~.2.~
Merlin moved to peel the man out of the armor and cursed how anyone could wear such a thing. 'No wonder you got hurt, this thing weighs as much as two dragons; must be hard to move in them.'
The prince however didn't move and didn't wake, and after some time trying and failing to get the armor off, the warlock just lost patience and helped himself with some spells; then tossed the cut up metal and chain mail pieces in a pile, not worrying much about the damage done to them.
It was when he saw the horrid gash across the prince's chest when he did start to worry. The man was breathing heavily and sweating, as if he'd just taken a clothed bath in the river, and was as pale as the Moon at night.
His golden hair stuck to his head, and his features looked troubled and showing off the obvious pain. The ripped tunic was covered in blood, and the wound still seemed to be bleeding.
Merlin stared at it for a few seconds before he jumped to get some water to clean it.
Kilgharrah could have healed him faster.. he thought with slight annoyance, as it seemed the task he was given was a bit over his head. Just what kind of plants did he need anyway? The ones that he needed for a wound and fever grew just outside the cave..
I hope he hurries up.. He peered at the young man with concern, as he pressed down on the wound with a piece of cloth.
.
Hell was pretty much loose by the time Kilgharrah had returned, and it took some time for the dragon to take in the noisy scene that was in front of him.
"I don't want to keep this one. You can eat him. He is very loud," Merlin said from the other end of the cave, sitting curled up on the ground, knees pulled up and with his head between his hands, covering his ears. On the other end there was Arthur Pendragon holding out a dagger – Gods know where he got that from - but he was pointing it at Merlin while showering him with threats, and the dragon figured the only reason he didn't charge at the warlock to kill him with it was that he didn't have any strength to do so.
"What is the meaning of this?" the great dragon asked, and Arthur jumped as if lighting hit him. Once he spotted the source of the sound, he pulled back to the cave wall in such a rush the creature was surprised at his speed.
"You.. y..ou talk."
"Of course I can talk.." he sighed. "Now would you please be still so as to not worsen your wounds? There won't be much we can do if you don't watch out for yourself." Then he turned to his ward, letting a few plants fall to the ground in front of him, from his claws.
"Gods help me.. a talking dragon…" the prince said in dumbfounded amazement and clearly the adrenaline-given strength was leaving him, as he slumped further down on the ground. His sight caught the young warlock. "And a wild man.."
Merlin felt offended.
"I'm not a wild man, you clotpole!"
Arthur frowned at him, as to his ears, whatever the other man had said sounded like roaring. Kilgharrah noticed immediately and cut in.
"He does not speak your language."
The prince looked up at him.
"Why.. how?"
"Because I raised him. And he only speaks the ancient tongue."
Arthur decided there and then that all this didn't make a bubble of a sense. A talking dragon claims to have raised a madman to speak the ancient tongue and he roars. And the dragon talks.
"Am I dead?" he asked with a sudden idea.
"No, young Pendragon, you are not." Arthur couldn't decide if he was relieved or disappointed about that. Unknowing of his turmoil, Kilgharrah continued, "And it will stay that way if you let Merlin help you."
"H-help me..?" he was about to ask just who and how, when he saw the dirty looking man slowly coming towards him again, with the plants and a cup looking thing in hand. "Stay back!" he shouted and held his dagger up once more. The other man halted. This was all too much, it was all too unreal and the pain in his chest was becoming too overwhelming. What was going on? How did he get here.. and where was "here" anyway?. And his people!..
"Where's.. my p-patrol?"
"They are all dead, I'm afraid.."
"You.. you killed them!" he shouted at Merlin, and the man furiously screamed something at him, that again came out as a mix of growls and screeches.. "You … tried to kill m-me too!" the prince added with a pant and he really started to feel sick.
"Rubbish," the dragon said. "He merely tried to help you."
The dagger fell from the young man's grip. He fought to stay awake, he really did, but it was becoming too much. The pain was making it impossible for him to think of anything else.
"Calm down, Arthur. We mean you no harm. I promise," Kilgharrah said, and that was the last thing the prince heard before darkness slowly claimed him. Funny, he thought, he could've sworn the dragon's breath had a golden glimmer about it, as he felt warm air hit him; and he did calm down before he fell asleep.
.
The dragon then nodded at Merlin, and the young warlock stepped close to the injured man.
"I did mean it. You can eat him," he said.
"I will do no such thing." The dragon said and walked inside the cave. "Merlin, remember I told you about the two Pendragon men?"
"Yea.." the dark haired one glanced up warily at his guardian, as he was cleaning the wound on the prince's chest.
"The good and the bad one, and that one day you will have to go and serve and protect the good one. Well, that time is now. This is him. This is Arthur Pendragon, the Once and Future King that you will have to protect and help create a new age for the land."
