(Just a repost after fixing some errors)

Thank you to those that read and left a review for the last chap. Here's the next...sorry for the wait again. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 4

Merlin felt the roll of his stomach a second before a loud grumbling sound issued forth. He rubbed his belly trying to ease the pangs as it reminded him, quite vocally, that he had not eaten in over twenty-four hours.

He tried to ignore the discomfort as best as he could as he trudged behind Arthur's steadier pace. Since finding the slaughtered camp, Arthur had been eager to veer off the easier, more likely to be utilized route, wishing to avoid another patrol and decided on a hillier, slightly more rugged, but less obvious trek. For Merlin it just meant the extra expenditure of energy traipsing up and down the hills was making his empty stomach complain all the more loudly.

Think about something else, Merlin told himself after another loud gurgle vocalized itself.

So the first thing he thought about was Gauis. He would be happy to see the physician again remembering the tight worried hug the old man had encompassed him with before he had started his journey with the gravely wounded King. It was a hug that spoke volumes offering comfort to the scared warlock whose emotional state was a tightly wrapped bundle of fear, grief, guilt and worry. It was a hug that expressed his own worries over the outcome of their journey.

'I'll have your favorite meal waiting for you when you get back.'

The thought warmed Merlin for how many times had his mentor presented Merlin with a steaming meal at the end of another long day of either serving or saving Arthur's butt, Gwen, the knights or Camelot from some magically oriented threat without ever expecting to be recognized or even thanked for his efforts.

And the sudden warm thought had him imagining a large, steaming bowl of rabbit stew set before him making his mouth suddenly water and his stomach ache.

No. No...That wasn't good. Think about something else. Gwaine. Think about Gwaine. Sitting in a tavern, entertaining hi with his roguish, colorful tales, laughing over a tankard of ale and a leg of mutton. Gwaine and Percival lowering a hook into Cook's kitchen from a grate above, imploring him to help them snag a freshly roasted chicken.

Merlin's mouth salivated at the images and he smacked his lips longingly.

No. Definitely not good to think of Gwaine.

Gwen.

Gwen smiling at him and holding a plate full of cheese and grapes. And what where those? Sausages?

His stomach groaned particularly loudly and he nearly ran into Arthur as the king stopped abruptly.

"Can you be anymore annoying, Merlin?"

"What?" He asked, genuinely baffled.

"Stop smacking your lips and making those weird noises."

"What noises?"

His stomach gurgled again.

"That!"

Merlin flushed, sheepish. "Sorry. I can't help it. I'm hungry."

"I'm hungry too but you don't see me making a complete idiot about it, do you?"

"Well not all of us are so lucky to have an extra reserve of padding to burn off," Merlin said grumpily.

"Resorting to fat jokes again, Merlin? You really are loosing your creativity."

"Everyone's entitled to an off day once in a while, Sire."

Arthur simply rolled his eyes. "I know. Why don't you just conjure something up for us to eat then?"

Merlin blinked. "What? You mean with magic?" He couldn't believe it. Was Arthur actually being serious?

The King shrugged. "Well, why not? I mean, you are a powerful warlock after all who can turn himself into an old man, create lightening, defeat and army and still managed to save the life of your King. Shouldn't be too hard, I imagine, to conjure up a little food," Arthur teased.

Merlin reddened in embarrassment then mumbled something under his breath.

"What was that, Merlin?"

The warlock shifted edgily from side to side. "I said I don't know how." He repeated.

Arthur quirked an eyebrow which only made Merlin scowl at the sudden irony. "It doesn't work that way, Arthur. Okay, I mean it can, I suppose, just not with me. I tried before, lots of times, but it never works. All I get is flowers...or butterflies..." The last sentence just kind of rambled out and Merlin regretted it as soon as he said it.

Arthur stared at his manservant/ridiculously powerful warlock for several long seconds before he threw his head back suddenly and started laughing.

Merlin huffed. "What's so funny!"

"You are, Merlin."

The warlock crossed his arms, not sure if he was indignant or...happy (?) Arthur was laughing at him about magic.

