The dragon crept closer, then with one quick movement he lurched up and swung a huge foreleg at the small figure on the ground in front of him. It was too much, Arthur knew what would happen, he'd seen it before and it meant death, he found himself recoiling in horror, the words ripped from him, "No, no! Merlin! No!"

Arthur was shoving Lancelot aside and tearing through the bushes before he realised the sound was coming from him. He saw Merlin twist in astonishment at the interruption, then freeze in sheer dread at the sight of the prince.

Then it all went to hell.

In an instant, the dragon's foreleg connected with the back of Merlin's shield. Instead of severely harming Merlin as Arthur had feared, the huge beast was blasted backwards across the clearing into the air for several yards, before hitting the ground with a thud that made the earth shudder in protest. He skidded several metres across the damp ground, shearing the grass away from the earth in great moist clumps.

Arthur was knocked over as the surge of magic in front of him recoiled and the shields around the clearing vanished. The stars returned. Arthur lay on his back, staring up from the ground in disbelief at the very unharmed Merlin. Merlin stared right back, stunned, his eyes wide and burning a deep, rich, gold.

"That was rather unexpected." The dragon rose and flapped his wings experimentally, clearly none the worse for wear. "It would be safe to assume your defensive magic is coming along nicely, young warlock."

Merlin still hadn't moved but the gold in his eyes vanished, his gaze was still on Arthur, looking like he was the one who had seen an apparition from the depths of hell come bearing down on him, ready strike him down dead and rip him apart from limb to limb.

Arthur recovered his voice first, getting to his feet and glaring at the dragon. "You were sneaking up behind him! You could have killed him!"

The dragon was unconcerned. "A dragon cannot kill a dragonlord, young Prince!"

Merlin jerked in astonishment at Arthur's statement, his face pale. He still seemed incapable of speech. His chest rose and fell rapidly in his agitation as he tried to process the impact of Arthur's discovery and the loss of his secret. Then his eyes shifted behind Arthur at Lancelot and Gwaine, who had emerged from their hiding place and were making their way forward onto the field.

Merlin shot Lancelot a look of betrayal, then another thought occurred to him. He turned on the dragon, "You would have known they were there when you landed! Exposing me was not your decision to make!"

The dragon said calmly, "This time of discovery was foretold in the stars many eons ago, young warlock. I am as much a servant to destiny's wishes as are you."

"Well, that's just great! Thank you so much, Kilgharrah!" Merlin glared at him, then his gaze was drawn back against his will to Arthur. All of a sudden he felt drained, his anger and panic receding as quickly as they'd appeared, he turned away, his shoulders slumping, head bent. Then Gwaine was clapping an arm around him and giving him a brotherly whack on the back, and Lancelot was beside him. Merlin risked a glance at Lancelot, shamefaced. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it." The Knight put a steadying hand on his shoulder.

Gwaine stepped in. "Merlin, mate, don't worry about it. This has been the most memorable night I've had for a while. You're full of secrets, aren't you?"

Merlin winced. "Not so much any more, it seems." He was aware that Arthur had reached him now, but after that initial shock he found he couldn't look at him again.

"Merlin?" Arthur's voice was neutral, Merlin stared at the smudges of dirt and grass on the ground like they were the most fascinating things he'd ever seen. He was starting to feel a little sick. "Are you alright?"

Merlin tried to speak, it didn't work, he cleared his throat. Eyes still downcast, he mumbled "Yes," and when Arthur's boots moved into his field of vision he was forced to look up at the Prince. He focused on an area roughly parallel to Arthur's right shoulder and swallowed. He didn't understand why Arthur hadn't knocked him down flat.

He tried to focus, Arthur was speaking. "I saw you with the dragon two nights ago but I didn't realize you had magic until tonight. Will there be a trifecta?"

Taken aback, Merlin looked at him blankly for a moment then croaked, "Uh, no. No more surprises, not from me."

Gwaine ruffled his hair. "Well, as Lancelot and I both knew about the magic, but not the dragon, then I guess we're all even again."

"I didn't tell you about the magic – oh. Oh."

"The plates in the tavern, mate, they were flying pretty quick. And I couldn't be certain, but I was fairly sure I'd seen your eyes change colour."

"That does give it away, Merlin," Lancelot smiled at him and patted him on the shoulder.

Merlin tried to smile back, but it was more of a grimace. He was starting to feel really ill, his head was spinning unpleasantly. Was he in shock? Under the grey moonlight, his face paled and he staggered slightly.

Arthur's eyes narrowed, and turned to the dragon. "What's wrong with him?"

"The magic he used to throw me was enough to demolish half of Camelot, young Prince. He merely needs a few hours of rest and he'll recover completely."

"I didn't mean to do it," Merlin said sullenly. "Arthur startled me." He frowned and put a hand to his head.

