Word from the author:

My number one pairing usually is Merlin/Freya because let's face it: they belong together.

But in this story I might just this once go with Merlin/Morgana. Please don't throw me stones! It just fits with the plot of this story.

If you want more Merlin/Freya, you can read Merlin: The Loneliest Hour, especially the last chapters.

Otherwise, please continue reading. And please review.

Enjoy

…..

Chapter 4: Troublesome destinies

They rode until well after dawn, until their eyes were heavy and their horses were tired. Getting away from Borden's men had been easy enough. Merlin had conjured small balls of fire – like miniature torches – which he had sent flying south; and then the small group had taken the road in the opposite direction.

At first light, they left the road until they came to a stream. Elyan and Gwaine immediately settled on the task of catching a few fish for breakfast. Percival, on the other hand, threw himself on a soft bed of moss where he rapidly dozed off. Yet Arthur suspected that the knight was only half-sleeping, a part keeping watch for any sign of trouble.

Unlike his men, the young king felt restless. The news that Borden had teamed up with Morgause had stirred some deep emotions and now his mind was working hard on the list of possibilities for such an alliance. Morgause was as powerful as she was cunning. She had manipulated Morgana and turned her against her family and friends. Her sole motivation seemed to be vengeance; not just over Uther's rule, but over the legacy of the Pendragons as well. Camelot.

What could she possibly want from a man like Julius Borden?

Borden had already proven that he was as dangerous as he was shrewd. He had managed to get into the vault in Camelot, unaided and unseen, to steel the last part of the Triskelion, the key to finding the last dragon egg. He had killed four guards in the process. Then he had led them into a race across the land, beating them to the hidden tower and succeeding in retrieving the precious dragon egg. Unfortunately for him, though, the last dragonlord had no intention of letting go of the treasure so easily. Merlin could somehow feel the presence of the egg, or rather its distress, as he had called it – and that had been how they had found the sea fortress. Borden must have known that he was being followed; the many traps that they had to avoid were the proof of that. But the stronghold was a safe hiding place; without the help of a certain sorcerer, Arthur would not have attempted to infiltrate it. Not on a whim. And certainly not without an exit strategy.

And then, against all odds, Borden had just… left.

Why had he left the sea fortress without the dragon egg? Why not take it with him? What could have possibly been more important than that prize?

All of those questions were packing up in the young king's mind. He was brought back to reality only when he felt the nudge of a horse's muzzle against his shoulder. Nuada, Merlin's horse which he had brought back from Aria's Cradle, snorted loudly and Arthur rapidly stepped out of the way.

"Sorry," he muttered to the animal.

The beast merely waved its tail in Arthur's face in return.

"Nice to see that you're more polite to my horse than you are to me."

Now it was Merlin's turn to push Arthur out of the way. He was carrying a large pot, firewood, a variety of herbs, and some knives and spoons piled up in his arms. He walked clumsily towards the stream where he set down his load and began to work on building a cooking fire.

Arthur knew enough not to bother Merlin if he was busy cooking. He had once served them a stew, modified by a spell that had made them dance most unwillingly for an hour before it had started to fade; all because Elyan and Percival had called their previous breakfast "tasteless" and "mediocre".

"What do you think you're doing?" Gwaine called after Merlin.

The tall knight strode closer to his friend. Arthur vaguely wondered if Gwaine remembered just how pitiful his dancing had been. They did tend to forget that Merlin had enough magic to turn them all into toads.

"What does it look like? I'm building a fire to make some soup. Forbaern!"

The dry wood underneath the cooking pot instantly caught fire. But the knight wasn't impressed at all; in fact, he looked slightly annoyed.

"Hey, Percival!" he yelled. "Stop being useless! Come and take care of this cooking!"

"It is my turn?" grumbled the knight while rubbing his eyes.

"It's not my turn and it's certainly not Lord Merlin's. Your turn."

It wasn't a good idea to argue with Sir Gwaine when he was using that tone. Arthur wasn't surprised to see the stronger knight spring to his feet and take up the task as promptly as he could.

Merlin seemed as put off by this as Arthur was. He gave his instructions to Percival a little reluctantly, and then he got to his feet and seemed to be wondering what to do next.

"Relax," said Gwaine cheerfully, grasping Merlin's shoulders and stirring him away from the cooking pot. "Just because we're knights doesn't mean that we can't cook. At least, Percival can. I wouldn't trust me to come up with a decent soup if my life depended on it. You've had a tough day. Just lay back and take care of your egg."

Merlin's frown seemed to loosen a little. "It's not my egg…'

"Of course it is. You're the last dragonlord, and it's the last dragon egg. You're Lord Merlin Brittanicus of Aria's Cradle. No one has more claim over that egg than you do. Except, I guess, its mother."

With a wink and a toss of his hair, Sir Gwaine swiftly turned back and returned to the spot near the stream where Elyan was tossing his fishing line.

Striding away from the group, Merlin chose a spot in the shades where he took out the dragon egg and placed it on his lap. The young sorcerer looked more troubled than tired. It was the perfect opportunity for the king to try to have a talk with his friend. Merlin didn't even look up with Arthur sat down casually besides him, leaning his back on the same log.

"So… many destinies, huh?" said the young king with a side-glance. "You must think the rest of us are pretty boring."

Merlin only half grinned. "I liked it better when you were the one with the great destiny."

"Destinies are troublesome things," mused the king. "Not to mention hugely overrated."

