A/N: I feel like I should explain a few things. First of all, I've decided to make Aithusa a girl. Kilgharrah called Aithusa a "he" on the show, but Katie called her a "she" in an interview. And quite honestly, not only does making Aithusa a girl add another female to the show, but it makes pronoun references so much easier.
Secondly, the Morgana/Aithusa relationship is not quite the same in this story as it was in the show. Reasons for this:
1) This story takes place only a month after the season 4 finale. So Morgana and Aithusa have only known each other a month, and Morgana spent most of that time recovering and plotting all this.
2) As it's only been a month since they met, the whole thing with Sarrum hasn't happened yet. Based on what I've seen from the show, I feel like the whole locked-up-for-years-together thing was a huge contributing factor in their relationship.
3) Lastly, and really the most important reason, is that this story was born when season 5 had barely started. At that point, all I knew was that Morgana and Aithusa were buds and had been locked up together way after my story would have taken place, so I didn't include it in my plot. (Obviously, it took me quite a bit longer to actually write the story, but I had most of the plot by then, and I didn't want to change it.)
Anyway, Morgana and Aithusa are more like friendly acquaintances at this point. I figure Aithusa's only a few months old and isn't mature enough to really understand what's going on. She just sort of ran into Morgana and was attracted to her magic enough to stick around.
Now that I've said all that, now that I have seen series 5, if I see an opportunity to replace a nameless extra with a minor series 5 character, I'm going to take it! See if you can spot him. :)
And now, finally, ON WITH THE ACTION!
Chapter Twelve: The Light of the Sun
They ended up deciding on not using magical disguises. After all, Arthur pointed out, they both were filthy, half-starved, exhausted, and wearing tattered, dirty clothing. Unless they actually ran into Morgana or someone else who knew them well, or gave anyone reason to study their faces closely, they probably could pass off as peasants or sorcerers. A bit more mud in their hair and on their clothes—the chainmail padding jacket in particular, which Merlin was still wearing at Arthur's insistence—and they looked even less like the king of Camelot and his manservant.
That didn't stop the knot of apprehension in Arthur's stomach as they neared the edge of the camp. He tried to keep his open palm steady so the flame burning there didn't die out.
The flame had been Merlin's idea. The light helped keep them from tripping in the darkness and, if held right, cast shadows that helped obscure their faces. Plus, Merlin's theory went, if Arthur looked like he was casting a spell, no one would ever consider he might actually be the king of Camelot. It was for the same reason Merlin insisted he leave the bandit's sword behind—the less anyone associated Arthur's face with swordfighting, the more likely no one would recognize him. It was actually a good idea, Arthur admitted, though he was loath to leave the sword behind.
It had been extremely disconcerting when Merlin had lit Arthur's hand on fire. The flames appeared to be stemming right from his palm, but there was no flash of pain, no sign of burnt skin. The flames drizzled out of his cupped hand like he held liquid fire. It felt a bit like the ball of light that had guided him in the darkness—warm, comforting, and beautiful.
Merlin held a light of his own as he walked just in front of Arthur, leading the way towards the sentry. His movements grew quicker and more agitated the nearer they got. "Do you remember the word?" he asked for the millionth time.
"For-burn."
"Forbaerne," Merlin stressed. "You've got to get it right."
"Why do I even need to know the word for it if you're the one making the spell?"
"In case I have to make it again and make it look like you did it."
"Won't they hear you saying 'forbaerne'?"
"I don't always need spells. I didn't even learn one until I came to Camelot."
Arthur would have asked what that meant—wasn't all magic spells?—but the sentry had noticed them now. He was young, barely the age of Merlin when he'd first came to Camelot, and unarmed, but Arthur knew that that was certainly no indication of threat. Not when magic was involved.
The boy held out a hand, making both Arthur and Merlin stop. Arthur could feel Merlin shift more in front of him ever so slightly.
"Who are you?" said the sentry. He reminded Arthur a bit of some of his younger knights—trying to sound older than they really were to prove themselves.
"Will and Gilli," Merlin said, pointing at himself, then Arthur. "We've come to help restore magic to the land."
"Then you've come to the right place. Always glad to get some new recruits. Especially volunteers. Especially with magic." He eyed the flames in Arthur's hands enviously. "Wish I had some."
