A/N when you have to study for finals, except you suddenly get inspiration, motivation and time to write...

Enjoy!

The dull emptiness which Kilgarrah had left after his death would have hurt more had Merlin not been busier than ever.

Aithusa and Cianán fit in quite nicely within Camelot… not that anyone knew that they were dragons.

Merlin hadn't been sure how far he could push the Dolma's tentative friendship with Arthur, and he didn't want to risk the entire return of magic on Arthur refusing to have the two hatchling dragons in Camelot.

For the first few days, the two dragons were content to stay in Merlin's chambers, chattering away in their own little language.

By the fourth day, however, they were starting to get restless. Unfortunately, neither were quite small enough for both to fit in his herb basket, and he didn't want to risk one of the guards asking to do a quick search. Besides, between his duties as Merlin and as the Dolma he didn't have time to try and smuggle them out to stretch their wings and run around in the open space.

It hurt Merlin, knowing that they were trapped. But hopefully it wouldn't be too much longer. Arthur had slowly been convincing some of the more… open-minded nobles to his cause, his knights of the round table being enough insurance that these nobles wouldn't go blabbing or gossiping before Arthur was ready to announce the changes.

He flicked the page over, rubbing at tired eyes. Ever since the battle at Camlann, he had felt lighter, more himself in years. He hadn't realised it, but everything, the prophecy, his destiny, protecting Arthur, all of it, had been weighing him down for years.

Despite Morgana still being a threat, Merlin felt more hopeful than he had in years. It was easier to laugh at Gwaine when the knight was being stupid for stupid's sake, easier to enjoy conversations with Gwen when he had no ever looming threat over his shoulder. It was easier to be Merlin.

It felt like he had been a prisoner all his life, and he had finally been set free. Felt like he could finally breathe, could enjoy life.

The candlelight flickered next to him, the small light it was casting barely a shadow on the opposing wall.

For the first time in Merlin's life, his magic had started to feel weary, not bad, but good. Almost like a muscle he hadn't been able to use in a while. It was a comforting weariness, coming from knowing that one day he would be free, they all would be free.

Aithusa whined on the bed next to him, her head resting in his lap, blue eyes blinking owlishly up at him. Merlin smiled at her, scratching her head as she settled back down again to continue watching him.

Cianán however, was currently watching Merlin's feet under the covers, waiting for the lumps to move.

Merlin had quickly discovered the young dragon's penchant for attacking anything that moved that wasn't immediately associated with Merlin himself. Like, Merlin's feet under the blankets.

Grinning, Merlin wiggled his toes, watching as Cianán's eyes widened imperceptibly, gold trained on their prey.

Cianán wiggled his butt, wings spreading as he prepared to pounce.

Mere seconds before, Merlin pulled his feet away, trying to stifle his laugh as the young dragon tried to catch the feet.

Thunk.

Aithusa looked at Merlin, slightly disgruntled from her precarious position on the bed, Merlin's book of magic lying on the floor.

By the time he looked up from picking up the book, Cianán had disappeared into the basket Merlin had stuffed with spare blankets and spare fabric to serve as a bed.

Not that either dragon really used it, mostly spending their nights curled around Merlin.

Sighing, Merlin flicked his gaze over to the page which the book had landed on, checking over the spine.

Huh.

That might work.

Arthur awoke to a sharp pain on his foot, Merlin's laughter and subsequent admonishment filtering through his ears.

Groggily, he sat up, wiping the sleep from his eyes to glare at his friend for whatever he-

The brown eyes stared at him, the small, black dog wagging its tail, as it tugged at Arthur's foot, the sharp pain of its needle teeth piercing through the fog of sleepiness.

"Merlin," Arthur started slowly, staring at the puppy, before levelling his gaze at Merlin. "Why is there a dog on my bed?"

Merlin grinned sheepishly at him, and it tugged at Arthur's heart. How long had it been since Merlin had grinned like that?

He flickered his gaze over to where Guinevere was sitting, trying to contain her laugh poorly, the snorts of amusement filtering through her hand.

On her lap sat another puppy, this one golden in colour, curled on her lap as she ruffled it between its ears.

Arthur's stomach may have flipped at the sight of that, a soft, homely warmth filling his chest.

Until Merlin unceremoniously dragged the puppy gnawing at Arthur's foot off the bed, tugging the warm covers off in one fluid, practice movement.

Arthur glared at him, although there was no heat to it, sighing as he dragged himself out of bed.

The black puppy, now on the floor, immediately went for the bedpost, its tiny baby teeth gnawing at the wood, and Merlin cried out.

"Cianán, no, we do not gnaw on furniture!"

The puppy, full of energy, turned to face Merlin at the sound of his voice, its butt now wiggling in the air, and as Merlin tried to swoop him up, he was pouncing through Merlin's legs, letting out a yap, as it did so.

Unbidden, a snort made its way out of Arthur's mouth, as he reached out to pick up the small dog.

For a few seconds, the small creature wriggled in his arms, yapping at him happily.

"Hello," he said, holding the puppy up to his face. "Cianán was it?"

Merlin nodded, grinning at Arthur once more sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, before pointing over to the slightly larger puppy now wriggling in Guinevere's arms, "And that's Aithusa."

In response, Aithusa barked, her own tail wagging in excitement.

"I found them in the woods yesterday while I was collecting herbs for Gaius," Merlin continued, taking Cianán from Arthur's arms.

Something clenched in his heart, as he walked over to fondle Aithusa between the ears, kissing his wife on her cheek.

"And Gaius was alright with that?" Guinevere asked, laughing along with Arthur as Aithusa nipped playfully at his fingers.

Merlin shrugged, "I don't think he really minds me having a bit more protection when I'm out in the woods."

Arthur felt the smile, the warmth in his chest, slip.

"What?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Of course, he knew that there were still Saxons around, but they had significantly withdrawn in the last few weeks, fewer reports of attacks on villages coming through each week.

A lot of the nobles had seemed relieved, citing that it boded well for Camelot.

Arthur and his Round Table all knew differently.

Morgana had never once given up in her stubborn pursuit of Camelot's throne.

Why would she give up now?

No. She was planning something. One last effort to take what she assumed was hers. Or at least, Arthur was going to try and make it the last time.

He was tired.

Tired of fighting, tired of losing his people, tired of watching the funeral pyres burn. He hated what that meant had to happen, though.

Arthur knew in his heart, knew deep down that to stop Morgana, she would have to die. She had gone too far, done too much damage for there ever to be a hope for her to be redeemed. He had tried talking to her every time she had attacked, and every time, she had rebutted his offers.

And now? Now that he knew that magic wasn't a corrupting force as his father had taught him? Well how could he justify Morgana's actions?

In hindsight, he could see it. Could see how it was not magic that had corrupted Morgana, had corrupted his sister, but rather the fear she had held from being discovered.

Had come from her year spent with Morgause.

No. Magic had not corrupted Morgana.

Her decisions had done that.

"Gaius was getting antsy about Saxon attacks," Merlin's voice broke through Arthur's reverie. "But there have been fewer and fewer attacks, and besides, Lancelot's often been accompanying me, anyway."

Merlin shrugged, going back to folding the laundry.

"Yes," Arthur responded, locking eyes with Guinevere, and he could see that she was thinking the same thing. "That's what worries me."

Merlin smiled grimly at the two of them.

Silence settled over the room, comfortable but filled with tension of the unknown.

Arthur didn't know what the future would hold, but he did know one thing. It had begun with the four of them: him and Guinevere and Merlin and Morgana.

And it was going to end with them.