Merlin storms toward the physician's chambers as much as he is able to, given the babe still latched onto his torso.
His eyes do not leave her little form her as they walk. As soon as they were inside the walls of the castle, Aithusa had once again wriggled in a demand to face more forward. Merlin balanced her on his hip as he went, watching her big blue eyes take in the strange world around them.
"What happened, little dragon?" Merlin whispers into her hair.
Aithusa blinks up at him. As her only answer, a little hand reaches up to pat gently at his cheek.
She is so human in his arms. The last time Merlin had seen Aithusa, she was as she should be: a yearling, strangely gangly and unsure of herself both in the air and on the ground. When running, she had given the impression of a newborn foal, constantly tripping over her own wings and legs. When in the air, her ascents and descents were choppy and ungraceful.
It had been a delight for Merlin to watch. Every last bit of it, from the curls of smoke and coughing sparks she produced, to the small screeches and eventually broken words that came from her mouth.
Aithusa, light of the sun, sparkling and fast and clumsy and wonderful, dashing circles around Kilgharrah and balancing carefully on Merlin's shoulders.
Despite the iciness growing between Merlin and the elder dragon, Aithusa had a knack for bringing them back together. Whatever tense conversation she interrupted–debates about destiny and witches and paths forward–could be instantly forgotten amid her mischief and sweetness. More than once, Merlin had forgotten himself and fallen asleep beneath Kilgharrah's wings and wrapped around his little dragon, and more than once he had paid for his lateness the following day by mucking out the stables.
But the tense conversations continued nonetheless. Kilgharrah petitioned to be allowed back to Camelot in some situations, and Merlin adamantly refused. Merlin asked for advice on rearing Aithusa, and Kilgharrah reprimanded him that he should simply know. Kilgharrah complained about having to watch over Aithusa, and Merlin snapped the dragon's own warnings about caution and timing right back at him, citing all the reasons the older dragon had for not allowing Merlin the time away from Camelot to raise her himself.
Eventually, Kilgharrah and Merlin had reached an uneasy accord. Merlin revised his orders to allow Kilgharrah entrance to Camelot under dire conditions, but the dragon could not harm the country's inhabitants under penalty of death. Kilgharrah had shared a few choice bits about dragon rearing, which helped to ease the discomfort that came from being apart from Aithusa for days or weeks at a time.
To Merlin's surprise and strange satisfaction, it turns out that his revised order stands even if an inhabitant of Camelot decided to attack Kilgharrah himself. Not a hand had been raised in defense or retaliation. The old lizard hadn't even twitched a finger to do so.
But they're here. In Camelot. And human.
Merlin's heart clenches. Something made them flee here. Something made Kilgharrah on edge enough to do this, to seek out Merlin, to go so far as to smear the memory of Balinor and their kin in an effort to…
To what?
It seems that the entire intention had been to piss Merlin off.
Truly, what had Kilgharrah been thinking? Aithusa is a dragon, and due to Kilgharrah's own parenting ethos, a wild little thing with a penchant for trouble despite all her sweetness. If anyone were to see the little girl try to speak and squawk instead, or laugh and spurt a little bit of fire, or start chasing cats and rats through the streets, everything would be at risk. Both of the dragons, the last of their race. Merlin, as their sworn lord and protector.
Sure, that fate had somehow been avoided on their trip through the outlying villages and the lower town, but that doesn't mean their security will last. Aithusa is at risk here. She's in danger while she remains in Camelot, as much as it pains Merlin to recognize the fact. Whatever happened to her to change her into this adorable little girl, it's impossible for Merlin to tell how long it will last.
What danger did they face for Kilgharrah to be scared into bringing her here?
He picks up his pace, taking long strides down the corridors without really looking at his surroundings.
Aithusa turns her round face to look at him. Her lips stretch into a smile, showing off her tiny, slightly crooked teeth. Merlin can't help but give her a smile right back.
"I'm happy to see you, little one," Merlin says gently.
Aithusa presses herself closer to Merlin in response. Her little body is impossibly warm against his. In any other child, he might think them feverish.