"You don't have magic?" Arthur asked before he could stop himself. Merlin shot him a look, but it was too late to take it back now.
"No, but my mother did," the boy explained, "She got caught healing with her magic, and Uther killed her. I've been on my own since then."
A heaviness lodged in Arthur's chest. How many times had he heard that story, or a similar one, while his father ruled? And yet he'd never questioned it when he was younger. Magic-users had broken the law; people who broke the law must be punished accordingly—Uther had been sure to teach him that early.
He wondered where this boy would be now if not for the Purge. Some quiet farm in some quiet village? A smith or a shop in some town? Perhaps he, too, would have trained to be a healer. Surely he wouldn't have been out here, laying siege to a castle without so much as a means to defend himself. And how many more in this camp were like him, with lost loved ones and missed opportunities?
"Uther killed my mother too," he said. Merlin jumped a bit at that statement, and Arthur nearly snorted. Maybe Merlin had skimmed over the truth behind Morgause's story, but Arthur wasn't stupid. Now that he had all the pieces, it was easy to put them together.
The boy nodded sympathetically. "I've got a friend staying in one of these tents, said he had some extra space. You're welcome to it."
"That's very generous," said Arthur.
"It's that tent, fifth on the right. Tell them Daegal sent you."
"Thank you," Merlin said, stepping around the sentry and dragging Arthur with him.
A few campfires were lit here and there, surrounded by people talking quietly, but for the most part, the camp seemed to be asleep.
"You seemed sympathetic," Merlin commented when they were out of earshot of anyone awake.
"You said so yourself: sorcerers aren't all evil. It's just I wish…" Arthur lowered his voice even further. "How can I ever make up for what was done to them?"
Merlin gave him a small grin, and Arthur could see something like pride in his eyes. "You're starting to already."
They fell back into silence as they walked as fast as they dared without attracting attention. A few heads turned their way as they passed, and their expressions broke Arthur's heart. They were tired, wary, depressed, but in many he saw a spark of hope in their eyes, and he knew that hope was from the thought of his death, of his kingdom falling to pieces around him.
Their freedom should not have to be bought with blood—his or theirs. These were his people, and he had failed them.
And he would have to keep failing them. He would still have to fight these people when they attacked, because he could not bear to see Morgana, who had slaughtered many during her last brief stint as queen, on the throne again. And though he accepted that many of these people were not the monsters his father had painted them, there were mercenaries in this camp as well, and Arthur definitely did not want them loose in Camelot either.
But when this battle was over…
He shook his head to clear it. Regardless of what he planned to do after he returned to Camelot, it did not change the fact that he was now walking through a camp full of hundreds, if not thousands, of hostile sorcerers who wanted him dead. He needed to be alert and ready for anything, even if all he could do at this moment was follow Merlin, who seemed to know where he was going.
Merlin paused by a tent and peeked his head around it for a moment, then turned back to Arthur, his expression grim. He closed his hand, making his flame wink out of existence, then waved Arthur's away, plunging them both back into darkness.
Merlin's voice was so quiet, Arthur could barely hear it. "She's here, but there's three guards…"
Arthur frowned. "Armed?"
Merlin nodded. "Only one, I think."
Arthur nudged him aside so he could survey the situation. As his eyes adjusted to seeing by the stars and distant torchlight, he picked out three cloaked figures talking quietly. He caught the glint of metal on one of them. Another white gleam shone just behind them, and Arthur focused on it.
His breath caught. There was the dragon, shimmering in the faint starlight like a string of pearls. It was about the size of a colt, and it reminded Arthur a lot of one, with its spindly legs and long snout. Unlike a colt, though, it had two wings, disproportionately large for its body, that gave a half-hearted flap. The dragon nibbled on something near its ankle, then made a sad, mewling sort of sound, to which its guards paid no attention.
Arthur tore his gaze from the dragon and pulled his head back behind the tent, cursing himself for his careless gawking. He needed to keep his head. "You're right; only one's got a sword. He probably doesn't have magic."
"Just because he carries a sword doesn't mean he needs one," Merlin pointed out.
"It's a risk we'll have to take. Although perhaps it would be best if we knocked all three out quickly. The last thing we need is the whole camp on high alert."
