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* Here I go again… This is Season 0, not happily ever after. Happily ever after is not coming for a LOOONG time.

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0x08 – The Old and the New

The overcast sky was fluffy with an assortment of light grey and white, and even a few patches of blue. Balinor's gloves peaked out of the top of his pockets, not as needed as he thought when he set out in the early winter morning, and his bare hands held a plain wooden box. He shifted it to one hand, and used the other to open the door to his cottage.

Pattering footsteps echoed on the wooden floorboards, and two little arms wrapped around his lower legs. "Daddy!"

Balinor ruffled the top of his son's hair, taking his hand and leading him to the centre of the cottage. He crouched down on the so he was at eye-level with Merlin and held out the box. The introduction of a new object immediately caught the toddler's attention. Hunith sank to her knees beside Merlin, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Merlin," she said, "Daddy's got a new toy for you. But if you want it, you have to promise to do what Daddy says, understand?"

Merlin nodded eagerly, "Yeh, I pwomih."

Though only a few months shy of being two-and-a-half, Merlin's cognitive abilities continued to far outstrip what was normal for a child his age. Not even a month ago he had mastered the alphabet, and could now write out not only his name but the names of his parents and all his toys. His counting skills weren't as impressive – only extending as high as the number of fingers on his hands – but he seemed to intuitively grasp the concepts of addition ("Twee tup Mummy! Tuppy and Dwaggy wanna dwink too!") and subtraction (To explain why he put back his bowl at supper time a week ago, "My tummy go oowie. Onwy two bow, no need twee.")

It was because of these impressive mental leaps that Hunith and Balinor had decided to try a lesson that normally would not stick with such a young child.

"There are three rules for this toy, and if you can't follow them you can't keep it," Balinor warned. "Rule 1: When you're not playing, the toy goes in this box. This is a very special box, Merlin, and it has a very special name. It's called 'Control'. When you're done playing, the toy needs to go back in Control, alright?"

Merlin nodded, looking impatient, and Balinor continued. "Rule 2: You can only play with the toy if you ask Mummy or Daddy first. If you don't ask, then you can't play."

Merlin nodded his agreement again, though Balinor knew that this was probably the rule that that would give him the most difficulty and was the least likely to be followed. Nonetheless, he continued, "Rule 3: If you hear a knock, you need to put the toy back in the box right away."

When Merlin nodded again, Balinor at last lifted the lid on the wooden box, holding it open at its hinges so the little boy could see what was inside. Merlin's eyes lit up, and Balinor explained, "This toy also has a special name. Its name is 'Magic'."

"Maggy," Merlin said excitedly, reaching forwards before suddenly stopping. Despite his father's skepticism, apparently Rule 2 was not quite forgotten yet, because he turned to Hunith and asked, "Tan I pway?"

Hunith's chin had barely dipped in its nod when Merlin's hand shot out and grabbed the new toy dubbed Maggy from its box. He held up the brightly coloured model dragon to his eye in wonder, never before having a toy that wasn't the colour of polished wood or faded cloth.

The dragon's colour shifted from a forest green to a sky blue, making Merlin gasp and eagerly hold it out to both parents with wide eyes, "Wook! Wook! It do-ed bwue!"

"That's because Magic is a very special toy," Hunith said with a smile. "As long as you follow the three rules, you can play with him however you want." She hesitated, then said, "You can even make him fly."

Recently, they'd been working with Merlin on not making his toys fly. It was a disaster. Merlin didn't understand why it wasn't allowed, and short of pouncing on all his toys as they rose off the ground there was no way for them to stop him. In the weeks following the end of harvest when Balinor was home to bear witness to the tantrums and constant time outs, he and Hunith had come to the conclusion even their united two-against-one efforts would not be enough. They would have to compromise a little to motivate Merlin.

"But you can only play with Magic that way!" Hunith insisted, desperately. They were taking a large gamble on how far advanced Merlin truly was in his comprehension of what he was told. "Stuffy and the other toys still aren't allowed to fly!"

Already 'Maggy' was zooming circles around Merlin's head, making him giggle each time it came around. It was difficult to tell whether he'd listened to anything after receiving permission to play how he wanted to. The toy continued changing colours, going from blue to purple to red and so on, looping on the cycle Balinor had spelled it to follow.

After they let their son play for a while, Hunith discretely nudged him and glanced over to the door and back. When he nodded his understanding, she rose and crept to the door, careful not to let Merlin see what she was doing. Raising a fist, she loudly knocked three times.

