Being grabbed and carried away by a dragon, jammed between sharp claws like a dead rodent, was not an experience Arthur wanted to repeat in his lifetime. He was glad when their flight turned out short. It was clear they had flown only so far as to be out of immediate danger, then Aithusa descended towards an open field just beyond the Darkling Woods. About two or three yards above the ground, she opened her claws and Arthur tumbled onto the ploughed soil, only just managing to protect his neck and head from the impact.
By the time he had recovered from his ordeal and got to his feet, all three dragons had landed nearby and Merlin was already unbuckled and slipping from the saddle.
Arthur tensed, but Merlin didn't even look at him. Instead, he approached Mynur and knelt in the dirt by his wing. The wound looked nasty, even in the scarce light of dusk, certainly worse than the graze Arthur's patrol had inflicted. The harpoon had ripped about two arm's lengths worth of the membrane apart. It was steadily oozing blood and the edges were fluttering like a torn sheet.
Merlin inspected the damage, then closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against Mynur's blue scales. "Oh, Mynur…"
"It will heal," Mynur told him, though his voice was pained. "Don't fret, little brother."
Merlin leaned back, then stroked the edge of the wing. "It will take months! We need to fix it up properly, or the scars will bother you while flying! You could hardly take off as it is. I can't do anything here, but I promise, I'll get to it as soon as we're back in Ealdor."
Arthur glanced at the injury, then up at the dragon. Though he himself had inflicted many draconite wounds, he couldn't help but look at the tattered wing now, hear Mynur's faint mewls, and sense the wrongness of it.
"It looks terrible," he commented without thinking.
Finally, Merlin turned his attention to him. Arthur didn't know how to interpret his expression, but it certainly wasn't anger. He had the luxury of direct comparison. Gwaine and Lancelot had come to stand nearby and they seemed about ready to throttle Arthur with their bare hands. On instinct, Arthur's hand went to Excalibur.
"Don't," Merlin said. He was talking to his men, not Arthur. "Let him be."
"Why did you rescue him?" Gwaine said. "Serves him right if he gets killed for what he's done!"
"Didn't you listen?" Merlin retorted. "He was trying to save the dragons. He defied Uther and nearly got himself executed!"
"He shouldn't have brought us to Camelot in the first place!" Lancelot argued.
"Well, he did the right thing in the end, didn't he?" Merlin stood from where he had still been kneeling on the ground and approached. He looked Arthur over, then asked, "Are you all right?"
Arthur almost snorted. Why would Merlin care? "I'm fine."
"That was a brave thing to do," Merlin told him.
Arthur did let out a derisive snort at that and averted his eyes. "Please, Merlin, spare me your platitudes."
Merlin was unfazed by his attitude. "What happened?"
Arthur crossed his arms, studying the sun just slipping past the horizon. How could he possibly put into words what had occurred? He was just starting to wrap his mind around it. "You heard, didn't you? My father and I didn't exactly see eye to eye on the dragon issue."
"You wanted them alive," Merlin prodded stubbornly. "Why? What was your plan?"
Arthur felt he had to clear his throat. He really didn't want to talk about this, he didn't want to think about this, but perhaps Merlin deserved to know. After all, he had just saved Arthur's life – again. Uther had seemed angry enough about the dragons' escape to go through with his threat of execution on the spot. For the longest time, Arthur really thought he had been bluffing, that his father would back down once he saw that Arthur was actually serious. Apparently, he had been wrong…
"I wanted to use the dragons as leverage to negotiate a treaty with your father," he forced out an explanation, hoping that would be enough, but Merlin would not back off.
"A treaty? As in, a peace treaty?"
The sheer amazement in Merlin's voice made Arthur look at him after all. Merlin was staring at Arthur with wide eyes and there was a flicker of something there that looked suspiciously like hope. He felt he couldn't deny this man a response.
"I thought," Arthur elaborated stiffly, "with me controlling the dragons, we could bring an end to this conflict. I wanted to tell all dragons to stand down, thereby forcing your father to agree to negotiate. Minimal bloodshed, a quick end to this war, perhaps even a way to reconcile our people in the long run."
"Reconcile our people," Merlin repeated breathlessly. He stared at him for a second longer, then turned away. He walked a few steps, paced for a moment or two, then turned back to Arthur. The red light of dusk reflected in his eyes like dragonfyre. "You're really him, aren't you?" he half-whispered. "You're the Great Dragon."
Arthur had to suppress an urge to groan. Not this again. "I didn't do it because of that. I don't believe in your prophecies, Merlin."
