Author's note: This contains references to chapter one, the one with the baby dragon.

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Things That Merlin Isn't Allowed To Do (According to Prince Arthur)
22: Let Dragons Have Tea-Parties In Camelot

Why is it, that every day Arthur wakes up feeling that this, this might be a fairly normal, fairy sane and fairy calm day, things starts going absolutely wrong and the day only rolls downhill?

It must be some insane natural order existent only around Camelot. More specifically around the Prince of Camelot and his manservant/warlock/idiot - there can't be a month passing by without some kind of trouble.

But not today. No, Arthur is determined that today, he'll do everything possible to have a great, relaxing day; no stress, no wyverns, no assassinations, no obligations.

For once, Arthur is trying to enjoy a nice morning. There's brilliant sunshine; there are no complaining farmers (they always talk about cows for some reason) crowding the audience hall; the entourage from Chesire has just left after a peaceful visit and successful signing of a treaty. His father seems to be slowly but surely recovering from a heart-shattering attack two months ago; and Merlin is standing there right beside him on the wall, smiling as they talk and banter while looking over Camelot. Arthur loves standing here: the view beautiful, making his chest lighter – he likes it especially with Merlin by his side (not that he'd say that aloud, that'd spread rumours). It's the start of a wonderful day.

Oh, and has he mentioned yet that a dragon just has landed in the middle of the courtyard?

...

There's a bloody dragon.

In the middle of the courtyard.

"I didn't call for it," Merlin says at Arthur's sharply raised eyebrow. "I didn't. I've never seen that dragon before in my life!"

The prince is too busy trying to calm the people who're screaming and fleeing the area, to respond the warlock. Which is a hard task because people have all the right to be afraid when a fifteen foot high fire-breathing beast is landing in the middle of the busy courtyard, accidentally turning over a merchant's stall with its long tail.

"Oops," the dragon says, trying to upturn the stall again only to reduce the wood into little pieces. The apples and potatoes roll off in all directions or get mashed against the pavement. "Sorry about that."

Arthur draws his sword.

The dragon turns around to face the pair; the wall is quite high above the ground, but so is the creature's head and as its giant snout nears him and Merlin, Arthur automatically grabs the warlock's arm and pulls him behind him. Merlin gives him a sideward glance clearly telling him that If that thing wants to eat/roast us/turn us into spit, a simple non-magic sword won't save our backsides, but Arthur decides to ignore it.

"Who are you, and why are you here?" Arthur asks the dragon in his most impressive I'm Strong And Dangerous, I've Got A Sword And Won't Hesitate-voice. If that stupid green dragon beneath the castle has telepathically sent out visit invitations to his lizard friends, Arthur is going to kill it. Seriously. Having to keep an eye on one annoying mind-reading dragon, two far too cute baby dragons (Merlin honestly has to stop gathering cute baby creatures and smuggle them back to Camelot!) and one childish, hyperactive Dragonlord is already too much work for one Prince.

"Speak up before I run you through!"

It's not really a threat in the face of the beast, but Arthur's the prince so his word matters most anyway. Of course. It matters a lot more than whatever the stupid dragon has to say.

"It is a great honour to finally meet you the famous Emrys and Once and Future King," the dragon says in a booming voice, which even Arthur has to admit made an impression. "I've waited a long time. Though, you are a lot smaller than I thought you'd be."

The prince glares at the creature. "What is it with dragons and knowing us before we've met them?" he demands: first Kilgarrah and now this. The dragon looks amused, an uncanny shadow of that other large fore-seeing dragon's expression and Arthur shudders. A little.

"I didn't know there were other dragons!" Merlin cries excitedly, stepping out from behind the prince. "Kilgarrah never spoke of them. (Then again he never told me about Cal or Aithusa right until we found them.)"

He wonders if this dragon is going to leave at once or plans stay? Maybe he should make it and Kilgarrah meet? Kilgarrah is quite lonely, and complains about having to 'babysit' - maybe he would appreciate the help of another adult dragon. Yes! This starts to sound like a great plan! And it would give Cal and Aithusa a proper dragon uncle (because Kilgarrah is more like the grandfather). Yes! Merlin can't wait to make them meet!

