Dawn fell over Camelot, a golden light breaking on the east and then slowly climbing, lighting each building and tree with the hopeful glow of a new day. Guinevere made her way down the staircase leading to the courtyard, breathing in the morning air that had blown in from the countryside. Leon had two horses by the reins, his big brown stallion and Gwen's favorite white mare.
"Good morning, Leon," she said. She turned to the horse and stroked her nose, smiling as she did.
"You seem in good spirits today," Leon said.
"Yes," Gwen said, "You don't seem too glum yourself."
Leon helped Gwen onto the horse and adjusted the skirt of her dress so that it fell comfortably over the animal's rear. The young red-headed knight and his spotted horse came trotting up to the queen's side, and the boy gave a garish nod.
"Sir Tristan, will you be joining us?"
"Oh yes, my lady," he said. The early light gave extra vibrancy to the freckles that dotted his nose. "I love a good magic show. You should've seen it the last time! I've never known anything like it."
"Was it that good?"
"It was! You know, when I was little I wanted to be a sorcerer. It was still outlawed then, so my mother told me to find a new occupation. If only I could've seen her face when I became a knight of Camelot. She never would have believed it."
"Tristan," Leon called, "you take the rear."
"Well, my lady, looks like we're about to get going. It was nice to talk to you."
A smile stretched across Gwen's face and she nodded. "Yes, nice chatting with you, Tristan." She found herself chuckling as the boy rode to the back of the formation and one of her servant girls took his place at her side.
"Something funny, my lady?" the girl asked.
"He just reminds me…" Gwen let out a sigh, "Oh, never mind."
The horses began to move with some considerable speed, and Gwen let her mind drift back to her younger days, and the friends she had hoped she would never lose.
OIOIOIOIOIO
After a day of riding, Leon halted the party at dusk and they made camp. Guinevere's serving girl took to hanging a tent for her to sleep in, and while the work was being done, the queen sat in front of the small fire and watched the stew bubbling. Leon sat at her side, occasionally stirring hearty substance with a half-hearted motion. Leon was loyal and good company, but he was not much for saying unnecessary words, so the pair shared their usual silence.
"I see that Sir Galahad came after all," Gwen said, noting the dark knight and his bundle of firewood.
"He is a good man," Leon said, "But he has a lot to learn."
"I believe he has good intentions. Sometimes challenging authority is the right thing to do, though I certainly wish he would do it less often."
Leon laughed once. Wiry silver streaks were invading his beard as well, and when he spoke they caught the firelight and shimmered. Soon Gwen's hair would be losing its color too.
"The stew is done," Leon said, "Though be careful, it is still hot."
Guinevere received a bowl graciously, and simply held it in her hands, feeling its familiar warmth.
Most of the next day passed before the party reached the caves outside of Ealdor. Gwen was entertained on the ride by listening in on Tristan's ongoing rants, and by watching her servant girl make note of every type of bird she saw along the way.
"That is a swallow, is it not?" Gwen would ask the girl, simply so they might have something to talk about.
"We are getting close, my lady," Leon promised. "He lives just over the river."
Tristan was going on about some occasion he was taken in by a sheep herder in Ealdor when a chorus of shouts rang from the trees. Two dozen men brandishing axes and swords swarmed down an embankment to the right of the small party, raising hell as they came.
"Bandits!" Leon shouted, and the men turned about to face them. Gwen's horse protested against the commotion, but she urged her to stay steady. In Guinevere's experience, staying with the knights was a safer bet than attempting an escape.
The knights drew their swords and braced for collision with the onslaught of armed men, but the clash never came. Instead, the bandits were thrown into the air inexplicably. They smashed against trees, their weapons flew from their hands, and they landed uncomfortably on the forest floor.
The knights drew into a tight circle around Gwen and her serving girl, their swords raised and eyes darting about in search of the force that had derailed the bandits. The men on the ground gave a few feint moans here and there, though few bothered to stir. It was clear that for the moment they were no longer a threat.
Guinevere's eyes alighted on a tall, thin man who was gliding between the trees. He stepped out of the shadows of the forest into a patch of sunlight, and slowly, without regard to the knights, began to cross the rocky expanse that lay ahead. His cloak-covered shoulders were slumped, not in a manner of embarrassment, but in the way of one who has carried too much.
"That's him!" Tristan shouted. "That's the sorcerer!" Tristan's face lit with excitement, and he urged his horse toward the mysterious man.