The King started walking again. "We'll come on, then. We haven't got all day."

Merlin gaped. "What?"

Arthur looked over his shoulder in a most pattishly exasperated manner. "Hunting, Merlin. We are going hunting. Since you are apparently useless, as usual, about procuring a decent mean, I guess it will just have to be up to me. After all, I can't have you fainting on me like a girl again."

The warlock stood staring at the retreating chain mail covered back with a small roll of his eyes, but smirked nonetheless as he followed his king.

It actually took a little longer and a bit of ingenuity, (considering Arthur didn't have his crossbow, just the small dagger he always kept in his boot), and a lot of luck, but a few hours later Arthur proudly held up, of all things a boar - a juvenile and a bit on the runty side, but an adequate meal nonetheless.

Merlin picked the leaves grumpily out of his hair from having been sent in to "flush" said boar out while watching the smug, superior look spread across Arthur's face.

An hour later in a secluded spot where they were sure their presence wouldn't be detected, they set up camp and soon after they had the boar roasting over a small fire. The starving warlock hadn't tasted anything so good and was willing to let Arthur bask in his glory.

After their meal they both sat in silence, Arthur leaning up against a log, one knee drawn up and absently poking a stick into the fire, while Merlin was settled across from him, legs bent and his elbows resting on his knees.

With his mind no longer occupied with the pangs of an empty stomach, the warlock allowed himself to be lulled by the warmth of the fire.

While Merlin's focus seemed drawn to the glowing embers, Arthur's own was on observing his servant. Though the warlock still looked tired, (as Arthur did himself, though he refused to admit it), he was glad to see Merlin no longer looked like he was going to keel over from utter exhaustion.

He watched as his manservant seemed to relax into himself and wondered just what the warlock was thinking when his expression went from pensive to sad all of a sudden. He looked younger, more vulnerable in body, yet much older in his eyes. It was same far off solemn look he remembered seeing when he had woken up and Arthur was beginning to wonder just how Merlin had saved him.

"Merlin, what happened last night?"

Immediately he saw Merlin's shoulders tense and seemed to withdraw into himself even more.

"You already know, Arthur."

"I know you saved my life. But there's more, isn't there? More than you're telling me."

"I..."

"We agreed no more secrets." Arthur set the stick he'd been poking the fire with aside and leaned forward. "I'm not asking as your King, but as your friend."

Merlin's eyes glittered with a deep seeded emotion at Arthur's words.

"I know. It's just complicated."

"As I am just beginning to understand, Merlin, that seems to be a continuing theme where you are concerned."

Merlin couldn't help but quirk a slight smile. "Haven't quite fathomed me out yet?"

"Not quite, but I'm getting there. Now tell me what happened at the lake."

Instead of answering directly, Merlin asked instead. "What exactly do you remember?"

Arthur thought back. "We were on the rise. I could see the lake. It was still far away and we didn't have the horses." He paused. "I could feel the blade moving in my chest and I knew we weren't going to make it."

He saw Merlin's eyes glisten. He could tell the memory was still very raw and painful to the warlock.

"You held me and I just wanted you to know...that it was okay between us Merlin, that you had saved my life, that you had made me a better person, a better King and then I just felt myself sinking. I thought I had died. I don't know how you got me to the lake, what happened next, but I can see in it your eyes there's more to this story."

Merlin sighed and stared into the flames of their campfire a long time. Finally, he said quietly, because he found he did want Arthur to know. "You're right, Arthur. I wasn't able to get you to the lake without the horses. I called for someone to helped me."

"Who?" When Merlin didn't say anything right away, he probed. "Another sorcerer?" The thought made Arthur feel surprisingly less edgy than he thought it would, the idea that Merlin may have called upon and consorted with another magic user for aid. He supposed the warlock knew several magic users, like the Druids and that strange sorceress that had helped cure Gwen (the one with the odd affinity for ratty dresses). That was it, maybe he had called her.

Merlin gawked at the suggestion. And did Merlin just snicker under his breath?

"It's not exactly something you want to hear..." Merlin gnawed on his lip.

