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Chapter Text

Three Years After The Purge (Flashback)

Ealdor, Essetir

Hunith stood up straight when she heard the pitter-patter of feet making their way towards her. She wiped the sweat from her brow with a cloth as a raven-haired six-year-old came around the corner into sight.

“Mumma!” The little boy chirped, beaming up at his mother with a toothy grin.

“Hello, Little Bird. What mischief have you and Will been getting up to this time?” Hunith asked teasingly, and Merlin widened his eyes to make himself look innocent.

“We don’t get into mischief, Mumma. We’re good boys!” He said confidently, which did nothing to convince Hunith.

“Have you boys been bothering Simmons again?” She asked with a raised brow and Merlin flushed, caught red-handed.

“You two leave that old man alone,” Hunith scolded, shaking her rag at Merlin. “But he’s so mean and he smells weird and he calls me a bastard and says I’m trash!” Merlin retorted, pouting and kicking the dirt.

“He’s been saying those things again?” Hunith asked, face growing stormy. Merlin’s eyes widened and he grabbed his mother’s wrist, tugging.

“Don’t worry, Mumma! Will and I got back at him! We let two of his chickens loose and it’ll take him a while to catch them! You don’t need to talk to him!” Merlin pleaded, not wanting to invite his mother’s wrath on even Old Man Simmons.

“Alright, you rascal,” Hunith huffed, shaking her head at the young boys’ antics. “Let’s go get cleaned up, you’ve soiled your tunic with chicken scat,” Hunith exclaimed, ushering her son toward their hut.

Merlin muttered as he pulled off his scratched-up dirty tunic, and Hunith froze when she saw her son’s back. A black mark covered a large swath of the skin on his back in the shape of a snarling dragon. 

The symbol was the same one Balinor had had. The one that he told her transferred from Father to Son at the time of the Father’s passing. Hunith distantly realized her knees were buckling, the sound of Merlin shouting in surprise and her descent stopping snapping her back to the moment.

When she looked, Merlin had stopped her fall with magic and gently lowered her to the ground so she didn’t destroy her knees.

“Merlin!” She exclaimed, and his eyes rounded with fear. “I didn’t mean to, Mumma! It just happened!” Merlin cried. She had taught her son to never use the M-word for fear of one of the villagers overhearing and reporting to Cenred for money.

“Oh, Little Bird, come here. I’m sorry for shouting darling,” she whispered, pulling Merlin into a hug once he was within arms grasp.

“Little Bird, remember when we discussed you going to live with the druids?” Hunith asked gently, looking into Merlin’s very blue eyes. “I think it’s time, Dear Heart.”

Merlin’s eyes narrowed and he folded his arms, shaking his head. “No! I’m not leaving you, Mumma! Not now, not ever!”

Hunith fought back her own tears for Merlin’s sake. “It wouldn’t be forever, Little Bird, but you aren’t safe here anymore. Before we could hide your magic, but now you’ve come into your powers,” she explained gently.

Merlin wrinkled his nose in confusion. “How do you know Papa’s dead? That’s the only way the powers transfer!” Merlin declared, stomping his foot once.

“Dear Heart, you’ve inherited the Dragonlord mark. It’s on your back, so you wouldn’t be able to see it. You aren’t safe, love, and it would kill me if Cenred gets his hands on you,” Hunith explained, pleading with the Gods to help her child see that this was for the best.

Merlin, after contemplating for a few long minutes, hung his head in defeat. “Okay, Mumma,” he said quietly, “I’ll do it for you.” Hunith grasped her son’s hands in her own and smiled sadly at him before standing up.

She made her way over to Merlin’s sleeping area and grabbed the small wooden dragon figurine that Balinor had carved for him on his first birthday.

Grabbing a worn but still useable leather bag, she placed the figurine in the bag with great care, along with all the clothing that Merlin had. She walked back over to Merlin and placed the leather bag in her son’s arms before going over to her own sleeping place.

From a cranny in the wall, she pulled out a small stone with a triskelion carved into it. Walking back to Merlin once more, she placed the rock in his hand.

“Little Bird, you must say your name and that you seek sanctuary,” Hunith explained to her son gently.

Merlin breathed deeply before speaking, “I am Merlin of Ealdor, and I seek sanctuary with the druids.” After a few moments, the triskelion lit up gold much like Merlin’s eyes when he used magic.

“Come to the Oak Tree in the Edith Forest now. There you will meet Elle,” came a soft female’s voice. With that, the triskelion stopped glowing.

“Come along, Merlin. We’re going to the Oak Tree,” Hunith whispered, grasping Merlin’s hand in her own.