"It doesn't matter if you believe in them. It doesn't make them any less true." He shook his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips as he recited, "He shall rally the people and unite the land."
"Well, I won't be doing any rallying now," Arthur told him, and he heard his voice grow harsh and bitter. "For all I know, my father has already put a bounty on my head. He will have me disinherited by the time the sun is up."
Arthur felt his breath hitch, just once, but it was enough to make him turn to the side in an attempt to save his dignity. He couldn't talk about this anymore. He squeezed his eyes shut, shielding himself from the world, and tried to rein himself in. But it was then that it all came crushing down on him.
He had not only defied his father, but effectively broken with him. It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, the kind of reckless thinking that had got him captured at the George of Gedref. He had not spared a thought for the consequences, but done what his gut had told him to do. And now, there was no coming back from this.
Uther's words had shaken Arthur to the core. His disregard for the suffering of his own people, the way he had taken their men's sacrifices for granted.
To hell with our people! It is their duty and privilege to give their lives for Camelot.
Arthur shuddered and a scatter of goosebumps travelled up his arms when his father's voice echoed through his head.
He had known his father to be a ruthless man. He had deemed some of the king's decisions too harsh or too heartless in the past, but he had never heard him talk like this. Like his personal thirst for revenge was worth more than the people he had sworn an oath to protect. Uther seemed willing to pay any price to ensure the complete annihilation of all dragons, even after twenty-one cruel years of war.
Perhaps he had underestimated how deep his father's hatred for Balinor truly ran. He knew Uther blamed the dragonlord specifically for Ygraine's death. But was one man's revenge worth the deaths of so many?
And those villages near the front… Arthur felt his hands go clammy.
Children killed for nothing but petty revenge. Uther had had no reason to order those attacks. He could have returned the artifact, or he could have refused Balinor's demands, all but signing off on Arthur's death. Such were the acceptable options in war. But he had done neither. Instead, he had gone out of his way to have innocents slaughtered in pointless retribution.
It brought back visions Arthur had tried his best to suppress, memories of another village. He could smell the blood even now, could hear children screaming in terror, could see mothers cowering at his men's feet begging that at least their infants be spared—
He hadn't realized that his fingers were clawing painfully at his own hair until Merlin's right hand came to rest on his neck, right at the edge of his chainmail. The touch instantly grounded him. He looked up and realized Merlin was talking to him.
"… come on, Arthur," he urged. "Take a deep breath!"
Arthur sucked in some air, then let out an embarrassing noise on exhale. It sounded far too close to a strangled sob and he felt his cheeks heat up. What was he doing? He was still Arthur Pendragon, and Arthur Pendragon would not have a nervous breakdown in a turnip field!
Merlin retrieved his hand when Arthur stopped tugging at his hair. There was such a genuine look of compassion on his face that Arthur had to swallow hard against a lump in his throat.
"All right?" Merlin asked.
Arthur nodded stiffly.
Merlin studied him for a moment longer, then added, "Come back with us."
"What?" Arthur croaked. Gods, was that his voice?
"Come back with us," Merlin repeated, "to Ealdor."
Arthur let out a desperate laugh, and it dislodged whatever had been blocking his throat. "Ah, yes, to get lynched after all. Brilliant plan!"
Merlin shook his head vehemently. "They won't kill you. I won't let them. You're the Great Dragon. Those are your people."
"My people are at Camelot."
"So you will go back there then?" Merlin asked. "To get executed?"
"I don't know what I will do," Arthur admitted weakly. He really didn't. He had no place to go, now that he had betrayed his own father.
"Merlin," Gwaine called out. "We need to get going. It's almost night and we're not that far from the city of Camelot. I don't want Uther to track us down, and we'll have to rest frequently on the way, what with Mynur's wing."
"Percival isn't looking too good, either," Lancelot added.
Merlin threw his men a quick look of acknowledgement, then he turned back. "I mean it," he said. "You should come with us. You have released my dragonfyre, and I will do everything in my power to protect you with it."
"You would do that?" Arthur asked him. "Protect me, after all that happened?"
Merlin's smile was self-deprecating. "People have always told me I'm too soft."
He said it like it was a bad thing, like it was a proof of weakness. But Arthur had just seen and heard what a hard man could be capable of, and he had told his father the truth: Uther's actions weren't a sign of strength. Perhaps compassion and forgiveness were.
Arthur looked over at the dragons, at Merlin's men. They were watching them expectantly.