"Just tell me, already," Arthur huffed, exasperatedly. "I promise I won't yell if that's what you're afraid of. After all that I've been through the last few days, I doubt there is much else that would shock me."

"You'd be surprised, Sire."

That made Arthur frown.

"It was the Dragon, Arthur. I called the Dragon to help me."

Arthur blinked. Dragon? Did he just say dragon? His brow arched almost comically. "Come again? A dragon?" And when Merlin simply nodded, he spurted out. "Where? How in the world did you...?" Arthur's eyes widened suddenly, his mind going backwards to the battle at Camlann, to the caves of Ishmere..."You mean...not the dragon with Morganna."

"No. No. Not that one," Merlin said and then clamped his mouth shut as he realized just what he'd said.

"Not...that...one?" Arthur's eyes narrow as the warlock shifted slightly. "Just how many dragons, Merlin, are we talking about then?"

"Um...just two," he replied meekly. Did his voice just squeak like that?

"Just t-w-o."

"The one helping Morganna is just a baby," Merlin explained. "The other is the Great Dragon."

"Great Dragon?" Arthur knew he was sounding like a magpie but just couldn't seem to help it. He cleared his throat in a very kingly like manner to cover up his sudden unease.

"Um...yeah, actually The Great Dragon, the one your father imprisoned beneath the castle."

"That's impossible! I killed it, remember?"

Something in the way Merlin's eyes shifted, and that was definitely a squirm this time, had the King's eyes narrowing. "Merlin...I did kill it, didn't I?"

A pregnant pause followed.

"Not exactly, Arthur. It was more like I sent Kilgarrah away, just like I did with Aithusia when she tried to attack the knights at Camlann."

Kilgarrah? Aithusia? Not only were they talking about dragons, one of which he thought he killed already, but apparently they were on a first name bases.

Arthur could only stare back. "But how could you possibly...?"

Merlin sighed deeply. "Balinor was my father, Arthur." He said it quietly, drawing his knees up and hugging them to his chest, focusing his eyes on the fire as he let his words to Arthur sink in.

The king could only stare. Father? Balinor was Merlin's father….

For Merlin, speaking of Balinor brought back a flood of memories like it was yesterday: Gauis telling him about his father, their quest to find Balinor and telling the man he was his son, of watching Balinor die in his arms. His grief in finding his father and then loosing him so soon was only lessened now by his memories of Balinor's presence while trapped in the Crystal Caves, the warm feeling of being reunited with him, helping Merlin to find himself and his magic once again.

"I thought you didn't know who your father was." Arthur finally said in the silence that followed.

"I didn't. Not until Gauis told me just before we set off to find Balinor. I couldn't tell you, Arthur, I'm sorry, but Gauis felt if Uther had known I was the son of dragonlord it would have been as much of a death sentence as if he'd known about my magic."

Arthur couldn't deny it, nor could he deny something else as his mind fled back to that day, remembering how Merlin had been so unusually distraught over the dragonlord's death, a man they had barely known for just one day. Arthur had assumed, like him, he'd been upset that their only hope to save Camelot and his people from the continuing attacks by the great beast had died with Balinor.

Merlin's own father though, Arthur thought, and he had to hide his grief, from him, from everyone (along with so many other things, no doubt, to keep his secret safe.) Arthur then remembered his own father's death and how he had grieved over Uther's body long into the night. As the dawn broke the next morning and he had opened the great doors, it was to the sight of his servant sitting slump outside on the floor.

'You've been here all night?' Arthur had asked, already knowing the answer.

Merlin had stood before him. 'I didn't want you to feel alone.'

Merlin remained quiet, not quite sure how Arthur would respond.

"I'm sorry, Merlin. I am sorry I was not there for you. That you were forced to go through that alone."

"It's all right, Arthur. I wasn't totally alone. I had Gauis, and I still have Balinor here, with me inside," Merlin said, and the way he said it, Arthur believed it to be true.

"A dragonlord's abilities are passed on from father to son. It was how I could call Kilgarrah to help me."

"So that night on the field...when you went with me to face the dragon you knew you could defeat it?"