<->

When Hunith and Merlin got to the Oak Tree that served as the Camelot-Essetir Border a person wearing a cloak stepped out from behind the thick trunk. Hunith put Merlin behind her as the person walked closer.

The person held up their hands before speaking, “peace, Lady Hunith, mother of Emrys. I am Elle of the Dani Tribe,” came a soft female voice. The person removed her hood to reveal a pale face with raven black hair and blue eyes, not unlike Merlin.

Hunith relaxed but kept Merlin behind her. “You know why we’re here, I assume?” Hunith asked.

Elle nodded once, eyes flitting to Merlin. “Am I correct in guessing he has come into his father’s powers?” Elle asked with a tilt of her head.

“Aye, you would be correct,” Hunith said, suddenly feeling extremely exhausted. 

“You’ll take care of him?” Hunith asked quietly, her heart hurting as she felt Merlin’s grip tighten in worry. Elle nodded.

“Emrys will be raised with the other children of the Dani Tribe. Since he is a warlock, he will be trained in his magic differently, but our tribe is blessed to have a few warlocks that will be able to help him,” Elle explained.

Hunith sagged in relief.

“I only ask of you one thing,” Hunith said in a raspy voice. Elle inclined her head.

“You raise him as you would any child, no special treatment and that you call him by the name I gave him, Merlin.” Elle nodded.

“You have my word and the word of the Dani Tribe. We will respect your wishes.”

Hunith turned to Merlin, who watched her with big eyes.

“It’s time to go, my love,” she said softly, and Merlin hesitantly walked toward Elle before suddenly turning and launching himself at his mother, giving her a fierce hug.

“I won’t forget you, Mumma. I promise.”

Twenty Four Years After The Purge (Present Day)

Camp Da’al, Camelot Territory

Merlin sat meditating in the copse of yew trees, his offerings to the Gods arranged neatly in front of him. As spring came, so came Merlin’s ritual to offer things to the Gods for blessing his Tribe with safety and fortune each season.

As Merlin finished and began cleaning up, a shrill whistling noise had him lifting his head to see an osprey descending to land delicately on one of his leather shoulder pads.

“Hello, Kial,” Merlin greeted the raptor.

“Hello, Emrys,” Kial responded.

“What can I do for you, Kial?” Merlin questioned as he continued to clean up the yew copse.

“Finna sent me to get you. She’s talking to Percival, Lancelot, and Gwaine right now and wants you over there as well,” the osprey responded, preening her primaries.

“Thank you, Kial. I’ll make my way over there now,” Merlin said, and the familiar launched off his shoulder, most likely going to hunt for her companion, Daegal.

Merlin walked with a brisque purpose, coming to the gathering clearing where Finna, Gwaine, Lancelot, Percival, Freya, and Gilli were sitting. 

Lancelot was conferring with Finna about something while Percival and Freya watched with amusement as Gwaine and Gilli bickered good-naturedly. Gwaine broke off his bickering when he spotted Merlin.

“Merls! Come here, come here!” The older demanded, patting the spot next to him on the log. Merlin rolled his eyes fondly, sitting down next to Gwaine who wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“Tell this young man how many sets of eyes you have in dragon form,” Gwaine said seriously. Blinking, Merlin turned a bewildered expression to Percival, who shrugged helplessly.

“I have three sets of eyes in dragon form. Why?” He asked. Gilli looked shocked. “I swear I’ve only ever seen one pair!” The younger shouted, and Merlin chuckled.

“I usually keep the other two closed,” Merlin explained.

“Prove it,” Gilli demanded. Merlin smirked and beckoned the group to the large hollow that had enough open space for him to slip his skin.

Merlin loved the exhilaration that came with the shift each time. It was like being freed from all earthly tethers. Once in dragon form, Merlin swung his head to face Gilli, only his second set of eyes currently open.

Gilli scratched his head. “So you lied?” He asked in confusion before shrieking as Merlin opened the other two sets simultaneously. 

His first set of eyes were the ones closest to his mouth and were able to see underwater and were the pair with the best night vision. The coloration made the eyes look blind, as they were milky, but they only worked underwater.

His second set of eyes rested between his first and third set of eyes and were the eyes he mostly used. They were able to see far and wide and were pale blue with clear lids that he could close when flying to protect them.

His final set of eyes rested near his horns and were magically gold, allowing him to see if something was enchanted. They existed as well because natural dragons had golden eyes.

Merlin was a peculiar Dragonlord and warlock, able to manipulate earth, air, water, and fire. Most of the time a mage excelled in one of the four elements, but as a creature of magic, Merlin was in tune with them all.

“Merlin!” Merlin looked down to see Lancelot striding toward him and their group of friends.

