To End in Fire
When Arthur Pendragon was fifteen years old, the kingdom of Camelot was burned and scattered across the ground like ashes.
…
Arthur was jolted out of sleep.
Rubbing his eyes, he blinked.
Nothing seemed out of place. Long ago, the candle had burned out, and the room was now dark. He couldn't tell what had woken him.
Just as he was about to pull the covers back over his head, the ground shook.
The keep of Camelot was carved directly into one of the Misty Mountains by sorcerers before they turned to killing - it was one of the most powerful fortresses in Middle Earth.
For it to be shaking like a sapling elm tree in the middle of a rain storm was unthinkable.
Arthur threw the bedsheets off and scrambled for his boots. Now, from the hallways, he could hear the shouting of King Uther's men, the clanging of metal, and the deep sound of the warning horns.
As he reached for the sword his father had given him for his fifteenth birthday, the door to his rooms flew open.
"Prince Arthur."
Gaius, the court physician and one of his father's closest confidants. He would know what was going on.
"What on earth is happening?" Arthur demanded. "Are we under attack?"
The older man hesitated.
"Are we?"
"We need to get you out of here."
"I want to help."
"Now."
Arthur blinked. Gaius had never spoken to him like that. "No. Not until you tell me what's going on! I'm the prince. I have a right to know."
Around them, the castle shook. The painting next to his wardrobe (an ugly thing Arthur had tried to burn multiple times without success) fell off the wall and clattered to the floor.
"There's no time," Gaius insisted, scooping up the sword and shoving it into Arthur's hands. "Grab a coat."
"What?" Arthur squawked. "Where are the servants?"
Gaius pushed him towards the door.
Underneath them, the ground shook again.
Arthur was tired of being treated like a child. He was not going to let Gaius shuttle him out of there like an infant.
Stubbornly, he dug his heels in. "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what is going on!"
Gripping him by the shoulders, the physician spun him around. "A dragon. There is a dragon, and it is going to kill every last one of us, Prince Arthur, unless you move."
A roar, far greater than the cries of men and the warning horns, reverberated through the stone of the walls and floors.
"I want to stay and help! Where's my father?"
"This is not your fight. You need to leave with me."
"But I am supposed to be a knight!"
Gaius shook him. "You're still a child. Listen to me. The longer you stay here, the greater a chance you have of dying. Do you want to die?"
Arthur faltered. "But…"
Gaius pushed him forward.
The corridors flicked from the lights of torches. Men bearing weapons rushed past, sparing Arthur and Gaius hardly a glance.
Gaius pushed Arthur in the opposite direction towards the secret tunnels.
"Where's my father?" Arthur demanded. "Where's the dragon?"
As if hearing him, the beast - wherever it was - roared again.
After snagging a torch from the wall, Gaius pushed him into the tunnel.
It was dark, cold, and unaired. Arthur brushed a clammy hand against the wall. Underneath his fingers, the stone trembled.
They pushed on for what felt like and probably was hours, until Arthur tripped over his own feet because his head was foggy with exhaustion.
Behind them, something crumbled, and Gaius swore under his breath. "Faster, Arthur!" he urged.
Arthur picked up the pace, and kept going until Gaius' hand on his shoulder stopped him.
"Let me go first, sire."
Without realizing it, he had nearly stumbled face-first into exit. Even in the light of the torch, it was barely visible. Arthur took a step back to let Gaius pass.
Cracking, the stone door slid open, and Gaius stepped out. A few minutes later, he returned, and Arthur emerged from the side of the mountain.
Dawn was poking over the edges of the other Misty Mountains. In the darkness, they had travelled quite some distance from the castle, but Arthur did not admire the view. His eyes were fixed on Camelot.
It was burning.
Something brushed against his face, and when he reached out a hand, Arthur found that it was raining ashes.
…
Five years later…
…
Merlin wasn't a huge fan of the cow.
The animal in question was Bessie, an eight-year-old heifer.
Currently, she was chewing on her cud from the safety of her stall and glaring at Merlin as though he had stolen the last of her hay.
"Come on, move."
She didn't budge. She knew who was in charge.
He was sorely tempted to use his magic to get her out of there so he could muck the cramped space even if he had promised his mother he wouldn't.
To make sure no one was around, Merlin glanced out the barn door.