Merlin shook his head. "I wasn't sure. I had already tried before to stop Kilagrrah with my magic, but it was useless. Only after Balonor died could I inherited his powers, but even then I wasn't sure they had been passed down to me. It was only after Kilgarrah attack you and the knights that I felt it, the connection between Kilgarrah and me. I was going to kill him, Arthur, honestly, but in the end I couldn't."

Arthur tried really hard to keep the anger from his voice, remembering the destruction and carnage the beast had wrought. "He killed hundreds of my people, Merlin! Why, if you had the means, did you not destroy him?"

"He lashed out in anger, Arthur. You have to understand. Uther killed his family, hunted down and annihilated his kind and then used Balinor to help imprison him for twenty years as his own personal trophy. Would you have been any less bitter in his place? But he was also the last of his kind, a creature of magic, just like me. In the end I showed him mercy and instead sent him away, ordering him never to attacked Camelot again. Since then Kilgarrah has helped me in times of great need. He has saved my life more than once. And it is the Great Dragon you owe your life to, not me."

Merlin paused, looking up at his shocked friend. The warlock's eyes clouded over again with the pain of remembering. "You were dying, Arthur. And there was no way I could make it to the lake. Not without the horses. I summoned Kilgarrah, once last time and he flew us there."

"I rode a dragon?"

Merlin's mouth lifted in a slight grin. "Missed the ride of your life." His eyes suddenly became very teary. "But I was too late." He wiped the moisture off with the back of his hand, his shoulders nearly crumbling.

Arthur was confused. "But I am here, Merlin. I'm real. Flesh and blood, see."

Merlin shook his head. "I couldn't...accept it...I dragged you into the water and called forth the Sidhe and the goddess who lived there, begged them to help me. But I was too late."

"What are you saying?"

"You did die Arthur...And there was no other way. The balance of life had to be restored to bring you back. I-I told them to take mine."

"Merlin!"

"Kilgarrah wouldn't let me though. He said there was a reason we had met, that I had freed him."

"Wait. Merlin. It was you who freed the dragon in the first place?"

"I'm sorry, Arthur. I didn't want to, but I had made a promise, an oath upon my mother's life."

"Why Merlin? Why would you promise such a thing knowing how dangerous a beast you were unleashing?" This time he couldn't keep the anger out of his voice.

"There were reasons, Arthur, but they are complicated and painful to explain but without the Great Dragon's help, even before he was freed, Camelot would have fallen a long time ago." Merlin's voice became thick again. "I'm sorry, Arthur. I wish I could have done things differently, but I just didn't know how."

There was such guilt and overwhelming sadness in the warlock's voice that Arthur's anger faded. He could see Merlin's composure beginning to break as if the weight of the memories were becoming too much to bear.

"I learned about my destiny from Kilgarrah and about you being the Once and Future King that would unite Albion. I-I used to sneak down to caves below the castle to seek advice from the dragon when I wasn't sure what to do about various magical threats."

"So you were friends?"

"I wouldn't exactly call it that, back then. We were both creatures of magic, born of the Old Religion. I'm sure it amused him that I sought his help and he could be annoying and cryptically frustrating to get a straight answer from, but I was indebted to him nonetheless. It was Kilgarrah who taught me the spell that allowed me to entrap Sigan's soul back into the crystal and tried to warn me about certain...things that would lead to Camelot's downfall or your death."

Arthur wasn't quite sure what all Merlin was talking about regarding the sorcerer Sigan that had nearly raised Camelot to the ground, but he did hear the pause and the catch in Merlin's voice and wondered just what "certain...things" he was referring to. But Arthur could also tell it was something Merlin was not ready to reveal. He let it go for now not wishing to interrupt as he watched Merlin struggled with his emotions.

"And it was Kilgarrah in the end, Arthur, who sacrificed himself, for you and for me, for us, for Albion. He sacrificed himself so I wouldn't have to loose the best friend I ever had."

He fell silent and Arthur could only stare back in shock.

...

Despite his tiredness, the King found it very difficult to sleep that night as he pondered all that Merlin had revealed. As for the warlock, his confession, combined with his own exhaustion, had left Merlin in an emotional stupor.