“Yeah, Lance?” Merlin asked with a tilt of his head.

“Finna’s asked that you take me, Gwaine, and Percy to look for that fellow that’s been threatening the camp recently.”

Merlin let out a little puff of smoke before nodding. He lay down his wing, which was covered in thick armor-like skin and ridges so that the three could climb onto his back.

Once all were on his back and Merlin felt them settle, he steadily took off, a soft rumble of affection escaping him at having three of his closest friends on his back.

Merlin stayed just above the tree line, gliding smoothly.

“Down there!” Gwaine shouted, and Merlin looked down sharply, spotting a suspicious man all alone racing through the forest. Merlin let out a low snarl at the sight of the man who had been terrorizing his home for almost a full moon cycle now.

Merlin extended serrated talons, ready to skewer the vile little man and be done with it when suddenly something slammed into him and it was burning. Merlin shrieked in agony, writhing desperately as he tried to escape the Cold Iron chains only tangling himself further.

“Get off, Percy shield Gwaine and Lance, you’ll die!” Merlin roared, having stopped struggling.

“I’ve shielded us, we won’t be injured on impact. Is it Cold Iron?” Came Percival’s grim voice. All Merlin could do was groan, the burning was painful and was cutting deep into his skin. When he slammed into the ground, everything went black.

Chapter Text

Seven Years After The Purge (Flashback)

Camelot’s Citadel

On Samhain Eve a bounty hunter arrived in the Citadel. Young Arthur watched as the man pulled the covering off the cage with him, revealing a young boy, not that much older than Arthur, within, chained and terrified.

Uther stepped up to the bounty hunter, clapping him on the shoulder. “It’s good to see you, Aaron,” the king exclaimed gruffly. “What filth have you brought us today?”

The bounty hunter, Aaron, was a grisly man with beady eyes and a foul smell about him.

“Caught the whelp using magic on some crops, no doubt trying to poison the people who would’ve eaten them,” the large man growled.

Not paying attention, Arthur sidled closer to the cage, peering between the bars. The boy was scrawny and covered in open, weeping wounds. “Arthur, come away from there!” Uther barked, striding forward to yank his son back violently.

Uther spun his son to face him after wrenching him away from the cage. “Magic killed your mother, boy, I will not have it kill my heir too, understand?” Uther snarled, shaking Arthur for good measure.

“Yes sir,” was Arthur’s meek reply.

“The boy will burn at dawn,” Uther declared, handing the bounty hunter a bag which the man took greedily.

<->

Arthur was awoken by his nursemaid, Greta at dawn. “Come, little prince, your father wants you in the courtyard!” She announced, bustling about the room laying out his breakfast and clothing.

“Do I have to go, Miss Greta?” Arthur asked quietly, letting the older woman quickly and efficiently dress him. “I’m afraid so, little prince. Your father has insisted you be present, now eat up,” she said gently, eyes kindly and worried.

Arthur quietly ate an apple, unable to even think about trying to stomach something else. It never got easier, watching the executions his father forced him to attend. Only this time it was different. 

Usually, he was forced to stand beside his father on the balcony and watch as the knights lit the pyre. So why did his father want him down in the courtyard? He could feel dread beginning to build in himself.

“Come, Prince Arthur,” Greta said softly, gesturing to the door. Arthur hesitantly made his way out of his room, weaving through the maze of corridors. When he and Greta got to the courtyard, Arthur’s stomach squeezed at the sight of the pyre surrounded by guards armed with sharp spears.

“Boy, come here,” beckoned the king, and Arthur walked toward him, head down and nerves aflame. “Today, you will begin to follow in my footsteps and cement your support of my reign and legacy. Today, you will burn a sorcerer for the first time,” Uther commanded, and Arthur froze.

“But I don’t want to,” Arthur said quietly, scuffing at the cobblestones with his boot.

“What did you say, boy?” Arthur flinched, his father’s voice was stony and cold. A rough hand gripped his chin and forced Arthur to meet Uther’s gaze.

“Say that again, boy,” Uther snarled. Arthur remained silent, trying to look anywhere but at his father’s enraged face.

His vision went black for a second and was followed by a resounding agony. Stunned, Arthur finally looked at his father, who had just slapped him. “You will do as you are told, boy. And you will never question my authority again,” Uther spat, grabbing an unlit torch.

Uther thrust the torch at Arthur who wordlessly took it. When the sound of chains dragging on cobblestones reached his ears, Arthur looked up to see two of his father’s knights dragging the scrawny beaten boy between them.

The gathered crowd of spectators began to murmur.

“Make sure that he lights the pyre on my cue,” Uther hissed at one of the guards. The guard gazed sympathetically at Arthur but nodded. “Yes, my liege.”