Merlin continued playing, obliviously, and Balinor suppressed the urge to sigh. They knew it wouldn't be that easy, which was why they were introducing this all now, while Balinor was home during the day rather than waiting until Merlin was a bit older and he was called away to the fields again.

"Merlin," he said warningly. The toy dragon halted in its flight and Merlin's head swiveled towards him guiltily, not sure what he had done wrong but recognizing the tone. "Say Rule 3 to me."

"… Ahk bepore pway?" Merlin said hopefully, clearly either not having listened the first time or forgotten the rule in his excitement.

"When there's a knock, Magic needs to go in Control." Balinor repeated firmly.

The toy zoomed into Merlin's hands, and he clutched it protectively against him. "No wanna."

"You promised," Hunith reminded him. Merlin clutched the toy harder. "If you can't follow the rules, then you can't play with Magic at all."

Reluctantly, the toy rose in the air and fell in a sad arch into the box. Merlin stared at it with a scrunched up face, a hair's breath away from a tantrum.

Balinor counted to fifty in his head, and then said, "Do you have a question you want to ask me?"

"Tan I pway?" Merlin asked right away, not entirely forgiving them for interrupting his playtime but perking a little at the thought that he could get back to it.

"Yes you may," Balinor said, holding out the box.

From there weeks and months passed, slowly transitioning Merlin into following the rules revolving around his new toy while both parents were around to enforce them. As they predicted, Rule 2 was the one he did worst on. After a few weeks of working on Rule 3 he seemed to gain confidence that he would get Maggy back shortly after having to give him up, and from there though he still did it grudgingly it took less fighting on the part of his parents. Rule 1 didn't give him much trouble, as Hunith had been after him to put his toys away for months and months, though without the motivation of a specially named box Merlin was still as messy as a normal toddler with his other toys.

In order to enforce Rule 2, however, one of them had to keep the box dubbed Control pinned against their bodies to force Merlin to ask. Before he was allowed to have his new favourite toy, he had to recite his abridged version of the three rules.

It was an exhausting winter, full of two-year-old tantrums on regular two-year-old woes as well as playtime rules which must seem completely arbitrary to Merlin. They saved tales of the evil men in red who would catch him and make him hurt as a consequence of leaving the house, preferring to enforce the rules of what to do and not do within the house with less terrorizing tactics.

Though as the months passed and Merlin slowly adjusted to the 'only Maggy can fly' rule as well as the three rules governing playtime with Maggy, still nearly once a week they'd look up and something would be floating in the air, crashing down guiltily as soon as Merlin saw they'd noticed.

It was a vast improvement from when their cottage was constantly full of items indiscriminately flying about, but it was not nearly good enough for them to take him where other people could see if he slipped up. Still, when planting season took him away he held less trepidation towards what went on in their home than the previous year.

Every spare moment he had, Balinor spent cutting up wood into identical sized tiles and carving different patterns in to the back of each one. While doing this, he helped Hunith in teaching Merlin the words to his lullaby, patiently going through the first verse countless times each evening while Merlin stumbled along after him. Soon, Merlin could lisp his way through the first verse with no help, and they were moving on to the second, and then the third.

They were also teaching Merlin games meant to challenge both his mind and body. They'd line up every spare bit of cloth on the floor in mazes, and get Merlin to navigate his way through without bumping into any of the lines. If he touched a bit of cloth, then he had to freeze until he'd counted to ten and back, or recited his ABCs. Then he had to start over from the beginning.

Balinor finished the first set of tiles, and introduced Merlin to Pairs, where he had to remember where the matching picture was when all the backs of the tiles looked the same. Whenever the frustration of this game looked liable to lead into a tantrum, they switched this up with Statue Tag. This had Merlin running around the house until he was tagged and had to become a statue. This led into the introduction of the game of Imagination, where Merlin had to mimic whatever his parents told him to. They started with more "fun" things like animals, then moved on to more boring things like chairs.

Though Merlin doubtlessly saw all these as mere entertainment, what his parents were actually trying to do was build up his focus and concentration. If Merlin had better physical and mental control, they hoped, he might be able to transfer his new skills to controlling his magic.

The results were interesting, to say the least. Merlin had grown from a largely immobile baby to a very uncoordinated toddler. In the maze game he'd often trod on the fabric, which would move itself out of his way while he glanced around guiltily to see if his parents noticed. His penalty frozen time was doubled whenever he did this. In Statue Tag he often couldn't balance properly, and would start to fall before stopping just before he hit the ground, impossibly righting himself at the last minute.

In the mental games he had less opportunities to cheat, but Balinor had caught him more than once raising the precise tile he was looking for with his mind rather than flipping over every one individually. This also merited him a time out.