Merlin was deep in thought while he prepared a paste from the herbs.
"Sure doesn't look like him.." he mumbled after a while.
For a long time he didn't say anything; he just stole glances at Arthur and pondered, while his hands moved about, preparing and applying the salve to the wound.
Kilgharrah was curious of his thoughts, but knew better then to disturb him. So they both waited.
"So this is Arthur then," he finally said.
"Yes, Merlin."
"Then I'd better heal him.." He knelt closer to the prince and looked up at the great dragon, then held his hand out over the blonde man's chest, and his eyes glowed with that of the dragon's color, as he quietly started to chant.
Kilgharrah smiled.
.
The next time Arthur woke, the cave was quiet; with only the fire's cracking sound around him and heavy breaths nearby. Once he looked around, he found the dark haired young man lying next to him. He scrutinized his face for a while before deciding to move, and to his amazement, he could; his chest was still covered in the disgusting looking and smelling salve, but it felt much better.
He looked at the boy again, - Merlin was it? – he seemed to be sound asleep, yet in a position that looked somewhat uncomfortable and he looked a little paler then the prince remembered. He wondered how he knew that, when the young man was practically impossible to recognize under the layers of dirt covering his face. He moved and carefully touched his shoulder. Merlin didn't react, so the prince turned him onto his back to have him lay in a more normal position, because the angle of his neck was just worrying and even looking at it made Arthur's own neck hurt.
Merlin took a deep breath but didn't wake, however the dragon did and Arthur gasped at the sight of those golden eyes peering at him again.
"It's all right, young Pendragon. If I wanted to kill you I would've done so already, don't you think?"
The prince had to agree that much was true.
"We mean you no harm. You are fortunate Merlin found you when he did."
"Why did you save me?" the young man blurted out one of many questions he had.
"One day you will be king. You are destined to do great things that will be known by many generations to come, and neither I nor the boy want to stand in the way of those deeds. More so, we'd like to help."
Arthur looked at the dark haired boy again. Taking in his features, there was something about him; there was something under all that dirt and the prince felt there was more than just gratitude towards him in his heart; it was something he couldn't quite put his finger on, but it made Arthur want to protect him and look out for him.
Now, unconscious he looked so peaceful. The opposite of the roaring wild man he saw earlier. He even seemed harmless; what could he possibly do?
"Is he alright?" he blurted out.
"Yes, he is." The dragon smiled. "He just overdid it a bit. He's not used to healing magic. And between you and me, he's not all that talented in it, but he outdid himself this time."
"Magic?! He's a sorcerer?!" Arthur looked up at the dragon in disbelief, then at the boy again; pulling back as if he were some disease, or a monster that was about to attack him.
"Obviously." The dragon sighed, and after the thought took a turn in Arthur's mind, he figured there could be no other way. No ordinary man would be living with a dragon. "But before you say anything, let me tell you that whatever your father has been telling you, he hasn't been telling the whole side of it." The dragon raised his head, and it made him look more intimidating.
"But magic is.. is evil! It corrupts the people!"
"No, Arthur." Kilgharrah's voice softened. "Magic is only evil if the people using it are. How would it be evil if it just saved your life?"
"Clearly to obtain information about Camelot from me!"
"And why would he do that? What use would he have for that?"
Arthur had to admit he didn't have an answer. Really. Why would a dirty wild man want information from the prince of Camelot? He sat thinking until he started feeling lightheaded from it.
He gave one glance towards the dragon and let himself lay back down, noticing now that he was no longer at the entrance of the cave, but resting on gathered hay deeper inside the cave, which no doubt served as a bed for his savior. For a second, he thought about his soft warm bed back in the castle.
He turned his head to the side, noting that the sleeping young man next to him was lying on the cave floor, as he gave up his "bed" to the injured prince. Observing the said savior further, he tried to grasp the idea of that "savage" being a sorcerer. He wouldn't admit it even to himself, but he'd felt a kind of curiosity towards magic for a while now. Heavens forbid his father found out, he would have all of his entourage executed on the accusation of "treason, enchanting his son, corrupting and luring him towards sorcery". Whenever the king heard the word "magic" he suddenly transformed into a crazed man with a sick lust for killing, so as his interest piqued, Arthur had to force it down, for the sake of many people around him. He would ask the old court physician, or read books, 'purely to gain better knowledge to help him recognize magic when he saw it'; as he told his father when questioned.
His father just had a tendency to overreact.
"Did you teach him sorcery?" he asked all of a sudden.
"This boy is no ordinary sorcerer," the great dragon replied. "He was born with his gift. He is the most powerful warlock that ever walked the earth, and it is his destiny to use his gift to serve and protect you."