"Remind me to never, ever surprise you Merlin, I don't think I'd live through the experience," said Gwaine, putting an arm back around his shoulder. "Come on my friend, let's get you back to Camelot so you can rest, you look half dead on your feet."

"I'll help him," said Arthur, shouldering Gwaine out of the way.

"No, you don't have to, I'll be alright." Merlin took a step back from both of them, then swayed, confused.

Arthur gave a huff of exasperation, forcibly taking one of Merlin's arms and slinging it over his shoulder. "Shut up, Merlin."

Merlin was finding it difficult to stay upright, he didn't resist, and allowed himself to lean against Arthur, trying to fight the strange rushing sound that was making his head spin. He suddenly remembered the churned up earth in the clearing. He twisted around, Arthur turned with him, and Merlin's eyes glowed, but instead of the ground smoothing out and grass repairing, hundreds of daffodils began to sprout from the mounds of earth all over the clearing. "Oh no," he groaned and clutched his head, slipping unintentionally into the old language, "Kilgharrah, edníwe sé græd?"

"Yes, young warlock. Do not be concerned, I will take care of it."

Merlin nodded, and then stilled in horror. Oh no, the daffodils, he'd just done magic in front of Arthur, this wasn't good. Had he noticed? Why was Arthur here? Had he seen Kilgharrah? His head felt muddled, his senses were going haywire. He tried to pull away, Arthur would hate him now, but the prince didn't let go. "Uh. My head. Not Arthur." He tugged harder, his thoughts jumbled, fighting an increasing sense of dread. His voice grew louder, "Lemme go. Lancelot, where are you?"

Lancelot spoke soothingly, "What is it, Merlin?"

"I don't ... what?" He stopped, dazed, then began struggling again, twisting and pushing against the prince. "Arthur. He knows. Get me away from him, I'm going to be sick."

Uncertain, Arthur released his hold on Merlin, letting Lancelot take him. He watched as they stumbled over to the side of the clearing near the trees, Merlin sank down on the ground and began retching. Arthur turned back to the dragon, his unease growing. "Look at him! Are you sure he'll be alright? He's ill, can't you do something?"

"Young Prince, I appreciate your concern for your friend. He may too, though I doubt he will remember any of this later. I repeat, he'll sleep this off and he will recover completely."

Arthur didn't look convinced, and Kilgharrah spoke his name deliberately. "Arthur. You must listen. I will give you some words of caution, and you must pay them heed. You should be aware of a side-effect when too much magic is expelled unexpectedly, as has just happened. Merlin's magic is still strong compared to others with magical abilities, but he has been weakened by the effort. Should this occur in a battle he will be vulnerable to threat. You must remember that, and take precautions to guard against it."

Arthur nodded, looking back at Merlin and said quietly, "Yes, I will."

"You are beginning to discover another effect. At present, his magic is not fully under his command. He will appear as if he were intoxicated, with the usual loss of inhibitions that come with such a state. He may say and do things he does not mean. It may be dangerous for him, and others around him, if he performs magic when he is in this condition. You must keep him very calm, and safe."

Gwaine had perked up, "Intoxicated? We might have a bit of fun, then?"

The dragon frowned and Gwaine took an involuntary step backwards. "Heed my warning, Knight of Camelot. I am not to be taken lightly." Gwaine swallowed and nodded, rendered temporarily mute.

An odd sound, a splash of water. Arthur spun around, and the dragon exhaled noisily in exasperation, sending a puff of warm, smoky air across the back of Arthur's neck.

Lancelot was gaping open-mouthed at Merlin, who was sitting on the ground holding a large silver goblet. Merlin's head was completely soaked, it looked like he'd had a bucket of water thrown over him. Arthur was beside him in an instant. "Merlin, what did you do?"

Merlin turned from Lancelot to Arthur, panic written all over his face. "Nothing! Not magic! I don't ... nothing!"

"Hush, Merlin." Lancelot moved between Merlin's field of vision and Arthur. "You said you wanted to rinse your mouth out, so drink the water, then we can get you back to Camelot."

Merlin stared uncomprehendingly at the goblet as if he wasn't sure where it had come from, then took an obedient sip.

Ignoring Lancelot's glare to go away, Arthur crouched down beside Merlin and put a hand on his shoulder. "That better?"

Merlin gazed at him helplessly, water trickling down his forehead and into his eyes. He dropped the goblet, it vanished. He stared blankly at the spot where it had been for a moment, then looked back up at Arthur, and there was desperation and grief in his face. "Uh ..."

"Look. Come here." Arthur reached around and untied his neckerchief, which remarkably, considering the state of Merlin's head, was still fairly dry. "Lancelot, help me." He tugged Merlin to his feet, dragging him away from the water and the vomit, then when it was apparent Merlin wasn't able to walk under his own steam, Arthur sank back down on the grass with him. Merlin didn't fight him this time. Arthur propped him up so he was leaning against him, with Arthur's arm around one shoulder, and held the side of Merlin's damp head tight against his chest.