The most unusual uses of magic by far came through Imagination, when Merlin would sporadically go green like a frog or grow horns like a goat. This always had his parents in a panic, as Balinor was forced to rack his memory for a reverse spell while Hunith tried to distract Merlin from the strange words his father was muttering over him.

They'd both agreed a three-year-old was far too young to learn any proper spells, whether he had the ability to or not. Not only was there a risk of exposure if Merlin performed them in front of the wrong people, but his toddler lisping way of mispronouncing half his words could have disastrous implications for something as subtle and nuanced as spell casting.

Once harvest was over and he was home again for long periods they introduced Merlin to the game of Hide-and-Seek. Unlike the great outdoor adventure it had been in Balinor's childhood, their cottage wasn't large enough for Merlin to hide in so they improvised by hiding his toys in various places. They'd have Merlin close his eyes and recite his ABCs and count to 20 – he'd recently upped the number he could count to to include his toes – then have him go look for his various hidden toys. Once he got the idea of the game, they encouraged him to hide the toys himself, praising him whenever it took them an especially long time to find them.

They also started bringing animals into their home and telling Merlin he had to hide Maggy from them, as Maggy was "just for Mummy and Daddy and Merlin to see." Merlin thought this a great new game, scrambling whenever he heard the door opening to stuff Maggy in his special container Control. He got a piggyback ride whenever he managed it without "making Maggy fly in" before the animals got through the door.

Around his half birthday, he and Hunith took Merlin deep into the woods, telling him they were going to play an advanced version of hide-and-seek. The longer he could go without being caught, the more Merlin was rewarded. This became a daily activity, as he and Hunith tried to both acclimatize Merlin to the world outside their home and simultaneously teach him to be cautious of it.

Spring came again, and Balinor was taken by the planting season, but this year he had very little worries. Merlin was old enough now to have a better idea of what he was and wasn't allowed to do in certain situations and his magic was much more reeled in than the years before.

He was even old enough to begin questioning the things he had been taught all his life.

"Why do I have to tay at home?" he asked at the dinner table one May night, startling both parents.

"Because it's not safe outside," Hunith said, sending a look to Balinor for back up.

"Why?" Merlin asked simply, his tiny brow wrinkling in thought. "When we go pway hide-and-teek in da wood, I don' tee any fwame or wind or wain coming to get me."

"That is because you're hiding," Balinor said slowly, trying to tell the truth in a way that Merlin could understand. "When you're home, you're hiding too. Remember when you hid Stuffy in Mummy's saucepan, and closed the lid so we couldn't find him?"

Merlin nodded, slowly, and Hunith reached out her hands to take both his and Merlin's, squeezing lightly. "That's you, sweetie. When you're at home, you're hiding like Stuffy in the saucepan. That's why none of the bad things can find you. And when you go out with Mummy or Daddy, we keep you safe."

"Becauh I'm hiding?"

"That's right."

"But why do I have to hide?"

Balinor returned Hunith's squeeze, praying to anyone listening for the right words to say. "Because of magic."

"Maggy?" Merlin said, eyes wide with astonishment. "Why? I fowow aw da wuwe!" To accentuating his point, Merlin started listing them dramatically while pointing with his right index finger to the appropriately numbered finger on his left hand. 'One: keep Maggy in Contwow when not pwaying. Two: Ahk Mummy or Daddy before pwaying. Twee: when tomeone knock on or open da door, Maggy go in Contwow."

He looked up accusatively at his parents, holding up the three fingers he'd counted off as proof. Hunith stood up from the table, and brought back the box they'd told Merlin over a year ago was called Control. Opening the lid, she pulled out the toy they'd called Magic and held it out in front of Merlin. "Why is Magic special, Merlin?"

"Becauh he pwetty." As Magic turned from a purple dragon to a red one, Merlin pointed and said, "Tee? Wike now!"

"And none of your other toys change colours, do they?" Hunith pressed softly, eliciting a giggle of nooo! "Or any of Mummy's things, or Daddy's things. Does anyone or anything besides Maggy change colours, Merlin?"

"No!" Merlin said, another round of giggling at what seemed like a repeated question, stopping in confusion when Hunith shook her head.

"Think harder," she encouraged. "Who else can change colour, Merlin?"

Merlin frowned in concentration, puzzling for a moment. The toy dragon changed from red to green, and Merlin's face lit up in memory. "Me! I can! I went gween when I was being Tuffy!"

"And that was you doing magic," Balinor added. Merlin glanced over at the toy, clearly confused. "Your toy is not the only Magic. You, Merlin, are Magic too."

