Author's Note: My sincerest apologies for the extremely long hiatus. I was finishing a Master's Degree and couldn't convince myself to do more writing on top of all my writing. Hopefully I will be posting more regularly going forward, though I make no promises I can't keep. Thank you to everyone who has stuck with me this far - the journey isn't over yet.
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"Are you going to stand there all night?" Merlin asked from the edge of his bed. The spectral Arthur loomed in the corner, one hand resting on his chin in an eerie contemplation.
For the most part Arthur seemed, to Merlin's trained eye, largely unchanged since the days of his life. Of course he hadn't aged, and his humor was still intact. What was different was the way he moved, or rather the way he stood perfectly still for long moments. In life Arthur hadn't been fidgety exactly, but he had had a normal sway and breath and heartbeat. Now Merlin would find him completely motionless, like he'd been frozen into stone by Medusa or captured in painting by a skilled craftsman.
"Arthur?" Merlin tried again. At this, the kingly ghost stirred. "I do need to go to sleep eventually," Merlin said.
"Well, I don't need to sleep."
"So you are going to stand there all night."
"Merlin, believe me, I haven't any desire to watch you sleep. But what am I supposed to do with myself all night?"
Merlin let out a dramatic yawn to further illustrate his point. "I don't know? Haunt the grounds? Confuse the guards?"
"Merlin."
"Seriously, that's what I do when I can't sleep at night."
"Well," Arthur said, "Some of us have more dignity than that."
"You could check on George. Or, I don't know, watch Gwen sleep?"
Something changed in Arthur's face, and he breathlessly froze once more. Merlin felt his eyes beginning to droop uncontrollably, but he also knew that his king was troubled and it was his duty to try to ease his mind.
"Why didn't you let me tell her you were there?" Merlin asked. "She'd be delighted to know you're in the castle. She'd even drink some of that awful potion if it meant seeing you."
"Maybe," Arthur said. "But maybe…"
"What is it?"
"What if she doesn't want to see me?"
"Arthur, that's ridiculous, she misses you terribly," Merlin said. "You can see it in her eyes."
"Even so, I did leave her."
"You didn't mean to. And if anyone is to blame for your – for you not coming back, it's me, not you."
"Don't say that," Arthur said, "It wasn't your fault."
"And it wasn't yours. The ones to blame are Morgana and Mordred."
"Yes," Arthur said, "And they're gone."
"Do you ever," Merlin ventured, "see them, on the other side of the veil?"
"No," Arthur said, "I don't think they went where I did. They went somewhere else."
"Good."
"Yes," Arthur said, "Now, get some sleep."
"Is that an order?"
"Maybe."
"Will you let me tell Gwen in the morning?" Merlin asked.
Arthur paused next to the door and glanced back at his faithful servant. "I'll think about it," he said, and then he passed straight through the wood. Merlin fell asleep with the firm belief that he would talk Arthur around come morning light, and that there would soon be a happy reunion of king and queen.
IOIOIOIOIOI
Arthur passed the early hours of the morning retracing old paths through the castle halls and gardens. When he walked in the courtyard, Aithusa perked up and thumped her oversized tail in amicable greeting. Arthur eyed the beast and regretted that his ethereal sword was useless on flesh and blood. The dragon gave a great stretch and lumbered to her feet, smiling a toothy grin at Arthur all the while. "You," Arthur said, "Dragon, don't make the mistake of thinking I like you."
Aithusa thumped her tail again, and threw her massive snout toward Arthur. He instinctively stumbled backwards, hands raised. As if the dragon could do any more damage to him than had already been done. Arthur righted himself and privately felt a flush of embarrassment at having feared the creature at all. In his defense, he thought, the dragon did forge the sword that ultimately killed him, and that was a fair argument for disliking the beast.
"If I had any control over Merlin at all, I'd make him get rid of you."
Aithusa trilled at him.
"I know, Merlin never listens anyway."
Arthur turned his back on the beast and strolled across the courtyard, but when he turned she was still right behind him, tail thumping forcefully on the pavement stones.
"Shooo! Go! Go back to sleep. I don't want you following me."
Aithusa tilted her head. Arthur imagined her saying, "What?"
"I know you understand me. Now, go bother some other ghost."
Aithusa looked at the ground, seemingly defeated, but then her head popped back up and she stared with rapt attention into the distance. Arthur was beginning to wonder why no one listened to him, even in death, when he heard the sound of rocks sliding. He followed the dragon's gaze and saw what she saw: a hooded figure, draped in the morning mist and the first light of day. Aithusa let out an aggravated roar. The figure locked eyes with the dragon and turned tail, cape billowing after him as he retreated into the forest.
