In the midday light, the sun shining through the clouds overhead, a figure approached the gates of Camelot flanked by a brilliant white dragon. The sun kissed the dragon's scales with a radiant glow that seemed almost uncanny. The queen lifted her chin, meeting the eyes of every wide-eyed spectator who dared to stare. A hushed whisper followed in her wake. Fearful murmurs and horrified cries erupted at the sight of the unlikely pair. Curtains were drawn and shops hurriedly closed as the news spread like wildfire.
Morgana, shut in her castle away from scores of judgemental eyes, began to stumble toward the physician's chambers. Her hand jutted out to catch the wall, supporting her weight. The dragon, comically squeezed into the confines of the hall, nudged its snout against her shoulder encouragingly. Morgana rapped against the door, lips twisting into a grim scowl.
The unsmiling face of an old man emerged from the opened door, a hard look in his eyes. The severe lines etched into his face betrayed his vicious mean streak; something she had been a fool to overlook all her life. He bowed only slightly, long strands of oily gray hair falling over his eyes.
"Your majesty," he greeted obediently, examining her disheveled appearance with a curious lift of an eyebrow. "Injured?" It was clear he was physically restraining himself from prying further.
"I require your expertise, Gaius."
"Clearly."
"I do not require your insolence, Gaius."
"Of course, your majesty. Please enter."
The door parted wider, Gaius stepping back to permit her entry. Morgana entered, mastering herself. She had to remain dignified in front of her subjects. Losing it in front of Gaius was a hundred times worse. Before Gaius could shut the door behind them, a white snout nosed into the leftover gap. Gaius nearly seemed to have a heart attack as the dragon blinked its eerie eyes innocently at him and produced a high-pitched trill. Morgana imagined that was its way of politely requesting admission, but she could hardly claim to understand the creature's odd behaviors.
"This is my dragon. Don't upset them."
"Magnificent…" Giaus muttered distantly, staring admiringly at Morgana's straggler. The dragon seemed to smile, if that was possible, dipping its great, spiny head in a regal bow. Giaus mirrored the gesture. "It is an honor, young one." Morgana watched their exchange in amazement. Gaius seemed almost pleased to be in the presence of the deadly, fire-breathing creature.
"Young one?" Morgana inquired, raising a single demanding eyebrow.
"This dragon is only a few years old and still maturing," Giaus described a bit too confidently. Morgana narrowed her eyes at the man. "Sh—" Giaus broke off. "They will surely triple in size and power before they reach adulthood."
Morgana remembered the great dragon's immense shadow hovering over Camelot and shuddered. She glanced at her scaly companion, imagining her kingdom engulfed in blue flames, her people screaming and dying around her with her helpless to aid them. The dragon tilted its head curiously, blinking at her. The image vanished. She patted its snout a little guiltily.
"You will tend to my wounds, Gaius," she reminded coldly as she caught the old man watching the exchange from the corner of her eye. She turned to scowl at him. "And do not even think of trying to poison your remedies, physician, I will sniff out any of your pathetic little tricks."
Giaus regarded her with undisguised disgust. "I would never stoop to such an ugly extreme."
Morgana smirked meanly, lurching forward unsteadily. "Is that right?" She lurched forward another dangerous step, looming over the stooped old bag of bones and sneering down at him. "You didn't have any qualms about prescribing me sleeping draughts and concealing the knowledge of my magic from me. You left me alone in the darkness! I thought I was crazy, or delusional—that there was something deeply wrong with me!"
Giaus's will seemed to falter for a moment, only a moment.
"I believed I was protecting you from Uther's wrath by keeping you in the dark."
Morgana felt her head grow light. "You miserable, wretched, vile, old—" Morgana gasped, her expression flooding with pain. She turned her hateful eyes away, a bloody arm jutting out to catch herself on a worktable and jarring several vials and elixirs. Glass spilled against the stone floor, bubbling blue liquid running into the cracks. Pain pulsed through her arms like liquid fire. The dragon pressed against her shoulder, eyes wide with worry. Its long body slotted into the cramped space delicately, tail curling across the stone floor and nearly filling it. Morgana breathed deeply, shutting her eyes. Her heart rate slowed steadily, thoughts turning to more practical usages of her time. The queen should not succumb to foolish emotional outbursts.
"Morgana?" Gaius called out to her in concern, his hand outstretched as if to offer support. Morgana glared cooly at the gesture, straightening her posture as much as she could manage. The absolute audacity of the man she hated almost more than anything to stand there and pretend to feel compassion for her. It made her stomach turn.
"Your majesty. That is your one and only warning, physician."
Gaius dipped his head deferentially, his lips thinning into a grim line. "I apologize, your majesty."
Morgana wordlessly began maneuvering the tattered cloak from her shoulders, shaking fingers unhooking the clasp and gingerly removing the remains of the fabric from bloody, blistered flesh. Gaius moved closer to help, but she merely gave him another warning look and he backed away unhappily.
"Please be careful, I have not yet determined the severity of the burns," Gaius cautioned her, glancing at the dragon with a grave look in his eyes. He was a clever man, even in his advanced age. Morgana could never hide anything from him ever since she was a child. He would give her that knowing look, tapping the side of his nose twice to signal he was in on her little secret.
She swallowed harshly, letting the cloak fall to the floor. Gaius narrowed his eyes but said nothing as he examined the wounds. He gestured for her to sit, and began roaming his chambers retrieving various items. Morgana lowered herself carefully into the indicated chair. The dragon curled around it, its tail winding around her legs. It rested its head in her lap. A deep rumble reverberated through its throat, sort of like a purring cat. Morgana ran a hand over its scales idly, comforted by the furnace-heat radiating from beneath.
