I should warn you, no Morgana in this chapter. There is however tons of Merlin! The main purpose of this chapter is just to give an idea of what Merlin's life in this little AU-'verse I've created is like before it gets turned upside down by our favorite seer. Also keep a lookout for some other characters who will be appearing in rather different roles than what they had on the show.
"Glad that's over," Merlin remarked as he and Lancelot led the surviving soldiers of Dagon into the royal palace's courtyard, leaving throngs of cheering townspeople behind.
Lancelot leaned across the small distance between their horses and gave Merlin a shove that sent him slipping sideways in his saddle. "Don't be so modest, sire; they're happy to see that you've returned safely, and brought so many of our warriors back as well. Some of these men would not have survived if you hadn't been there to heal their wounds. The people are grateful to you for that."
"I did everything I could, but our physician could have done better."
Lancelot rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, sire. Look, your father's here." He pointed to where King Balinor and his courtiers were hurrying down the wide marble steps leading down from the castle's front entrance. "Go say hello."
Merlin didn't need to be told twice; Lancelot hadn't even finished speaking before Merlin nudged his horse forward. The stallion trotted right up to the base of the steps, then halted and stood stone-still while Merlin dismounted. He patted its neck and drew out a thin thread of the magic inside him to brush the animal's mind. Good boy. You've done well, now go to your stable. Gwaine will take care of you. The big black warhorse shook his mane, snorted, and happily trotted away, and Merlin ran up the castle steps, meeting Balinor halfway.
"My son!" Balinor hugged the young sorcerer tightly, then stepped back to examine him. "I see you've managed to get yourself back here in one piece." He spoke gruffly, but anyone who knew him well enough could detect a note of genuine relief underneath the king's brusque facade.
"This time I did," Merlin replied breathlessly - there might be a gray streak or two appearing Balinor's long black hair and beard, but his grip was as strong as ever. "Father, I-"
Sensing that his son was about to start discussing something serious, Balinor cut him off. "Later, Merlin. All that matters right now is that you've come home."
"It's good to be back," Merlin agreed. "I've missed you, Father."
Their happy reunion was interrupted as a huge shadow fell over the courtyard. Knights, noblemen, and servants alike scrambled to get out of the way as Kilgharrah swooped down out of the sky. He landed after carefully checking to make certain he wouldn't crush anyone, folded his wings to his back, and lowered his head to Balinor's level. "We must speak, dragonlord."
Icy fingers trailed down Merlin's spine as Balinor answered in the ancient language of the dragons. Because he had yet to inherit the powers of a dragonlord, it sounded like gibberish to his ears, but still made him shiver every time he heard it. This time he wasn't shivering only because of the power he sensed in dragonspeak, though. Without understanding a word of what passed between Kilgharrah and Balinor, Merlin strongly suspected that the dragon was telling Balinor what had transpired during last night's battle - how Merlin had stupidly let Arthur Pendragon take his sword from him, how Camelot's prince had used Merlin's sword to fatally wound Pyria, the spirited blue dragon who had bravely volunteered to fight the forces of Camelot along with Kilgharrah . . . how Merlin hadn't been able to save her. No one else blamed him for that; as Lancelot often said, even the great Emrys couldn't always save everyone. Then there was the fact that human magic was usually too weak to have any effect on a creature as powerful as a dragon. Merlin certainly hadn't expected that the experimental spell he'd used on his sword would be strong enough to end a dragon's life. The circumstances of Pyria's death were just a catastrophic coincidence, really.
Even so, Merlin didn't know whether Kilgharrah was angry with him . . . or if Balinor would be. After all, as a dragonlord, Balinor would feel Pyria's loss as keenly as the loss of one of his own kin.
Finally Kilgharrah spread his wings, leapt skyward, and flew away. When he was well over the castle's tallest spire, Lord Eldric asked in a hushed tone, "What news did the Great Dragon have, sire?"
"Kilgharrah informed me that one of his sisters fell in battle last night," Balinor answered, raising his voice so that anyone interested in what he had to say - everybody in the courtyard, in other words - would be able to hear. This announcement was greeted with horrified gasps, and one noblewoman actually fainted. Dragons were regarded (from a safe distance, of course) with a kind of reverence because of their power and the wisdom they gathered over their centuries-long lifespans, but they were also feared, and nobody in the general population of Dagon particularly liked them. Still, the fact remained that dragons had been a part of Dagon since the first dragonlord-king came to power almost a thousand years ago, and they ranked among the kingdom's most powerful protectors.