Uther stiffly ascended to the balcony while the guards secured the young boy to the pyre.

“Let this serve as a lesson to all who have gathered. This boy with no name and no family has been found guilty of using magic and enchantments. Pursuant to the laws of Camelot, I, Uther Pendragon, have decreed that such practices are banned. I try when I can to be a lenient ruler, but for the crime of sorcery, there can be but one punishment,” Uther said, nodding to the guard.

“Light the torch, my prince,” the guard whispered, pointing to the brazier. Arthur stared blankly at the guard, who moved forward. “Here,” the guard said quietly, guiding Arthur’s hand to light the torch. The guard walked Arthur to the pyre and helped him light it.

The screams that day would haunt Arthur for years to come.

When Uther descended the balcony, he gripped Arthur tightly by the neck. “You shouldn’t have embarrassed me, boy. Sir Adnen,” Uther shouted, and the knight came over and bowed. “Yes, m’lord?” The hulking knight said.

Uther pointed at the guard who had helped Arthur. “Strike that guard down,” he ordered. Without hesitation, Sir Aden ran the guard through. “NO!” Arthur cried, rushing forward to catch the guard before he hit the cobblestones.

“Let this serve as a lesson, boy. Do not test my patience,” Uther snarled before stalking off. With a final shuddering breath, the guard went limp in Arthur’s arms.

Twenty Four Years After The Purge (Present Day)

Camelot’s Citadel

For what seemed like the billionth time, Arthur re-checked to make sure all of his armor was securely in place before going to one of the four draft horses that he and the patrol were bringing to haul Cold Iron weaponry.

“Are you packed, Arthur?” Uther asked, cold eyes sweeping over Arthur before flicking to the cart that two of the draft horses were attached to. His eyes then flicked to the other two draft horses hitched up to the net catapult.

“Yes, father,” Arthur replied stiffly, tugging on his scabbard to make sure it too was tightly secured to his person.

“Good. I take it the other knights are getting your steeds?” Arthur nodded in response, feeling a wash of relief when he looked to see Leon entering the courtyard with their mounts Hengroen and Llamrei.

Arthur ignored the other nine knights that trailed behind Leon, each with their own mounts. Arthur went to take Llamrei by the reins from Leon. “Thanks, Leon,” he said quietly, and the older knight offered him a smile.

“Mount up!” Arthur shouted to the other knights. One knight had attached the leads of the draft horses with the cart to his saddle and four knights surrounded the net catapult, one in front, one on either side and one behind with the leads attached to the knight in front’s saddle. 

“I hope that you won’t fail me today, Arthur,” Uther said in parting, voice cruel and eyes cold.

<->

Gwen and Morgana were on their way back from a walk through the woods picking herbs to help Gaius out when a patrol of eleven passed them.

“Arthur!” Morgana called in greeting, and Arthur halted the patrol. “Hello, Morgana. Guinevere,” he greeted, nodding at each woman.

“Where are you off to?” Morgana asked curiously, eyeing the large patrol. “My father has sent us out to hunt down a powerful sorcerer that has allegedly been spotted nearby,” Arthur responded, face void of emotion.

Morgana scowled. Uther sickened her to no end. “Good day, Arthur,” she said tersely, continuing walking toward the entrance to the Lower Town. “Morgana, wait up!” Gwen called, hurrying after her.

“Sorry, Gwen,” Morgana said, slowing down so that Gwen could catch up and keep pace with her. “The king infuriates me to no end,” Morgana said, shaking her head in irritation. “He just never leaves things be.”

Gwen nodded silently, not so inclined to voice any possibly treasonous ideas.

Seeming to sense her hesitance to speak, Morgana switched topics. “How about we go by Winnie’s stall and look at dresses, see if we can’t find you something?”

“Morgana, you don’t have to!” Gwen exclaimed. 

“Oh, but Gwen, you see, I want to treat you, please let me?” Morgana asked, batting her lashes at Gwen who blushed furiously.

“Alright,” Gwen agreed reluctantly and Morgana cheered, gently tugging Gwen toward the dressmaker’s stall.

“You look around, I’ll look too,” Morgana said cheerfully, looking at the racks of dresses. When she touched a bright red dress, everything went dark for a second before someone appeared, someone who wasn’t really there.

It was a man with sharp cheekbones, dark tousled hair, and bright, piercing blue eyes. He wore a neckerchief the exact color of the dress. His eyes flashed gold and Morgana’s flew open with a gasp as she staggered back from the red dress.

“Morgana? What happened?” Gwen asked, popping up from behind another rack of dresses before making her way to her mistresses side.

