A/N: Sorry this is a day late! I had a really busy weekend and totally forgot that I was supposed to upload yesterday! And for those of you getting worried about the way things are going - trust in me, my children. All things will come together in the end. 3
Merlin ran a damp cloth over Aithusa's flank, his movements gentle but thorough. The young dragon's new scales were coming in stronger now that he had proper nutrition, but there were still spots that were tender and flaky. He gave a full body shiver like a cat, his tail thumping against the ground, and he butted his head against Merlin's hip with a growl that Merlin knew by now was meant to convey appreciation. Merlin patted his head with his free hand and smiled down at him fondly.
"Don't worry, Aithusa," he said. "We're going to make everything right again. Just a few more days."
Aithusa growled again, laying his head down on his paws as Merlin turned back to his grooming and examination. He wanted to make sure that Aithusa was fit for the journey; he wasn't a very strong flyer thanks to the break in his wing that had never healed properly and he was still weak. He tired easily, even though it had probably been a year since he had escaped captivity. He would likely end up walking most of the way to the Cauldron alongside the horses with short flights to give his legs a rest, and Merlin wanted to be certain that he could handle it.
The door to the Roost crashed open, startling them both, and Raime came storming in with an uncharacteristic scowl on his face.
"There you are!" he said very crossly. "I have been looking for you everywhere! No one seemed to be sure where you were, and finally Sir Galahad told me you were down here. Where the hell have you been? Did you even sleep last night? Because you missed dinner and you weren't in your chambers practically all evening!"
Merlin gaped at him, more than a little bit taken aback at the tirade. It wasn't unlike his manservant to scold him on occasion—no more than it had been for him to scold Arthur, at least—but Raime seemed rather more upset than the situation warranted.
"I was out late taking care of things I had missed while we were in Ealdor," he said. "Correspondences and such. I didn't get back to my rooms until late, but I ate in the council chambers and I did get some sleep eventually. No need to panic over it."
"I have been trying to find you since yesterday afternoon," Raime said accusingly.
"Sorry?" Merlin said, putting away his cloth and hoisting his travel pack on his shoulder. "I've been a little busy. I've sort of got some important things to do. Did you tell Cecily that she's supposed to be coming with me?"
"I got the message to her, yes," Raime said, "but there's something else that we need to talk about."
"Can it wait until I get back from the Cauldron?" Merlin asked. He clicked his tongue at Aithusa, who lumbered to his feet and followed him out the doors.
"No, Merlin, it can't," Raime said firmly, jogging a bit to keep up with Merlin's longer strides. "There's something wrong with Mordred."
"What's wrong with him?" Merlin asked, rummaging in his bag to check that he had packed enough cutlets for Aithusa, who trotted after him. "He looked perfectly fine when I saw him earlier."
"Did you talk to him?" Raime asked.
"No, I didn't have time."
"Well, if you had then you would have noticed how weird he's acting!"
"Weird like how?" Merlin asked, exasperated.
He smiled and nodded at the people in the courtyard who called out greetings to him but kept moving toward the Royal Stables; he wanted to get moving soon so they could get some travel in before the sun was too high in the sky and it started getting hot. He clicked his tongue at Aithusa again, pulling his attention away from the children who ran up and tried to pat him or hop on his back like he sometimes let them.
"Weird like he blew off Cecily yesterday!" Raime cried, hurrying ahead so that he could walk backwards in front of Merlin and look at him with wide, entreating eyes. "For some other girl!"
"You mean that Druid girl who showed up yesterday? Kara, right?" Merlin asked, stopping to acknowledge an old Druid man who bowed low when he caught sight of him. Then he ploughed on. "Ellison mentioned her. She's an old friend of his from his camp. He said that Mordred had thought she was dead. It's really great that they've found each other again."
"Normally I would agree," Raime said, "but this time I really don't think it's as great as it seems." He tripped and nearly went sprawling over the cobblestones but Merlin caught him by the arm, pulled him back onto his feet, and kept on walking.
"Why would you say something like that?" he asked.
"Because she's evil!"
Merlin burst out laughing. "Alright, first of all: I don't think there's any such thing," he said. "Second of all: what on earth makes you think that?"
"She's manipulating Mordred," Raime said. "She's enchanted him! He never would have forgotten about Cecily otherwise!"