"I'm Maggy?" Merlin said, non-comprehending. It was like he had just been told the ceiling was actually made of cheese, not straw, and instantly believed it because it was his father who told him but couldn't see how it could be true.

"You can change colours," Balinor explained as simply as he could. "Anything that can change colours is magic. And when you make things fly, that's magic too. And when you stop yourself from getting hurt when you fall, that's also magic."

This was clearly a lot for Merlin to take in, but Balinor continued because this was something that Merlin needed to understand. He'd repeat it like a creed every day if he had to. "And just like Maggy needs to be hidden from the people who come to the door, you need to hide your magic from everyone except Daddy and Mummy."

"Or da fwame and wind and wain will get me?" Merlin asked, trying to fit the new information into what he already knew of the world, recalling his earliest memories of a song that both comforted and warned.

Hunith nodded, choking a little when she confirmed, "Or the flames will get you."

The candle in the middle of the table suddenly went out, sending the shuttered room into darkness.

Balinor squeezed Merlin's hand. "But Mummy and Daddy will protect you, even if the seekers find your magic."

Merlin flung himself off his chair, into his father's arms as he sniffed and cried. "I don' want dem to find me!"

Hunith's chair scraped against the floor, and Balinor felt her stand beside them, smoothing out Merlin's hair. "They won't," she assured him, "You're good at hiding, and every day you get better and better. One day, even Mummy and Daddy won't be able to find you! Until then, we'll make sure no one else can find your magic."

The candle relit, and Merlin looked up teary eyed from Balinor's now damp tunic. He held out his hand. "Pwomih?"

Hunith wrapped her hand around Merlin's, and Balinor wrapped his hand around hers. Together, they shook it. "Promise."

And even though that settled Merlin for the moment, the future loomed over them, dark and uncertain.

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After the day when Merlin discovered that he was Magic and had to be hidden just like his toy, Hide-and-Seek became his new favourite game. He insisted on always being the hider, making his mother and father search all over the house for various items he'd hidden. Sometimes during the day Hunith took him to hide himself in the woods, if she finished her chores early.

After a couple of weeks and lots of questions about what was and wasn't magic, Hunith and Balinor uncovered the windows for the first time in nearly four years. The next day in the fields some of the other villagers gave Balinor a few curious looks, but no one said anything. The glare Simmons gave him was dark, though, and he could see him whispering to the others whenever Balinor was inconveniently too far away to hear. Most of the time he got brushed off, but more people than Balinor would have liked looked as though they were considering whatever Simmons was saying.

When he told Hunith after Merlin had gone to sleep for the night, she gave a suggestion almost identical to the one she gave when Old Ann had first stirred up the villagers three years before. "It's Merlin's birthday in a few weeks. Let's throw a party."

The next day, they closed the shutters during breakfast. "Merlin, in a few weeks you're going to be four," Hunith began smiling as warmly as she could. "How would you like to invite everyone over to have fun with?"

"No," Merlin said immediately, throwing his parents through a loop. He didn't even look up from his porridge. "I'm hiding."

"Your hiding your magic, sweetie," Hunith coaxed. "That doesn't mean you have to hide."

"When people come over, you hide Maggy from them. But you don't hide yourself, do you?" Balinor added.

"Yeh," Merlin said immediately. "I hide in da laundwy bahket."

Balinor glanced over to Hunith, who was home during the day with Merlin when he was not. She looked as surprised as he felt. Merlin never used to hide from visitors. "You hide in the laundry basket?"

"Dey don' find me," Merlin said, looking very pleased with his cleverness.

Balinor had to resist the urge to sigh. Yes, they wanted to teach Merlin caution, but… "You only have to hide your magic, not all of you."

"If dey don' find me, dey don' find my magic." Merlin insisted stubbornly in childish logic, frowning into his spoonful of porridge. Some trickled down his chin, and he deftly swiped it up with his tongue. Merlin knew already not to let any food, no matter how little, go to waste.

Balinor wondered where the little baby who spilt salt all over his chair and then looked up for his parents' approval went.

And though they coaxed and wheedled, Merlin was adamant that he didn't want to invite anyone over for his birthday. At last they stopped asking, and told him that they'd already invited everyone to come see him, whether he liked it or not, and he wasn't allowed to hide anything other than his magic. Merlin sulked and refused to speak to them in the weeks leading up to the party, after several days of crying and fussing hadn't made them change their minds.

On the day of Merlin's birthday, only Herleva, her young son Will, and Betrys came. Balinor and Hunith had decided it would be better not to overwhelm their less-than-happy son with too many visitors at once.