"There are few in the region, and only one scent lingers marking this territory," the dragon says. "Kilgarrah, you said? I hope he's well. It's three millennia since I last saw him...I should invite him over for tea."

"NO!" Arthur shouts, waving around his sword in a threatening manner, but since the dragon is magic and stuff like that, the tiny (in comparison to the beast's body) blade barely touches it, let alone scratches it The prince however is caught up in his tantrum. "No! I won't have any more mad dragons in Camelot and let them form strange underground communities where they discuss mine and Merlin's private life, write stupid stories about us, drink ale with Gwaine and eat sugary cookies to keep you going for hours! No, I will not have it!"

The guard standing some way behind them on the wall is inching toward the nearest door, wildly wondering how to explain to King Uther that there's a dragon in the courtyard. A dragon which Prince Arthur is screaming at like a twelve-year-old who's just found out all the sweets have gone and been replaced with vegetables.

Merlin glances oddly at the prince, ears turning red. "...You were like this when we met those druids, too ..." he murmurs, completely confused, because he can't honestly understand what Arthur's talking about: and what does Gwaine got to do with it? Since announcing the presence of Kilgarrah to the knights, Gwaine might've gone down once or twice but surely he can't have been sharing ale with the creature. Gwaine never shares ale with anyone - it's his precious ale to get drunk on, no one else's. None of this is making any sense, and Arthur is making a scene now, every solider/guard/peasant/merchant staring at them.

The dragon leans down further, inspecting them closely with its very large yellow eyes. "Yes, how very small you are," the dragon muses, "for such a great destiny. It is quite not believable, were I not so sure of what I've Seen."

"Quit it! Quit talking about Destiny! It's freaking me out!"

Merlin lays a hand on the prince's shoulder. "Calm down, you prat. You're overreacting."

"Yes," the dragon agrees calmly, "he is quite easily riled."

The prince aims his sword bravely at the beast, but the dragon lifts a massive talon easily parrying the blow.

"My sword!" Arthur cries, dismayed, staring at his slightly dented weapon. "You scratched it! YOU SCRATCHED IT! Argh, you're gonna pay you stupid scaly lizard! I'm going to chop you to little pieces! FOR CAMELOT!" With a war-cry he lunges at the dragon, which is wise enough to step backwards, and Merlin lunges after him in the nick of time saving him from falling over the wall.

Arthur hasn't quieted, however, and grabs Merlin's wrist and pushes him behind him, out of the beast's reach. "I'm going to slay this stupid dragon, stay back Merlin and let me handle this! I WON'T LET IT TAKE YOU!" he yells very loudly and Merlin's whole face adopts the same shade of red as his ears.

"Err..." the Dragonlord says to the dragon, wanting to solve this before it becomes even more awkward. "If you'd go now I'd be very grateful."

The dragon dips its head. "It was an honour. Albion shall enter a bright age shortly." It spreads its large leathery wings, preparing for flight.

Just before lift-off, the dragon turns its large head in the pair's direction. Arthur has stopped his attack now, realizing that his great plan of Using-My-Sword-To-Cut-Off-The-Dragon's-Wings has failed, and opts for banging his head against the wall instead (from being knocked unconscious so many times in the past he's developed a healthy, hardy scull).

"Oh, and Emrys," the dragon says in a booming, but somehow gentle, kind voice, as if he's a grandfather or old advisor giving a good word to a beloved child or nephew: "It would be wisest if you let the Once and Future King sire all of your hatchlings."

"Err," Merlin says uncertainly, blushing to his toes now and trying to hide his face beneath his neckerchief, very aware of the stares on him. Including a very shocked Arthur's - the prince stares at him very intensely, having stopped backing his head against the wall at hearing those words - "...Thank you for the advice...?"

Then, the prince regains his voice and growls at the dragon: "If you want to have tea with that other stupid beast do it FAR AWAY, far, far from Camelot - understood? UNDERSTOOD?"