They came within sight of the Royal Stables and Cecily was already waiting there for him with both of their horses saddled and ready. She waved to him and Merlin waved back. Then he turned to Raime, putting a hand on his shoulder.
"Look, Raime, I appreciate you looking out for Cecily," he said. "Really, I do. It's very sweet and chivalrous and all that. But I think you're overreacting. I know what it's like to find someone you thought you'd lost forever. Romance just isn't what's on his mind right now. Mordred's preoccupied with Kara, but that's perfectly understandable and he'll be come back around to Cecily in no time."
"It's not Cecily that I'm worried about," Raime hissed. "It's Mordred!"
"He's a big boy, Raime," Merlin said. "He can take care of himself. And so can Cecily. Now, if you don't mind, I've got a goddess to summon and a dragon to heal. Stay out of trouble until I get back!"
Merlin turned back to Cecily and took the reins she held out to him. "All set?"
"Ready when you are, sire," she said.
Merlin quickly tied his pack onto Llamrei's saddle and hauled himself onto her back, looking around to make sure that Aithusa was still with them. Once Cecily was properly mounted as well, he led the way to the city gates and out, heading northwest toward the peaks of the White Mountains just visible on the horizon.
They rode in comfortable silence for a while, the light clopping of horse hooves on soft ground a soothing counterpoint to the lollop of Aithusa's uneven stride behind them. Merlin took the opportunity to let his magic unfurl from where he usually kept it tucked inside him, his awareness slipping out into his surroundings the way the Druids had taught him.
He had visited the Camp several times, both to hold council with the Druid elders on matters of state and also to learn all that he could from them about magic. They were only too happy to share their knowledge with him and Merlin had spent many an afternoon around their campfires, listening to their legends and their lessons, soaking up the intensely peaceful atmosphere that always seemed to accompany Druid camps no matter where they were situated.
His magic sank into the earth beneath him, brushing against all the plants and animals as they passed. Each living creature's energy was a bright spot in the sixth sense that it offered him, though Aithusa's presence was vibrant enough to drown out most of the smaller light forms in the vicinity. The deep, gentle ebb and flow of the magical currents all around him was calming, the feel of the earth's own power calling out to him, tugging at him and being drawn in by him in turns.
By the time he came out of his almost-trance, the sun was high in the sky and it was time for them to stop and water the horses, and to give Aithusa a chance to rest. Merlin and Cecily ate their lunches cross-legged on the ground in a small clearing, both of them tossing Aithusa bits and pieces of their own meals along with the strips of meat that they had brought for him.
Aithusa took to the sky when they started up again, skimming the treetops above them, flying on ahead and circling back to them every few minutes or so. Merlin kept an eye on him whenever the leafy canopy allowed, half in concern and half simply pleased to see the little dragon experience the joy or free flight when he had been denied it for so long. Eventually Aithusa rejoined them on the ground, settling his tired wings against his sides as well as he could and taking up his position at the rear of the little traveling party once more.
It wasn't until they stopped to make camp for the night, the two of them on logs around a small cooking fire and Aithusa curled up nearby with his head under his wing, that Merlin realized that Cecily had not said a single word all day. Now Cecily wasn't the most talkative of all the friends Merlin had made in Carthis—truthfully that was a bit of a tie between Raime and Mordred, now that the latter had come out of his shell—but he she had always been good for some light conversation on outings like this. He had never known her to be so reticent, and a long look over the fire showed her to be pale and missing her usual contented demeanor as well.
"Are you alright, Cecily?" Merlin asked as he doled out bowls of the stew that he had made for them.
She looked up, startled. "I'm fine, my Lord," she said.
Merlin frowned at her. "I don't think you are. You've gotten pretty used to calling me by my name lately. You only get formal when we talk business or when there's something on your mind. So what's up?"
"It's nothing, Merlin," she said, though it still wasn't entirely convincing considering she kept her attention firmly on the bowl in her hands but didn't actually eat any of it, just spun her spoon around aimlessly. "Just some personal troubles. Nothing I would want to bother you with."
"Cecily," Merlin said, setting his bowl aside. "You know that I consider you a friend, right? And that you can talk to me about anything? Being the king doesn't stop me from being a friend to you, and besides, I'm not even wearing the crown right now!"