Merlin's eyes were unfocused. His face was pale under the grey moonlight, his body limp with fatigue. Arthur took the neckerchief and carefully wiped away the trails of water, smoothing the cloth over his face. Arthur ignored Lancelot and Gwaine; he wished they'd disappear. Arthur's eyes were stinging, he didn't know why, he blinked to clear them. Merlin was trembling, or he was, or perhaps they both were. Arthur held on to him.

"I'm sorry." Merlin's voice was weak. He was breathing very slowly now and watching Arthur as he dried his face. Merlin's eyes were flickering constantly from gold to deep blue and back again, as he struggled with his magic and his efforts to remain conscious. Arthur found the play of colour strangely mesmerising, he couldn't look away.

Arthur's throat was tight, there was an odd feeling in his chest, he swallowed. "No. It doesn't matter." The neckerchief was soaked, he stared at it blindly for a moment then shoved it in his jacket pocket.

A croak of sound. "You're upset."

Arthur pressed the palm of his hand against his eyes, the hand that wasn't holding on to Merlin. His eyes were wet. "It's not what you think. And you're a mess." He realised it wasn't Merlin who was trembling.

"No. Yes."

Arthur tried a smile, but it came out as a grimace. He said quietly, "I'm the one who should be sorry, and I am, you were right, I've been such a prat."

"Huh?" Merlin didn't understand, the gold intensified, his eyes flickered shut and open, and he struggled to sit up. One of his hands, the one that wasn't jammed up against Arthur's chest, grabbed at the prince's shoulders in an attempt to get some leverage.

Arthur swatted the hand away, but he wasn't rough, grasping Merlin's wrist and pushing him back down. "We'll talk later. Just go to sleep, huh? You need to." He smoothed Merlin's hair, and said in a low voice that wasn't quite steady, "Don't worry, I've got you."

A bare thread of sound. "Not tired."

At Merlin's attempt to have the last word, Arthur managed the shadows of a smile. But Merlin was losing his battle, his eyes were fluttering, the gold in them disappeared and finally he succumbed to the lure of oblivion. Arthur hunched over and drew him closer, and Lancelot, Gwaine and the dragon were forgotten. He tried to be quiet, he tried not to shake. Merlin's head was wet, and Arthur held on tight.

The first rays of the new dawn were creeping over the horizon as they neared the edge of the forest not far from Camelot. Arthur had sat on the damp grass for an hour holding onto the unconscious Merlin, carefully ignoring his audience, then Kilgharrah had judged Merlin fit to be woken for the short trip back to Camelot, with the proviso of ensuring he was made to sleep again as soon as they arrived.

It had taken some time to wake him up, and although he was awake, Merlin was not quite lucid, and barely able to walk, kept upright only by the grip Arthur and Lancelot had on him, one of his arms around each of their shoulders supporting him. Merlin felt sleepy, yet rather good, not a care in the world, somehow all light and ... floaty. Yes, floaty ... he decided he liked that word. Were his feet touching the ground? Probably not, he couldn't feel them, but ... it didn't seem to matter. This floating business was just fine.

Vaguely, Merlin wondered if he could float any higher. His head lolled back, he screwed up his eyes against the glare of the rising sun, and thought further. Hold on, was that speck high up above the treetops a bird? It was difficult to tell while he was beneath the canopy, but he could probably go up that far, why not have a quick look? He could try a floating enchantment, or was it a levitation spell? Levitation, big word ... maybe too big right now. But whatever it was, it was just what he should do, why hadn't he thought to try it on himself before?

After all, it couldn't be that difficult to get back down safely again, he'd think of a spell for that when he had to. He was brilliant!

He whispered fuzzily, "Fleótan úpgang!" and was rather astonished when he felt a sharp tug on both arms. The magic mustn't have been very strong. But then Arthur's voice hissed, "Merlin, what do you think you're doing?"

"Arthur?" He stared down at the prince, confused. The spell disappeared and he slumped back between two sets of shoulders. "Whatcha doing here?"

"Merlin, mate." Another voice, another face. Gradually it came into focus. No, two faces, one Gwaine, the other Lancelot, but it was Gwaine's voice. "You can't do any magic, remember, not near Camelot. You might be seen."

He said stupidly, "Up. See bird." He waved an arm in the general direction, banging someone's head, and tried to explain further. "Float."

"You idiot, you could have thought of that when we first started to cart you back, you're bloody heavier than you look!" Why was he resting his head on Arthur's shoulder? That was Arthur's voice, near his ear again.