“I’m not sure, Gwen. I’m not sure,” Morgana said, rubbing her head.

<->

The patrol was about to enter the Darkling Woods when something blotted out the little sunlight filtering through the thick canopy of trees.

Some of the horses reared, eyes rolling in fright. The draft horses stayed calm and steady. 

“What the hell was that?” Arthur shouted at Leon, whose eyes were round with shock.

“It’s a dragon, sire!” He shouted, and Arthur looked up, gasping when he saw that it was, indeed, a dragon.

Prepare the net catapult!” He shouted at the knights, slipping off Llamrei’s back. The mare snorted, dancing sideways a bit but not bolting. Sir Ewen and Sir Anderson had unharnessed the draft horses hauling the net catapult and were positioning it.

“Fire when you get a shot!” Arthur ordered, squinting up at the canopy.

It was quiet for a few seconds before the sound of the net releasing broke the silence. A screech echoed throughout the woods as the Cold Iron chain net came in contact with the beast’s body.

In the next moment, the dragon was crashing through the canopy onto the forest floor, and an agonized whinny filled the space. As the dust cleared, one of the draft horses was pinned under the bulk of the enormous dragon.

The draft horse tried several times to drag itself hopelessly from under the dragon before going still, its breathing eventually ceasing.

The dragon let out a groan, writhing as it tried to free itself from the Cold Iron chains but only succeeding in tangling itself further. Arthur noted the strange slanted slits along its neck. They didn’t look like cuts but they were large and seemed to flare with each breath.

“What should we do, Sire?” Leon asked, watching the dragon as it shifted and groaned in pain. Before Arthur could answer, someone shouted something in a strange language and it sent the knights flying back, the remaining horses opting to bolt.

“The hell?” Arthur muttered, drawing his sword from his scabbard as he leaped back to his feet. His eyes narrowed when he saw three men standing in front of the dragon. One man was easily two heads taller than Arthur, and the other two had dark hair, one with longer hair than the other.

The tall man said something in the foreign language again and when his eyes flashed gold, Arthur realized he was a sorcerer. But as the golden glow faded, large walls of earth and stone shot up, hiding the men and dragon from view and protecting them.

Chapter Text

Sixteen Years After The Purge (Flashback)

Eden Woods, Camelot Territory

Run run run. The word runs on repeat through his mind as he crashes through the brush, uncaring as twigs and thorns cut and pull at his skin. He has to get away, get away before they find him and drag him back to that awful place.

Gwaine silently cursed his rotten sister, Amy. The bitch had sold him to a group of bandits at the age of sixteen and he had managed to escape at the age of eighteen and had been alone for four blessed years.

Of course, all good things must come to an end as the bandits had somehow found him. Amy probably found one of his letters to their mother. Gwaine continued to silently curse his witch of a sister when he crashed into something.

Landing on his back, pain exploded in Gwaine’s head. “Ow,” he groaned, hand going to feel his head where a lump was definitely forming. When he sat up, Gwaine blanched. Because the largest man he had ever seen was staring at him.

The giant offered Gwaine a hand, and he looked at it dubiously before hesitantly taking it, letting out a surprised yelp as the man easily hauled him to his feet. “You don’t happen to be part of a group of bandits, do you?” Gwaine finally managed to wheeze out after catching his breath.

The giant’s eyebrow furrowed in confusion. “No, I don’t,” he replied in a surprisingly soft voice. “Oh. Good to know. I’m Gwaine, by the way,” Gwaine said. The giant was about to reply when they both froze at the sound of twigs snapping and voices coming closer.

“Get down,” the giant hissed before beginning to mutter in a foreign language. It was strange, Gwaine had never heard this particular language before yet it seemed almost familiar in some way.

When the giant’s eyes flashed, he knew. The man was a sorcerer. He was also in Camelot. He was a sorcerer in Camelot. In Camelot. Did this man have a death wish? “The hell?” Gwaine hissed when the giant just fucking stood up like they weren’t trying to hide.

“Get down you bloody idiot!” Gwaine snapped, and the giant sent him a wry look. “I cast a spell that renders us unimportant to people in the immediate vicinity. The bandits won’t even pay attention to us if they do happen upon us,” he said dryly.

“Oh. So that’s what you were doing,” Gwaine replied weakly and the giant hummed. “Oh, I’m Percival by the way. Everyone calls me Percy,” the giant said, offering an amicable hand to Gwaine who took it and grasped it firmly. “Good to meet you, Percy,” he said with a smile.

“You too, Gwaine,” Percival said with a smile of his own. “You don’t have a place to stay, do you?” Percival inquired softly, and Gwaine shook his head, face falling. “Nah, been roughing it ever since those bastards caught up to me,” he responded darkly, kicking a pebble.