Cecily laughed a bit. "You're sweet, you know that?"
"I have had that particular accusation levied against me before, yes," Merlin said with a smile. "Although, honestly, it's been mostly by my mother. Now, come on. What is it that's got you so preoccupied tonight?"
She sighed. "I don't know, just… Have you ever thought that you had something—with someone, I mean—and then realized later that you were wrong and there wasn't actually anything there at all and you might have just been making a fool out of yourself the whole time?" She said it all very fast, eyes still averted.
"With someone," Merlin repeated. "You mean...romantically?" But she couldn't mean romantically, not if she was talking about Mordred; there was definitely not nothing there with those two.
"Yes," she said, looking and sounding a bit miserable. She put aside her stew as though she wasn't hungry anymore and pulled a dagger and whetstone out of her pack instead. "Or, at least, I thought so. But I was wrong. He is definitely not interested and I've just been reading into everything too much."
Merlin was already shaking his head. "No," he said. "No, you haven't been reading too much into anything, I promise. Mordred is head over heels for you. I know that for a fact."
"Well, obviously he isn't," Cecily said shortly, sharpening her knife with quick, short strokes. "Or else he wouldn't be draped all over Kara and acting as though he's never even seen my face before."
Raime had said the same thing, that Mordred seemed to have forgotten about Cecily entirely. That wasn't right. Mordred was a nice and caring person; even if he was distracted by something or someone else, he would have at least been tactful about it and acknowledged that he was otherwise occupied. He would still have shown some warmth towards the woman that he loved. But Raime and Cecily both told a very different story, one that made Merlin a little bit nervous.
Merlin had seen people forget about their loves before: Arthur had dismissed Gwen entirely when he was enchanted to love the Lady Vivian and hadn't shown even the slightest inkling that he had previously sworn that she was the person he cared most about in all the world; and Gwen, when affected by Morgana's cursed bracelet, had overlooked her love for Arthur in favor of old feelings for Lancelot made new again.
In the courtyard, Raime had insisted that Mordred was enchanted. Perhaps all of his strange behavior could be waved off with perfectly ordinary explanations, but if there was even a slim chance that maybe—
"Get down!"
Merlin ducked just in time to feel the rush of air that meant a crossbow bolt had only barely missed the top of his head. He threw himself to the side as Cecily let loose a bolt of magic in the direction the shot had come from. Merlin rolled to his feet but stayed crouched low, tensed and alert, immediately scanning his surroundings for the threat. He couldn't see anyone in the gloom of the trees when he strained his eyes past the circle of the fire's light, but his extended senses told him that there was only one individual hiding out of view.
A wave of Merlin's hand called forth a shield, bright and glittering gold in the night, to prevent any more long-distance attacks; if this person wanted them dead, he would have to come out into the open to move around the blockade. There was a rustling in the woods, leaves and underbrush crushed under a not-quite-careful-enough heel, and Merlin moved to stand beside Cecily, both of them with their hands raised in readiness and their eyes roving the tree line.
The assassin emerged from the woods to their left, creeping around the edge of the shield and pulling a throwing knife from the sheath strapped to his leg. One word from Merlin yanked the weapon out of his hand and another from Cecily threw the man off his feet. He hit the ground and rolled, coming up again near where Aithusa had made his nest for the night.
The dragon screeched, rearing up on his hind legs and flapping his wings wildly as he tried to keep the man from getting any closer. He nearly toppled over backwards in his distress, but the assassin did take several steps back—toward Merlin and Cecily—to avoid getting knocked over by the flailing appendages. As soon as the assassin turned back to face his targets, Cecily had her sword in hand and was rushing to meet him.
Merlin let her handle that for a moment while he focused on calming Aithusa down. It took him several tries to get close enough to touch; every time he approached Aithusa gave a pitiful cry and cringed back, simultaneously lashing out and trying to make himself as small as possible. Merlin spoke softly to him, reminding Aithusa who he was and that he meant no harm. In the end, it took an utterance in the dragon tongue, the language they shared in their souls, to calm him properly.
Merlin reached out to stroke Aithusa's neck, scratching at the scales under his jaw the way that he liked best, and the dragon leaned forward to press his head against Merlin's stomach in a manner that reminded him very much of a frightened child hiding in his mother's skirts.