"Stop," the sorcerer said. His voice was gravely and deep, like he had just woken from a long sleep. "I have had enough of knights, and kings, and Camelot. I thought I made that clear last time you came. Just go back where you belong."
The sorcerer turned his back on them, and slowly stepped over the rocks.
"Merlin!" Guinevere called, "have you had enough of old friends as well?"
Merlin stopped and reluctantly bent his head over his shoulder, his blue eyes peering at the queen from an untamed mop of dark hair. The afternoon sunlight caught on his defined cheeks, and for a moment he looked something like his old self.
"Gwen," he said, "I know why you have come. I cannot go back there. Camelot is not the same without him."
"I know," Guinevere said, leaning forward. She gripped the reins of the white mare in her hands and felt the leather biting into her skin. "It is like the light has gone out of the place. All the people, all the sounds, speak of loneliness. But it is still Camelot – his Camelot, my Camelot, your—"
"Don't say it," Merlin begged. He raised a trembling hand and pressed it to his forehead. "Please, don't say it."
Guinevere glanced at Sir Leon, who met her gaze and dismounted his horse. He stepped to her side, offered and hand, and helped her down. She smiled at Leon, who attempted to return the gesture, but was too shaken by the scene unfolding before him. The queen folded her hands in front of her and gingerly stepped onto the rocks.
"Camelot was your home once, Merlin, and I hope it may be your home again. Sorcery is no longer outlawed. If you return you will be free to be yourself without any judgement. There is room for you in the castle, and—"
"There is nothing for me in Camelot!" Merlin said. He turned towards Gwen, who was taken aback by his sudden change of tone. She bristled, but held her ground.
"And what is there for you in this cave?" Gwen studied her old friend's face. A thick, dark beard had sprouted on his chin, and his hair had grown into long half-curled locks. Dark circles encompassed his eyes, but there were no wrinkles to mark the passing of time – there was something ageless about those eyes, and something terribly tortured as well. "We all miss him, Merlin. But it's been eight years, it's time to start living life again."
"Eight years?" Merlin said softly, "That long?"
"Please," Gwen implored, "Come home, for me. For Gaius."
"This is my home now," Merlin said.
"Then come visit – just for a few days. It would make Gaius so happy. And there is something I must show you."
Merlin let out a little sigh, "Gwen—"
"I promise the journey will be worth it. And if it is not, I swear that I shall never seek you out again."
"Just a few days?" he said. Gwen nodded. "And it would make you happy?"
"More than anything."
With a half-hearted smile, Merlin said, "Then I shall come with you to Camelot, on one condition: the dragon comes too."
"Dragon?" Gwen said.
As if responding to a call, the large white beast emerged from the tree line and ambled up to Gwen, a smile spread across its scaly face and its papery wings rustling. The queen caught herself before a surprised gasp escaped her lips, but her serving girl, still surrounded by the party of knights, could not withhold a panicked shriek.
"Morgana's dragon?" Guinevere asked.
"Aithusa belongs to no woman or man. She is her own creature." Merlin pursed his lips and crossed his arms over his chest. "She may have put her trust in the wrong people, but isn't that a mistake we all have made?"
"We aren't all dragons, Merlin."
"But I am a dragon lord, and Aithusa is my responsibility. She needs me."
Gwen locked eyes on the dragon, who was sniffing the air carelessly. The big pale beast took another step closer to the queen, and a Leon took two steps towards the beast, sword drawn. Gwen's eyebrows furrowed and she bit her lip – this was a dragon, after all, Morgana's dragon. This dragon was the cause of so much of Camelot's pain. And yet…
Aithusa's big pink tongue reached out and licked Guinevere's cheek. The queen gasped and leaned back, almost to the point of falling, but recovered. Merlin did nothing to intercede, but let out one hearty laugh and patted Aithusa's back.
Gwen, despite herself, smiled.
"Are you sure she's safe to be around?" Gwen asked.
"She wouldn't hurt a fly."
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but," Gwen looked at Leon and the others apologetically— "if it means you will return to Camelot, the dragon can come."
The knights all looked at one another. Some shrugged, some muttered. Galahad grumbled, "Did she just say the dragon can come?"
"This is even better than I'd expected," Tristan said. "A real dragon, can you believe it?"
"I'm trying not to." Galahad sighed, and he sunk back into his skulking.