It's a comfort, to know that somewhere beneath the angelic face and blonde curls, his little dragon still exists. Having her so close eases his mind somewhat as he moves through the corridors on the familiar path to his chambers. He's almost able to distract himself completely from their situation just by watching the late morning light play against her fine hair and sparkle in her eyes.
Something about seeing Aithusa like this has woken something in him. Something fierce, loving, and paternal. He had felt it before, watching her stretch her wings and soar through the air. He felt it when she caught her first rabbit and chirruped for the first time. When she had opened her mouth to croak her first human word to him all those weeks ago–a contented Papa sighed into his hair as she perched on his shoulder–the pride and joy had been nearly overwhelming.
But seeing her as a human babe, fitting perfectly snug in his arms, taking in the world around them with familiar eyes, and laughing that laugh which sounds like bells and birdsong, it's different. He can feel deep in his chest that their bond has deepened already, just by being able to experience and appreciate each other as human.
Gaius is working at his table when Merlin enters. Without looking up from his potion, the physician says, "You're back early. Was someone injured?"
Merlin thinks about this, then says, "Yes."
Gaius finally looks up from his table and looks at Merlin. Then, he notices the little bundle wrapped in green fabric clinging to his ward's frame.
"Hello," Gaius says gently. "Who is this?"
"Oh, you know of her," Merlin says somewhat darkly. "This is Aithusa, Gaius."
Aithusa peeks at Gaius with some suspicion. The old physician's brows furrow, then lift impossibly high.
"You mean…"
"And Kilgharrah is right behind me."
Gaius gasps at this, eyes flying to the door. At that moment, the old man enters, eyeing Gaius with obvious distaste. Combined with the blood still on his face and the fast-developing bruise blossoming on his nose and broad jawline, it gives for a more than intimidating look.
"Kilgharrah?" Gaius breathes.
"I have nothing to say to you, old man," Kilgharrah spits.
"I have warned you once already to watch your tongue," Merlin snaps. Aithusa cringes into him, then looks at Kilgharrah uncertainly.
Lancelot follows in after Kilgharrah, closing the door behind him and pressing his back to it. His brown eyes find Merlin's across the room and lifts his eyebrows questioningly. Merlin gives him a half-hearted shrug, then nods.
"So, go ahead, Kilgharrah," Merlin says. "What is so pressing that you did… all this… and came to insult me to my face in my own home?"
Kilgharrah sighs, looking downward. "I too, will admit that I spoke rashly and out of anger. My comments regarding your father were unwarranted. But–"
"I am not," Merlin says, "going to listen to what you have to say if it will devolve into more empty criticisms of my performance as you see it."
Kilgharrah huffs. "Very well. It is well past the time that I stop my efforts in looking after the little one."
"She is still a child," Merlin grinds out.
"And she is your charge," Kilgharrah says, barely keeping a lid on his own temper. "Not mine."
"She is the last of your race," Merlin reminds the older man.
Kilgharrah sighs, sobering somewhat. The warlock thought that they would devolve into one of their well-worn arguments again, as had been their wont lately, but Kilgharrah's reaction indicates otherwise. Merlin takes a deep breath in and watches the older man carefully.
"Yes," Kilgharrah concedes. "And dear to me, despite what you may think. So it was all the more concerning when I learned of the witch's plans to lure the youngling to her side."
Merlin blinks. "I'm sorry?"
"Yes," Kilgharrah says. "Aithusa reported to me that a human wanted to… make contact. I kept an eye on the situation, but Aithusa found herself drawn more and more frequently to the witch's hideout. Had it not been for the little one telling me of her adventures I would not have known until it was too late."
The little girl in question wriggles in Merlin's arms as the praise. She flashes Kilgharrah a large smile, which is returned with a small one of his own.
"Well done, little dragon," Merlin says, looking down at Aithusa. "Did you… did you ever speak with Morgana?"