()()()

"Ah, dear cousin! It's been a while! You're a bit out of the loop if you think you're the only one left." The dragon lowers its head to greet the two little ones, Aithusa and Cal, hiding behind Kilgarrah's leg. "Are these yours? They look naught but fifty years old!"

"Three millennia is but a blink of an eye. And no, these are not mine, I'm merely looking after them for the young dragonlord - this little white one hatched four months ago, but both of their eggs waited for a long time. What brings you to Camelot? - Have some tea."

"News has finally reached me of Emrys and the Young King! It is indeed wonderful."

"... Yes, I heard the commotion above. It was quite difficult not to hear."

"Yes, the prince has got quite a strong voice."

Kilgarrah sniggers. "If you believe so now, you should hear their nightly activities!"

"ARGH! QUIT IT!"

The two dragons look up from their conversation at the door of the cave, where a very pissed off prince is standing waving a torch irritably while trying to ignore the sharp smell of mint tea. A sleepy warlock dressed in nightshirt is beside him, rubbing his eyes tiredly with the back of a hand. Arthur has grabbed his arm and tugs at it when Merlin doesn't seem to realize who the prince is yelling at. "Arthur," he mutters, yawning. "Why'd you drag me here? 'm tired. Let's go back to bed." He tugs at Arthur's sleeve impatiently.

At hearing that, one of the dragons leans closer to the ledge. "Oh! Have you taken my advice into action yet, milord?" Kilgarrah's cousin asks excitedly.

"I TOLD YOU NOT TO DO THIS ANYWHERE CAMELOT! STAY AWAY! … AND EVEN IF WE DO THAT I WON'T LET YOU KNOW, YOU STUPID - STUPID LIZARD!"

Of course, he's ignored. The small baby dragons chirrup happily at seeing the two humans, jumping up to the ledge, and Merlin pets their heads and dutifully asks how they've been doing. Aithusa and Cal crave a lot of attention, but Merlin is more than happy to give them that, even if he's very tired (and his ears are ringing from Arthur's yelling). "Don't listen to Arthur, he's just being a dollophead again," he says to the little dragons, nuzzling Aithusa's snout.

"I am not a dollophead!"

"Easily riled, indeed," Kilgarrah muses, a humming noise deep in his massive throat. He turns to his fellow dragon, a curious gleam in his yellow eyes. "You say, cousin, that you've Seen it come to be?"

"Oh yes. Soon in fact! The Dawn is near, through the Sun and the Moon ..." And the two elderly dragons set off in another riddle game.

Aithusa smiles at the warlock. "Dollophead!" he chirrups.

Arthur stares at the small dragon. And at Merlin. And at the dragon again. "Oh god," he moans, voice filled with pain, "now he's never going to remember my name, let alone my proper title."

"Dollophead!"

Merlin's eyes fill with parental pride, face glowing, and he smiles wide as he cradles the baby dragon. "Oh, Arthur, did you hear that? He said his first word, his very first word! Arthur! Did you hear, he said his first word! Oh Aithusa, I'm so proud of you! My little baby's growing up," Merlin says, grinning like a loon, something suspiciously like tears glimmering in his eyes. He places a series of motherly kisses on the small snout, cooing; "Can you tell me who's dollophead, sweetie? Tell me who's dollophead."

Again, Aithusa speaks up, pointing a small talon in the prince's direction enthusiastically. "Dollophead! Dollophead!" Then at Merlin, lovingly: "Moðor, moðor!" And that doesn't need a translation, but Merlin doesn't mind: he hugs Aithusa tight, cradling him, calling the baby sweetie and darling and other adorable things, and over and over saying that he's so, so proud of him. The baby looks rather smug, which causes the other little dragon, Cal, to glower at him.

"I must say, I've never heard such a description of the Once and Future King before. It is strangely fitting," Kilgarrah's cousin says, watching the exchange curiously in the corner of a wrinkled eye.

Opting for another alternative to keep out of this strange family business, Arthur finds a suitable wall to bang his head against.