Good lord, this took longer to publish than expected? My apologizes; please refrain from throwing tomatoes at me. Anyway - this is actually the last chapter! I could probably make it longer, but I thought it'd be best if I just ended it here, before the plot grows boring and you all hate me.

"So I can't help thinking about something you said…"

"No, Merlin, there still isn't any way to master the dragonlord abilities unless you feel like giving me an early death."

"Thank you for thinking so highly of me; obviously I'd rather be able to boss around Kilgharrah than have a father," Merlin says scathingly as they finally enter the safety of the physician's chambers. "Anyway, that's not what I was going to ask – oh, evening mother, Gaius. All went well; Kilgharrah's free, no dragon is currently attacking the kingdom, and as an extra bonus we didn't get caught."

"I'm glad to hear that," Hunith replies from her position at the work bench, where she's helping Gaius with his herbs.

"It's only a matter of time before someone discovers his disappearance," Gaius remarks darkly. "We're lucky if this doesn't spark another witch hunt."

Merlin sighs. "Go to sleep, Gaius, you get grumpy when you're tired."

Gaius raises a highly disapproving eyebrow at his ward, who skilfully avoids said eyebrow by turning around to chatter to his mother. Nonetheless, the physician does retire within a few minutes (Balinor feels a brief stab of guilt, since they're the ones depriving the old man of both sleep and peace) and Balinor takes a seat next to his family.

"Do I even want to know what you were going to ask me?" he asks wearily.

Merlin gives him a questioning look. "What?"

"A question not related to the dragonlord heritage," Hunith supplies helpfully.

"Oh! Well, father, as I was saying; I noticed you and Kilgharrah weren't exactly on the same terms when it comes to prophecies."

Balinor winces slightly. "Right. Prophecies. Ahem; first of all, Kilgharrah is very old and very, very wise; he has his reasons for his absolute trust in the prophecies. But because of his own ability to see which path has the highest possibility to come true, he's got a bad habit of… discarding any other possibility."

"So no destiny is set in stone?" Merlin asks, eyes shining with something that makes Balinor feel quite uneasy.

"I don't know what Kilgharrah's told you," he states slowly, "but while I advise you to listen to your own heart, I warn you against taking his words for granted. There is a reason why he's the Great dragon, and his warnings should not be ignored."

"In other words, it's not set in stone," Merlin clarifies cheerily.

"That's not exactly what I –"

"That's great! Mother, is it too late to visit her now?"

Hunith looks at her son, gaze filled with both fondness and exasperation. "Yes, it is far too late to visit a lady, but I also doubt that's going to stop you."

"Hold on, what lady?" Balinor asks.

"She's a friend of mine," Merlin explains quickly as he pulls on his jacket again. "She's got magic, but since both Gaius and Kilgharrah are paranoid old coots, they've both strongly advised me against helping her." Merlin halts mid step and throws Balinor a hesitant look. "Do… do you think I should refrain from telling her?"

Balinor realizes briefly that good lord, this is the first time his son asks him a question that's actually a father-son related question (his son is asking him for advice, and his mind stutters because hell – he should get this one right)). "I think," he says slowly, "that letting a girl live in fear and loneliness in a kingdom that hates magic would cause greater grief than helping her. But since I don't know her and Kilgharrah's warned you, I'm afraid you'll have to make the final decision. Merlin, do you trust her?"

Merlin nods, a small smile playing at his lips. "I trust her," he says solemnly, and in the moment he sounds far older than he is, as though he's making a decision that could change everything. Then he smiles a bright, goofy grin, and the moment is gone. "Morgana will be so happy – that is, after she's teared me a new one for not telling her before."

Hunith's giving Balinor a proud smile (a smile that almost manages to distract Balinor from something very important).

"Wait," Balinor says, something akin to dread filling him, "did you say Morgana? As in Lady Morgana?"