"Which they probably will be anyway once we release her. Problem is, if I knock one out, the others will recognize the magic. They'll know they're being attacked and be that much harder to defeat."
"Can you distract them, do you think?"
"I can try, but they'll know it's magic. It might put them on their guard instead."
"Then we'll just have to charge. I'll take the one with a sword, you take the sorcerers." Arthur thought a moment. "That silencing spell you used on me—could you use it on them without them noticing?"
"Perhaps if I got them when they weren't speaking…Are you ordering me to use magic, sire?" Merlin asked, his lips quirking.
Arthur elbowed him. "Yes, you idiot."
Merlin slid past Arthur to poke his head and one hand out from behind the tent. "Gestillan."
Arthur felt the slight whisper of magic in the air as Merlin repeated the spell for each man, so faint he knew he'd have only noticed if he were looking for it. When Merlin got the last man, the conversation fell silent. He ducked back behind the tent and met Arthur's eyes.
The king nodded. "On me."
Then he charged.
Two of the men were staring in silent bafflement at the third, who had been cut off mid-sentence. They noticed Arthur two seconds later, when he was almost upon them. By the time the nearest man raised his sword, Arthur tackled him to the ground, knocking the weapon from his hand. Both men grappled and rolled, trading punches. Arthur landed one blow, two blows—
And was blasted off his feet with explosive force. He went flying off the swordsman, straight towards a large shadow he took to be a tree. He tucked his head in, bracing himself for a bone-shattering impact, then looked up in surprise as he slowed to a gentle stop instead. He caught the gold fading from Merlin's eyes just before the warlock ducked to avoid a fireball.
Merlin waved his hands and the offending sorcerer's knees buckled.
Arthur had no time to thank him. The swordsman had recovered enough from his daze to spot his sword a few feet away. Both Arthur and the swordsman made a mad dive for it, but the swordsman snatched it from right under Arthur's fingers, and the king was forced to roll away from the falling blade.
He got to his feet as soon as he could, but the swordsman was already swinging at him. Arthur darted back as the swordsman swung once, twice. On the third swing, Arthur shifted his weight to his heels and curved his body, and the blade just skimmed his stomach. Once the blade had passed, Arthur dived forward. Taking advantage of the swing's momentum, he used one hand to press the arm with the sword against the man's chest, then tucked his other hand behind the man's neck. In one swift motion, he shoved the head down as he brought his knee up. Nose met knee in a sickening crunch, and the man collapsed, unconscious.
Job done, Arthur turned to see how Merlin was doing. Only one sorcerer was left standing; Arthur could see the other lying a few yards away. Merlin pushed his hand forward, and the sorcerer ducked to the right, lips moving and eyes glowing gold.
Merlin stumbled and made a sort of strangled grunt. Arthur rushed to his side, brandishing his fallen opponent's sword, but by the time he reached him Merlin had already raised his fist and tightened it, and the sorcerer collapsed as if his bones had turned to mush.
All three guards down with barely a sound. It was the quietest fight Arthur had ever taken part in.
Arthur clapped a hand on Merlin's shoulder, and received a nod from the warlock in return. Then both men turned their attention to the dragon, who was still frantically mewling and gnawing at something near its ankle—a chain, Arthur realized as they moved closer.
Merlin fell to his knees besides the dragon and stroked its neck. "Shh, shh, Aithusa…"
The dragon quieted immediately. Its vivid blue eyes stared at Merlin, and Arthur could have sworn they were full of recognition.
"Come on," Merlin murmured, gesturing to Arthur to join him on the ground.
Reluctantly, Arthur did. "We should hurry," he said, "Someone might have seen the fireballs."
Merlin nodded, scowling as his fingers ran over the chain. "That witch chained her. Like a dog." Aithusa whimpered, sensing her dragonlord's anger, and Merlin quickly shushed soothingly again.
"Can you keep her calm?" he asked Arthur, "Only she's scared and I'm going to have to focus on breaking the chains."
"Me?"
"Well, unless you've learned to open magic chains…"
"I'm the king of Camelot; I don't know any dragon-talk!"
Merlin rolled his eyes. "Don't be such a prat! Just talk to her. She'll need to learn to speak to humans soon enough, anyway. Here." He snatched Arthur's hand and laid it on Aithusa's snout. "Arthur, Aithusa. Aithusa, ton depote kai ton proso ton koiranon."