Far up the road, a group of figures were making their way towards their small farm.
"Fie," he swore.
He didn't know what they wanted, but it couldn't be a chat over a nice cup of tea. Most villagers were wary of Merlin and his mother and either stayed completely away or came to heckle.
They thought he had magic.
They were right, of course, but they didn't need to have their suspicions confirmed.
"I'll get you next time," he warned Bessie before ducking out of the barn.
As the strangers approached, he watched them, sticking the prongs of his pitchfork into the ground and leaning on it. There were five of them, and they were all leading horses.
He seriously hoped this wasn't a manhunt. Although Ealdor wasn't friendly, it was at least safe. He didn't want Hunith uprooted from her home just because of him.
As they came upon him, he realized that he had miscounted. There were six, and they were led by an older man who looked vaguely familiar even though he wasn't one of the villagers.
"Hello," Merlin greeted them, resting his chin on top of his hands. "Are you lost?"
"No, no."
About three feet from them, the group stopped. The leader was looking at Merlin strangely.
"Can...I help you with anything?"
"You look just like your mother."
What?
"Merlin! Have you finished with the barn yet?"
Merlin turned.
"Gaius!"
In bewilderment, Merlin watched as Hunith dropped the basket of clothes she was carrying and ran towards them. When she reached the older man, she embraced him.
While that was going on, Merlin took the opportunity to size up his travelling companions. They were wearing armor - not uncommon for people of certain ranking, but if they were Cenred's knights…
"I wasn't expecting you for two weeks!" Hunith fussed.
"Mum?"
"Oh!" Hunith released Gaius. "This is your uncle Gaius."
One of the other members of the group forward. " And I am Lancelot, at your service." Briefly, he bowed. As they introduced themselves, the others copied him.
"Elyan and Leon, and your service."
"Percival, at your service."
"Gwaine, at your most humble service, beautiful lady."
Leon hit Gwaine over the back of the head. It did nothing to dampen the cheeky grin he sent Hunith.
Merlin had no idea what was going on.
"You haven't aged a day," Gaius told Hunith, a twinkle in his eye.
"But why are you here?" she asked, wrapping an arm around him and leading him towards the house.
"I'll explain when he arrives."
"Who?"
"Prince Arthur."
…
As Merlin sat, arms draped over the back of the chair, the "knights" demolished three of Hunith's pies.
Since Gaius had politely declined explaining anything until Arthur arrived, Merlin wasn't quite sure what was going on.
He was, however, sure that he wasn't going to get any pie.
It was strange. Although Hunith had told him about his uncle, he'd never actually met him before now.
On the other hand, he seemed to know a lot about Merlin, and around him, Hunith was at ease, smiling and offering more pie.
Since it was normally just him and his mother, having so many people in the house was odd, but he wasn't going to complain when his mother was happy.
Noticing that they were running a little low on firewood, Merlin heaved himself up and made for the door to fetch some more from the pile outside the door. Before heading out, he cast one look over his shoulder at their small table.
It barely fit them all.
As he reached for the latch, someone knocked.
The conversation froze.
Frowning, Merlin opened it.
The man standing there looked to be about his age - nicely trimmed blonde hair, same attire as the others except for a sack slung over his shoulder. His face, however, was snobbish, with and upturned nose and the outlinings of high breeding.
With disdain, he looked Merlin up and down.
So this was "Prince Arthur."
He preferred Bessie.
"We don't like peddlers around here," Merlin told him, "especially not at this hour."
"Merlin!" Hunith scolded.
"I'm not a peddler, you buffoon," Arthur snapped.
"If the girdle fits..."
"Ignore Merlin, sir. Please, come in!"
After slamming the door shut, Arthur dumped the sack in the corner of the room and unbuckled a sword from his waist.
"You're late, princess," Gwaine informed him before licking a finger. "Lady Hunith makes the most delicious pies."
"I got lost. Twice." Arthur frowned. "I thought you said we were visiting your sister, Gaius. Who's this fool?"
Merlin crossed his arms. "Excuse me?"
"This fool, sire," Gaius said, "is going to be the seventh member of your company."
"Wait a minute. What company?"
Merlin would have remembered agreeing to such a thing.
"Perhaps you should explain our purpose now that Arthur is here," Lancelot suggested as the prince took Merlin's chair at the table, the one closest to the fire.