"Yep!" Merlin relies sunnily, "Thanks, don't wait up!" And with that, the boy's out of the door (ignoring Balinor calling his name after him).

"Lady Morgana as in the king's ward?" Balinor continues faintly. "The one Merlin was talking about earlier?"

"Lady Morgana as in the woman who rides out to fight for a peasant village," Hunith declares lightly. "Not to mention she's a good friend of Merlin, and a very good woman."

"Lady Morgana as in Uther Pendragon's ward."

"Lady Morgana as in the king's ward," Hunith confirms.

"Oh, god," Balinor lets his head thud against the desk. "Is he sneaking into the room of the king's ward in order to tell her of his own magic?"

"Yes," Hunith answers calmly (and lords, how the hell can she be so calm about this?). "Balinor, dear, please lift your head from the workbench. Your hair is seconds away from catching fire."

oOoOo

"He's going to get himself executed and it won't even be because of his magic," Balinor moans the next morning.

"So you've said," Hunith hums noncommittally and pushes the bowl of porridge towards him.

"We're going to have to smuggle him out of Camelot."

"If you're going to do any smuggling at all, you need to eat."

Balinor stares gloomily at the porridge in front of him. "I don't know if it's just nerves, but somehow this looks even less appetizing than usual."

Gaius whacks him over the head, like he's a disrespectful schoolboy rather than an adult dragonlord. "Be quiet and eat your breakfast," the physician snaps, an unordinary tone of nervousness in his voice. Huh. Looks like Balinor isn't the only one about to have a heart attack because of Merlin's continued absence.

"Our son has spent the night with the king's ward," Balinor continues pitifully, "most likely performing several magic tricks – in the king's ward's chambers. After he'd released a dragon. Hunith, there are so many illegal things happening it's not even funny."

"Merlin's very existence is considered illegal," Hunith rolls her eyes, "And yet, he's still alive."

The door is pushed open by a smiling, bleary eyed Merlin who greets them with a chirping "Morning," before snagging a piece of bread.

"What on earth were you thinking, staying out all night?" Balinor thunders (or as close to thundering as you can get without catching unwanted attention, and thereby getting his son escorted to the dungeons).

Merlin blinks, as if confused by the turn of events. "I – "

"Are you trying to get yourself killed? Releasing the dragon was risky enough, and last night was far over the limit when it comes to suicidal stupidity."

"Will always told me it was mothers who got mad when you stayed out all night," Merlin quips weakly.

"Your father is trying to make up for years of absence," Hunith explains casually, "He's trying to figure out how to be a parent."

"This isn't funny, Hunith."

Her eyes soften and she gives him another comforting pat on the shoulder. "You're right. Merlin, spending the night with a lady, no matter her status, is highly inappropriate. Especially since this is the ward of a paranoid king, known for his hasty executions."

"We didn't do anything inappropriate," Merlin objects meekly, looking chastened by his mother's light scolding. "I just… she wanted to know some more about magic, that's all."

"Oh, that's – that's lovely," Balinor agrees shrilly, "What a wonderful explanation for the king: oh, don't worry sire, I wasn't threatening your precious ward's virtue, I was only teaching her a little bit of magic, you see, sire."

"My voice is hardly that high-pitched," Merlin mutters.

Balinor has a biting comeback at the tip of his tongue, before he's rudely interrupted by a roared version of his name. He instinctively slaps his hands over his ears before realizing that the roar was in mind speech.

"Excuse me," Balinor snaps (giving Merlin a this-isn't-over-yet glare) and turns away from them, "I've got a pissed off dragon trying to get my attention."

"What the hell is it?" he sends back to Kilgharrah, tuning out the conversation in the background.

"Balinor," Kilgharrah seethes, "I leave for a few hours and you've already managed to get your son to make a mess out of the prophecies?"

"What?"

"The witch; the one destined to bring death to the Once and Future King – your son's charge."