“Well, I’m a druid and my camp is nearby. Maybe you could spend a few nights at the very least?” Percival suggested, and Gwaine beamed. “That sounds swell, Percy. That sounds swell.”

<->

Twenty Four Years After The Purge (Present Day)

Darkling Woods, Camelot Territory

Gwaine was more than aware he and his pals were in a shit situation currently, thank you very much. He, Lancelot, and Percival were working to get the Cold Iron chain net off of Merlin, who was moaning in agony and shifting, making it harder to remove the chains.

“Sorry, Merls, we know this sucks,” Gwaine said, letting out a triumphant sound when he managed to remove a part of the chain net that was caught on one of his spinal ridges. Lancelot also managed to yank off the chain net where it was caught on another sharp ridge, and Percival removed the last one with a smile.

“We’re all done, Merlin. Do you need a moment before we patch you up?” Percival asked, bunching the Cold Iron into a heap with a look of disgust as he flung it as far away as possible in the walled-in area he had created with walls made of stone and earth.

“No, I’m good,” Merlin grunted, propping himself up on his forearms. “Let’s get this over with.” Lancelot nodded, looking Merlin over to assess his wounds, noticing three major burns; one below his protruding shoulder ridge on his front left leg, one along his right side, and one large one over his gills on his left side.

“I’ll take the shoulder,” Lancelot called out, scaling the ridges along Merlin’s front leg until he was at the jutting out shoulder ridge, which he straddled and began performing a spell to first clean the burn of any debris.

“I’ve got gills,” Gwaine shouted, clambering up the ridges on the other side of Merlin’s left leg so that he could swing himself up and settle on Merlin’s neck toward the left so he could access Merlin’s gills.

Percival climbed up Merlin’s right back leg and settled close to the middle of Merlin’s back within touching distance of the nasty burn on his side. Percival and Gwaine followed Lancelot’s lead in performing cleaning spells on the wounds.

“All at once?” Lancelot asked.

“May as well get the horrible part over with,” Merlin grunted in agreement. Simultaneously, all three men put their hands directly on the burns and hissed out the spell “seal the skin and mend the wound.” Merlin snarled and bucked, jerking at the unpleasant feeling of his skin closing over.

Gwaine, Percival, and Lancelot had climbed off of Merlin by the time he began inspecting his newly healed wound. Left behind were swathes of scars. Merlin turned toward them and fanned out his ruff in gratitude. “Thank you,” he rumbled to his friends who simply smiled in reply.

Percival’s face suddenly crumpled as a wave of realization washed over him, causing him to stagger. Gwaine turned to face his friend and frowned. “Perce, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Oh hells, I just remembered that I used magic. In front of a patrol of bloody Camelot knights,” Percival breathed, and Gwaine screwed up his nose in confusion. “Perce, we were already riding a dragon, I think your magic won’t matter as much as the treason lizard.”

Merlin snorted and thwacked Gwaine gently in the back of the head with the feathered end of his tail. “OI!”

“Don’t call me a treason lizard,” Merlin said, rolling his eyes in amused irritation. Gwaine smirked at him. “Okay, Merls,” he responded cheekily. “Lancelot, can you call Jael? I have a feeling we’ll be stuck here for a while and we should send word to the Camp,” Merlin said.

Lancelot closed his eyes and a few moments later a sleek merlin hopped through the small opening where the stone and earth walls met. Gwaine snorted. “I still think it’s fucking hilarious your familiar is a merlin,” he said, and Lancelot gave him a good-natured shove.

“Hello, Jael. Could you take a message back to Brunna and tell her we may not be back for a while? Tell her we don’t need back up but we will send for help if needed,” Lancelot said and Jael let out a soft cry before taking off once more.

“We’re all gonna die,” Gwaine said in a deadpan voice, which earned him another thwack to the head from Merlin’s tail. Percival grimaced. “That spell is gonna wear off soon, and I just know those knights will be waiting to skewer us the moment the walls come down.”

Before anyone else could say anything Merlin swooped the three men close to his body with his tail which knocked them off their feet. “Merls, why?” Gwaine grumbled, standing up before being forced back down. Satisfied, Merlin curled his tail around them.

“I’m protecting my hoard,” Merlin said, delight evident in his voice. Percival let out a snort, Lancelot sighed, and Gwaine groaned.

<->

When something began rumbling Leon was the first to scramble to his feet, sword drawn and ready. He watched as the walls summoned by the sorcerer finally came down and- oh, wow, the dragon is much bigger than he first thought.

Nonsense. Leon shook himself and narrowed his eyes. Right in front of the dragon, three people were encircled by its… tail?