The party started awkwardly, with Herleva and Betrys both fawning over the birthday boy who looked decidedly pouty. When Merlin extended his passive-aggressive muteness to the visitors, they slowly drifted away with their questions unanswered, coming over to chat with Hunith and Balinor. Herleva pushed Will towards Merlin, suggesting in a way that was really ordering that they could play together. Neither child looked terribly happy with this "suggestion."

Hunith and her friends chatted about their children and various other topics, catching up in a way that she hadn't had a moment to do in a good long while. Balinor sat silently, half-listening to the women talking, half-watching Merlin and Herleva's boy.

Herleva's boy quickly became bored, fidgeting and squirming while Merlin sat sulkily on the floor with his arms crossed over his chest. Will stood up, circling Merlin curiously and waving a hand in front of his face. When the only reaction he got was a jutted out jaw, Will poked Merlin in the chest experimentally. Merlin batted his hand away in annoyance.

Though Balinor could only see a small part of Will's face, he thought there was a giant grin breaking across it. Will leaned over, deliberately poking Merlin again. And again and again and again. Merlin stood up, throwing his hands in the air in defeat, but still refused to speak. Balinor saw Will's lips move, but couldn't hear him over the women's chatting.

Merlin picked up Stuffy, then pointed to Will as though he expected to be understood. Will looked confused, and in response Merlin marched forwards, grabbing Will's hands and using them to cover his eyes.

For the first time in weeks, Merlin broke his silence, saying something Balinor didn't hear but could deduce from context was probably count. Will turned his back so he was facing the wall, eyes still covered, while Merlin quickly ran across the room and hid Stuffy under the counter in Hunith's lidded saucepan. Then he ran back to Will, so that when Will turned around he jumped in surprise at Merlin's proximity. Merlin held up his empty hands, and said something.

Will's eyes immediately started sweeping the room, and he moved around the room pushing the scarce furnishings aside as he looked. Merlin leaned against the wall, looking smug. Will continued to search the room, moving more things out of the way and looking in the cupboard a total of four times, each time spending less and less time peering through. Eventually he threw his hands up in defeat, and Merlin skipped over to the cupboard and produced the raggedy stuffed frog out of the saucepan, making it take a flourishing bow.

Will snatched up the toy, and pointed Merlin towards the wall. Merlin covered his eyes and started counting.

The game went on until suppertime, when both boys were talking animatedly to each other, all grievances apparently forgotten during playtime. Under Will's gaze Merlin even responded somewhat shyly to Herleva's smiling questions, though he clammed up again at Betrys' slightly loud exclamations of what a sweet little boy he was.

All in all, by the time Hunith bid her friends a lengthy farewell full of hugs at the door, Balinor felt the evening had gone rather well. After the door closed, Balinor turned to Merlin and said, "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Merlin huffed, but shook his head in what looked like determined regret. He couldn't keep it up for more than a minute, though, before he broke and looked up hopefully. "Can Will come pway again?"

"May Will come play again!" Hunith corrected, recently having become a stickler for such distinctions. When Merlin repeated the correction, she said, "I'll go ask Herleva, she can't have gone too far yet."

The door closed behind her, and Balinor called Merlin over to help him clear the table. Glancing at the bucket of water, he saw there wasn't enough to fill the wash basin. Dumping the remaining water in and scraping over Merlin's stool, he handed him a bar of soap and told him he'd be right back.

Before Balinor reached the door, however, a knock came from the other side. Confused – had one of Hunith's friends forgotten something? – Balinor opened it.

On the other side was a young man which a pack slung over his shoulders who he knew for a fact didn't live in Ealdor. Though he was dressed like a peasant, the sun hadn't darkened his skin enough to be a farmer from a nearby village. He looked slightly taken aback by the sight of Balinor, before his expression shifted into amiability with the fluidity of a serpent. "Good evening. Is Hunith home?"

"Who's looking for her?" Balinor asked distrustfully. He couldn't say quite what about the young man – barely more than a boy, really – put him on edge, except that no one's expression changed that smoothly, that fast unless they were accustomed to deceptions.

"An old friend," the man said with a winning smile that did nothing to warm Balinor to him. "And might I ask who you might be?"

Before Balinor could respond, he heard Hunith exclaim in surprised delight from further down the street. "Julian?!"

One of the man's eye muscles twitched. He smoothed his face before turning to greet her with the same smile he'd just given Balinor. "It's Julius, actually."

"Oh," Hunith laughed in slight embarrassment. Her voice carried closer; she was walking towards them. "Oops."

