The ground shook from the force of the roar.
The Great Dragon's wings flapped audibly through the air announcing his looming approach. For three nights, his fury had ravaged the people of Camelot, leaving most of them injured or fleeing or— worse. For three nights, his fire had left the castle walls crumbling into nothing, tearing down the only protection these innocent people had left. For three nights, Merlin had watched the horror unfold, guilt silently building over the pain and destruction he had willingly unleashed.
There was no stopping the giant beast as it soared through the sky, eyes set only on the complete annihilation of the castle that had imprisoned him.
Not that the knights of Camelot would be swayed by such a minor detail. There they stood on the doomed battlements, bravest in all the land, crossbows at the ready for when the dragon tried again.
"I'm sorry you're having to do this." Merlin said as he followed Arthur to a gap in the parapet and watched as he prepared his own arrow. In the dark of the evening, the glow of the nearby torches bounced brightly against the sea of chainmail, and it reminded Merlin of just how unprepared he was to be standing up there.
"Why?" Arthur glanced over at him. "You're not to blame."
Merlin felt sick as he watched Arthur aim his crossbow at the sky, and a part of him wondered– if Arthur knew the truth, would he turn the sharp end of his weapon onto Merlin instead?
There was no time to dwell on it as Arthur began shouting orders at his knights. Their arrows lit up with gold in an instant as they were dipped into the flame and on Arthur's command, they flew through the air to tap lightly against the Great Dragon's rough and scaly hide, causing no more than a scratch.
It was hopeless.
He watched, near mesmerised, as the dragon reached them, a blaze of fire erupting from his mouth. He surely would have lost his head had Arthur not grabbed him by the shoulders, his strong grip pulling him down into a crouch.
The heat was immense. Merlin clamped his eyes shut as it washed overhead, gritting his teeth against the threat of being burned alive. He could practically feel the flames licking his skin. As Arthur's chainmail clad arm pressed against his side, it registered somewhere in the back of his mind that, unlike the knights, he was only protected by a thin layer of cloth.
A fact that quickly made itself known to him as the heat crawling underneath his skin remained even after the dragon had passed them by. With a gasp of shock and an oddly delayed realisation, he watched as Arthur used a gloved hand to pat out the small flame burning its way through his shirt, the skin underneath suddenly very raw.
The knights hesitantly peered into the night sky from their crouched positions, unsure of how quickly the dragon would turn back to target them again. Some lifted their crossbows at the ready while others chanced a peek over the edge of the wall, jumping back as some of the brick rolled loose, tumbling straight to the ground beneath. The parapet wasn't going to last much longer, hit by wave after wave of fire. They needed to get down.
Merlin twisted his head to get a better look at the damage to his shoulder blade, but the movement pulled agonisingly at his skin. He pressed a hand against a section of crumbly wall closest to him, needing something to help steady him against the sudden shakiness that had taken refuge down his legs.
"Hey." Arthur grabbed the arm of his uninjured side. "Go inside."
"What? No. I need to help." He mumbled reflexively, not stopping to think about how unhelpful he had proven to be so far.
"Get Gaius to look at it." Arthur gave him no room to argue, already calling over to his men. "It's not safe up here. Head to the courtyard, get people to safety!"
The men rushed to follow their prince's orders and Merlin allowed himself to be swept along in the crowd. The knights were silent as they moved, focused, ready to do whatever they could to protect the people of Camelot. Though Merlin feared it would do them no good. Not when all hope was already lost.
The makeshift infirmary established within the banquet hall had been steadily filling ever since the first night of attacks. It had been a whim of an idea as the physician's quarters quickly proved too small to provide any desperate care. Now it had become indispensable. The improvised beds were filling up just as fast as Gaius could clear them, and his supplies were quickly dwindling. Thankfully he wasn't alone. Many of the uninjured who had found sanctuary within the castle walls were also doing their best to take care of the wounded.
Gwen was keeping herself busy, constantly darting around him to get to the next in line to come stumbling through the door. He wished he could tell the young girl to rest for a moment, but they simply didn't have the time.
The young knight sitting in front of him was just as eager to get back into the fray, as if the double vision he was experiencing was going to improve his aim. Blood continued to trail down the side of his face from where the tip of the dragon's tail had left a nasty gash. He was very lucky in the grand scheme of things. Had it been a claw, or the fiery breath that the great beast had yet to grow tired of expelling, there likely wouldn't be anything left for Gaius to patch up.