While Merlin slept, Arthur kept vigil by the fire thinking back over the last several days.

Merlin's revelation about his magic had left Arthur feeling so betrayed and sick, the hurt seeping into every pore of skin and down into his bones. But in the days that had followed, as Arthur witnessed Merlin's magic being used it to protect him, as his servant faithfully cared for him, as he listened to Merlin speak words of encouragement to keep Arthur moving, or the quiet, stumbling tones of a man filled with guilt and grieving, did Arthur's eyes begin to really see the truth.

Merlin had never and would never betray him. He had kept secrets, yes, but those secrets had only ever been out of the necessity for survival and had never meant to hurt or harm.

Arthur wondered just how many times Merlin had wished to reveal his secret to Arthur only for circumstances, or even Arthur's own words to stop him.

How many times in Merlin's life had he faced the same dejection, the same prejudice and fears? Being born with magic and having to hide who you were before you could even talk or understand must have been so very hard. Growing up in Ealdor, so close to Camelot's borders, with that kind of fear looming over one's head couldn't have been easy either for Merlin or his mother.

Arthur remembered the words Merlin had said those years ago when Arthur had asked why Merlin had left Ealdor to settle in Camelot.

'I just didn't fit in anymore. I wanted to find somewhere where I did.'

'Have any luck?'

'I'm not sure yet.'

Arthur wondered if Merlin still felt that way, that he didn't fit. It saddened Arthur to think so. Camelot was as much Merlin's home now and it had always been Arthur's.

And when Merlin had revealed his magic to Arthur it had not been with a flare of power but something simple, the image of a dragon out of the glowing embers of the fire. It was a symbol of the Pendragons, the Crest of Camelot but also the embodiment of a Dragonlord.

He doubted Merlin had even thought of the combined significance but had merely produced it from the heart. If Arthur hadn't been so shocked, hadn't felt so betrayed, had been able to accept Merlin then, he would have seen the utter beauty and the significance in the simple display.

He thought of the Great Dragon, a creature of magic that had unleashed such terrible destruction, a creature that had every reason to hate Uther with a passion, yet according to Merlin, had aided the warlock in his efforts to keep Arthur and ironically Camelot safe even before it had been set free. The same dragon that sacrificed his life for the son of his enemy.

The hate he thought he should have for the creature after taking so many lives now was tempered in understanding. Uther had been wrong to imprison it in the first place.

Arthur loved his father, would always love his father, but Uther had been wrong about so many things. His father's hatred of magic had blinded him and had led to the division and adversity that still existed.

When Arthur became King, he had tried to turn things around, to make things better, and he thought he had made progress with each of the five major kingdoms, but like his father had maintained a prejudice and a fear towards magic itself.

Sure he had stopped the active hunting and persecution of the Druids, and had rid the use of the pyre as an execution method, but he had done little else in the three years he had become King. Magic was still band and those with magic still lived in fear of being persecuted. He had done nothing to change his own stance on magic either and only recently, since the old sorceress had cured Gwen, had stopped to think and to really seriously challenge his ingrained beliefs.

'Remember what saved your Queen. Magic and sorcery,' the old witch had said.

'It was also sorcery that bewitched her,' Arthur had countered.

'There is no evil in sorcery, only in the hearts of men. My request is you remember this.'

It had been her only request.

Her words were oddly...wise and strangely familiar, despite the fact she creeped him out a bit.

He now knew Merlin's heart had always been loyal and true, and so had his magic.

But he had also seen Morganna's downfall and what the destructive force of sorcery in the heart of hatred could lead to. Magic had the ability to cripple its victims in horrifying ways or to heal, as they had with Gwenivere and even his own father. It was not something to be trifled with. It had its inherent dangers in the temptation to be abused just as it had its beauty in the simple form of a dragon made from the embers of a fire at the hand of a humble servant to the golden rays of hope as it had freed Gwen from a cursed fate.

Perhaps, like everything, it was a matter of balance….

TBC..

Reviews much appreciated. Thanks BSG