"I'll trade if you want," said Merlin, grinning ever so slightly. "I seemed to remember a time when dark forces were working against you, not me. I'm not sure I agree with this turn of events."

Arthur merely shrugged. "It could be a lot worst. These dark forces don't know who they're dealing with."

In Merlin's eyes there seemed to be something like gratitude. "Thanks… I guess," he murmured.

"I mean it," the king continued. "Although… Does it mean it's going to be my turn to give you the occasional speech about fate and believing? You were getting good at it."

"Your speeches are awful," cut in Merlin with a familiar smirk. "The last one about all the kingdoms united? I read it to Gaius and he fell asleep. And snored. In his soup."

Their eyes met and then they both fell silent. Merlin's fingers were absent-mindedly drawing symbols on the egg's surface. While he was doing it, the air around the egg filled up with tiny beads of light. The young king could almost hear the magic sizzling in the cool breeze.

"Is it working?"

Merlin shook his head and rubbed his eyes nervously. "I don't even know what I'm doing. It's pointless. Maybe I should just go and feed the horses instead."

But Arthur caught his arm. "The horses are fine. Sit down. You don't have to…"

"To what?"

Arthur swallowed. "To be a servant all the time."

He hated to hear the guilt in his own voice, but he couldn't hide how he felt. The truth was that he could hardly stand it anymore. Everyday, Merlin was polishing his armour and mending his clothes, the duties of a lowly servant. He wanted Camelot to be a place where people could be free, yet he was denying that freedom to his closest friend.

"Gwaine's right," he said with the tone that he kept only for serious conversations. "You're a Lord. Not just a dragonlord. A noble bloodline. In my mind I keep trying to come up with ways of making it work, but all my plans end up with you being burnt at the stake. My father's treaties with the five kingdoms are rules set in stone. To acknowledge a Brittanicus, a dragonlord's son, as a member of my court would be tantamount to a declaration of war."

"That's a big word," Merlin let out playfully.

"I know. I've been working on it."

The sorcerer's mood instantly turned gloomy. "I will not be the cause of any war."

"I'll figure something out," Arthur said encouragingly. "But for now the 'layers of secrets' have to remain. Sorcerer. Brittanicus. Dragonlord. Idiot manservant. Well, that one is not that much of a secret…"

Merlin snorted at the joke, but his tone was bitter. "You can cross out dragonlord. I can't even summon a single dragon. All I have is an egg and I don't have the slightest idea what to do with it."

Arthur peered into his face. "Your gift is not gone."

"It's been three years…" said Merlin, his voice strained.

His eyes fell on the dragon egg that was still on his lap. His skin suddenly seemed to Arthur to be as white as the egg's shell. The long months of stretching his dragonlord gift as far as he could to find a trace of Kilgharrah were beginning to show on Merlin's face. Yet the circles under his eyes, Arthur knew, were more likely due to the increasing frequencies of his dreams of the future. The young king suspected his friend to be avoiding a good night's sleep altogether, just so he wouldn't have to deal with another vision of the future.

Gaius had associated the Seer's gift to Merlin's dragonlord heritage. However, the notion had brought very little comfort, only nightmares.

Merlin was still staring intensely at the egg.

"You saved the egg from Borden's hands. I think it must mean something," offered the king. "Maybe Kilgharrah will be drawn to it."

The sorcerer pursed his lips. "I just hope he's all right. I have this horrible feeling deep inside… I can't quite explain it."

"Don't look at me," cut in Arthur. "I don't understand half of the things you can do. Your dreams, for instance…"

Merlin glanced at him sideways. "I can't exactly help it. And I don't want to talk about it either."

"And why you blush every time someone says…"

"Don't…"

"Morgana."

Merlin's face instantly became red, to Arthur's delight.

"You're blushing."

"No, I'm not!"

The young warlock turned away but his uneasiness was the only evidence that Arthur had managed to gather. Merlin remained closed, even distant, about everything that concerned Morgana. Where he had hidden her was a mystery, so was the question of whether or not she was still a threat, and the possibility of her return to Camelot as Arthur's sister or his doom.

"You do remember that she tried to kill us all," he began to say.

Then seeing the look of pain on Merlin's face he fell silent.

"She's not like that anymore," said the sorcerer. "But with Morgause still around… I don't want to risk it."

"Fair enough," said the young king. "But what about this? You said it may belong to Morgause?"

Pulling the old map out from under his tunic, Arthur offered it to Merlin, but the sorcerer rapidly shifted and refused to touch the piece of parchment.

"It did something weird when I touched it," he explained hastily. "Like it wanted to keep me out. I won't touch it again."

"I'll hang on to it, then," said Arthur, putting the map out of sight.

Then Merlin yawned and Arthur told him to get some rest. He stood up and went to join the others who were almost done cooking the soup and the fish.

This had been a good conversation, but somehow Arthur felt more puzzled then before. The same questions that were haunting his friend were now tormenting him, but for different reasons. Most of all, he didn't like the notion of dark forces working against Merlin. The curse of Aria's Cradle had been evil enough and it had nearly killed him. Between the missing dragon and the nightmare about the future, he feared for the health and sanity of his friend. Was there any peace of mind in Merlin's future?

And then Arthur thought about Gwen who was waiting for him in Camelot, and that seemed to lift his mood a little.

At the same time, under the shadow of a tall tree, Merlin fell asleep.