'SORCERY!' at him, no matter where they were. It was a command and condemnation he'd heard so many times it had sunk into his mind like a brand. He wondered absently what that must have done to Morgana over the years she'd lived in his household. To find that there was no furious knight of Camelot or Prince Arthur chasing him with lethal intent after all was oddly disconcerting. Not that he was complaining. Destiny seemed to like blind siding him and he wasn't fool enough to believe She would leave him in peace for long. Deciding not to remain long when the urgency and excitement had faded enough for him to feign calm in the citadel Merlin made his way back, beginning to notice the chill as the edge of adrenaline wore off. It was late when he got back. Or early, depending on how one measured it he supposed. 'Time waits for no man' flashed through his mind, it always made him smile when he'd heard it before, as though he knew a secret. Their confidence in the statement amused him. He reminded himself now not to cheat and to save that for their most dire situations. ' Not alone anymore' a repeating mantra he was trying to adapt to. Sneaking past the guards was an ingrained habit by now, finding a waiting companion was still novel. Making his way down to the deep vaults made his hair stand on end, an eerie silence permeating the tunnels. Lachlan stood alert at the door and greeted him warmly, stepping aside to allow Merlin to open the heavy door before slipping through.
Steadying his breathing Merlin looked at the ghost, "I'm ready. Show me what they say no one else can."
The man bowed in response, "It would be an honour Lord Emrys." He answered seriously. The passages he was led down seemed unfamiliar, not ones he had been down before, but lacking the sinister atmosphere others had, like Sigan's hidden tomb. There wasn't an instinct to recoil as some Stolen artefacts provoked. Only a thickening of magic in the air around him, when he concentrated on it the sensation was like the one Kilgarrah left in his wake. Impossible to describe to anyone who still lived, and that didn't make sense because the Great dragon would never fit down here. As the intensity grew and a light seemed to flicker up ahead he turned a sharp corner and was stunned silent. He had seen a crystal cave before and had no intention of ever repeating the experience, but found himself now in a small chamber that appeared to be lined with entirely smooth black glass. He'd read about such a material but never seen any. It was perfectly round, an unbroken circle he thought, and in the centre blazed a wall of white fire, behind that shield was an oddly shaped egg, blue flames licking across the delicate looking shell. Mesmerised Merlin felt his knees give way and heard the reverent voice of his soul brother at his side. "The secret of Camelot's caverns and the reason it's symbol has always been a dragon. It is the birthplace of the dragons of Albion. The most sacred duty was to protect the young. When the fire burns out naturally you will feel it's call, and you will follow. No one else can find this place, and only those of our blood can pass into the Black refuge. If an egg is removed before the flames die it can be damaged." Merlin nodded, awestruck. "Is this the only one?" Lachlan smiled softly. "For now. It's possible another survived somewhere. Somehow. You never can be certain with Magic. Dragon eggs are tricky like that. They'll burn until the time is right, until something in the magic triggers it and their time comes. Each one is different, it might lie this way for a year, or for a thousand years, to my knowledge no dragon ever entrusted a man with the explanation. They have an odd relationship with Time as it is."
"Wise dragons." Murmured the young man. "Does 'Garrah know? Why did he leave her?" The ghost answered quietly "He trusts you. She is safe here, and you are a Dragonlord now, you will fight for her safety as if it were your own daughter. You are coming to understand properly The Balance; a creature of pure magic in immediate danger would be felt instantly as it's loss would be so significant. You don't have to obsess over this, it was here undisturbed long before Uther came to power and only a Dragonlord could find it, but you are the Last, and you needed to know the secret." Merlin nodded, open mouthed, hardly daring to breathe in the hallowed place. "It's beautiful. I hope it's time comes after her existence is legal though, I'd hate for a child to suffer for things that happened before they were even born." His eyes remaining fixed on the opalescent egg in the flames. Lachlan smiled softly at him "You'll make a wonderful father." Merlin grimaced, the tender look fading "Maybe one day. I'd like to deal with a few things first though, and concentrate on the jobs I already have…" He felt a crushing wave of protective care. "It's time. You have to return before dawn." The ex-dragonrider reminded him.
Merlin nodded, "I have to leave her here don't I?" He suddenly understood how little power logic had over instincts as fear gripped him, the egg had been safe here, but what if he left and it wasn't anymore. He couldn't leave a defenceless baby alone like that. Torn he reached on impulse for his knife. It could be centuries before the dragonet hatched, he couldn't just stand guard and stationing one would mean being noticed. He had to do something though, and he had learned a lot so far, suddenly a part of the scrolls clicked into place and he drew the blade across his palm, whispering the incantation as he gazed at his would be charge. Dipping his fingers in the pooling blood he painted a series of runes in a pattern that would conceal it from anyone else and alert him to any presence that did succeed. Turning to the entrance he drew a different cluster at the door to ensure intruders would walk past without seeing anything. The only unusual sign would be a concentration of his magic, but under Camelot it was barely noteworthy. Feeling slightly better about leaving he healed the slice and sheathed his knife. He could probably still get an hour of sleep before work, if he left now. Stumbling into bed Merlin still had a rather blissed out look but he'd be able to function through another day for the others without destroying the city now, and had gained some people willing to face Uther at trial. For once no nightmares came when he closed his eyes