A gurgled cry drew Merlin's attention back to the fight just in time to see Cecily pull her sword out of the assassin's belly and let him crash to the ground. She was breathing heavily but didn't seem to be injured any and she hurried over to him, looking at Aithusa with concern.
"Is he alright?" she asked. "He's not hurt, is he?"
"No, he's not hurt," Merlin said grimly. "But I think it's safe to say that whoever is sending these men after me is the same one who held him and Morgana captive."
Aithusa might have nodded, though it was hard to tell with the position that he was in. Either way, Merlin petted him and murmured reassurances to him anyway. Cecily put a hand over her mouth, looking a bit sick.
"Cecily," Merlin said, nodding to the assassin's body. "Does he have a pouch on his belt? I would look myself, but..."
"No, you stay here with him. I'll check."
Cecily knelt down beside the body, examining it, and came back with a pouch in hand that was identical to the one that Merlin had taken off of his previous attacker. He opened it to confirm, feeling the odd sucking sensation emitted by the magic suppressing manacles, and Aithusa let out a whimper, immediately jerking away from him. Cecily let him press up against her instead, shushing him and patting his neck even as she gave Merlin an alarmed look.
"I guess that's all the confirmation that we need about how this person managed to hold a powerful witch and a creature of pure magic captive for so long without getting himself roasted," Merlin said, pulling the drawstring shut again and tying the pouch onto his own belt for safekeeping. "Come on, let's get some sleep."
"What about him?" Cecily jerked her thumb at the body, sprawled out in the middle of their little campsite.
Merlin shrugged. "I don't much care. Roll him into the woods and let the animals get him. We need to reach the Cauldron by early afternoon tomorrow, and for that we need rest. I'll set up a protective boundary for the night."
"No," Cecily said firmly. "I will. You will need your strength tomorrow."
Merlin knew better than to argue with her when she used that tone. And besides, he had a feeling that she was right about that.
Kara took a moment outside the throne room to prepare herself before entering, reminding herself of what she was supposed to believe and feel and be around these people. She let her chosen persona—the one that had for so long been the truth of her, before Morgana had opened her eyes—slide over her like chainmail until she knew that she could face Sarrum and take the orders that he threw at her no matter what they might be. She took one last deep breath and pushed the doors open, striding in with her head held high.
Sarrum was sat upon his throne like always, flanked on all sides by his fiercest and most trusted warriors. They all nodded to her with the respect that her skill and her reputation called for. She stopped before the king and dropped to one knee, bowing her head low.
"You sent for me, sire?"
"Yes," he said. "I have a mission for you, Kara."
"Have you located another camp for me to infiltrate, my Lord?" she asked, standing up once more.
Sarrum shook his head. "Not this time," he said. "Well, not exactly. I'm afraid this mission is a bit different than your standard fare."
"I have done many tasks for you over the years, Sarrum. Whatever this is, I'm sure that I can handle it," Kara said.
"You have performed admirably, my dear," Sarrum said, his fingers tapping on the arm of his throne in what Kara might have called a nervous gesture if he had been any other man. "But I warn you, the task that I set before you now is of a different sort. And on a much larger scale."
Kara frowned at him. "I'm not sure that I understand what you mean."
Sarrum leaned back in his seat, his face forbidding. "Surely you have heard of the fate that has befallen our erstwhile guest, the High Priestess Morgana Pendragon?" he asked.
Kara had to consciously stop her hands from curling into fists at her side, instead forcing an approximation of a smile onto her face.
"Of course, my Lord," she said evenly. "A well-deserved end for such a vile creature."
"Yes. One less witch to pollute this fair land," Sarrum said. "If you've heard of her death, then you have also heard of the one responsible."
"I know that she was struck down by one of her own," Kara said, suppressing the rage she felt so that it wouldn't be heard in her voice. She needed to keep her calm if she wanted to find out where this conversation was going. "A sorcerer from a land where magic rules. I hardly knew that such a foul place existed."
"A heinous kingdom filled with the plague that is sorcery," Sarrum growled. "A blot upon this realm! Their unholy art has long provided them with the strength to resist any attempt at cleansing their taint from our midst. For decades they have kept mostly to themselves, sparing the rest of us from having to tolerate their presence, but they have recently come into new leadership."
