With his hood low over his face, nobody seemed to recognize Merlin, or care enough to ask. A barmaid came to his table where he sat alone and asked his order, and he asked for a flagon of mead, and for her to keep them coming. She complied, quite gladly when enticed with the golden coins he dropped onto the table. He decided then and there to drink himself silly.
For a couple of hours, he passed unnoticed. Just another stranger drinking his fill and then some, keeping to himself as strangers were ought to do. The barmaid though was unused to such liberal wages and gossiped with her coworkers, who gossiped to patrons.
"Oi, who are ye then?" One local stumbled over to Merlin's table. "Are ye a knight on a quest?"
"Just passing through," Merlin mumbled as he took another draught. His mind was fuzzy, his reactions slow. He liked the feeling.
"Are ye a knight?" The peasant repeated, his hand drunkenly making its way to Merlin's hood. "From what kingdom do ye come?"
"I'm just traveling." Merlin took another long drink, one hand barely fending off the man's curious reach. "A round on me for your friends."
There was a raucous cheer. For the first time that he could recall, Merlin was drunk. He had been drinking for a few hours and his eyes seemed to lag behind his gaze, everything delayed and confusing. He didn't mind. His thoughts couldn't catch up to him and the more he drank, the farther away they seemed.
"A round for everyone in the tavern," he told the barmaid, and the patrons whooped in response, wild cheers erupting and drinks sloshing all around. For a moment, everybody liked him. It felt good.
"Merlin?" A voice called, and the bar fell silent.
Merlin turned to the door and saw two figures illuminated by the warm torchlight, his heart sinking in his chest. Arthur and Percival stood in the doorway, hair mussed by sleep. Angry murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"You said you were a traveler," the barmaid warned, and a hand ripped back his hood. He heard the hisses of recognition and tried to get to his feet, clinging to the table as the chair fell out from under him.
"How dare you come here?" It was the first audible yell and then dozens more joined it. Merlin could hear Arthur and Percival yelling back, trying to quiet the crowd, and he could hear patrons that had cheered for him only a moment before now cursing his name. His ears, for their heightened abilities, were sending stabbing tendrils of pain into his sluggish mind, and he clasped his hands over them and screamed.
The bar fell silent as Merlin began to cry.
"What do I have to do for you to forgive me?" He sobbed, his hands slipping from his ears to his chest, wrapping himself in a lonely embrace like a child. "Why... I'm doing everything I can. I'm trying so hard to fix things, but I can't... I didn't..." He broke into hiccuping, gasping breaths. "I couldn't control what happened! It wasn't me. I can't fix it. I thought... If you could just understand..."
Arthur was frozen, halfway between Merlin and the door. He'd seen Merlin cry a couple of times- always furtive, hiding his face and his tears and turning back with a red nose and a forced smile. This was different, and Arthur felt scared. Merlin's grief was palpable and it was strong. Desperate. He could see one of the sorcerer's hands clawing at his own chest like he was trying to fix his heart into place.
"She hurt me too," his cries were quiet now. "I didn't want to hurt anybody. I never wanted... I-I didn't want..."
One man stepped towards Merlin from the crowd and Percival tensed, his hand on his sword.
"Make us an oath, Dragonlord." He extended a hand and Merlin watched warily. "A Druid oath. A promise to never again become a dragon within the walls of this kingdom, upon pain of death."
"Merlin!" Arthur shouted, his legs thawing as he waded towards his friend. "Merlin, don't you dare."
"What?" Merlin didn't seem to hear the king, his glassy eyes in miniature spasms as he tried to keep them trained on the man's face.
"The balsíþhátes. You know of which I speak." He pushed back his sleeve so the sorcerer could see his triskele- unbroken, real. Not a trick.
"What does that mean? Merlin!" Arthur reached out and yanked on Merlin's shoulder, trying to break his gaze. "You don't even know him."
"Death promise," Merlin murmured, the slight slur making him difficult to understand. "If I break my promise... if I change into a dragon here, if I put people into danger again... I die."
"You can't." Arthur's hand fell back and he stared dumbly. "Merlin, you can't."
"Why not?" He finally looked at the king, his face defiant and flushed. "Isn't that what I asked you to do anyways?"
There was a hard edge to his voice and Arthur faltered, unsure for a moment how to respond. "Merlin..."
"If I do this, no matter what Nimueh's planning, she can't take me over again. I won't be a shade again, Arthur. I'd rather die."
Arthur thought suddenly of the white dragon, sitting alone and waiting for fate to bring her lover back.
"I'll do it," he heard Merlin say.