Well.

It's been almost a year since I updated this story. ...I didn't realize it was that long of a gap.

...I could give you several excuses. I could explain that I've been involved in rehearsals for performances at the Kennedy Center and Strathmore, and that I've been busy with exams, and that there have been family squabbles over money and housing and my grandmother having a heart attack, family tensions inside the household, and now college admissions (and more rehearsals)...but excuses are worthless in the end.

I'm very troubled now, rereading my work on this site. Much of it is poorly written and badly plotted, including this story (I was never the best at writing action scenes). The Haspin storyline, for instance, seems like an attempt on my part to heighten the tension of the overall story, even though a truly good writer would have been able to sustain the suspension of the story with one or two main plots. I am considering editing his arc out of the story entirely. Your feedback is essential for a decision to be made.

I should mention that I have received several story follows and favorites over the past couple of months. I have no idea how you people managed to find a fic that has not been updated in almost a year, but it's nice to know you had enough faith to subscribe.

The beginning of this chapter was actually written in February.

:::::::::Chapter 8::::::::

There was no time to think. Merlin charged forward and dove for Arthur, roughly hauling him out of the bed and onto the floor. Ignoring Arthur's indignant cry Merlin hooked his good arm around the prince's chest and scooted them both backward, till his back met the back wall. In front of them, only a few yards away was the roc, snapping at them with a beak so wide Merlin had no doubt it would be able to swallow them whole.

The roc screeched, unable to force its head fully into the room. It thrust itself forward with such force that the room shook and loosened rocks fell from the ceiling, narrowly missing Merlin's head.

"Oh, gods..."

Merlin glanced at Arthur in concern. Arthur was ashen faced and trembling, his grip on his dagger so feeble that Merlin feared he was in shock.

"Arthur-" He coughed, unable to continue as dust rained down on the both of them, tremors rumbling through the room. Gasping for breath, Merlin tried again.

"Arthur, we've got to get you to a safer spot."

Arthur did not respond for several seconds, watching the roc with glazed eyes. Did he hear me? What if a rock hit his head while I wasn't looking? He's thick-headed, but not thick-headed enough to avoid injuring his brain—I mean, he already had a head injury when he was put on bed rest oh Gods he could never recover from a second brain injury-

Panicking, Merlin grabbed Arthur's chin, turned it so that Arthur was facing him, and promptly slapped the future king of Camelot.

Arthur blinked.

"Merlin!" He roared, punching Merlin in the arm with his good hand. "What are you doing?"

Oh, if looks could kill... "Saving your life. Now come on, we need to get out of here."

He slung Arthur's right arm around his shoulder, and hoisted him up, nearly buckling under the prince's weight. As soon as this is over, I'm putting him on a diet. Gritting his teeth, he turned towards the door. In normal circumstances, it would take me moments to get from here to there. His room was very small, after all. But there was Arthur to worry about, and his own physical limitations. Furthermore, debris littered the floor.

In fact, it was a miracle the roc had not reached them already. No, it was impossible. He and Arthur should already be dead; the roc should have been capable of breaking through the wall with one hit.

But it had, Merlin corrected himself. Arthur said it tore a hole in the wall with its talons. So why-

"...gone, Merlin, let's go, are you listening?"

Arthur. Merlin shook himself out of his thoughts, and assessed his surroundings. The room, he realized, had ceased shaking. What was more, the roc was nowhere to be seen. Merlin eyed the cavity in the wall mistrustfully, but from where they were positioned all he could see was the sky, a bewilderingly cheery blue empty sky that had no right to be so perfect on a day so awful.

Stop it. Focus. Save Arthur. Ask him to repeat himself. Why is the roc gone?

"Where...?"

From outside, through the hole Merlin heard the distinct cry of the roc. Men shouted in the distance, officer's commands and soldiers' battle cries mingling in the wind, intertwining with the wails of children and mothers' screams to create a distressing clamor that only war could produce.

"Camelot's soldiers," said Arthur, a look of intense pride on his face. "Camelot's civilians. They've begun the counterattack."

Merlin breathed deeply, once, twice, and again. "We've got to get to the main chambers," he said, under his breath. And then, more loudly. "This is our best chance."

Arthur nodded his agreement. "We need to hurry, the roc could return at any moment. Are you ready?"

Merlin hesitated. The surge of energy that he had felt before—when he was pulling Arthur away from the roc—was fading. His limbs felt heavy, and all he wanted to do was close his eyes. His right arm was throbbing, he noted, with pain that seemed to grow more acute by the minute. That's right...I fell. Like Gaius fell.

"Merlin?"

Merlin used the concern in Arthur's voice like a drowning man would use a rope, pulling himself back to reality with all of his might.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes," he murmured, dreamily. "I'm fine." And with those words, he grounded himself.