He had watched too many succumb to their injuries since the attack started, knights and townsfolk alike and he dreaded to think about what was in store for those still standing. No one was safe out there. Especially not defenceless warlocks willingly stationed in the middle of the battle.
He grabbed a roll of bandages from the nearby table and wound it tightly around the knight's head, trying to keep his thoughts away from Merlin and on the task at hand. The young man was doing his best to push past the pain and exhaustion that had evidently caught up with him since taking a seat, but Gaius could feel the tremors rolling through him that he was failing to hide. He tied off the dressing and held the man gently by the shoulder.
"Stay here." He said, making sure the young man was focusing on at least one of the Gaius' he could see. "Try and rest a little."
Weaving through various people to reach the nearest bucket of water, he frowned at the sight of it. Murky and tainted. He dipped a cloth in regardless and started wiping away the blood from his hands. Gwen wasn't wrong when she'd informed him of their need for clean water—shortly before ignoring his strongly worded suggestion not to go outside.
He glanced around, hoping to see her back alongside him in one piece, surprised instead to find Merlin walking towards him, one arm cradled against his chest.
"Are you hurt?" He asked immediately, dismayed at the state he had found himself in.
Merlin paused in front of him, anguish shining bright in his eyes. "I can't stop him, Gaius. There's nothing I can do."
"Come on." Gaius guided him to the nearest empty table, wincing as he caught a glimpse at Merlin's back. His shirt was a ruined, likely too singed to be repaired, while the skin underneath was a mess of marred flesh.
Deciding the item of clothing unsalvageable, Gaius tore the hole wider so that he could access the wound better. Despite the disheartened groan Merlin let out at the action, he knew that the boy would much prefer to find a new shirt than be left half undressed in front of everyone in the hall.
"The fire must have just caught your shirt." Gaius tutted as he probed gently at the area around the burn. To be faced up against the intense range of the dragon's flame, Merlin was incredibly lucky. "It could have been a lot worse."
"It has been a lot worse." Merlin exhaled, looking around the room at the mass of injuries on show. The blood, the burns. All his fault.
He hissed through gritted teeth as Gaius dabbed at the wound with a wet cloth, body flinching away on instinct. Gaius winced in sympathy, less than thrilled at how counterproductive it was to be using dirty water to clean open wounds, but they had little else to work with. Unless Gwen succeeded in her act of bravery anytime soon.
"My magic didn't work." Merlin whispered as he gripped the edge of the table with his free hand. A booming roar suddenly echoed in through the open door at the end of the hall and his head shot up at the ready from where it had been bent low in pain, fearing the worst. The dragon hadn't breached the walls yet, thank goodness, and he watched as the door closed again behind a few more survivors escaping the danger.
Gaius rummaged through the nearby supplies until he found a small jar of salve. It was cool against his fingers and would likely do little to soothe at first touch but, in the long run, Merlin would appreciate its healing properties.
"It wouldn't." He replied, voice matching Merlin's volume. The last thing they wanted was for someone to overhear. "Dragons aren't monsters, they're creatures of wonder and magic. They are immune to your power."
As expected, Merlin whimpered as the balm was spread across the burn, muscles across his back suddenly pulling tight in his effort not to writhe. Gaius shook his head, frustrated that not only was Merlin having to deal with this right now, but that this was considered lucky.
It could have been so much worse. And it shouldn't be Merlin's responsibility to deal with it.
He was just a boy. He shouldn't be out there risking his life each time Camelot is in danger, standing side by side with knights who had trained years for moments like this— who had willingly signed up for moments like this.
As incredible as his gift was, Merlin didn't ask to be Camelot's nameless protector, burdened with such responsibility, such guilt. And Gaius' didn't ask to have his own heart racing each time Merlin walked out the door.
A gasp drew Gaius' attention to another injured individual making their way towards them.
"Are you okay?" Merlin's eyes were wide as he tracked Arthur's movement across the room. One arm over Gwen's shoulder and face pinched in discomfort, he hobbled around the tables and busy people. The front of his chainmail was coated red.
"It's just a scratch." He assured them as he passed.
Gwen found a free space nearby and Merlin would have surely followed if Gaius' strong clasp on his unharmed shoulder hadn't kept him in place. He was happy to see that both Gwen and Arthur had made it back inside, but his priority right now was the injured boy sitting in front of him.
