I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get this chapter up, I've had exams and coursework. But thank you so much for your interest in this story :D

sword: Thanks for your review :)

Enjoy!

Chapter Six (Arthur's POV):

Arthur was going to die.

If not by the embedded sword tip in his body, travelling towards his heart, it would be by flying.

Flying on a dragon was bad.

Flying on a dragon who had hated his father and probably himself was even worse.

He clung to the scales with a grip so hard he feared his flesh would mould with the dragon's.

Merlin's arms reached past him as he clutched the scales on either side of the king, keeping him enclosed so if he happened to pass out from the pain, Arthur wouldn't fall out into oblivion.

Arthur could tell that Merlin wanted nothing more than to let go and feel the power of this magical ride.

He wondered since when was he so attuned to his servant's desires, when he realised it was because he wanted it too.

Beneath the pain that seared through him, that made him feel that death was a mercy, and the fear of being eaten - somewhere beneath all that - he felt the wind flapping his hair around, he felt the sheer exhilaration that you could only get when on a dragon soaring through the air at a speed and capacity matched by no other creature.

And for one small second, he thought that if he died right now, he wouldn't mind.

But then Arthur was brought back to reality when he felt Merlin lean closer to be heard over the rush of air. "So what do you think of the ride?"

"Breathtaking."

Well, he was telling the truth; as soon as he'd opened his mouth, a gust of air had swept in, and choked him.

As another ball of pain exploded within his chest - a part of his mind acknowledged they were becoming more frequent - he bent over double, and rested his cheek against the coolness of one of the larger scales on the dragon's neck, keeping his mouth firmly closed.

He glanced behind to see Merlin's eyes filling with extra concern, the grin fading away.

Forcing himself to bury the pain under meaningless thoughts, Arthur thought of Merlin, which he'd been doing a lot of recently.

So, his servant was now a dragonlord.

Not now, he corrected himself, it had happened when the previous dragonlord had died.

Arthur remembered clearly the pain and sorrow engulfing Merlin's expression, and had - at the time - thought it was for Camelot, for the ones surely to die under the dragon's - This dragon's! - fiery tirade.

But he'd been wrong, like on so many other matters concerning his friend.

He had the sudden unexpected urge to comfort the boy, and assure him that he was not alone, but fighting down on it, he remained silent, enduring the pain.

(Merlin's POV):

Merlin fought the urge to rip the piece of sword out with his own hands when he saw Arthur slump forward.

They had begun flying at dawn for a few hours and he was getting anxious.

Kilgarrah was not nearly as strong or fast as he had been previously, and it was taking what felt like an age to reach the lake.

"Kilgarrah!" Merlin shouted. He noticed Arthur's head lift a little at the sound, but it seemed too much of an effort, and he sank back down.

Seeing this, Merlin shouted with more force "KILGARRAH!"

The dragon's ears pricked up and he asked, in a tired tone "Yes?"

"How long will it take? It is now the second day, and we must get to the lake before midday!"

Kilgarrah drew his attention away from the ground, where he had been focussing all his energy on the flight, and replied in Merlin's head.

Rest assured young warlock, your king will -

With a shriek and a snap, Merlin only had time to notice a creature zoom away from a suddenly drooping dragon, when he found himself tumbling from the dragon's back with a shout and hurtling towards the ground, Arthur following close behind.

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