"What is a demon, Gaius?"

It was almost noon the next day. Shafts of gentle sunlight were streaming through the windows of Gaius' chambers. But any hint of tranquillity in the room was the result of sheer exhaustion rather than any peaceful state of mind. They'd only just sat down after hours of treating the wounded, Merlin having prepared them a simple meal of bread and cheese. He was now looking at his uncle worriedly, seeing in him not only exhaustion, but fear.

Gaius looked back at him tiredly, feeling barely able to string a sentence together. "Creatures of ultimate darkness," he sighed eventually. "The ancient books speak of beasts who rise from the earth and consume all in their path."

Merlin swallowed uncomfortably. "Why would it take four days for it to rise?" he wondered.

"Legend has it that the demons were entrapped many hundreds of years ago," Gaius said. "If it were true, the creatures were likely imprisoned deep beneath the earth, from which location it may well take several days to escape. But whatever the reason, we should be grateful for the delay. At least it gives us time to at least try and find a solution."

"Do you think there is one?" Merlin wondered, then looked up, as the room began to shake faintly around them. The fallout of Morgana's spell, whatever it had been, had been sending shockwaves throughout the citadel. Literal ones. Tremors were now shaking the foundations of the castle at irregular intervals, creating eerie cracking and snapping noises as the stone and timber of the building struggled under the strain. For Merlin, the little earthquakes were matched with a physical sensation that shot through him like an icy, unnatural cold. He shivered.

Gaius shifted, looking vaguely uncomfortable as the magical feeling hit him as well. "We can only hope," he said after the tremor had ceased. "What was Arthur going to do?"

Merlin yawned suddenly, hugely, and rubbed his shoulder. "Last thing I heard, he was sending out another patrol," he said sleepily. "To try and find out why Morgana's army has yet to attack."

"Well, that's no great mystery," Gaius told him, with a hint of uncharacteristic grumpiness. "They have no need to attack. If Morgana truly has found a way to raise a demon from beneath the city, it will devour everything. She need only ride in and secure her triumph when the beast has finished picking clean our bones."

"That's a pleasant thought," Merlin said. "How do we kill it?"

"I'm not sure we can," Gaius said, looking pensive. "You have no thoughts on this, no memory of how things will play out?"

Tiredly, Merlin shook his head. "I've been trying," he said, rubbing his eyes. "But it's like – it's like the future I saw is… I don't know, clouding somehow. I don't understand it and I don't know how to explain it. Things I know will happen aren't as clear as they once were. Is it…?" He looked uncomfortable at his own train of thought. "Is it possible that the events occurring are somehow – wiping clear the future? Is Morgana – has she found how to alter our fates?"

"Surely not even she has the ability to do that!" Gaius countered.

"How else do you explain it?" Merlin wondered.

Gaius sighed. "I can't," he admitted. "But I think we're both tired and the most important thing we need right now is sleep before we become totally useless to any defence of the kingdom."

Merlin made a grumping noise, but it was a protest that didn't match his expression or slouched poster. He tried to straighten his back. "Well, at least we know one thing."

"What's that?"

"As cryptic as they are, the visions are accurate."

"The three crows?"

He nodded. "Dancing in the firelight – and there they were."

"Death from beneath us," Gaius quoted. "Death in the darkness."

"That hole stinks of evil," Merlin said, sounding distracted. "I feel – the whole citadel is rotting, somehow, rotting from the core."

Gaius looked at him curiously. "You feel the evil of the magic," he suggested. "It's corrupting the very air we breathe."

Merlin nodded. "And why do I have the feeling it's going to get worse before it gets better?"

A mere four hours of restless sleep later saw them both risen from their beds, Gaius to tend once again to his wounded, Merlin to read his books. He had tried to see Arthur, but the prince was so distracted, so closed to his presence, that he felt useless being around him, and had returned to his chambers with a determination to find a solution, no matter how impossible it might seem.

When his uncle returned, however, close to twilight, he found Merlin face down on an open book, sound asleep. He would have left him that way too, had it not appeared a particularly uncomfortable position for slumbering.

"Merlin?"

"Hm?"

"Are you alright?"

