The ground was soft beneath their boots, Arthur noted, as the two treked through the wood in search of a clearing Merlin was yet to deem suitable. They stopped as they came across another, Arthur counted it as the third, but after a moment the warlock just shook his head and started forward again. The prince groaned,

"Merlin, what exactly are you looking for?"

"We need a big clearing."

"This is plenty of space!"

"Not enough."

Arthur's eyes popped and he felt that same twinge of controlled panic in the bottom of his stomach he had the first time Merlin had mentioned this 'friend'. The warlock had neglected to mention before that this 'friend' was a massive, ancient dragon, whom Merlin constantly consulted in his underground prison. The same one Uther had imprisoned for years and would, in all likelyhood, hold a well-earned grudge against the name Pendragon.

It was also the dragon that Merlin had released, and upon his freedom the dragon who had attempted to completely destroy Camelot and its inhabitants in what Merlin called, 'a fit of slight shortsightedness'. The warlock assured him that the great dragon would do them no harm, but the prince was too panicked to hear him.

This didn't bode well for Arthur's whole liking of staying-alive-past-sundown.

The prince gulped and tried to lighten the knot in his stomach, "How are you going to call him, anyways? Whistle, like a dog?"

Merlin rolled his eyes, "Don't be thick. Sometimes you act as dumb as you look."

"Then I can never be anything but brilliant."

Merlin chortled quietly, muttering to the prince, "Prat."

Arthur laughed, quickening his stride to match Merlin's. They walked in amiable silence a moment before the prince asked again, "Honestly, though, how do you contact him?"

The warlock shrugged, "Ancient language; wherever he is, he'll hear me and answer. He has to."

"Has to? Why?"

Merlin's eyes tightened almost impercievably, and his voice was subdued as he replied, "All dragons need answer the Dragonlord's call."

Arthur stopped. His mind was both inexplicably frozen and racing to understand the new information it had recieved. Merlin was a Dragonlord. They had previously left Camelot on a dangerous mission to find the last Dragonlord. He had died, in Merlin's arms no less, on their voyage home. It passes from father to son, he realized. Then he noted, Rather like kingship.

The prince turned to face the warlock, but his back was turned. Arthur spoke softly, "Balinor was your father." He saw Merlin duck his head once in affirmation. The prince sighed and reached out to place a comforting hand on the other man's shoulder.

"I'm sorry."

He tried to put everything he felt into those words, and hopefully Merlin would understand he was sorry, not just for Balinor's death, but for everything. For the circumstances leading up to it, for never knowing his own father, for being part of what had kept them apart.

Merlin nodded again, and stepped forward to continue walking. Arthur saw him pull a hand up to wipe at his face and felt a pang in his own chest that he couldn't do more to comfort the warlock. He couldn't imagine how it felt having someone he loved so dearly die in his arms.

He waited a moment, then pulled forward to walk along side Merlin, nudging him with his shoulder. "Go on, then," said the prince, "Call this beast of yours."

"Don't call him that where he can hear you," The warlock muttered, but his lips turned up at the corners slightly and he stopped walking anyways. He glanced up wearily towards the sky where dark clouds were forming.

Inhaling a deep breath, Merlin began to say the words of Dragonlords and Magic. It was strange and dissonant language, not to mention a little frightening, but Arthur couldn't take his eyes away. He rarely could with Merlin. It was - Well, it was beautiful, in its own way. The words flowed in such odd synchronicity, almost as though they were discordant waves rushing over the side of a cliff.

Merlin continued the chant a moment longer before cutting off suddenly. He exhaled, letting out what breath he had left.

Then he grinned slightly, turning to the prince, "There's a big enough clearing not far ahead, he'll meet us there soon."

Arthur nodded, and they set forward again. The silence turned dark, Merlin clearly still grieving over the memory of his father, so Arthur made it his mission to keep the other man talking about something he loved, something... magic.

"I meant to ask, how did you get me out of Camelot in the first place? One moment I was in the dungeons with Morgana and the ... pain, and the next thing I know there's a flash of light and I'm in your arms. I thought I had died."

They shuffled in silence a few moments before Merlin finally answered. He spoke slowly, trying to figure it out himself, "I don't know, actually. The spell I was using wasn't working, but then all of a sudden it... did."

They fell into the sad quiet again and Arthur, desparate to keep Merlin talking, asked further, "Well, what was the spell? I mean, what did it entail?"

Luckily - thankfully - Merlin replied, "Normal spell-like things. What I would imagine a summoning spell to be over distance; draw the markings, chant the words, have a piece of the person's home resting in the centre."

"What did you use as my home?"

"The dirt from Camelot I had gotten the night we left."

"And it didn't work?"

Merlin shook his head, content to leave it at that. Arthur paused, mulling over the information. He knew, admittably, very little about magic, but what he did know is that it couldn't just go from not-working to fine-and-dandy.

The warlock continued lazily, "I got angry, frustrated, and tried to mess up the circle. Maybe once I stepped on it, I corrected the drawings and the enchantment was able to sort itself out and work..."

Seeming to accept this idea, the warlock went quiet. But Arthur had developed a different solution, one he would have thought clear.

"So you say it didn't work until you stepped on the lines?"

