A/N: Hey guys! I'm still alive! This one is, as promised, over 2,000 words. I'm sorry it took so long, I actually almost had it finished . . . but my laptop died and I lost Word. Ugh. Anyway, now It's all on the cloud, so hopefully that won't happen again.

This chapter is dedicated to pokemondoctorwho ,A new reader who somehow found the story over a week after it was buried under more of the amazing stories in this fandom. Have I ever said how much I love this fandom? The stories are so good and the people who read them even more so with their reviews. (Oh, and whoever the guest reviewer one who put themselves down as username was, that was a pretty awesome review! It made me smile.)

Everyone remember to R and HAPPY HOLIDAYS and all that. Everyone have a good time with everything you and your family are doing.

GWAINEPOV

A dragon. Yara was talking to a dragon. The great scaly, fire-breathing thing didn't seem to faze the young enchantress at all. Gwaine was beginning to wonder if the girl had a death wish.

"I am glad to see you come safely out of that prison," the dragon said, and it's voice wasn't exactly how Gwaine had thought a large dragon's would be. It wasn't unearthly or impossibly low. In fact, the only thing that set it apart from a human's voice was how it rumbled as if coming from the depths of the earth herself.

"As I am glad to be free of it, Kilgharrah," Yara said, guardedly. She tugged slightly on the red cloak still draped over her thin shoulders. "Do you know about Merlin?" she asked.

"What has happened to the young warlock?" The dragon asked, and Gwaine felt breath whoosh out of him in surprise. The dragon knew about Merlin? But of course. Of course a large scaly fire-breathing lizard would know about Merlin's magic before Merlin's own friends.

"He . . . he's really badly hurt," Yara said.

Concern seemed to flit across the dragon's scaly features for the barest moment. Then it was gone. "How badly?"

"Before I go on," Yara said, "I want you to promise, to swear on the prophecies, that you will be as straight-forward as I am." What prophecies? Gwaine wondered. "I have questions of my own, and I will have none of your cryptic answers this time."

"You would command the Great Dragon, young enchantress?" the dragon asked quietly, and Gwaine could almost feel the fury in the words.

"The bond between a dragon and his dragonlord is a strong one. But you would accept either way; your curiosity would get the better of you," Yara said. "But the curiosity is eating away at you even now, you want to know why you were unaware that your dragonlord has been hurt," she said, and Gwaine wondered how she could take such a lecturing tone with a dragon who looked just about angry enough to roast her (and him) on the spot. But the dragon nodded it's head jerkily, as if angry at what he was agreeing to. "Thank you." Yara said, and though he did not look at the girl's face, Gwaine was sure she was smiling. "You wanted to know how badly Merlin is hurt?" The dragon nodded again. Yara glanced at Gwaine, and her small hand found his own. The one that wasn't currently resting on his sword hilt.

"I know merely by my healer's intuition," she said quietly. "But I do know this. They are dangerous wounds. Though they have healed over, they may yet kill him." Gwaine felt his breath catch, but he did his best to appear unruffled. No need to show the dragon he was any weaker than he could help.

"How did he come by such wounds?"

"Poison," Yara said smoothly. Gwaine wondered how she managed to lie with such a straight face. And why she was lying at all. "A poison in the form of words, corroding his will and self-preservation. They can be the most dangerous weapon of all, words. It's surprising how often that most obvious form of poison is overlooked."

"Of what words do you speak?"

"Remember that you promised to answer my questions as fully and succinctly as I answer yours," yara warned the dragon, her small hand tightening it's grip on his. The dragon snarled slightly, but nodded its great head.

"What words, and spoken by whom?"

"Words against sorcerers," Yara said. "Against magic, and, by default, Merlin himself. He's been in Camelot a long time to be listening to such propaganda." Gwaine was done wondering where Yara got such words as succinctly and propaganda. He hadn't the slightest idea of what they meant. "He may be a warlock, but Merlin is also human. Something that you tend to forget. There's only so much a man can take." Of course, this was coming from a girl not much older than ten winters. The dragon seemed affronted, but said nothing, allowing Yara to continue. "Merlin's physical wounds have healed, but the psychological wounds are still there." Gwaine was getting rather close to ask Yara to use words he understood, but he did not want the dragon to turn his yellow eyes in his direction. Yara was quiet for a while, before asking her first question.

"Do the prophecies give a specific timing for the time of Albion?" The dragon reared it's head back slightly.

"You ask questions difficult to answer," The dragon rumbled, "particularly around a Knight of Camelot."

"I trust this knight," Yara said. "Besides, he's a friend of the warlock's. Now answer the question, if you please." Her tone of voice did not make it a request.

"Albion will come as Emrys and the Once and Future King make it."

"So it has no specific time frame?" The dragon shook its head.

"The prophecies are not as straightforward so as to be translated in a way easy to understand." He rumbled, shifting slightly, unfolding his wings with a whoosh before folding them back again. Gwaine couldn't help but take this action as one of uncertainly. "Do you have another question, Enchantress?"

"The prophecies. Are they what will happen, what you wish would happen, or one possibility?"

"They are the best possibility," the dragon said with a toss of it's great golden head. "The greatest hope for all magical creatures, and humankind."

"Why is humankind tied so closely together with the magical beings?" Yara asked.

"I asked you two questions; and I'm afraid you have used up my generosity with two of yours, particularly with the questions you have been asking," The dragon said, and Gwaine noticed Yara's face tighten with something very akin to anger.