This was another reckless decision just waiting to be made. Really, what did he have to lose at this point?
"Fine," Arthur said and straightened up. "I'll come."
It took them well until the morning to reach Ealdor for what should have been but a two- or three-hour flight. Mynur was having difficulty keeping up. He was clearly in pain, and the natural lift of the winds that allowed dragons to sail was no longer working adequately for him. He kept flapping his wings and running out of strength, even though they had spared him the weight of riders. It meant they had to make another couple of detours. They couldn't risk staying in Camelot or disputed territory for too long, though they were lucky to at least have the cover of night.
By the time they had passed the Ridge of Ascetir and were descending on the meadow below the dragon den, Arthur was half-frozen and beyond exhausted.
But it soon became clear there would be no time to gather their strength. No sooner had they landed on the dew-covered grass than a group of people approached them from Ealdor. Arthur was still struggling with his buckles when he heard Balinor's deep voice resound across the meadow.
"Merlin!" The dragonlord looked no less livid than Arthur's own father had some hours ago.
Merlin slid off Aithusa's back and immediately stood at attention, his hands laced behind his back. Arthur could see his fingers tremble.
It struck him then how apprehensive Merlin had to be. His list of sins was long. He had freed Arthur and his knights without permission. He had lost two prisoners. He had let his men and dragons be captured. He had failed to claim Excalibur. What was worst, Merlin would have to reveal why the prize of his quest was strapped to Arthur's hips instead.
Arthur hurriedly slipped from the saddle and came to stand at Merlin's back. A vague show of support was all that he could offer him now.
Balinor stopped abruptly as he reached their group, taking in the state of them with one sweeping look. His eyes narrowed when he took in the proof of Merlin's failures: Mynur's state, Percival's dazed look and their obviously diminished numbers.
Behind Balinor, some grim-looking dragon warriors were lining up in a half-circle, but Arthur could see an even bigger audience gathering at the edge of Ealdor and slowly approaching. Clearly, the news of Merlin's escapade and subsequent return had spread like wildfire. Nobody wanted to miss this spectacle.
"Father," Merlin replied. "You are not at the front?" His voice was stiff, but surprisingly steady in the face of what was to come, revealing a strength Merlin himself didn't seem to realise he possessed.
"I returned as soon as I got word of your foolishness," Balinor replied. "You will explain yourself this instant!" To Merlin's credit, he shrunk back only slightly at Balinor's menacing eyes. The dragonlord looked about angry enough to start spitting fire himself, though his voice was deceptively even.
"I did as you told me," Merlin began his explanation, "I gathered my men to leave for the Crystal Cave."
"And freed our prisoners in the process!" Balinor interrupted.
"I didn't free them!" Merlin denied. "I needed to take them along because there was every chance they would have been murdered by your rogue men that night!"
"So? The dragonslayer's life was forfeit as soon as Uther's attacks started. His father refused the bargain and chose to slaughter our people instead. An eye for an eye—"
"No," Merlin intercepted forcefully. "It would have been wrong. I told you before, this isn't the way!"
Balinor's nostrils flared, but his eyes flickered towards Arthur. "You have returned him, at least. We shall have justice now!"
"There is no justice in revenge!" Merlin squared his shoulders. "I am not letting you kill him!"
Balinor let his eyes roam over Merlin's defiant stance, then he scowled. "I see nothing has changed. You are every bit as stubborn and unwilling to claim your rightful place as you have ever been. I should have known you would return without Excalibur."
The words had to cut Merlin deeply, but he remained steady in the face of his father's cruelty.
"Oh, I found Excalibur," he stated.
Surprise eased the harsh lines of anger and disapproval on Balinor's face, if only briefly. It was replaced by scepticism. "I don't see you carrying it."
Merlin tensed and swallowed. He knew as well as Arthur that this was it. He would have to tell Balinor the truth.
"Father," Merlin started, and now there was a clear tremble in his voice, "the prophecy. You must know, Mother never gave you the whole of it."
Balinor frowned. "What do you mean?"
"It was incomplete," Merlin soldiered on. "At the Crystal Cave, there was an inscription. It was carved into the stone, right underneath Excalibur. It showed the entirety of the prophecy. There were a few more lines."
"What lines?" Balinor asked impatiently.
"They reveal we have misinterpreted the prophecy," Merlin said vaguely. He was stalling, and Arthur couldn't really blame him.
"What lines?"