There! Leon recognized the man who had cast the spell, his hair was shorn close to his head and he was very tall and very muscular. Leon blanched and found himself relieved when Arthur came to stand beside him.

“What should we do, my prince?” Leon asked quietly, watching Arthur watch the odd ensemble before them. Before Arthur could respond, the dragon suddenly glared at them. “Do try and mind your manners, gentlemen!” The dragon snapped, much to all the knights’ shock.

“Did it just talk?” Sir Ewen asked, blinking stupidly.

“Yes, I just talked. And I am not an ‘it!’” The dragon spat indignantly. The tall man nodded sagely. “He doesn’t enjoy being called an ‘it’,” he conceded.

This can’t be happening. Perhaps I’ve eaten something bad, Leon thought to himself, unable to comprehend what was unfolding before him. The dragon fixed him with an amused look. “I assure you, Sir Leon, you are perfectly lucid.”

Leon gaped as the dragon continued, “as I was saying, I am not an ‘it’ I am Merlin,” the dragon huffed. One of the older knights, Sir Daniel, stared incredulously at the dragon. “You’re a dragon…. named after a bird?” The enthusiastically nodding dragon only baffled the group more.

“Oi, mate, no need to insult his name,” sniped a man with long dark hair. Leon observed as the dragon swatted him with its… his? feathered tail. “Merlin! I’m defending you! Don’t smack me!” The long-haired man scolded, seemingly affronted at being swatted.

“Ain’t a damsel, Gwaine. Shut it,” the dragon scolded, locking eyes with the long-haired man to start a staring contest. “Merlin, Gwaine, can you please try to be somewhat serious right now? We’re in a bit of a predicament,” the third man said exasperatedly. He had shorter dark hair and a well-groomed mustache. 

The dragon, Merlin, faced the man with shorter dark hair. “You are, as usual, correct, oh glorious Sir Knight Lancelot. Do be our ambassador,” the dragon said, smugness dripping from his tone. “Do you want me to tell Elle what happened when we get back, Merlin?” That shut the dragon up quickly.

Leon turned to address Arthur, noticing that the young prince was now standing beside him. “Uh, so, orders, my prince?” He asked quietly, unsure how to proceed. “It’s sentient,” Arthur said bluntly, pointing his sword at the dragon.

The dragon’s ruff flared angrily in response, and the dragon opened his mouth as if to speak but the sorcerer beat him to it. “Um, Prince Arthur, could you please address him with male pronouns? He doesn’t enjoy people assuming he’s just an object,” the sorcerer said reasonably.

Arthur’s brow furrowed. Uh oh. 

“And why should I care about what it wants?” Arthur asked curiously, and the dragon lunged to stand.

“You little shit,” the dragon hissed, and the other knights stepped forward to engage the dragon in battle if needed.

Abruptly, the dragon turned his attention back to the men at his feet. “Kilgharrah has to be wrong about this prophecy shit, right? If they put this ditz on the throne Camelot will fall within a week of his coronation,” the dragon said dubiously, looking between Lancelot and Arthur.

Arthur’s face turned bright red, and he marched forward, much to the alarm of the knights, especially Leon. “Who are you to judge me, dragon? It’s a relief we wiped out the rest of your kind before they could cause any more damage!” Arthur shouted, and Leon could sense this would be the last straw.

With an enraged snarl, the large dragon lunged at Arthur. And then the clearing filled with a blinding light.

<->

Screw it. Gwaine knew if he didn’t intervene Merlin would shred the pompous prince into ribbons, destiny or not. He pushed his body to shift and could feel the changes, the reshaping, and enlarging bones.

Gwaine lunged at Merlin and crashed into the other dragon, shoving him off the path from trampling the prince. Merlin let out a surprised roar and Gwaine groaned, flopping on the ground next to Merlin. It was like running into a boulder. Everything hurts.

“Gwaine,” Merlin growled, and he shrugged.

“Sorry, I kind of promised Kilgharrah I would make sure you didn’t kill the prince. No matter what he did,” Gwaine explained apologetically, and Merlin huffed angrily. “Traitor,” Merlin snapped, swatting Gwaine’s snout hard with his tail, making the latter yelp in pain.

Merlin suddenly perked up. “Whose the treason lizard now?” Gwaine rolled his eyes, taking the opportunity to look back at the knights. Half looked horrified and half looked furious. Not good. The prince looked white as a sheet. That was okay, he deserved it.

“There’s two now?!” The tall ginger knight bellowed.

“Oh dear Sir Leon, are you going to pop a blood vessel?” Merlin asked, actually looking concerned. Gwaine found this strangely hysterical and made it known by guffawing, which in turn got a bunch of spears aimed at him. Fucking rude.