Merlin nodded absentmindedly, not seeing what the prince did. Arthur rolled his eyes, continuing slowly, "Well, it's obvious, isn't it?"

The warlock started, "What's obvious?"

Arthur was giving him the you're-an-idiot look again. But there was something else, too.

"The soil didn't work because Camelot isn't my home."

"Of course it is, it's -"

"No, it's not. Merlin," the prince said, turning so he could face Merlin directly, "it worked because you stepped into the circle - You are my home." and you are my heart, he finished in his mind.

Merlin's eyes widened. He took a hesitant step forward, then another, until he was standing only inches away from the prince. Arthur leaned down and ducked his head to look up into Merlin's eyes. He brought one hand up to hold the warlock's face gently, using the other hand to take Merlin's hand and bring it up to their chests. He placed their palms overtop Arthur's chest, and they could both feel the resonating, consistant thump of the Prince's beating heart.

Merlin's eyes began to shine, and he opened his mouth as though about to say something, something important and life-changing, something Arthur had waited rather a long time to hear -

Which was exactly when the blasted dragon decided to make his appearance.

The massive, rusting gold dragon flapped its wings twice in succesion before tucking them into his sides and landing with a restonating thud that shook the earth.

Merlin closed his mouth and moved away, chuckling at Arthur's thinly veiled grumblings as he did the same. That is, until the prince actually looked up at the dragon who was regarding him wearily with one gigantic eye.

"I thought it about time you called me, young warlock, as I would have expected you to require my help by now."

Merlin nodded, "Morgana has taken over Camelot, we need your help to reclaim it."

The Great Dragon dipped his head once in acknowledgement, and said, "I will do what I can. It is not her destiny to have the throne, that lies in the hands of Arthur. The once and future king of Albion." Kilgharrah stared pointedly at the prince before him. "Who stands before me now, at last. The other side to the same coin."

Arthur gazed up at the dragon in awe, and unable to contain his curiousity asked, "Albion?"

Merlin just chuckled again, murmuring to Arthur, "Ignore that. Doesn't really come into play for a while yet."

"And what's he going on about coins for?"

"Stop asking questions."

"Do you have a plan, Merlin?" The dragon asked, his eyes never straying from the confused prince.

"Somewhat. Fly in and scare away the bad guys?"

Arthur tore his gaze away from the dragon in order to roll his eyes. "Expert strategizing, Merlin. Really, first class thinking."

"Arthur?"

"What?"

"Shut up."

"... that's my line."

"Clotpole."

They were interupted by a booming chortle of laughter from Kilgharrah. "I see a great future lies ahead for the both of you. But in order for this to come to pass, Morgana must be dealt with swiftly, along with the witch Morgause."

The two men nodded and Merlin set forward to approach the dragon's side. Arthur followed wearily, not exactly keen on the idea of flying into the city. Kilgharrah lowered his body to the ground so that the two could climb up his side with more ease. Once they were seated on the crook of his neck, the dragon spoke again,

"Be warned, young warlock, and be wary of your power; the witch must live."

Merlin was startled by the information, protesting, "But how can that be, you said she had to die - I don't want to kill her, of course I don't, but if it is the only way to insure Camelot's safety then I will."

"You will not. Do not fear, Merlin, it is Morgana's destiny to live, but to live away from Camelot. Trust yourself. You do not have to kill her again."

The term confused Arthur, wondering why the dragon had to say 'again', and he saw the pain that shot through Merlin's eyes as he recounted a memory. The warlock looked as though in turmoil with the new information, his sense of reason fighting against his hatred to hurt who had once been a dear friend.

Arthur could see Merlin struggling and tightened his arms around the warlock's waist in a comforting squeeze. The warlock relaxed slightly, so Arthur took the opportunity to address the dragon directly.

"Kilgharrah?"

A pause. "Yes, young Pendragon?"

Slightly disgruntled at being called 'young', Arthur continued,

"I would like now to apologize for my father's actions. Had I known of your imprisonment, I would have done all I could to solve the situation peacefully. Knowing this, I cannot blame you for your actions towards Camelot. I don't expect forgiveness, but perhaps you could see me in a different light than my father, as I hope to lead in ways different than he."

Arthur held his breath as the dragon considered his words carefully. What felt like ages passed, though Merlin's calm, measured breathes assured the prince that only seconds were passing. Finally, Kilgharrah spoke, "I believe you will, and what you speak is true. Your future is bright, young Pendragon, and perhaps Camelot will see a future where magic can exist freely as was meant sooner than we thought. For that I thank you."

The prince nodded, feeling better. Merlin glanced back over his shoulder and smiled, giving Arthur's hand a squeeze. Then he turned forward, his gaze piercing the horizon over which the city lay sleeping. The warlock tightened his grip on both the dragon and Arthur, and said with a low, determined conviction,

"Alright. To Camelot."

Four things: I'll try to update more often from now on, but I'm heading to Japan for a while in a few weeks so I'll see if I can't finish this up before I leave. No promises. If not, updates may be rarer. Sooorry.

So much sap. Arrghhalas. Apologizeses.

Is kingship even a word?

Dun dun duuuh, foreshadowing. Aaah.