Merlin opened his eyes wide. "What day is it?" he asked blankly.

"The same day as it was earlier," Gaius said, looking at him intently as he peeled himself from the paper with some difficulty. "Did you fall asleep? Or have another vision?"

"Does it matter?" Merlin wondered, still trying to get his eyes to co-operate. He felt like all the words he had read that afternoon had been sucking the moisture from his eyeballs.

"It might do," Gaius said earnestly.

"Fell asleep, I think," Merlin said, after thinking about it for what seemed like rather too long. "How about you?"

"How about me what?"

"How are the wounded?" Merlin modified his question to make more sense.

Gaius inclined his head. "We lost another one," he admitted. "Just too badly injured." He sighed. "Gwen's still down there now. She has an incredible energy, a real passion to help people."

Merlin smiled sadly, remembering. "Yes she does."

Gaius put his bag on the table, and levered himself achingly into a chair. "Any luck with the texts?"

"Nope," Merlin said. "I read many things, and they were all dark, terrible, and basically said the end of the world is nigh, abandon hope and…" he yawned. "Other helpful things like that," he concluded.

Gaius looked despondent. "Morgana's hatred is quite remarkable," he said quietly. "I never though it could…" he broke off. Merlin considered him, wondering if asking what he wanted to would just make Gaius feel worse. But his uncle noticed the look. "What?"

Merlin shook his head slightly. "I was just – Morgana," he started. "If she'd known about her magic sooner, if we'd been more honest with her…"

"We did it for her own good, Merlin," Gaius insisted. "She needed to be protected from the king, shielded from what was happening to her."

"But what if she didn't," Merlin wondered. "What if… what if she'd learnt to use her magic for good, like I did?"

Gaius looked at Merlin's face, so full of hope still after everything that he'd seen. He wondered how a man who had endured every moment of the future, witnessed the end of everything he knew, could still have faith that things could be better; that people could be other than they were.

He smiled. "We can't change what is with what ifs," he said. "We can only live with what we have."

A rumble rolled through the castle walls, and they both looked up, fearful slightly, as a trail of dust fell from the chamber's ceiling. Merlin reached up distracted, to brush the dust from his sleeve. "I don't think we can live with it much longer," he said.

"We have no choice," Gaius said. "Whatever path Morgana has set us on, unless we can find a way to stop it, we'll simply have to endure what happens."

Merlin's face grew determined. "I need to talk to the dragon," he said.

"Merlin, you can't!" Gaius protested. "The countryside is crawling with Morgana's men. How on earth are you planning to sneak a 30 foot dragon into the kingdom without anyone noticing?"

Merlin shrugged. "Under cover of darkness," he suggested, then hurried on as he saw his uncle open his mouth again. "Gaius, I have to try. If these beasts are as ancient as each other, then maybe the dragon will know how to defeat what is coming."

"Merlin, Morgana will know what you're up to," Gaius warned. "And if she doesn't then Mordred will. And what if you run into Alvarr while you're out there?"

"Alright!" Merlin protested, looking genuinely worried. "You don't need to wind me up about it!"

"I'm just trying to make sure you're aware of the dangers," Gaius told him.

"Well I'm aware, okay. But these – " he slammed the book he'd been reading shut with a resounding bang. "These are useless. I need to know how to defeat this thing before the situation gets any worse. No matter what the risk, I need to talk to the dragon."

"Father?"

Arthur was standing in Uther's doorway. He never would go in now straight away after numerous occasions of finding his father in strange situations: twice with his clothes completely off, once with them partially off, and once having a violent and uncompromising spat with an unfortunate servant.

It was difficult, always difficult to see him brought so low. But it was his duty.

That night, Uther was simply sitting staring into space. He didn't acknowledge Arthur's presence.

"Father?" Arthur said again, going further into the room, and pushing the door shut behind him. There was still no response

Sighing inwardly, Arthur went over and stopped right in front of him. "Father," he said insistently.

Finally, Uther seemed to notice him, and his eyes wandered up, though they weren't exactly full of recognition.

"Sh!" he said.

Arthur had had his mouth open and was about to speak, but he stopped short at his father's statement.