"No," Aithusa responds. "But she knows of me. Once, when I was hunting some rabbits, she saw me and called to me, which I liked because normally people avoid me or call me weird names, like Eeek. She's real nice."
Merlin's heart constricts at the words. The Morgana he likes to remember had been nice. She had been a wonderful person, and just the type to bond with a baby dragon. But the Morgana he knows now…
"During her latest attempt," Kilgharrah explains, "Aithusa got very close. And then the Sarrum attacked the witch and took her into his custody. The little one got away, but not before the Sarrum learned of her presence."
Merlin places Aithusa on Gaius's cot and sits down heavily next to her. The little girl doesn't hesitate before climbing happily into his lap.
"You understand the severity of the situation," Kilgharrah intones.
Merlin nods his head, ignoring the implied lecture at the end of the sentence. If you had simply followed my advice and killed the witch, young warlock… But he hadn't. And he hadn't helped Morgana either. And now she's an enemy who knows about Merlin's little dragon. And now the Sarrum, the only person more infamous than Uther had been for his hatred of all things magical… now he knew about Aithusa as well.
"Given Aithusa's youth and inexperience in self-defense, I had to take more… drastic measures to ensure her safety."
"I can see that," Merlin says with a snort. "I didn't know you were capable of such a thing."
"In times of great desperation, a dragon may temporarily assume human form," Gaius says slowly.
"You knew of this?" Merlin asks.
"It was mentioned in a legend Balinor had related to me once, long ago," Gaius responds sadly. "I thought it merely conjecture or myth."
"Yeah, well, that's what Kilgharrah's whole personality revolves around anyway," Merlin grumbles.
Kilgharrah hums in disapproval but wisely chooses to not respond.
"Why didn't you try to escape Uther by assuming a human form?" Merlin asks the lizard. "Is this… is this your last opportunity to be human?"
"Yes, young warlock," Kilgharrah answers. "It is. I could not shift when shackled in cold iron, and since then have not felt the need. Then this happened, and I felt I could not abandon a human babe in the woods in good conscience. And I cannot take care of one myself."
"So you brought her here."
"Where you immediately punched me," Kilgharrah grouses.
"Well," Merlin exclaims, "what was I to think? And why didn't you send word to me? Why ambush me here?"
"Time was of the essence," Kilgharrah explains. "I could not risk us being found by enemies, and I could not defend her properly based on your own orders. And then, once we were human, we had no money, no recourse. We simply had to find you."
Merlin sighs again.
"I am sorry, Kilgharrah," Merlin says. "I acted without thought."
"You normally do," Kilgharrah and Gaius say in unison.
Merlin smiles at that, though both older men seem discomfited.
"How long…" Merlin asks, adjusting Aithusa's position on his lap.
"At most, two years," Kilgharrah tells him.
Lancelot coughs. Merlin jerks his head up to look at the knight as if just reminded of his friend's presence. Gaius and Kilgharrah do much the same.
"We're going to have a lot of explaining to do, Merlin," Lancelot says.
"Yeah, yeah," Merlin complains, rubbing the back of his neck. "I always do."
"You will have quite the inquisition waiting for you this time, though," Lancelot says diplomatically. "You can hide many things, Merlin, but you can't hide a child. Especially not after she greets you as her father and you do nothing to dispute it."
"Well, I kind of already was," Merlin says. He looks down at Aithusa, his face pensive.
Aithusa blinks up at him as if feeling the warlock's attention on her. She reaches a hand up and pats his cheek again.
"Papa."
Everyone is quiet around him for a moment. Aithusa turns her attention away from Merlin and busies herself playing with the hems of Merlin's sleeves.
"I'm going to have to ask for a raise," Merlin mutters. "I can't feed the three of us on my wages alone."
Lancelot snorts. "I think you're overlooking the biggest obstacle here, my friend."
"Which is?" Merlin asks.
"You're going to have to explain to Gwen and Arthur and Gwaine why you didn't tell them you had a daughter."
Merlin's face slackens. He places his hands over Aithusa's ears and whispers, "She's going to be an orphan by the end of the day, isn't she?"