Merlin took a deep breath, and recited, "He shall wield the dragonblade, born to be a king. He shall wield dragonfyre, born to serve the king. Together, the Great Dragon and Emrys shall herald a new age."
Balinor needed a moment to process the words. Arthur could practically see him try and link the words to the prophecy he knew and rearrange the meaning until he came to a conclusion. Then his face went through an impressive myriad of emotions – shock, uncertainty, a hint of fear, then more anger – before settling firmly on disbelief.
"You must be mistaken," he said.
"It was literally cast in stone!" Merlin retorted, with just a hint of exasperation. "Along with the sword itself."
Balinor stared at his son as he considered again. His eyes flickered briefly towards Arthur, then he shook his head, only once, and looked back at Merlin.
"The sword which you said you have pulled out," Balinor replied firmly, "proving yourself the Great Dragon. You said it yourself: He shall wield the dragonblade." In any other instance, the way in which Balinor tried to twist the words to fit his preconceived ideas might have been amusing.
Merlin let out a noise somewhere between a sigh and a groan. "No, Father. I said I found the sword. But I didn't pull it out. I couldn't even touch Excalibur. It was never meant to be mine. Somebody else retrieved it instead."
Balinor's eyes started to wander again. Towards Gwaine, Percival and Lancelot first – a reasonable assumption, given they were dragon warriors – before returning once more to Arthur. "And who–?" he started, just as his eyes came to rest on the sword hanging off Arthur's belt.
Excalibur's blade was exposed. It hung directly off his belt, for the lack of a fitting scabbard. Arthur deliberately shifted out of Merlin's shadow to show off the runes etched into the metal. The crystal set in the pommel gleamed in the morning light.
"No." It was a gasp rather than a word.
"Father," Merlin said, and now his voice was less firm, more gentle. He took a tentative step towards Balinor. "It was never me. I was never meant to be a great warrior."
"No!" Again, with more force.
"It has always been him," Merlin continued, raising a careful hand towards his father as if to grasp his arm. "He is a Pendragon. They have always led us. They have always been our rightful kings—"
"No!" This time, it was a roar. Balinor's face morphed into an ugly mask of fury and he slapped away Merlin's hand with such force that there was loud smack. "No! This cannot be! You are the Great Dragon, Merlin!"
"I'm not," Merlin said, and there was such raw compassion in his voice that Arthur could almost feel it, too. Balinor's world was falling apart and Merlin knew too well how it felt. He had gone through the same process in the Cave, right in front of Arthur's eyes.
But Merlin had been far quicker to accept the truth.
"Give me that sword!" Balinor growled and approached Arthur. "You shall not sully that dragonblade with your unworthy fingers, not for a second longer. Hand it over, dragonslayer!"
Merlin started to step into his path. "Father, you cannot—"
"Merlin," Arthur interrupted him. "Let him. He won't believe you otherwise."
He drew the sword from the belt and presented the hilt to Balinor, who immediately made a grab for it. He flinched and let out a sharp hiss, then he was stumbling back, staring at his blistered hand. For a moment, it seemed he might have seen reason, but he recovered quickly.
"Merlin! You take it from him!"
"I can't!"
"Take it!" Balinor insisted.
Merlin threw Arthur a desperate look, but braced himself and touched the handle. He squeezed his eyes shut, his hand lingering for a second to gather the proof he needed, then he drew back his hand and held up his freshly burnt palm.
A sudden rise of murmurs, intercepted by shouts of disbelief, drew Arthur's attention to the gathered crowd. There were at least a hundred people now, standing but a few paces behind Balinor, looking on, and they had heard and seen everything. Their faces were filled with every bit of the shock Balinor was exuding himself, though they were no longer silent bystanders.
They had just seen Excalibur reject both of their dragonlords, and accept a Pendragon instead. Talk about a paradigm shift.
"This cannot be," Balinor said, staring at Merlin's hand. He was still in denial, in spite of all the evidence presented to him. A rather amazing feat. "It can't."
"Can't it?" Merlin replied. "You always told me how I was failing to live up to my destiny. But if anything, I was destined to fail. I was never born to be a leader or a mighty warrior. I am Emrys, not the Great Dragon. I was born to serve him."
"Serve him?" Arthur was vividly reminded of himself, kneeling in front of Balinor, telling him that he could never serve a man like Merlin. Gods, but the deities of fate really had a strange sense of humour, didn't they? "Never!" Balinor vowed, "never again will a dragonlord bend his knee for a Pendragon!"
"He is the Great Dragon!"