The now-familiar lump of dread in his gut grows in size. "…When you say once and future – "

"Yes, I'm talking about the prophecy of Emrys," Kilgharrah snaps. "And who knows what path will be chosen now that Merlin has allied himself with the witch?"

"Yes, yes, this sounds very serious and all, but what part does Merlin have in this drama?"

"Ah, I can see where Merlin gets his incompetence from," Kilgharrah grumbles snidely. "Merlin is Emrys, you dull-witted fool."

Balinor abruptly stumbles over air, the only thing keeping him from falling and getting a concussion being a gentle tug of magic from Merlin (courtesy of freaking Emrys). He absently wonders if it would have been better to get knocked out – at least that would have meant a few minutes of peace.

"Father?" Merlin inquires carefully and Balinor slowly turns to face him.

"So," he starts and clears his throat, "when exactly were you going to tell me you're bloody Emrys?"

"Oh," Merlin answers and shrugs dismissively, "I just… didn't think it was that important?"

"Important," Balinor echoes, and slumps against the wall while trying to stifle the hysterical giggles, "You didn't find it important. Hunith – Hunith, we've somehow managed to spawn a legend. Never mind my hair turning whiter than Gaius', I won't have any hair left within a week. He's… Our son is Emrys."

"Nonsense," Hunith says dismissively, "His name is Merlin."

"But – "

"Dear, I lugged him around for nine months and then spent hours pushing him out of my womb and then proceeded to raise him – if I say he's named Merlin, then he bloody well is a Merlin."

"Merlin sounds way nicer than Emrys," Merlin agrees gleefully and steals a bowl of the awful porridge from Gaius (oh, hello Gaius – Balinor had completely forgotten about the man).

Balinor opens his mouth to argue some more, but opts to simply look at the lad (young and happy and inexperienced) and for the life of him Balinor can't find a trace of the oh-so-mighty Emrys of the legends.

"Whatever Kilgharrah just told you," Hunith murmurs quietly as Gaius gives their son a whack over the head, "remember what you said yesterday. No destiny is set in stone."

"To be fair," he remarks, "Merlin's the one who said that, not me."

"Oh hush, I thought it sounded nice."

They don't argue about it, because Balinor already knows he's giving in. "What, so we just… Overlook all the prophecies? Leave him to his own devices and let him try to find his own way?"

"Good god, no," Hunith snorts lightly, "What kind of vision do you have of being a parent? We won't spoon feed him century-old prophecies, no, but we'll be there for him, advise him, help him, and tear our hair and despair as he drives us mad. By the end of it we'll both be bald and wrinkly."

"Well," Balinor says, and thinks of his dark cave and cold nights and miserable loneliness eating at his soul, and then thinks of the happiness of the last few days, even overlooking the panic caused by his obviously insane family. "I suppose I have to accept my fate and embrace my future baldness."

"That's very brave of you," she tells him and gives him a quick kiss.

"There's an empty room right there if you need it," Gaius comments dryly from the table (Balinor's sure the old coot had waited for any sort of affection just to pull that particular bad joke).

Merlin looks generally scandalized. "That convenient empty room happens to be my room, thank you very much."

"Thank you for the offer, Gaius, but we'll be fine," Hunith huffs and drags Balinor back to the table in order to finish their cold breakfast. He absently notes that the porridge looks just as awful as earlier, which is disappointing but not surprising.

Yes, he decides as he looks at his family bickering around the table. He's more than ready to embrace a life with the woman he loves and his newfound son (his hair be damned; it seems like a small price to pay).

Ta daaa! The end!

Okay, confession time. You know last chapter when I said a plotbunny smacked me in the face, and I wanted to add it? Well, I didn't. Because first I was going to kill Arthur in the end, and then I changed it and decided to kill Balinor instead... And then I just settled for "ah, fuck it, if I want character!death and angsty endings I'll just watch the show". So there you go - happy ending instead!

Reviews equal happiness and happiness makes me happy! :)