"Hey!" Arthur yelled, then scolded himself for forgetting no one could hear him. He took off at a sprint after the figure, who he decided must be a man by the way he ran.
Arthur followed the hooded man past the edge of the forest, just far enough to see him glance back. Russet curls and a sharp jaw protruded from beneath the hood. And the man's eyes – Arthur could've swore he knew that look. It was a look he'd mistaken for something less malicious in eyes like Morgana's or Agrivaine's. He had learned not to trust eyes like those.
IOIOIOIOIOI
"Merlin!" Arthur said, in a shout that sounded a bit like a whisper. The sorcerer shot up from his dreamless sleep into a confused panic. He blinked a few times, surprised by Arthur's presence before he recounted the previous day's events in his mind.
The first golden rays of sunlight were only just struggling their way through the stained glass window, and Merlin fell back onto his pillow with a moan. "It's barely light out. I know you're bored, Arthur, but the living need sleep."
"Just listen to me for once," Arthur said.
Merlin opened one eye to behold the king's seriousness. "What happened?"
"I was walking in the courtyard before dawn when I saw a hooded man creeping around the castle. He looked like he was up to no good."
"Maybe it was just one of the merchants or farmers going for an early stroll."
"No, I'd never seen this man before."
"Arthur," Merlin said, "It's been eight years. There are loads of people in Camelot you haven't seen before."
"Just trust me. He was looking for a way into the castle."
Arthur turned his catlike eyes so fiercely on Merlin, that Merlin felt a coldness run down his spine. It was, for lack of a better description, haunting.
"Okay," Merlin said, "I believe you. Did he get into the castle?"
"No, he ran off when he saw your pet."
"Aithusa?" Merlin asked.
"Yes, and speaking of which, we need to have a chat about that dragon."
"She's not bothering anyone."
"She's bothering me," Arthur said.
"Look, I am the last dragonlord and she is the last dragon. We're meant to stay together."
"You, a dragonlord? That's ridiculous."
"No, it most certainly isn't!" Merlin said, a little too loudly. A knock on the door came as a quick reply, and a muffled, "Merlin?"
Merlin jumped out of bed and let the door swing open. Leon poked his head skeptically into the room. "Are you alright, Merlin? I heard shouting."
"Fine," Merlin said, "Just fine." He eyed Arthur, who was wearing a stupid grin.
"Who were you talking to?" Leon asked.
"No one. I was…"
"Practicing poetry," Arthur suggested.
"…practicing poetry," Merlin said, and almost immediately regretted the words.
"Poetry?" Leon asked. He scanned the room again with this eyes, looking right through Arthur, who let out a hearty chuckle.
"Yes," Merlin said reluctantly, "Poetry."
"Ah," Leon said, his brows furrowed together. "Well, good luck, I suppose."
"Thank you, Sir Leon."
Merlin pushed the door closed slowly and waited a moment before turning back to face Arthur. He knew exactly what sort of senseless look would be plastered on his face – raised brows, smiling eyes, and his teeth glistening in a mocking smile.
"You're welcome for that," Arthur said.
"Uh-huh." Merlin replied.
IOIOIOIOIOI
In the forest Gareth called upon his fellow druids. They emerged from the flora one by one, and together they stood like the four points on a compass. "What news?" the blonde woman asked.
"They have a dragon," Gareth reported.
A shudder might have run through the forest itself, but the group remained eerily calm. "Impossible," the blonde woman snarled. "Dragons are extinct. The last one to see such a beast was the Lady Morgana herself, and that was near a decade ago."
"I know what I saw," Gareth said.
"If this is true, that changes things. I never thought that rat Guinevere would keep a dragon chained at her castle."
"Not chained, Marissa. The beast roamed free."
The blonde woman tilted her head, allowing a few golden locks to spill from her hood. "Free?" she said, "and it did not rampage or burn the city?"
"No."
"I have heard talk," Marissa said, "That a man with dragonlord blood still walks Albion. I thought it errant rumor, but if there is a peaceful dragon it Camelot, it may indeed be true."
"Who is this man?" asked the other woman.
"He has many names," Marissa said, "but the one that the old druids used was Emrys."
"The sorcerer who killed the Lady Morgana," Gareth breathed.
"So it is said. And," Marissa added, "we have every reason to believe he has returned to Camelot."