The stranger stepped back, and Hunith opened the door all the way, so that the three of them could see each other. Balinor glanced back and forth between Hunith and the other man, trying to recall from the stories of her past who he was.

Hunith raised a hand to smooth her escaping hair, tucking the loose strands behind her ear self-consciously. Gesturing with her hands, she said, "Where are my manners? Julius, this is my husband –"

"Keith," Balinor cut in, unsure which name she planned to give but wanting to make sure it was the safer one. Hunith's eyes widened slightly at the interruption, but she quickly regained her momentum and continued with, "Keith, is one of Gaius' pupils, Julius Borden."

Balinor tried to recall the man from his own visits to Camelot, but continued to draw a blank. Borden extended his arm with the same plastered smile he had put on his face at the start of the encounter, and Balinor took it stonily, shaking once before letting go. "Pleased to meet you."

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Hunith was quick to offer Borden their spare blankets and a place to stay for the night, glancing questioningly at Balinor to seek his agreement. What could he say against someone that Hunith knew and trusted, when he had nothing to argue with except gut instinct? It wasn't even as though his instinct was faultless; Uther had deceived him easily enough.

So Borden slept on the other side of the room from the family of three, while Balinor lay awake late into the night listening to the familiar breathing of his son and wife beside him and trying to ignore the unfamiliar breathing of the stranger across the room.

Breakfast was a tense affair. Merlin was clearly uncomfortable with the stranger living with them. Like a turtle that had poked its head out of its shell the previous evening and found the outside world marvelous but overwhelming, Merlin once again withdrew into himself and said nothing. He ate his porridge with a speed that made Hunith warn him he'd get hiccups and escaped the table without waiting to be excused, going off in a corner to play with his matching tiles.

Hunith tried to carry the conversation on her own, while Balinor sat in silence and watched the amiable newcomer. "How's Gaius?" she asked. "I haven't seen him since his fiftieth birthday."

"He was doing well, last I saw him," Borden said, his constant amiable grin sliding off his face at the end for a more serious look. "Of course, I had to leave Camelot in a bit of a hurry, so I can't speak for how he is now."

Hunith's face whitened slightly, and she asked as if she already knew the answer. "Why?"

"Got caught reading some books that should have been burned in the Purge," Borden said with a regretfulness that didn't match his flippant words. "What can I say? Being executed didn't really appeal to me. Afraid I might have left Gaius in a spot of trouble, though."

"I'm sure he's talked his way out of worse," Hunith said, face still white.

"Yes," Borden said, the smile returning, "Yes, Gaius is remarkably good at that, isn't he?"

"Why were you reading the books," Balinor butted into the conversation, surprising the other two adults, "if you knew they might get you and Gaius into trouble?"

Hunith gave him a reproachful, meaningful look, and Balinor remembered her policy on trusting in the intentions of others, no questions asked. It was a quality he admired in her, but hardly a trait he shared.

As if sensing this, something almost reptilian shifted in Borden's eyes, as if he'd made some decision about Balinor's personality and how he should respond to it. The smile vanished, replaced by a determined righteous look, "Some knowledge is worth the risk. Tell me, have you ever heard of the Triskelion of Ashkanar?"

A moleskin pouch hung heavy against his neck as Balinor lied curtly, "No."

A zealous, excited gleam entered Borden's eyes, and he continued in enthusiasm that seemed the most genuine emotion he'd yet displayed. "A relic of a wise king, who in his wisdom hide a treasure beyond treasure in his tomb," leaning forwards, glancing at the door and open windows, he whispered so slowly that Hunith leaned forwards as well to hear him. Balinor, who already knew what he was going to say, remained upright in his chair. "A dragon's egg!"

Hunith's eyes widened, and she looked excitedly towards Balinor, her gaze faltering only at his continuing stony expression. Borden's gaze followed hers, a grin tugged at his lips nearly instantly smoothed away, but not before Balinor's peeled eyes saw it. Borden continued with a silver tongue, "The last hope for a once great and noble race. Wouldn't you say it is our sacred duty to bring this magnificent creature back into the world?"

"'Our'?" Balinor questioned softly, not letting any emotion show through. It was either bold of Borden to extend an induction into his personal quest to a stranger, or sly of him to think that the choice of words would pass Balinor by. "Why should we help you?"

Hunith looked completely shocked by this response, and though Borden's gaze and expression didn't falter Balinor was under the impression that this was noted by him too. "I don't ask for much," Borden said smoothly, his eyes never leaving Balinor's. "The Triskelion is split into three parts, and only once united will it lead the way to Ashkanar's tomb. I know where two are, but the other I only know the name of its guardian. I heard he lived near here, before his murder at the hands of a bounty hunter a few years ago. In fact, I know that Gaius sent him to you, Hunith," he nodded briefly in her direction, still looking at Balinor as though if he blinked he'd miss a vital clue. "The last dragonlord, Balinor."