"Sh," Uther said again, holding up a hand. "They're watching. Him in the corner."

Arthur glanced round, but the corner Uther indicated was empty.

The king lowered his voice to a whisper and said conspiratorially: "That one's kept his armour on."

Tightening his lips against his frustration, Arthur soldiered on. "Father, I need to talk to you."

Uther gave no sign that he had heard, his eyes fixed on the dark shadows on the other side of the room.

"Father?"

Uther's eyes snapped up suddenly. "Well? What is it boy, spit it out? I haven't got all day!"

Arthur swallowed, his discomfort rising like sickness. "It's about Morgana, father."

"Morgana?" Uther's face softened at the name, and he leant back in his chair. "Such a good girl. She was always such a good girl. Her mother was very beautiful you know," he said earnestly. "She was so loving. I think I could have loved her all the rest of my days."

"Please…" Arthur shut his eyes briefly, fighting his distaste at hearing his father so openly talk about his infidelity. He did this now, would speak with none of the usual constraints of propriety. But he was sick. Arthur had to remember that. He was not himself.

He opened his eyes, and swallowed again. "Morgana has raised an army against us," he said steadily. "She has summoned a dark creature of the old religion, and Camelot is at great risk."

"My Morgana?" Uther said incredulously. "But she is a sweet thing, a little girl." He smiled. "She cares only for horses and dresses."

"Well, your little girl's all grown up, father. And I'm afraid she's not such a sweet thing any more."

The king's face clouded instantly with anger. "How dare you," he hissed, and then surged to his feet. "I'll have you charged with treason for your words!"

Arthur backed up a pace quickly. He hadn't seen his father move so fast in quite some time.

"Who are you anyway?" Uther spat. "I don't remember your face. Some new commander I've not met, I suppose, some upstart. And you stand here and have the tenacity to tell me that my own flesh and blood betrays me! How dare you! Guards!"

Arthur was so shocked, that he'd just stood during his father's outburst saying nothing, his mouth a little open. But as he shouted for the guards, he was pushed into action.

"Father it's me," he said, taking a step forward. "Your son, Arthur."

"Arthur? Don't be ridiculous. My son is dead. He died with his mother."

"No, father you're confused." He put his hands out reassuringly. "You've been ill."

Uther's face closed down, his anger dissipating in seconds, along with his strength. He slumped, and Arthur instantly reached out his hands to support him and help him back into his chair.

That's when his father hit him. It wasn't a particularly hard or accurate punch, but the shock of it had an equal impact to a hammer blow. Arthur's hands slipped in surprise, and Uther stumbled backwards onto his seat.

"Get away from me," he hissed, striking out again, though only catching Arthur on the arm, as he'd already stepped back. "Don't touch me! Don't ever touch me!"

"Okay," Arthur said, angry suddenly, and trying to pull himself back together. "Father, listen to me. Whoever you think I am, I'm your son, and I'm telling you, that your daughter is attacking us. I'll do what I can to defend your kingdom, which you're clearly in no state to defend yourself. When you're feeling better I'll come back and talk to you some more. But for, now, I think I should leave. Goodbye father," and he turned on his heel.

"No son of mine would ever walk away!" Uther yelled after him. "You're a coward and a fool and a disgrace to the kingdom! You are no Pendragon!"

He continued to say more, but Arthur moved too quickly to catch all the words, striding out the door and slamming it behind him, before leaning on it heavily and shutting his eyes against the sounds of his father continuing to shout.

"Did I ever tell you that I'm not desperately keen about heights?" Merlin said, his fingers scrabbling a bit as they tried to find a firm purchase on the rock face behind him. At his feet, only a slim ribbon of ledge stood between him and a vertical drop of who knew how far. It was dark after all, and the mercy of that was at least he couldn't see the bottom. A chill wind was rising up out of the nothing, ruffling his hair, and wicking the damp sweat from his face.

The dragon regarded him coolly from his ample stretch of ledge to the right. "I am sorry young warlock," he said. "But the situation was rather forced upon us. Rest assured, I am quite capable of catching you if you should fall."