"Kilgharrah . . ." the warning in her voice had Gwaine wondering at how she spoke (argued, really) so easily with the great beast. But the dragon spread it's great wings and leaped to the air, though not before saying "Take care of the warlock, Yara. If the wounds are as you say, he may need more help than is available otherwise."

Yara stared after the dragon for a few moments, then stamped her foot and whirled to face Gwaine directly. "I have issues, with that dragon," she said angrily.

"He didn't fry you," Gwaine noted dryly as the girl crossed her arms.

"He can't," she muttered, turning to look back at the Citadel. "I have that much of my grandfather's legacy in me."

"And your grandfather was . . .?"

"A dragonlord."

"A what?"

Yara sighed. "Dragonlords were warlocks who controlled dragons. Well . . . controlled is the wrong word. They could make the dragons do what they wanted, but it was more of a lord to a subject. Dragonlords didn't exercise their power unless they needed to. The true power was passed from father to son; there's only one true dragonlord left."

"Merlin," Gwaine breathed. Apparently his friend was even more powerful than he had thought. Then another thought came to him. "What's Albion?" Yara sighed.

"Kilgharrah's favorite prophecy. The one that says that the druid Emrys and the Once and Future king will unite all the nations under one banner. The banner of Albion; and in Albion, magic is free once more. The druids' paradise."

"Who is Emrys?"

"You know him as Merlin."

"But that would make Arthur . . . ."

"The once and future king," Yara said, nodding.

"Arthur Pendragon, the man meant to bring magic back into the world?" Gwaine asked incredulously.

"Tell me; when he saw what happened to Merlin, did Arthur look like he wouldn't do anything to make sure Merlin would be alright?"

"I wasn't there," Gwaine said quietly. "But when I did see him with Merlin . . . I can see what you mean." Yara nodded and yawned, still looking toward the Citadel. She took a step in that direction, but Gwaine grabbed her arm quickly.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"I have to see Merlin," she said.

"Merlin will be fine, you said so yourself," Gwaine said, turning her around, crouching down to look up at her eyes. He grabbed her other arm to keep her in place. "Yara," he said, and he saw some sort of flicker in her blue eyes, before her eyes flickered off to the side. "Yara, I just got you out of that place. I'm not going to let you go running back in. I want you to live."

"You think what I do is a life?" she asked quietly.

"You could become a druid. They'd probably accept you, and Arthur has extended the hand of peace to them as long as they keep to themselves."

"I can't be told that I can't do something," Yara said quietly, still not quite looking at him. "It rankles me. And I can't leave a patient. That's part of a problem in being a magical healer; particularly when the patient is magical as well. I can't leave Merlin while he's still unwell."

"We'll take care of him," Gwaine said, and was surprised by the desperation in his own voice. Yara shook her head.

"I know," she muttered. "I know that, Gwaine. But I . . . I . . . I've already lost enough of my family. Don't make me give up the family I feel like I've found."

Gwaine was so surprised that his grip loosened, and suddenly he found two thin arms thrown around his neck and a small head buried into his shoulder. Uncertainly, he put his own arms around her back, feeling the texture of the bright red cloak under his fingers.

"I won't," he heard himself saying. "I won't leave you, Yara. I'm right here, I'll stay right here." She stayed there, holding onto him tightly as she nodded against him, her small fingers clutching at the mail on his back. His left hand began stroking her hair, the blond hair felt rough under his fingers, and Gwaine was abruptly reminded that she had spent the last couple of days on the run or in a dungeon. Not to mention why. "Yara . . ." he said, pulling back slightly, trying to see her face, "you can't stay here. People know you have magic. You'll be in danger."

"Is Arthur king, or is the Council?" Yara asked, an annoyed tone present in her voice. "If he knows about Merlin having magic, I think he'd be willing to think about some law reforms."

"Okay," Gwaine muttered, standing, "okay."

They walked back towards the Citadel, arriving in the lower town quicker than Gwaine would have thought from the thick trees around the clearing they had come out in. The people glanced oddly at the girl wearing the knights' cloak, but seemed to shrug it off once they noticed that Gwaine was said knight. As they got closer to the Citadel gates, Gwaine put his arm around the girl, hoping that his presence would shade her face enough to get her through the gates and to Gaius' rooms. He needn't have worried. The guards inclined their head slightly as he passed them, the sword scabbarded on his waist given more attention than the girl under his arm.

The two of them made odd figures going down the halls, the blond girl wearing a knight's cloak tugging Gwaine behind her, though the knight gave her directions. They met Lancelot as they turned the corner to the hallway where the door to Gaius' chambers were located.

"What . . . ?" The knight asked Gwaine as Yara let go of his hand to rush to the door that much faster.

"Long story short, a dragon told her to come back," Gwaine muttered, catching at Yara's hand as she made to open the door. "Is Arthur in there?"

Lancelot nodded. "I don't think he's planning on sleeping or eating until Merlin is better," he said, sounding exasperated.

"How is Merlin?" Gwaine asked, tugging yara back to his side. She tripped slightly over the hem of the cloak, that trailed across the ground behind her, and Gwaine steadied her against him.

"Still alive, but he hasn't woken up yet. Gaius says that he should wake up soon, but he's afraid that that much blood loss might have caused brain damage. It depends on how long it's been happening, and how quickly we found him." Lancelot rubbed a hand across his tired eyes. "I hope he'll be alright. I hope he and Arthur will be alright. But I'm not foolish enough to think they'll come out of this unscathed; either one of them."

A/N: dun dun DUUUUUUNNNNNNNNNNN! Sort of. Not really. Whatever. Review? :) (hopeful smile).