"Very well." Drawing Merlin's attention, Gaius leaned forward on the table and laced his fingers. "How much do you know about the kingdom of Camelot, Merlin?"
Taking a seat on the opposite side of the room, he racked his head. "It used to be quite large until it burned a few years ago."
It was an understatement. Camelot was one of the trading powerhouses, renowned and coveted for its fighting forces, ability to stop and repel magic, and safety.
"Safety" at the cost of the lives of anyone who could wield magic.
Merlin couldn't say he was sorry for its demise.
"A dragon burned it," he added.
"Not just any dragon. The Great Dragon. Do you know why?"
Merlin shook his head. Rumors were surprisingly unhelpful in that area. They ranged from the king having an affair with a sorceress (doubtful) to the prince being cursed (most likely, in Merlin's opinion).
"During the Purge, King Uther - Arthur's father - sought out the Great Dragon. It helped him...subdue a group of sorcerers intent on wiping out a village."
Comforting. Just the thing Merlin wanted to hear.
Arthur scowled. "That scaly beast did nothing of the sort. He burned us without cause. My father would have never stooped as low to consult with a creature of magic."
Gaius set his mouth in a straight line. "Nevertheless, the dragon was angered. After many years imprisoned, he broke his chains."
"That treacherous beast burned the castle and drove its people out." Moodily, Arthur crossed his arms and leaned backwards in his chair, towards the fire, until he was a silhouette in the darkening room. "Camelot is a shell of its former glory. It was stolen from my father, and I want it back. We're on a quest to reclaim it."
As though eager to be off already, the other men leaned forward, their food momentarily forgotten as they also listened to the story.
"We-" Gaius started.
Arthur snorted.
"I," Gaius amended, "was hoping you would be willing to join us."
Arthur leaned forward, and the legs of his chair slammed back onto the floor. "Yes, for some reason, he thinks you'll be of service to us."
Merlin couldn't see how. "I think it's rather foolish to go messing with a dragon. I've heard the stories, even if most of them are old wives' tales."
"But it is possible," Lancelot broke in. "Dragons can be killed."
"For years we've fought the monsters of Middle Earth, and we have not been defeated by one yet," Elyan added.
In the silence that followed, Hunith's knitting needles clacked.
"I still think it's foolish. So what if they can be killed? Half of you will probably end up dead in the process, and what good is that?"
If Merlin went, he might end up dead in the process, too. Even with his magic, he was no match for a blasted dragon.
"See, I told you it was preposterous," Arthur muttered.
"I insist you come, Merlin." Gaius' eyes were trained on Merlin. "I believe your talents will be quite useful."
He knew.
Merlin's gaze flicked over to Hunith.
Looking up from her knitting, she gave him a small, encouraging smile.
He wondered what part she had in this.
Arthur snorted. "Although I don't see what they could possibly be."
Merlin glowered at him.
"Can you cook?" Gwaine asked hopefully.
Uncrossing his arms, Arthur turned to Gaius. "I told you this was a waste of time."
This was a waste of time. They were talking about hunting down a dragon. Merlin sincerely doubted that Arthur would willingly accept any help from magic, which meant that if he went along, he would be hiding it the entire way.
On top of that, chances of the quest turning from kill a dragon into kill Merlin were higher than flood waters in the rainy season.
Why on earth would he want to help someone who wanted him dead but didn't know it yet?
It was pure madness on his part to accept such an invitation. He didn't know what his mother or Gaius were thinking.
"I have my doubts," Arthur went on, "but I trust Gaius' judgment. I'm leaving in the morning with my men. If you want, you may accompany us, but with or without you, we're going to retake Camelot from that dragon."
All eyes in the room were focused on him.
Merlin stood.
"Well, count me out."
...
Chapter outtakes: "Hello, Prince Arthur."
"At the moment, do I look like the prince of anything around here to you?"
"Camelot is a shell of its former glory. It was stolen from my father, and I want it back. We're on a quest to reclaim it."
"That's nice."
Before Arthur could protest, Gaius whacked him over the back of the head. The prince crumpled to the floor in a heap.
"My dream is to retake Camelot."
Merlin snorted. "Your dreams stink."
...
I was watching a fan video of Thorin and thought, "Hey, he's a jerk, Arthur's a jerk, why not?"