Then he left Arthur's hand there and started muttering angrily at the chains.
Arthur stared at Aithusa, not daring to move. Aithusa stared back, blue eyes unblinking.
"Er…hello," Arthur said finally. This, he decided, was the strangest thing he had ever done. "You're very beautiful, for a dragon. Very…shiny. And you're a lot smaller than I expected. I guess I never really considered…I mean, dragons obviously aren't born that large, but…"
Aithusa continued staring as if she could see straight into Arthur's soul. Maybe, the king thought as he shuffled uncomfortably, she could.
"I do hope you don't turn out as bloodthirsty as the other dragon. Or as thick-headed as Merlin."
The dragon tilted her head in a motion that reminded him oddly of said warlock. He got the distinct impression that the dragon was unimpressed with that statement.
Having run out of conversational topics appropriate for speaking to baby dragons, Arthur tore his gaze away. "Merlin, will you hurry up?"
"—Un clyse! Sort of busy. And stop corrupting my dragon."
"King," came a small voice.
Both Arthur and Merlin turned as one to Aithusa.
"King," Aithusa repeated, nuzzling into Arthur's hand.
Merlin beamed like a proud father. "Oh, very good, Aithusa, your first human word!" He stroked Aithusa's neck, but the dragon only curled closer to Arthur. Merlin's face fell. "I don't believe it. She likes you better."
"Clearly she recognizes a brilliant man when she sees one." Arthur patted Aithusa's head, suddenly feeling very smug.
"King Rrrt…King Wart," Aithusa said proudly.
Arthur felt his cheeks flush as Merlin pitched forward, biting on his fist to keep from letting his laughter escape. It was a close thing.
"Didn't you say you were busy?" Arthur said pointedly, elbowing him.
Merlin gasped and managed to sober enough to stop shaking. "Right, yes, yes…" He rubbed his forehead as he concentrated for a moment. "Ic bebeode tha bende thaera dracan, onlucap!"
The chain snapped open. Immediately Aithusa yowled, kicked it off, and began jumping around excitedly.
Arthur and Merlin both shushed her frantically, and she finally sat there, preening for both of them.
"Ithi!" Merlin murmured, "Dee Kilgharrah, antinouthetee hee."
Aithusa looked put out, but obediently started to flap her wings. Instead of flying away, however, she hovered a bit nearby, her head cocked to the side and looking at something beyond them.
"Aren't you going to tell her to fly off now?" Arthur asked impatiently. "Someone will spot her."
"I did! Maybe she doesn't understand? But then why—"
All at once, Merlin cut off with a cry as he was blasted away. Arthur lurched for him in the same second that Aithusa roared, sending a jet of flame soaring over his head.
Arthur whirled, sword at the ready. There before him, parting Aithusa's fire with his hand and some bellowed words, was Trent. Aithusa stopped her fire as she flew past Trent and began circling for another round.
Arthur gazed around wildly for where Merlin had landed and spotted him several yards away, sprawled facedown. Arthur's chest tightened. Merlin wasn't moving.
"Stupid lizard rat," snarled Trent, lifting his palm skyward.
Arthur froze in mid-step towards Merlin. Something was tugging at him, some instinct that demanded nothing happened to that dragon, and instead of running toward Merlin, he launched himself at Trent in a flying tackle.
Trent's spell went wide as both he and Arthur tumbled to the ground. Somewhere above them, Arthur could hear Aithusa shrieking, and he cursed. They'd made so much noise in the last few seconds, it wouldn't be long before the whole camp swarmed on them.
His grip on his sword had slipped in the tackle, but before he could grab it firmly enough to stab, Trent shouted an unfamiliar word and Arthur felt his whole body lift off the ground. He kicked, but his legs met nothing but air.
"Well, well, looks like the king's come home. And with Emrys, too." The mercenary laughed. "Suppose I should thank you. If Emrys hadn't escaped, the Lady Morgana wouldn't have killed Gwil and freed me from my contract. Oh, you should have heard the screams…"
Arthur spotted Aithusa flying back. The baby dragon was a streamlined missile, mouth open to spew more flames. But before she could, Trent wrenched Arthur into her path. Aithusa stopped in her tracks, flapping in midair and growling. She started to circle, but Trent spun to keep Arthur in her line of fire. Arthur thought flying on the Great Dragon had been terrible, but now he was sure he was going to be sick. And thinking of Merlin's current state certainly didn't help.