"He is a dragonslayer who will see all our kind slaughtered!" Balinor shouted.
"Not Arthur!" Merlin replied, and Arthur didn't know what to feel when he heard the earnest conviction behind those words. "He has broken with Uther! He has returned with us to Ealdor after saving Mynur, Vethoas and Aithusa from the knights of Camelot! And the dragons bowed to him, they follow his commands! They know he's the one, just ask our siblings!"
Another round of murmurs filled the air. Some people were pointing and whispering, others gaping or shaking their heads at Merlin's words.
"You are beyond reason," Balinor spat, not even sparing a look to confirm Merlin's words with the dragons behind them. "Get away from him, Merlin! I will have this impostor executed at once!"
Merlin went to stand directly in front of Arthur. "I will not! He is the Great Dragon!"
"Step aside and stand down, son!"
Behind Balinor, a few of his warriors shifted, making a grab for their sword. Merlin saw it too, but didn't obey.
"He is the Great Dragon!" Merlin said again, perhaps now determined to drill it into Balinor's brain by sheer force of repetition.
"Merlin, that is an order. I am your liege and I will not be disobeyed again!"
Finally, Merlin moved. He took a single step forward and away from Arthur. He hesitated, then turned to face him. For one, long moment, Merlin simply stared him down and Arthur could do nothing but hold his gaze, unsure why Merlin was suddenly sizing him up quite so intensely. Was Merlin thinking of turning on him, forgoing his promise of protection?
"I'm taking a leap of faith here, Arthur," Merlin said in a strange voice.
He reached out an arm to get a hold of Arthur's hand, then he sunk to one knee and bowed his head over Arthur's signet ring.
Everyone went deadly quiet.
Arthur stilled on the spot, but before he could even think of the implications behind Merlin's actions, the dragonlord had already begun to speak, "On the dragon blood passed to me by ancestors, I hereby swear allegiance to you, Arthur Pendragon, Crown Prince of Camelot, and Great Dragon of prophecy." Arthur's eyes widened. Merlin was swearing an oath of fealty – to him?
"Merlin, no!" Balinor exclaimed with a distinct note of horror. "Get up!"
The crowd wasn't staying silent anymore, either. Shouts of outrage, even the occasional curse, started raining down on Merlin.
But Merlin didn't falter. Instead, he pressed his forehead against Arthur's ring, raised his voice and continued, "I solemnly swear, from this hour henceforth, to serve my liege faithfully, in peace and in war, lest death claim me or my lord release me from this oath." He looked up at Arthur, his eyes shining with some indecipherable emotion. "Do you accept, sire?"
"Merlin," Arthur replied, and nothing more. He was momentarily lost for words.
"Merlin, get up!" Balinor shouted again and reached for Merlin's arm.
"Arthur, do you accept my oath?" Merlin urged.
"I—yes," Arthur said, then cleared his throat. "I accept your oath of fealty, Lord Merlin."
In the next moment, Merlin was roughly hauled to his feet by his father and Arthur's hand slipped from his. "What have you done?" Balinor hissed and started shaking Merlin. "Why would you kneel to this man?"
"He's the Great Dragon!" Merlin replied, as if this was all the reason he needed. Perhaps it was.
"Grovelling in the dirt for a Pendragon!" Balinor spat. "Have you got no shame?"
"It's too late now," Merlin replied with a grim smile. "I swore an oath on his sigil, and I am honour-bound to keep it, unless he releases me. You might be blind to the truth, but I am not. He is the Great Dragon, and I was born to serve him with my dragonfyre. Nothing that you say will change that."
"You have disgraced yourself! Revoke that oath this instant! Do as I say! I am your father!"
"My father you might be," Merlin said, "but you are no longer my liege."
Balinor abruptly released Merlin's arm, as if he had been burnt my Excalibur a second time. Merlin stumbled, but managed to steady himself. He moved and came to stand by Arthur's side.
"I won't let you hurt my king," he said dangerously and raised a threatening hand, setting his eyes ablaze with a spark of dragonfyre.
Balinor stared at them both, long and hard. Then his mouth twisted in what was very clearly contempt and disgust. Without another word, he turned and walked away, waving at his men to follow, a silent command to let Merlin and Arthur be. For now.
Some of the dragon warriors stayed for a few moments longer. Arthur recognised one of them as Godric, the man who had challenged Merlin at the feast. The man approached and Merlin tensed.
But Godric didn't attack. He spat at Merlin's feet and said, "I knew it all along, boy. A traitor to your kind."