"That's hardly comforting," Merlin muttered, rubbing at his back, where the dragon's talons had accidentally caught him. But then, he could hardly complain. Kilgarrah had only been acting in the best interest of them both when he had snatched him up immediately on coming in to land after answering his call. Morgana's men had been approaching on all sides, he had explained, and unless Merlin wished the fact that he had the power to control dragons to be common knowledge, they were better leaving the area quickly and going somewhere they could talk without the fear of interruption.

Hence the scratches. And the ledge.

"You know why I called you?" Merlin asked him, moving his eyes away from the drop, and focussing on his companion, forcing himself to be at ease with their circumstances.

"Indeed," the dragon said. "Many things are changing, and not necessarily for the better.'

"Why am I suddenly having these visions of the future?" Merlin asked first. He'd made himself a bit of a mental list as to how this conversation was going to go, and he was determined to tick off as much of it as possible.

"There's nothing sudden about it," the dragon said, with what sounded suspiciously like a laugh. "You've been able to see the future your entire life. Or would have done, had you known how to control it."

"But nothing like this has ever happened before," Merlin insisted. "These are uncontrollable visions. They're striking me unawares. And why now? Is it a coincidence with everything else that's going on?"

"Nothing that happens in your life, Merlin, is a coincidence," the dragon insisted. "I feel that the visions you have described have started due to the events which are now unfolding."

"You mean Morgana?"

"The ancient prophecies are coming to pass," the dragon intoned sadly. "The alliance has been formed between the witch and the druid boy, as I told you would happen long ago. I fear your visions may be a warning."

"Some warning!" Merlin scoffed. "I can't even hear them, or see them! They're completely pointless unless someone just happens to be standing right next to me – and then there's a good chance that person is just going to accuse me of sorcery and have me burnt at the stake!"

"Merlin," the dragon sighed. "Your ability to see the future is the only aspect of your magical powers that you have ever rejected."

"That's because it's not a power, it's a curse!" Merlin shot back. "I don't want to see future, I've never wanted this."

"And therein lies the problem. It is not that you can not see these visions, it is that you will not."

Merlin didn't look convinced. "You're saying that I just need to concentrate a little harder?"

"Yes, and I suggest you do, for you may be the only one who can find how to stop what is happening. Whatever the witch is putting in place, even I can not see the end of it. This is out of sequence; it is not the future that is meant to be."

Merlin was confused. "You don't know what it is that Morgana is trying to do? I thought you knew everything."

"I know only that there is dark magic involved."

"Then you don't know about the demon?"

In all the years Merlin had known the dragon, he had never seen a look even approaching the one that now graced its face.

"Demon?"

"That's what she said. She said in four days it would come from beneath us and raise Camelot to the ground. That was a day ago, so I guess it's only three days, but whatever it is, it's shaking the castle to its core. And I can feel it. It's like a – a horror that's getting closer and closer."

"It's not possible," the dragon muttered, no longer looking at him.

"You know of the demons then?"

"I know of them," he said. "An allegiance of dragons and men trapped them long ago beneath the earth where it was impossible for them to escape."

"Well I think the impossible is happening," Merlin told him. "However they've done it, Morgana, Mordred and Alvarr have cast a spell that is bringing this darkness right into Camelot's heart. I need you to tell me how to destroy it."

"Demons are terrible creatures," the dragon said passionately. "They swaddle the world in darkness sucking fear and despair from the heart of every living being they encounter, and turning it against them until death is a release. They know nothing of friendship or loyalty or love or any of those other values your kind holds dear. Hope and dreams are to them a very poison. Had we not stopped them when we did, they would have consumed all life from the land. Only my kin have the power to defeat such beasts."

A flame of hope kindled in Merlin. "A dragon can kill a demon? Then will you come with me to Camelot? Will you help us defeat it?"

The dragon shook his head. "That I can not do," he insisted.

Merlin's face hardened. "You're refusing?"

The dragon smiled, sadly – almost. "Merlin, I am the last of my kind. When we defeated the demons long ago, we were many, and our bond with man was strong. Now, years of human cruelty have taken their toll, and I am no longer strong enough – or willing to face this enemy."