The silence in the room was only broken by the flipping of Merlin's wooden tiles. Hunith looking between the two sitting tensely as though she was unsure of what to say. It was clear that this was not the direction she thought Borden was going in.

Balinor considered his options. He could feign ignorance, but even though Old Ann was no longer alive to pass on every piece of gossip to every poor sod who walked past her door it would be easy enough for Borden to ask around and fit the timeline of "Keith's" arrival to the dragonlord's. If the experience with the bounty hunter had taught him anything, it was that information passed along quicker than he could anticipate and he couldn't rely on the other man to have no knowledge of him before setting out to track him down.

Coming to a decision, Balinor said bluntly, "That's me." Borden almost looked surprised he had admitted it so easily, but Balinor wasn't finished speaking. "Whatever books you've been reading have misinformed you, though. The third of the Triskelion protected by my kin fell with them, lost for all eternity. I don't have it."

Something indistinguishable flickered in Borden's eyes. "Is that so?" he said with a rueful smile, glancing down in disappointment.

"Sorry to ruin your quest," Balinor said without managing to make himself sound sorry at all, "but it's hopeless now that one of the pieces had been destroyed. You'd best give it up."

Borden nodded, not looking up. "Of course, you're right." He rose from the table. "Excuse me, my business is finished here."

"But you're not even finished breakfast!" Hunith protested, rising as well.

Borden gave her a mournful half-grin. "I'm afraid I'm no longer hungry." Crossing the room to grab his pack, he said, "Uther may still be searching for me, I won't burden you and your family any longer with the danger of harbouring me. Thank you for your generosity in letting me stay the night."

He and Hunith exchanged several more goodbyes and protestations before he at last stepped out the door. Hunith stood there, watching him turn left out their door in the direction of the blindingly red-orange morning sun, looking stunned by the sudden turn of events.

She whirled on her feet, shutting the door and moving to shut the window shutters – something they should have done before embarking on a conversation of dragon eggs and dragonlords. Glancing over to the corner where the tiles had gone silent, Hunith suggested in a way that was not a suggestion, "Merlin, would you be a dear and go get the eggs and milk?"

Merlin didn't say a word as he took his mother's hint, gathering the basket and bucket. He glanced once over his shoulder before going out to the animal shelter, looking worriedly from parent to parent.

Only after the door had shut and Merlin's light footsteps receded did Hunith hiss, "What on earth was that?"

Balinor said nothing, and she continued a touch louder, "After all you've told me about your kin, you think you'd be happy to meet someone else who shares your love for them. Why were you so rude?"

"Didn't anything about him strike you as…" dishonest? Calculated? Shifty? Snakelike? "…odd?"

"Julius is a lovely boy," Hunith protested angrily, "and he's one of Gaius' pupils! I know you have problems trusting strangers, Balinor, and after what you've been through I can't blame you, but he was not a stranger. I know him, and he didn't deserve that treatment!"

Balinor took a moment to gather his thoughts. "Perhaps," he allowed. Just as he couldn't bring himself to see the world through Hunith's rose-tinted eyes where people in general meant well, so she couldn't bring herself to look through his jaded ones where kinds amiable faces were mere facades. Perhaps that was why they worked so well together; their opposing natures balanced them out. But sometimes opposites clashed instead of complimented. "But I couldn't take the chance."

Hunith took a deep breath, looking as though she was biting down a retort. He could see her lips moving silently – a habit he didn't think she was aware of – her eyes closing to half-lids as she counted. When twenty passed her lips, she looked calmer, though still with ire not entirely missing in her voice. "Putting your attitude aside," she said like it physically pained her to get the words out of her throat, "are you not the least bit interested in the chance to recover a member of your kin? Even if one of the pieces of this Triskelion is missing, perhaps if you went with Julius to search out the other two…"

Balinor shook his head. "The egg has lain in that tomb for four hundred years, what good would it do to take it out now? Uther is still sitting on the throne, and I doubt his stance on dragons has changed since I last set eyes on him. To hatch the egg now would merely be to hand it a lifetime of hiding and fear."

He thought of Merlin, handed down distorted lullabies and hiding in the laundry basket at every knock at the door. Something in his heart twisted. "Dragon eggs are nigh indestructible, not even time can ruin them. When I die the powers of the dragonlords will pass to our son, and when he dies to his, and so on the way it always has. One day one of our descendants will find a way into the great tomb, but now is not the time."