The prince remained quiet again for some time, taking in the information, and the dragon waited patiently until he did. Arthur continuously looked at Merlin. He'd never seen a sorcerer up that close, he realized. He didn't really look all that different from ordinary people. Well, he was incredibly dirty, not to mention his smell, but nothing different from any other man in Camelot. Even so, he looked.. a little odd. He really seemed to be out of it.
"Is he sick.. from healing me?"
"No. He is just worn out, but don't worry, he'll come around after some sleep."
The prince peeked down at his chest and shoulder, and tried his arm; lifting it and squeezing his fist and stretching his fingers in front of him. It felt a bit weak, but still better then how he felt just after that fight.
"Well.. I think he's pretty good at it." He gave half a smile. "Why is he here?" The prince looked up at the magical creature once more, realizing the question didn't quite come out as he intended, but the creature seemed to understand what the prince was curious about. It seemed very odd for a human to live with a dragon. Well.. the sight of a dragon seemed very odd on its own.
"As I said before, I raised him."
"Why?"
"Because his parents died saving my life; it was the least I could do, after your father had them killed."
"My.. father?" Arthur pushed himself up a bit to be able to see the dragon better.
Kilgharrah nodded.
"My father killed his parents?.. And he'd still be willing to serve me?" It was something the young prince found hard to believe.
"It is his destiny."
The prince let himself back on the hay again and was quiet for some time after that, occasionally staring at the dragon or the warlock next to him. Kilgharrah knew there were things he had to sort about this turn of events.
"There are many threats hanging over Camelot, and many dangers looming over you and plotting the kingdom's fall. You and only you can stop it, Arthur Pendragon. It is your destiny. But you will only succeed with the help of this young warlock. His kind has been hunted, tortured and killed by your father, and many times unrightfully so. What guilt does a child have in being born with a gift that makes him different than the rest? Your father is blinded by hatred, and doesn't see the suffering he is causing to these people. People, who only want to live free, like everyone else."
Throughout the following days, Arthur asked questions, and Kilgharrah tried his best to give answers to whatever the prince was curious about. Merlin tended to his injuries, brought him food and water and proved to be just like the dragon had said: serving and protecting him, unlike any servant or caretaker the blonde man had ever seen. They didn't do much talking, but even the dragon noticed there was a bond growing between them. Merlin seemed to sense whenever Arthur was in discomfort, and Arthur always had a smile for Merlin, even when he was in pain.
Secretly, they would peer at each other. Merlin was amazed by the golden hair; one time even touching it as he brushed a flock of hair from Arthur's face while he slept, then pretended to check for a fever when suddenly the prince woke. Arthur, on the other hand, marveled at the dark haired one's eyes, and he felt his heart leap whenever those blue orbs met with his. His long, dark hair was messy, with no inch of skin on him that wasn't dirty and he wore trousers and a shirt that were torn in so many places it was obvious they would've needed replacing a long time ago, and the only similar thing Arthur ever saw was the rag his servant would wash the floor of his chambers with. And he had to note that he never saw such tenderness from any servant. The workers of Camelot did what their duties required of them, but the young warlock was no worker of Camelot, and still Arthur found more care in his gestures than any servant in the castle.
Slowly he healed, however when the time came for Arthur to head back to Camelot, Merlin simply vanished in the forest.
"Come to Camelot with me," he had pleaded the night before, but didn't get any response besides the sad glances, as Merlin lay next to him; with his head on the Arthur's abdomen, looking up at him. There was something else in those eyes as well, and the prince wondered if it was fear. Thinking of all he had learnt from the great dragon about the purge - about Merlin and the threat over sorcerers - he felt it didn't surprise him that the young man was wary of the idea. But still.. he had grown so fond of him, so close to him, it felt impossible to imagine his days without the boy being around. Days starting without his wide grin; days going by without his clumsy strutting around; evenings without feeling his warmth as he curled up close to Arthur; nights without hearing his soft breath on his shoulders. It seemed foreign to go back to the castle and continue his life as if nothing happened, for he knew his life would never be the same.
"I'll keep you safe.." he whispered, "I promise." But it was for naught, as the warlocks fear seemed too great.
"He'll come around," Kilgharrah said and sighed, and watched Arthur head towards a passage he knew the patrol would pass by.
Merlin was distracted after that. He returned to the cave late and wordlessly curled up on the spot Arthur used to lay, and after some sniffing and muffled whimpers he fell asleep. He refused to get up for some time, he would deny meals; he would sit at the fireplace just looking at the flames. He became unusually quiet, to the extent that it made Kilgharrah worry.
"You can always go after him," he said one evening, and after some thinking, the boy slowly nodded.
~.*.~