Sarrum pushed himself to his feet and began to pace, prowling back and forth on the dais with all the grace of an angered bear. "They've a new king in Carthis," he said. "A true Dragonlord."
"A Dragonlord?" Kara repeated, startled. "But sire, I thought all the Dragonlords were wiped out by King Uther in the Great Purge."
"All but one," Sarrum corrected. "And that one happened to be Carthis' long-lost crown prince. His son now sits upon the throne, and it is through him that we find our newest problem."
"And what might that be?"
"The Great Purge all but destroyed the dragon race," Sarrum said. "Uther left only one alive, but he did not manage to track down all the remaining eggs. He didn't bother to search more thoroughly, thinking them irrelevant because they cannot hatch without a Dragonlord to call forth the hatchling from its shell, but he did not count on the last Dragonlord having a son to carry on his gift."
Sarrum stopped pacing and faced Kara squarely. "There are dragon eggs in the vaults of Carthis," he said, his tone like a sledge hammer. "No one knows how many, but even one is unacceptable. This Dragonlord—this King Merlin Ambrosius—will no doubt seek to restore dragonkind by hatching these eggs. That cannot be allowed to happen. To that end, you will go to Carthis posing as a refugee fleeing magical persecution. You will infiltrate the palace vaults, find the eggs, and destroy them."
"Sire, if this King Merlin poses such a threat, why not just have him killed outright instead of targeting the eggs?" Kara asked. "He is a sorcerer, after all. Surely the eggs are not the only things that make him dangerous."
"Not by far," Sarrum said, his hand settling reflexively on the hilt of the sword at his waist and gripping tight in his agitation. "He is a powerful warlock with the might of the Druids behind him. In just a few short months he has proven to be a charismatic ruler, swaying many a reluctant ally to his cause. His taint has spread even to those who oppose magic the most.
"His evil has infected Arthur Pendragon," he said, disdain in his voice. "The Pendragons have long been of the opinion that sorcery is an evil to be cleansed from this world, but this Merlin has Arthur Pendragon so under his spell that they claim to be friends. Pendragon is changing the laws of Camelot because of this man, opening his borders to the scum, and I have no doubt that if left unchecked, the poison will only spread further. Rest assured that I will not allow this to continue."
Kara gaped at him in outright disbelief. There was no way that Arthur Pendragon would simply change his mind on the matter of sorcery and open his kingdom's doors to it, not after an entire lifetime of prejudice and genocide. He could not possibly expect that those with magic would simply forget everything that he and his father had done to their kind and return to their kingdom gladly. It was hypocrisy and arrogance at its finest.
For him to claim friendship with someone that he had so wronged was sickening, and even more so the warlock's claim in return. A man who befriended his oppressor and murdered his own kin—he deserved to have a price on his head. Kara would kill him herself if she didn't suspect that the job was already being done.
Sarrum gestured to his most trusted henchmen, a renowned assassin called Albin, and the man stepped forward. "King Arthur has sent out word that he will be hosting a summit to argue his stance on magic in his kingdom and renegotiate his treaties, and I have received an invitation. Albin and I will be attending this summit, during which Arthur will have an unfortunate accident.
"In the meantime," he said, "you will be in Carthis, seeking out and destroying the last hope of saving the dragon race. I have sent others after King Merlin, but he is a difficult mark. If my agents fail to bring him down, then I want the next biggest threat eliminated. That is your task."
Kara nodded. "I will not fail you, sire," she said solemnly, kneeling once more.
"Be sure that you don't," Sarrum said. "I will not see this realm succumb to the evils of sorcery and be overrun with the beasts it spawns. We cannot allow this sickness to spread any further than it already has."
"I understand, my Lord. These men will get what they deserve," Kara swore.
She would do as she was bid and eliminate these eggs—this Merlin was a traitor to his kind and the thought of him with a horde of dragons at his back, virtually unstoppable by mortal men, was horrifying—but if an opportunity arose to take matters into her own hands, then she would not turn her nose up at it.
The Lady Morgana had made it her life's mission to end the Pendragon line and find justice for all the lives that they had taken, all the suffering that they had caused. If Kara had the chance to finish Morgana's noble work, she would not hesitate.