Angry, Merlin almost took a step forward, remembering where he was only at the last minute, and pushing himself back once again to the rock. "Then Camelot will fall, and this great destiny you've been forcing me to cling to all these years will be for nothing! Arthur will die!"

"Whatever the outcome, I can not help you."

"I could order it!" Merlin shouted, his voice changing in pitch.

The dragon just regarded him. "You could," he agreed. "But I fear it would not help you. You can order a dragon to fight to its death, young warlock, but its power will never be as strong as if it fought of its own free will. I would assuredly die, and the demon would not be defeated. My death would not help you or Arthur to survive."

Merlin slumped slightly, feeling for the first time in his life, truly without hope. There had been so many occasions when the path that he walked had been dark or unclear, but he'd always had hope, no matter what, faith that he could find a solution to any problem. Now, all he could see was darkness. All the good things he'd seen for the future, those happy moments in court, the day to day normalcy of what the kingdom should look like: it was all gone. He'd searched his mind for it, but it was lost.

Maybe he should just lie down and accept it for once. Stop fighting. Let it happen. It wasn't as though anyone could blame him. This time, not even a dragon could find an answer.

"Only the power of a dragon can defeat this evil," he muttered to himself. "And Uther had you all killed."

"It is Uther who has condemned you," the dragon rumbled from beside him. "You should have let him die when you had the chance."

Merlin chuffed out a laugh, putting up his hands to wipe his face, surprised to find tears on his cheeks. He wondered if they were due to fear or despair. Right now he felt so numb, they seemed like the same thing.

"There is no way?" he asked quietly. "No other way?"

The dragon was silent at his question. Merlin was so lost in his misery that he didn't notice straight away. But then, after a few seconds, he realised that he hadn't had an answer, and he turned, curious. The dragon was looking vaguely uncomfortable.

Merlin turned to face it, mindful of the edge. "Is there another way?" he demanded directly.

The dragon looked extremely reluctant to answer.

"Tell me!" Merlin shouted in a voice that could not be refused.

"There is – a possibility," the dragon hedged.

"What?"

Kilgarrah was clearly struggling against the command, but was unable to resist it. "It has been attempted," he said. "Long ago in the past. But it has never been successful."

"What?" Merlin shouted angrily. "Whatever it is, just tell me!"

"It is – thought possible," he said slowly. "For a dragon lord to take into themselves the power of a dragon."

Merlin frowned. "To take on the power of a dragon?"

"For the very essence of a dragon to pass into a man," Kilgarah tried to explain. "But that power has always proved too much, and all who have attempted it have died. I have seen it myself, a dragon lord who burned from the inside until there was nothing left."

"You've seen that?" Merlin swallowed uncomfortably.

"I have," Kilgarrah said. "But you asked me, and I am compelled to reply. It is possible that if you were to take into yourself my power, combined with your own, it might be enough to stop the demon when it comes from the earth. And perhaps the joint power that both you and Arthur share through the strength of your destiny would be enough then to right the world again, restore the future."

Merlin looked away from him.

"But I would advise against it!" the dragon said strongly, feeling Merlin's control of him slip as the warlock became distracted. "It has never been achieved, and it is a terrible death that I would not wish on any man. Please Merlin…"

Merlin heard his desperation, and looked up, surprised to see genuine concern and affection on the dragon's long face.

"I would never have told you this," he said. "I know you have a good heart, and wish only to protect Camelot, but if you take this path, it will be your death. And I do not want that. Even if you survived, there would be a cost."

"What cost?"

The dragon just shook his head. "Such power does not come cheaply."

Merlin nodded. "Thank you," he said. "For the warning. I'm sorry – if I forced you."

The dragon inclined his head. "You are doing only what you think is right." As Merlin looked away again, he said. "You have three days. I will take you back to Camelot now, and I would advise that you think about what I have said most carefully. If you choose this path, do it only in the greatest need. I will come if you call."

"Thank you," Merlin said quietly, distracted. Then he shook his head, and looked over again. "One thing though," he said, and actually managed a smile. "Can I ride on your back this time. Those claws really aren't the most comfortable way to travel."

TBC