It was a quiet night, quiet and gentle, but despite that the atmosphere was much conducive to sleep, Merlin was not in the least tired. He had huddled under the covers and closed his eyes when Gaius had checked on him. Now, having heard his great-uncle blow out the candles in the other room, and clamber into his own creaking bed, the boy had tossed the covers aside and walked carefully to the window.

Camelot was beautiful from up here, and Merlin had always found clear nights to be his favourite. High above them there hung stars in their great constellations – the Plough, the Swan, the Horse. His mother had taught him all of their names, but he had never quite been able to see the shapes, instead finding his own animals and figures in the spangled sky. Some people were daunted by the size of the sky, by the distance between them and the stars – Merlin was not, for he felt almost reassured that he was only a small speck in this universe. He would not have liked the responsibility of being anything greater.

Down below there were lights like stars scattered across the city; somewhere an animal shuffled in its stable, somewhere a knight patrolled in a leisurely sort of fashion down the cobbled streets. Merlin leaned out further. He could see a guard directly below him, and almost felt the urge to wave. He knew that the man, whose eyes were hidden beneath a helmet and directed straight in front of him, would not have seen him.

A glint of light caught his eye. He turned his head to look at the castle itself; there was a light at one of the windows further along the wall. Merlin knew the castle well now. It did not take him long to work out that it was Arthur's room that was so illuminated. So the little prince, so devoted to the rules of the land and to his father, was staying up late, beyond the curfew! That, or he had forgotten to extinguish his candle, Merlin considered as his eyes lazily followed the flickering beams of light.

He might have been there for an age, taking in the soft orange glow – he adored the glow of candlelight: it meant home and warmth and comfort – but a minute later it was cast into a thousand glowing shards as the window was opened. The light was more intense now. A hand with a candle came into view, closely followed by Arthur's head.

Merlin did not have time to duck back into the room before Arthur caught sight of him. The prince, whose gaze had gone first to the city spread out below him, had evidently glimpsed movement at another window: and for a moment, their eyes met.

But Merlin was startled, for he did not recognise the expression on Arthur's face. For a moment, a long moment, the prince retained the visage that he had worn whilst regarding his city: a peaceful one, but a world-weary one, and in his eyes was a wisdom and a curiosity well beyond his years.

This expression, which rather captivated Merlin, was quickly gone, however, and replaced by one of amused distaste as Arthur realised at whom he was looking. The prince smirked a little, and, casting a final glance towards the sky, disappeared back into his room and closed the window. A moment later the light faded as the candle was snuffed out.

Merlin was profoundly puzzled: he stood for a while staring out at the city without seeing it, lost in thought. He did not know how much time had passed when at last he clambered back down from his vantage-point.

He might have gone back to sleep, but for one recurring thought that forbade him from clearing his head. He padded across the room to his bed, made up his mind, and turned on his heel to head for the door.

Getting past Gaius was easy: the old physician was sleeping deeply (and snoring rather loudly). The corridors were as quiet as the night; Merlin was careful, though, to keep his footsteps silent, and to listen intently for any patrolling guards that might be headed his way. Going down the steps to the dungeons gave him an uncanny feeling of déjà vu. His head began to swim a little. He felt as if he was in a dream.

The guards were there, the guards he remembered, playing a dice-game this time, and cursing as coarsely as they had last time. Merlin winced a little. His mother had always hated people swearing. But he did not have much time to consider the men; a flash in his eyes, the vague recollection of something sparking in his mind, and their dice had both flown off the table, towards a dark corner of the room and down a short flight of steps.

Merlin smiled. He rather liked being able to do magic without even thinking about it. It was like having an omnipotent servant.

He scuttled past the guards, who were so caught up in going after the dice and chuckling about the odd circumstance that they did not suspect his presence. But it was only after Merlin had passed the bend in the corridor that he permitted himself to release his pent-up breath, and, absent-mindedly, to produce a flame to light his way.

The dragon was not there when he at last emerged in the cave. Not in front of him, at the least. The chain was taut and disappeared into the chimney. Merlin waited a moment – surely the dragon knew he was there – but, when he did not appear, the boy called out: 'Hello?'

A draught, a clanking, a rush of air – and, suddenly, the dragon was there in all of his magnificence, perched upon the rock opposite Merlin, and studying the child in faint amusement.

'You weren't a dream!' Merlin could not help but exclaim.

I should hope not.

Merlin hesitated, and then, unsure of the intricacies of dragon-etiquette, he bowed. 'I was rude last time... I think. I'm sorry.'

You were naturally startled; I forgive you. – But you had something to ask of me.

'Yes...'

At once a flood of thoughts overcame Merlin. He thought of the last time he had been here – the dragon telling him about his destiny to protect Arthur, to help the boy become a great king. He thought of the prince himself: this strange child, so insolent, so arrogant in public, but prone to deep thoughts in the middle of the night, a thing that Merlin thought was unique to him. He thought of how the boy always insisted on keeping his distance from Merlin – from people like him in general. He thought of how much he disliked him. And then he said:

'I want to know how to help him.'

You wish to help Arthur?

'If he wants to become a great king,' said Merlin frankly, 'he is going to need all the help he can get.'

The dragon snorted in an amused fashion.

'But what can I do? How can I turn him nice?'

You cannot change people, merely influence them.

'How can I help him, then?' And, after a moment: 'I really think he needs someone to guide him. And if it's my destiny to guide him, then... I'll do it. I think I can do it.'

The dragon looked pleased. You have answered your own question.

'I haven't! I need your advice. Please.'

Arthur treasures an image that does not reflect him. That is what must be overturned.

Merlin wasn't sure he had quite understood, but he didn't want to ask the dragon more questions if he was just going to be enigmatic. 'I... think I can do it. Should I try to be his friend? Or will that not work?'

That is for you to find out, young warlock.

Merlin sighed. 'Thank you. I think. Can I come back and ask you more things if it doesn't work? Really, you've told me to do a very big thing, and you can't expect me to do it on my own.'

The dragon just smiled, and looked almost affectionately at the boy. Then he bade goodbye in his own special fashion: by flapping his wings so that Merlin nearly fell over in the downdraught, and, in a clanking of chains, disappearing back to his ceiling-perch. Merlin found himself worrying he had interrupted the dragon in the middle of something important.

But he was growing tired at last, and he had all the answers that he was going to get, and so, almost relieved that the events of last time had not been a dream after all, he scurried off back to his own bedroom, in the hope of stealing enough sleep in what remained of the night.