Hunith's shoulder's lost some of their tension, and he approached her, resting his palms on her shoulders. "Dragons are in my past now, my wife and son are my present. The dragon egg will wait for eternity if it has to, but you won't. Perhaps someday our son will make the journey, but not yet. Right now, my sacred duty to my kin is to the two living members, not the dead or unhatched."

Hunith pulled away, and he sensed that he was forgiven for his rudeness to her guest even if her anger hadn't entirely abated. She murmured something about going to check on Merlin, and walked out the door. Balinor stood alone in the middle of the room, his hand slowly drifting to the moleskin pouch around his neck, lifting it out from beneath his shirt and turning it over in both hands. Absently, he undid the button for the first time since he rescued it from the neck of the Charmicael elder after Uther's bloodbath, sliding the heavy metal spiral into his hands.

He ran a finger along it, thinking of the runes carved in that he couldn't see in the dim lighting, as he felt the piece of the Triskelion. He thought over his words to Hunith, thought of the dead face of the clansman he'd taken this metal spiral from, along with so many other faces that inevitably were beginning to blur due to the passage of years.

Would they approve of his actions? Lying was not something their kin were familiar with. It didn't come naturally to dragons, and their lords seemed to have picked up that trait somewhere along the line, although as humans untruths were not as alien a concept to them. Still, the human clans would only lie when the need was dire.

Yet was it not? Whether or not Hunith trusted Borden, there was something not quite right about him. He would be a fool to take him at his honeyed words. He was not lying in what he said to Hunith; the time was not right, and the egg was in no hurry to hatch. This was an era of risks, and he'd just taken one by throwing all his hopes for the return of the dragons into the future, where nothing was guaranteed.

The door creaked open behind him, and Hunith walked in with Merlin trailing behind her, looking at something to the left. Balinor deposited the part of the Triskelion back into its pouch before she glanced up from where she'd been staring at the ground. She managed a smile, weak but there and real, and he smiled back.

He'd made the right choice, whether it turned out for good or ill later on, he would not regret it.

"What are you looking at?" He called softly to Merlin, who's head swiveled between his father and mother. A look of relief passed his features, and Balinor felt guilt stab at his heart as it occurred to him that Merlin had probably been worried about the unprecedented tension between his parents. He was a very perceptive child.

Merlin glanced back outside one more time, then shook his head. His eyes brightened and he skipped into the room with a wide grin, pulling at his mother's sleeve and beginning to chatter away to her in his not yet fully developed speech.

Balinor cleared up the breakfast dishes while Merlin played Opposites with Hunith, his wife and son coming to join him in the chore. Both parents, however, missed the way Merlin slipped away, pulling up his stool to open the left shutters. At the flood of light they glanced up, and called him. His eyes were on an indistinct shadow darting behind a nearby house, and he looked away when it passed from view, answering his parents' call.

From his hiding place behind the corner of the house left of theirs, Julius Borden cautiously watched the little boy scramble down from the window. He waited a moment, but when the parents' faces did not appear he let out a breath, and slowly edged away.

Once he was on the main road he walked like a man who knew what his purpose was, a brisk assurance in his steps which never faltered in where they should next land. He took to forks in the road without a moment's thought, his route already planned in his head.

The sun was high in the sky, past noon, when at last he came to a border town on the other side of the Forest of Ascetir, on Camelot's side of the border. He walked into a rough looking tavern without glancing at the sign, and took the empty stool nearest the barman.

The man looked him up and down with his one good eye, the other with an angry purple slash hidden behind a black eyepatch. "You didn't find whatever it was you were looking for then?"

"Oh, I did," Borden said, a curled shape in a pouch visible through the crack between the shutters playing obsessively through his mind, "There's just been a slight hiccup in getting it away from its guardian."

"Its dead guardian?" The bartender said sardonically, raising his eyebrows over his good eye and missing one.

"Evidently not as dead as I'd been informed," Borden drawled with slight frustration. "Still, my plans are not gone too remiss." Drawing a brown pouch from his pocket, he put it on the counter with a loud clink that drew the bartender's good eye. "I'm afraid Uther won't be happy to see my face. How would you fancy a trip to the palace? I hear the king pays well for news of sorcerers."

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* I firmly believe Merlin is a genius. We've seen him read difficult texts in archaic languages, study magic with a book as his only teacher, learn medicine purely through observation, show detective-worthy deductive skills, and still convince everyone he's an incompetent moron. He could totally do any of these not-really-toddler-level things as a toddler.

**/