He met Arthur's gaze, and the two stared at each other for a moment. The cacophony from outside had not ceased.

Arthur broke eye contact first. "Let's go," he said, shifting his weight so that Merlin would have an easier time of supporting him.

Merlin grunted in acknowledgment, still not used to Arthur's extra weight. He took a few steps forward, and nearly staggered into the wall on his left. "Merlin, this is no time to collapse!" Arthur yelped, nearly dropping the dagger as he struggled to regain his balance.

Merlin could only wheeze in response, intent on reaching the doorway with Arthur in one piece. The door is really quite close, he thought. It's not hard at all, just a few simple steps. I cannot fail Arthur. With this in mind, he righted himself and stepped carefully over some of the fallen debris, slowly so as not to cause Arthur any further injury. Just one more step. He stretched out his arm, straining for the doorknob.

The roc screamed and rammed its head into the wall. Merlin tumbled to the ground, pulling Arthur down with him. Above them the ceiling crumbled, dislodged gravel blinding him momentarily as it spilled onto his face. Squinting, he scrabbled at the door, terror gripping his heart as he realized that the wall separating them from the roc was gone entirely.

The roc let out a triumphant squawk, and was about to lunge for the two of them when it snapped its head to the left, emitting yet another deafening cry. Merlin saw a flurry of arrows fly into the air, coming from (he assumed) archers on the ground, for they flew in an almost vertical path. The roc let out a furious shriek and dove, downwards and out of sight.

Merlin was light-headed with relief. There was no time to be stupefied; he had to use the opportunity while he could. Time to act. Looking to his right, he saw Arthur sprawled on the floor near where the two had fallen.

Fallen.

Merlin got to his feet, his heart pounding. "Arthur, are you hurt?"

The prince glared at him from where he lay. "Just help me up, will you?"

Merlin smiled and offered him a hand, thankful that Arthur appeared to have escaped further injury. "Good. Come on."

Like before, he slung Arthur's arm around his neck. Arthur gave him a giddy little grin in response, reflecting Merlin's own feelings—they had made it to the door, despite the room disintegrating and the pain and the roc. Triumphant, they turned toward the door and reached for it together.

The roc cawed.

Slowly, disbelievingly, Merlin twisted his head to face the void where his wall had once been.

The roc stared back. They stayed that way for several seconds, unmoving.

And then Merlin sprang into action.

He whipped around, removing Arthur's arm from his neck so that Arthur's back was toward the door.

"Arthur," he ordered, staring straight into Arthur's eyes, "protect the others."

Arthur's brow furrowed. He opened his mouth to reply, but Merlin refused to let him have the last word; he yanked the door open with one hand and shoved Arthur through the doorway with the other.

The last thing he saw before slamming the door shut was the dawning look of comprehension on Arthur's face. "Ne un clyse. Behæpse fæst," he whispered. His door did not have a lock, technically, but his magic understood his intentions.

Merlin felt oddly calm, much like he had (after the initial fear) when he drank the poison for Arthur at the banquet not so long ago. Slowly, assuredly, he turned his back towards the door, and bent down to pick up Arthur's dagger, forgotten on the floor. Behind him, Arthur had started shouting, but his words were incomprehensible, muffled from behind the door (and from the blood rushing in Merlin's ears). Arthur's shouts were accompanied by what must have been him pounding the door. The sound of the doorknob jiggling was reassuring—the spell had worked. For now, it would keep Arthur and others safe.

The roc was oddly silent as Merlin flexed his right arm experimentally, wincing in pain as he did so. The wall is gone. The entire wall is gone. What is it waiting for? Nothing is in its way now.

He advanced towards the roc cautiously, clutching Arthur's dagger in his left hand (his right arm was in agony; besides, both hands were equally useless when it came to using a weapon). Arthur continued shouting at him through the door, though it was impossible to tell if he was hurling insults at Merlin or begging him to open the door.

As he approached the void, the roc retreated from it, flapping its wings so that it was a small distance away from Merlin's room. Merlin did not stop, did not think, did not breathe, only moved forward, until he was standing on the edge of his room, a pebble away the precipice. One false move, and he could easily fall to his death.

However, the possibility of falling wasn't Merlin's concern at the moment. The sight before him was far more problematic than his safety. The city was for the most part untouched, with only a few roofs caved-in. The immediate area surrounding the castle...was utterly ruined. The walls separating the castle from the city were severely damaged, and Merlin was sure that if he leaned out far enough he would see that the rest of the castle hadn't escaped the roc's wrath. Below him, the ground was littered with bodies. Those who were still alive were small in number, and were running about collecting fallen arrows off the ground, preparing for the roc's next attack.