In a softer voice meant only for his son's ears Balinor added, "He also told me that you tried to heal her. Commendable, but that was foolish, Merlin."
Merlin, fully aware that he deserved the reprimand, ducked his head to avoid making eye contact. If one was human, attempting to cast a spell on any magical creature was risky. If the creature in question was a dragon, it was almost suicidal. Dragons' magical cores were so large that they could easily absorb a human's magic - all of it. Someone like Merlin, whose magic was as much a part of him as his blood or skin, could not survive total draining of their powers.
Of course, Merlin was no fool - he knew all about that risk and thought he had his magical core contained well enough to prevent absorption. His experiment with trying to heal Pyria, unsuccessful as it had been, had shown him that his efforts at protecting his magic were working - up to a point. A young, dying dragon was worlds away from a mature one in perfect health. It'll be a long time before I ask Kilgharrah's permission to try enchanting him, Merlin reflected as he climbed the staircase leading to his chambers.
His efforts at gaining tighter control over the magic that made up the core of his being were his private project - not even his tutor knew that he could expose his magic to a dragon and live to tell the tale, or that he had reduced the time needed to recover from major spellcasting to almost nothing. Even after last night's battle and all the healing he had done afterwards Merlin was barely tired, while most of the other sorcerers who had taken part in the fight were dead on their feet.
Not liking to show off how much stronger his magic was than the average warlock's, Merlin had pretended to be worn out as well - which was why he was now going to his chambers, ostensibly to get the rest his father thought he needed. Merlin went willingly - the alternative was sitting in court, listening to endless debates over what the dragons were likely to do now that one of their own had been killed (as if anyone could predict that), how Prince Arthur's discovery that it was possible to slay a dragon would affect Camelot's morale and therefore Dagon's chances in future battles, and so forth - but he had no intention of taking a nap.
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It was lucky for Merlin that he needed no rest, for upon entering his chambers, he knew he wouldn't be getting it any time soon. Merlin's room was already occupied by his manservant and one of the maids, who were hard at work changing the bedclothes - or rather, Freya was hard at work changing the sheets while Will lounged in a chair with his feet propped up on Merlin's desk, 'directing' her.
The opportunity was too good to miss. Standing unnoticed in the doorway, Merlin whispered a relocation spell that caused the chair on which Will sat to vanish and reappear across the room.
Freya, startled by Will's "Oof!" when he hit the floor, spun around in a half-circle, searching for the intruder, and saw Merlin. "My lord - you've returned!" She ran over to give him a hug, which Merlin quickly returned.
Then he pushed her away, pretending to be offended. "I always do; there's no need to sound so surprised."
"I told her just yesterday that you always come back," Will said loudly as he struggled to get off the floor and extricate himself from the sheet Freya had dropped on him as she ran to greet Merlin, "but she insisted on worrying anyway."
"You worried about me, Freya?"
She scoffed. "Please, pay no attention to William, Merlin. He's as full of nonsense as ever."
"Methinks she protests too much," Will countered. He pitched his voice high in what was clearly meant to be an imitation of Freya but actually sounded nothing like her. "Oh Merlin, I've missed you so . . ."
Freya's eyes flashed, and a silk pillowcase rose off Merlin's bed, twisted into a rope suitable for gagging, and wrapped itself over Will's mouth. With a small smile of satisfaction, she turned her back on him and addressed Merlin. "So, your return means you've sent Uther's army running back to Camelot, doesn't it?"
"There weren't many of them left to run anywhere after the dragons finished with them," Merlin told her, then recounted the events of the battle for what he hoped was the last time.
When he finished, Freya asked, "Do you think that a dragon falling on top of his son will convince Uther to stay on his side of the border? Or will discovering that dragons can be killed encourage him?"
Merlin sighed. "I can't say, Freya. King Uther's so ignorant that he thinks just having magic makes a person evil - there's no telling what a man like that will do."
Will got the pillowcase off his head at last. "Don't you mean a madman like that, Merlin? Uther Pendragon isn't ignorant, he's insane!"
Merlin and Freya heartily agreed, but before Will could begin one of his anti-Uther diatribes he was interrupted by a knock at the door.