Merlin frowned, but of course, Arthur was right! Arthur was always right! Arthur said he was heavy, he should float up again, right now! But the word to use wasn't float. Arthur'd want to know the right word. Merlin concentrated. "Not float, lev...itate?" He couldn't get anything else out, but he hoped it would be enough, and it was, Arthur was grinning now, he approved of the idea! Merlin beamed back, pleased.

"Fleótan úpgang!"

He tried the spell again, a bit surprised by the sniggers around him. Wasn't it working? It was, but why were they pulling him down again? Puzzled, he managed a single word, "R'thur?"

"Merlin!"

Blinking, he tried to focus on Arthur's face. He couldn't understand what Arthur was saying. "Wha... huh?"

"Merlin! No more magic. That's an order. You are not to attempt any more magic!" That was Arthur's cross voice!

Merlin's face fell. He glowered. "Prat!"

More sniggers from somewhere. "Merlin, mate, we are so going for a trip out in the woods one day and I am going to get you roaring drunk!" That's right, Gwaine was here too.

"I never gets drunk. Can't. Mightn't be able to control magic." He was proud of himself for managing such a long and informative speech.

A hand under his chin, turning his head around. "Merlin." It was Arthur again but he didn't have the cross voice now. Good, lucky for him. "You must listen. It's very important. You can't do any more magic now, right? No more gold eyes. We are about to go into Camelot. Promise me, you won't do any more magic, please?"

Well ... why not if the prat was being nice? "Alright."

"And it would be a good idea if you didn't talk, either, alright? So no magic, and no prattle, not a sound out of you, please?"

Merlin considered it grudgingly. Arthur was the prince, he should really do what Arthur said at least some of the time. And he'd said please. Please was nice. Merlin pouted. "Alright."

He shut his eyes and allowed himself to be dragged along, his thoughts drifting aimlessly, not noticing when they moved out of the undergrowth and onto the road. It was just too difficult to concentrate on anything. Not long after that, Leon met them just outside the south gates.

"Where were you? I've been looking for the four of you for almost an hour."

Arthur and Gwaine exchanged glances. Then Lancelot volunteered, "We were ... on a hunting trip?"

Leon said slowly, "At night?" and Lancelot nodded. "But ... you have no weapons, no kill?"

Gwaine stepped in to fill the silence. "Uh, I didn't want to say, we weren't actually hunting, more that Arthur here wanted to observe ... badgers in their natural habitat."

Arthur shot Gwaine a disgusted look which Leon did not see.

"Badgers?"

"Well, they are nocturnal, which is a word meaning active at night, so ..." Gwaine shrugged as if the whims of royalty were a mystery to him and whispered confidentially, "He took us along for protection. You know, in case they ... attacked, which they can if ... if they're enchanted!"

Leon blinked, not looking like he was fully appreciating the magic-zoology lesson. His gaze zoomed in on Merlin, who was swaying, eyes shut, face pale and bloodless, still supported by Arthur and Lancelot.

"So what's wrong with Merlin. Did he ...?"

Gwaine realised he may not have thought the story through properly, but Lancelot came to the rescue. "Concussion. Falling tree branch. We're taking him up to see Gaius now."

"Very well." Leon turned back to Arthur. "Shall I assist you, sire?"

"No, no, leave him with us. You go back to your duties. I'll need a rest and change of clothes and I'll be along in a few hours."

As Leon moved away, Arthur hissed in an undertone, "That was pathetic. You both," he emphasised the words with a finger pointed at Gwaine and Lancelot, "need to find some better excuses than that."

"Like Merlin's?" Gwaine suggested lightly, and Merlin shifted uncomfortably as Gwaine clapped him on the back.

After an awkward climb that involved a bang to the head, some pushing and shoving and almost dropping Merlin back down several flights of stairs, they reached Gaius's chambers. At the sight of Merlin being half-carried the physician stood up from the breakfast table, alarmed.

"Merlin, what happened?" Gaius exclaimed.

"Uh ..." Merlin forced his eyes open and met Arthur's gaze uneasily. Arthur rolled his eyes and helped him up the stairs to his room, placing him with care on the bed so he didn't knock his head again.

"Magic, Gaius," Gwaine said, following Lancelot into the main room and closing the door.

"He was hit by a magical enchantment?"

Arthur shook his head. "No. He used too much magic when he threw the great dragon across a field, it seems that was the magical equivalent to demolishing half of Camelot. That's what the dragon said anyway."

Gaius froze, and eyes flicked from Merlin to Arthur and back again. "I'm not sure I'm following this conversation," he said carefully. "Merlin?"

Merlin opened one eye and regarded Gaius blearily. "What'e said." And then he promptly passed out.

Translations:

"Kilgharrah, edníwe sé græd?"KILGHARRAH, RESTORE THE GRASS?

"Fleótan úpgang" FLOAT UP!