The roc circled about in the air, its attention solely on Merlin. Now that the roc was a good distance away, Merlin had a chance to examine it as a whole. Attached to the roc's legs were cuffs, from each dangling the severed ends of a chain. Its wings, he saw, were missing some feathers, and there was a small gash in its stomach. Injured—before or after it arrived in Camelot?

Merlin raised his head, challenging the roc, daring it to make the first move. I won't allow another attack. That much he knew for certain. What he was to do with it was another matter entirely.

It only took a moment for the roc to accept his challenge, flying forward, opening its beak to swallow him whole. Merlin snarled at it, hefting the dagger in his left hand. "Forbearnan," he said, holding out his right hand, wincing all the while. Immediately a ball of fire appeared, hovering in his right hand. He waved the fire at the roc, intending to scare it.

"You killed so many people," he said. "I won't let you do any more harm."

The roc snapped at him, turning its head from side to side in a fury. Merlin, the closest he had ever been to the bird's beak, couldn't help but look at it. "Your beak is covered in scratches..." he muttered, recalling that the roc's beak had been bound while in captivity. An image of Kilgharrah, fettered to the rocks deep under Camelot flashed through Merlin's mind.

"How many of you are there left?" He asked the roc. "Are there wild flocks of you, roaming the unknown lands without fear of danger? Are there any of you left at all?"

Again, he thought of Kilgharrah. The dragon was alone, trapped in the dark confines of a cavern, twenty years away from the freedom of the open skies. The roc was alone and most likely scared in Daira, unused to the darkness of its prison. It had suffered at the hands of humans, and sought revenge.

Transfixed, he dropped the dagger and extended his left hand, intending to stroke the roc's beak. The roc recoiled. That was a mistake. I've frightened him. Merlin's stomach clenched. "No, I'm sorry, I didn't-"

The roc swooped up into the air, and extended its talons, clearly intending to impale or crush Merlin.

The gust of wind that followed from the flapping of its wings was perilously strong; Merlin teetered dangerously on the edge, flailing his arms about in order to keep his balance. He stumbled back, away from the edge, just in time for the roc to strike, lashing out with its talons with a bestial cry. One talon grazed Merlin's chest; a white-hot searing pain that caused Merlin to double over, gasping in pain.

He could not think, could not think of a spell to subdue the creature. His magic reacted on instinct, and he hissed at the roc, letting his magic surge and target the creature, creating an air current that blew it back and away from the wall.

Merlin put a hand to his chest, and pulled it away to see that it was coated in his own blood. He moaned and moved backwards until his back was pressed against the opposite wall.

He had to come up with a plan quickly, the roc would be back any moment now. I am in no physical state to fight...but if I use obvious magic the people below will be sure to see...I don't want to kill it, but how do I stop it from its rampage?

To his left, the doorknob rattled with a strength that Merlin was impressed Arthur still possessed. All this physical activity must be putting stress on his injuries.

He pressed his arm to his chest and went over to the door, leaning his forehead against the rough wood in fatigue.

"Arthur."

The doorknob stopped jiggling. Now that he was right next to the door, he could hear Arthur's voice without much trouble. "Merlin! Open this door this instant, are you mad?"

Merlin chuckled a bit, and then let out a choked cry as the effort sent ripples of pain across his chest.

"Merlin? What's wrong? Merlin!"

"Arthur," he gasped, bringing his free hand up to rest on the door, "whatever happens..."

An idea had sprung to mind, a solution that would save Camelot, a solution that had a very high chance of killing him.

"...just..."

What should he say? Assure Arthur that everything was going to be alright and that he shouldn't worry? Prepare Arthur for the worst?

"...know that I gave it my all."

There was silence on the other side of the door. Merlin shuffled over to the wall facing the outside world, and bent forward, steeling himself for what he was about to do. Arthur resuming pounding on the door, and his screams were so loud that even from where he stood Merlin could make out what the prince was shouting. It was his name. Over and over and over.

Merlin fixed his eyes on the roc, which had recovered from the air current from before and was hurtling toward him with death in its eyes.

Merlin began to run, deftly leaping over the debris in the room, ignoring the agony blazing across his chest. Both he and roc had almost reached the edge.

At the edge he leaped as the roc snapped at him, soaring over its head and onto its back. He rolled and grabbed onto the roc's feathers just in time. The roc screeched and thrashed in the air, flying up into the air and away from the castle in attempt to fling Merlin off its back.

Merlin's magic surged, refusing to allow such a thing to happen. It coursed through his arms and Merlin found himself climbing up the roc's back, until he was at its neck. He hugged the roc's neck (much like he had done when riding a horse) and tried not to look down at Camelot tilting below them as the roc whirled with dizzying speed in the air and rose even higher.

Merlin roared into the wind, holding onto the roc for dear life.

"Hiersumaþ me!"