"Your greed's been your downfall, Pendragon," Trent continued gleefully, "You weren't satisfied with taking the Lady's magic little prisoner. No, you wanted to make off with her dragon as well. She'll be pleased to know I've recovered both. You, she'll want to kill herself, but perhaps I can convince her to let me have him."
Arthur thrashed in midair, trying to crane his head to catch a glimpse of Merlin. He couldn't see him, but he did see signs of more fires being lit, of shadows emerging from tents. The camp was waking up.
Trent kept spinning, keeping Arthur between himself and Aithusa as the dragon flew around, roaring her rage. "Bael onbryne! Akwele!" Fireballs blasted from Trent's free hand up towards Aithusa. The dragon twisted to avoid them, swooping in an arc.
"Leave…that dragon…alone," came a raspy voice somewhere behind Arthur. The king swallowed his relieved sigh; Merlin was awake, but sounded injured. Arthur struggled in vain to turn around to see his friend, but Trent still had him facing Aithusa.
"Call it off or the king dies."
"Drakon, nun de ge dei s'eikein kai emois epe'essin hepesthai! Dee Kilgharrah, antinouthetee hee. Ithi!"
Aithusa looked mournfully at Arthur for a moment before finally starting to fly away. With the dragon gone, Trent spun the king around as a shield against Merlin instead, and Arthur finally got a good look at his friend.
He stood still and tall, his hands at his sides and making no move to attack. He would have looked harmless if not for the bloody gash streaming down his temple and the dark simmering fury in his eyes.
"There," he said. "Now let him go and leave. Last warning."
But Trent made no move to lower Arthur back to the ground. "Oh, I'm not leaving, not when I've got a bargaining chip over the great Emrys."
Merlin shook his head grimly. "You attacked my dragon and you're threatening my king. You've got nothing but three seconds to run."
Trent sneered. "The whole camp knows he's here now. You really think you've got a chance in—"
Merlin raised a hand, and the sword Arthur had dropped earlier shot through Trent's gut like a javelin through a bursting waterskin. The mercenary collapsed instantly and did not get up.
Arthur fell to the ground like a rope holding him there had snapped. He hit the leg Merlin had healed earlier hard, and a sharp pain jolted through it.
He could already see sorcerers gathering around them as Merlin hurried to his side to offer him a hand. Arthur winced as he stood and tested his leg, but the pain was bearable. They glanced at each other for a moment, silently communicating thanks and you're welcomes and reassuring themselves they were both alright, then turned together to face the gathering throng.
"Where's the dragon?" someone shouted.
"They let it go!"
"Traitors!"
"He killed one of us, did you see?"
"Hold on, is that…? That can't be…"
"It's the king! Arthur Pendragon!"
Merlin pushed his hand forward, and an entire swath of the crowd was blasted aside. Then he snatched Arthur's arm and shoved him towards the freshly emptied space. "Run!"
Ancient Greek / Dragon
ton depote = once (once upon a time)
kai = modern Greek "and" (because I couldn't find an ancient version)
ton proso = future
ton koiranon = king
Ithi = go
Dee = find / meet with
Antinouthetee = warn in return
Once again, thanks to Leahelisabeth for improving the Greek. :)
Nun de ge dei s'eikein kai emois epe'essin hepesthai! = Now you must (it's necessary that you) obey (give way) and you must follow towards [...]!
(This is one of the stock phrases Merlin uses a lot in the show for both dragons and wyverns. Seems like it's a phrase he uses to reinforce a command, sort of remind them who the boss is)
Old English / Spells
Un clýse! = Open!
Ic bebeode = I command
þá bende þæra dracan. = these chains of the dragon
Onlucap = release
Ic bebeode tha bende thaera dracan, onlucap! = I command these chains of the dragon, release!
Also, yeah, I totally thought about having their aliases be Colin and Bradley instead of Will and Gilli, as they're both old English names. But I finally decided it distracted from the story too much.
Every time you review, Aithusa gets a new baby dragon chew toy. And who wouldn't want to give that adorable scaly bundle of happiness a chew toy?