Gaius approached quietly, laying out a few items on a nearby worktable. A bowl of water and a cloth, a collection of herbs and odd-looking ingredients, and a mortar and pestle. Then he vanished again, disappearing somewhere out of sight. Perhaps his ward's old quarters. There was a scraping noise, like the shifting of floorboards. When he returned, there was a very old and well-worn book under his arm. He placed it heavily on the table, letting out a sigh. The title was nearly rubbed out, and the pages aged and yellow as he flipped through them.
"Your majesty, are you aware of the magical properties of dragon's breath?" he asked idly, as if it hardly mattered. He didn't even look up. Morgana merely narrowed her eyes.
"What 'properties?'" she asked, clenching her fists. It pained her to admit she knew less than an old fool who'd sworn off magic nearly her entire lifetime ago. Hard to admit she knew next to nothing about the nearly extinct race, and he did.
"Unlike regular fire, a dragon's fire is produced internally. It is inherently imbued with magic. It is magic."
Morgana hummed impatiently. "What are you trying to tell me?"
"The burns caused by dragon flames are impossible to heal conventionally. They fester and worsen as time moves forward until the victim amputates the affected areas or succumbs to infection. Any information on the treatment to your malady was destroyed in the Great Purge," he finished quietly. Morgana could barely hear him over the blood rushing in her ears. She felt sick. Her insides were numb.
"You're lying. You're trying to trick me," she muttered.
"Your majesty," Gaius went on, graver than she'd ever seen him. "All information on the treatment was destroyed except for what's written in the pages of this book."
Morgana's eyebrows flew to her hairline, examining the old man with new eyes. Gaius wouldn't have! He couldn't have?
Gaius looked away thoughtfully. "Before the purge, I was known to practice magical healing. A lot of my remedies included spells, enchantments, or used magical components. I was well-known for my expertise in the field. When Uther banned magic, I was forced to destroy every book, scroll, and journal in my collection. And I did as I was told. Except… for a few."
"You hypocrite!" Morgana hissed. Gaius hung his head.
"I did what had to be done. I'm not proud."
Morgana breathed deeply again, closing her eyes. "You can cure me, then." She opened her eyes, her face a blank mask.
Gaius hesitated. "Yes." He hesitated some more. "Magically. It is the only way."
"How that must hurt you so," Morgana mocked cruelly. "What would dear Uther think?" Gaius didn't react to her taunts, didn't even acknowledge them. It occurred to her that he needn't have even mentioned the magical cure at all. All he need do was sit back and watch her suffer and eventually die from her injuries, doing Arthur's job for him.
"He was a good man once. I don't feel remorseful for dishonoring who he became, not if it can save a life. That is what it means to be a physician."
Morgana stared at the man, dumbfounded. She didn't have a reply, all her words drying up in her throat. Gaius began to gently cleanse her arms, the damp, warm cloth washing away the blood and dirt. She struggled not to react, gritting her teeth. Once he was finished, he began methodically crushing up ingredients, filling the air with the sharp scent of pungent herbs.
"The last ingredient…" he said, turning to exchange a glance with the dragon. It raised itself up and closed its eyes, inclining its head in Gaius's direction. Morgana watched in rapt attention as Gaius plucked a single scale from the dragon's crown, dropping it into the poultice. His eyes flashed golden.
"Draca onbryrdnes bescêawian ðês ferhð," he chanted clumsily. Despite the slow and unpracticed way he enunciated the words, his pronunciation was technically flawless and almost beautiful. It was clear this had once been a language he had been intimately comfortable with.
The mixture shone brightly, making Morgana turn away with a wince. When it settled, the mixture had transformed into a clear, golden color. It had a smooth consistency, cool to the touch as Gaius began spreading it over her shoulders. The moment it made contact, a gentle, numbing feeling covered the pain. The blisters receded, the raw roughness of her skin healing over as a normal burn might have in the time span of several weeks or months. The tension seemed to leave Gaius's shoulders at the sight. Morgana looked at the ground, her chest squeezing uncomfortably. The relief was almost unbearable.
"I don't forgive you," she uttered quietly as he began to loosely wind bandages around her arms.
"This is not a kindness," Gaius insisted gently. "It is only my duty. You know where my true loyalties lie, I don't need to express them."
Morgana bit her lip, realizing that it was trembling. So many times in her life she had been in this position, under Gaius's gentle care. She'd gotten into so much trouble in her childhood, hiding cuts and bruises and even broken bones. Gaius never let her get away with it for long. She wiggled and complained every time he forced her to sit still, stuck her tongue out at the foul-tasting potions, and even cried as he'd had to pop her dislocated shoulder back into place. She'd believed he was only trying to help her as she drank the sleeping draughts he prepared for her before bed each night, hoping it would take her nightmares away.
But she had been mistaken. Gaius was not her friend.
"Your wounds will need redressing every twenty-four hours, and more balm applied every forty-eight hours. Don't wind the bandage tightly, do it just as I showed you. Do not over-exert yourself." He gave her a stern look, so familiar despite absolutely everything being different between them now. Morgana sneered, standing up.
"That will be all, Gaius. Do not act too familiar with me."
He bowed. "My apologies, your majesty." He began to sort through the labeled vials on his potion rack, tucking a few of them into a sack alongside the balm and a few rolls of bandages. He offered it to her with another dip of his head. "For the pain, your majesty."
She took the sack without a word, turning away. The dragon followed behind her, tail slithering across the floor. It seemed keen to stay by her side. Morgana shut the door to the physician's chambers behind her, heaving a shaky sigh.
"We're not friends," she whispered to herself. She would never again expose herself like that to him. To anyone. She had to maintain appearances.
Except—there was one person she could talk to, wasn't there? He would be dead soon, anyway. What was the harm?