"Enter," Merlin called, and one of the servants nervously slunk into the room. He spoke to Will in an undertone, then hastily retreated. When Will turned back to the chamber's other two occupants, his face was pale and serious as the grave. Merlin suddenly knew what his manservant was going to say before Will's mouth opened - there was only one person who had this effect on the servants, and it was not Merlin or Balinor. It wasn't even Uther Pendragon, the mad magic-hater. "Go on and deliver your message, Will," he said softly.
Will gulped. "No one knows how, as usual . . . but the High Priestess is here. She wants to see you immediately."
"Of course." Nothing Will had said really surprised Merlin; there were enchantments on the castle to alert the king and anyone else he chose to include in the spell when someone very important or powerful entered, but they only worked on the High Priestess when she allowed it. She came and went as she pleased, and as she had arrived without her retainers or fanfare of any kind, it was obvious she had come for a private audience with Merlin.
"You don't think-" Freya paused, swallowed hard, and tried again. "You don't think she's still angry because you turned her down, do you sire?"
"I don't know. I explained my reasons and I think she understood, although you can never be sure of anything with her. But I do think that if she wanted to kill me for defying her she would have done it already."
"Do you really think it's wise, meeting her alone?"
"I haven't got a choice, have I? Just do one thing for me, Freya - I'm asking as your friend, not your prince."
"Anything."
"If I don't come back in an hour or so, promise me you and Will will try to get her to return my body."
###
Merlin's last request to Freya had been made in jest - he didn't truly think he was about to be killed - yet he couldn't dispel the anxiety that seemed to have tied a knot in his stomach. During the course of his last encounter with the High Priestess, she'd confided that she had determined him worthy of being named her successor. Merlin, though he had appreciated the honor, had felt that becoming the leader of the Old Religion would be too much for him since he was already expected to one day rule his kingdom and maintain peace between the human and dragon races; he didn't need or want more power and responsibility than that, so he had respectfully declined the High Priestess's offer.
He really did think she understood why, but the fact remained that 'no' was not a word she heard often, especially not from men. He hadn't seen her since that day, and now she had returned to Dagon (assuming she had ever left; no one really knew where she went when she was gone). Now she wanted to speak with him alone, without anyone besides the servants knowing. As Merlin hurried through the castle's most deserted corridors towards the chamber where she waited for him, he couldn't help wondering whether he was making a huge mistake.
###
The room was large, dark, drafty, and dusty, unused for years. Merlin eased the door closed silently behind him and approached the figure by the open window, his footsteps echoing in the vast empty space.
"Greetings, Prince Merlin." She waited until she heard his footfalls stop and felt his presence a short distance behind her, then turned, her tattered red skirt and intricately braided black hair swaying with her movement.
"Hello, my lady."
Merlin started to bow, but Nimueh prevented him by moving so close that he couldn't bend forward without bumping his head against her collarbone. "Now Merlin, there's no need to stand on ceremony when it's only you and I." She moved even closer, brushing her fingertips in a diagonal line across his chest, letting her hand slip beneath his black leather jacket for just a moment.
Merlin froze. Having Nimueh as his friend and sometime mentor was easy most of the time - she was knowledgeable and a very powerful sorceress from whom he could learn a lot, and he appreciated that. The fact that she was also a beautiful woman wasn't the distraction for him that it would have been for someone like Will, except when she deliberately toyed with him as she was doing now. Then it was impossible not to be distracted.
He took a deep breath, realizing too late that filling his nose with her scent - sharp and cool, like the trees, mountains, and lakewater of the Isle of the Blessed, where she spent a great deal of her time - was not really helpful. He slipped out of her reach, attempting to shake his head clear. "My lady, why did you come?"
Nimueh noticed his use of the formal address, and knew why he'd done it; he was telling her not to play with him any longer. She also noticed that his voice sounded strained, and smiled inwardly - making Merlin squirm was so much fun. Ah well, time for more of that later; she had after all come here for a reason. "There is an urgent matter we must discuss, Merlin."
For those readers who are going 'WTH? Is she crazy?' after reading the slight Merlin/Nimueh flirtation at the end, let me assure you that nothing will ever happen between them in this fic. They're just allies and sort-of-friends, and any attraction they might have to each other is purely because they're both powerfully magical people. Or maybe Nimueh just likes making Merlin uncomfortable - she struck me as the kind of woman who'd enjoy playing with guys like that.
I'm in kind of a hurry right now, so I can't think up any acrobatic feats to request from you guys. You're off the hook this time, I just want to hear your thoughts on my putting in Will, Freya, and Nimueh.