Merlin's arm was still pressed against his chest, almost as if he was afraid that any movement would heighten the discomfort. He eyed Gaius warily as the physician slowly wrapped gentle hands around his wrist and elbow. The human body was wonderfully complex, and his years of practice had led Gaius to understand exactly how everything was connected— and an infliction to the shoulder had the ability to affect a whole range of movements should it heal badly or be too greatly damaged.
He moved slowly, lifting Merlin's arm skywards until the pain was too much for the boy to hold back a moan.
"Sorry, just had to check." Gaius released his hold, frowning as he watched Merlin hold it against his front once more on instinct. "I'm all out of pain draught. Is there anything you can…"
"When did you run out?" Merlin frowned and Gaius could practically see his brain whirring to focus on the wrong part of his question.
"The middle of last night. We haven't exactly been able to go out and get more herbs."
"Why didn't you tell me? Gaius, all these people— I would have gotten more! I would have—"
"Merlin."
"…they're in pain."
"We've been handing it." He assured him. "Now, do you think you can…"
Merlin looked at him with a despondent sigh. "…we both know I'm terrible at healing myself."
Gaius wasn't going to mention it but, yes, it was true. Healing others? No problem. Merlin's gifts were more than proficient, unparalleled even. But when it came to self-healing? It was such taxing magic that there still seemed to be some kind of block between reciting the spell and allowing it to work.
"Give it a go anyway. There's surely something in the book you haven't attempted yet. And if that doesn't work, I'll try…" He trailed off when he noticed that he was talking to himself.
Following Merlin's distracted gaze, he watched as Gwen carefully tended to the prince, her touch gentle as she wrapped his chest. Gaius remembered that feeling, the giddiness of young love. He may be more…mature than most in the castle, but even his old eyes had seen the blossoming of their romance over the many months of them trying to hide it.
Yet while he was appreciating their ability to be themselves amongst all the chaos, Merlin was viewing a completely different picture.
"I couldn't keep him safe." He murmured, eyes tracking every other injured soul in the room. "Why did he— why would the dragon tell me it was my destiny to protect Arthur if he planned on trying to kill him as soon as I set him free."
Gaius didn't have an answer. Dragons were notoriously tricky creatures, and their riddled words could send your head in a spin. He had only visited the great beast a handful of times during his confinement within the depths of Camelot – each time solely for Merlin's benefit – but that was enough to tell him not to blindly trust everything the dragon said.
He heard the remorse sitting deep in Merlin's words and knew that the question haunting him was so much bigger than the one he was asking.
"You did the right thing releasing him. You kept your word and you put an end to an unjust imprisonment. What he's doing now— he's doing this because of an anger that has been brewing for far too long from a decision made years ago. Anger that is in no way your fault." Gaius' voice softened as he tilted his head lower, ensuring that Merlin truly heard what he was saying. "This isn't your fault."
"Then whose fault is it?"
"Not yours."
Merlin remained lost in his own thoughts throughout the awkward shirt lifting and arm manoeuvring it took for Gaius to bind his back, but once the physician was finished, he let the boy on his way, ordering that he not stray too far for the remainder of the night.
As expected, Merlin went straight to Arthur, immediately offering to help Gwen finish up. Gaius couldn't hear what was said, but from the way Gwen tenderly pushed his hand out of the way, his offer was clearly declined. He stayed regardless, even letting Arthur turn him around to inspect his back irrespective of the bandage hiding any evidence of injury. Both were seemingly just as worried about the other.
The boy prince with far too much responsibility and only an ever-angry father as his role model, and the young warlock who strapped the weight of the world onto his shoulders each and every day. Seeing them there, it warmed Gaius heart to think about the incredible men they were becoming.
The compassion the two of them held, despite everything, was a miracle. And a gift to them all.
Gaius couldn't admit whose fault it really was to Merlin. Not aloud, anyway. Not unless he wanted to commit treason within earshot of multiple knights and officials of Camelot. But the fault did in fact lay with the person responsible for so many misdeeds: for targeting the most majestic of creatures all those years ago, for wiping out almost an entire species in a hate fuelled purge, for going back on his word and keeping a dragon trapped for nearly two decades.
All because of fear.
Fear born from the guilt of a single request made before Merlin was even born.
Uther may never harbour the remorse of sending the Great Dragon on his vengeful rampage, but he refused to let Merlin do so in his stead. And if things worsened and they was no end in sight for the dragon's attack, he would make the choice to send Merlin to the one person who may be able to convince him otherwise.