“Well, this has been fun lads,” Gwaine began, inching closer to Percival, “but we’ve had enough and are going to take our leave,” Merlin finished. With that, Gwaine took to the sky, gently winding his tail around Percival to take him with him, Merlin doing the same with Lancelot.

Gwaine knew this would come back to bite them, but for now, he flipped off the rapidly disappearing knights.

Chapter Text

Six Years Before The Purge (Flashback)

Daste, Caerleon

In the small, densely populated town of Daste, a shapeless cloud of mist moved through the darkened streets in the dead of night. It gently drifted down the street, coming to a halt outside of a large home with ornate, decorative lions.

The cloud of mist pulsed for a brief moment, glowing subtly before moving through the front door unhindered. Unnoticed, the mist floated through the house, up the stairs where it stopped outside of the second door to the right of the hallway.

Once more, the cloud of mist glowed and pulsed gently before moving through the door into the bedroom of Sir Samuel Gennan and his wife, Lady Anne Gennan. Ignoring the two slumbering adults, the cloud made its way silently to the cradle in the corner of the room.

Briefly, the cloud pulsed and glowed once more, setting a silencing spell into place. Once the spell was cast, the cloud of mist began to solidify into a corporeal form; a lithe, wolf-hound size dragon took the place of the cloud of mist.

The dragon had long, graceful arching sails along its spine, along with a deep chest and narrow waist. The dragon looked down into the cradle, where a pudgy newborn stared back at it. “Hello, young Sir Gwaine,” the dragon rumbled in a voice both young and old, female and male, stern and kind.

The newborn gurgled in interest. “I am the Dragon Goddess, young knight. My true name cannot be spoken in the human tongue, but you may come to know me as Veda,” the dragon continued softly, gently placing one of her claws into the cradle. Gwaine giggled and gripped the claw, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Tough times are coming your way soon, young knight, and from what I’ve glimpsed into the future, you are worthy for me to bestow the gift of soul-bonding with dragons to you. My heart aches for the hardships you will face, but they will form you into an impenetrable pillar of strength.”

Taking a step back, Veda breathed deeply before closing her eyes. "As the reckoning of my children approaches, let the new dawn of my children reside within this worthy child, pure of heart and pillar of strength. Let him bring about the new age of my children with the last Dragonlord," Veda rumbled, eyes burning gold.

With the spell spoken, Veda breathed out over the infant, covering him in a gentle sheen of dust. “Farewell, young sir knight,” she whispered, slipping her corporeal form and disappearing into the night. In the cradle, Gwaine Gennan’s eyes burned gold.

Twenty Four Years After The Purge (Present Day)

Eden Woods, Camelot Territory

Once the Camelot knights were long out of sight, Merlin placed Lancelot on his back with his tail, watching Gwaine do the same with Percival. “Where are we going?” Gwaine asked as Merlin rocketed past Camp Da’al without even glancing at it.

“Kilgharrah,” was Merlin’s clipped, one-word response. He wanted answers and by the Triple Goddess, he was going to get them. Once the White Mountains were within sight, Merlin sped up exponentially, not even feeling Lancelot grip onto him tighter.

Distantly, Merlin heard Gwaine yelp before catching up so they were flying side by side. Gwaine shot Merlin a dry look, which the irritated Warlock ignored. Finally, outside the opening to the cave that Kilgharrah had made his home, Merlin alighted neatly, Gwaine landing more heavily. Percival scrambled off Gwaine’s back just before the latter shifted back, breathing heavily.

Merlin swung his head around, catching Lancelot hitting the ground after climbing down his leg ridges. Satisfied Lancelot and Percival would take care of Gwaine, Merlin stalked in Kilgharrah’s cave, only to halt at what he saw.

Kilgharrah was sleeping, and it looked like one of his wings had been violently mauled. “Kilgharrah?” He called tentatively, and the Great Dragon calmly opened his eyes. “Yes, young Warlock?” Kilgharrah responded, slowly rising to his feet.

“What happened to your wing?” Merlin asked, and Kilgharrah turned his head to look at his damaged wing. Kilgharrah turned his gaze back to Merlin before letting out a deep sigh.

“I am old, Merlin,” the Great Dragon responded simply, and Merlin felt his heart squeeze painfully. “What are you saying? You can’t be dying, we can find a way to heal you!” Merlin insisted.

“Do not grieve me, Merlin. It is simply the cycle of life. I have lived many lifetimes, and soon I will return to the earth from which my ancestors were molded. And though it saddens me that I am likely the last of my kind, the pain is softened with the knowledge that my kin will live on through you and Sir Gwaine.”

Merlin bowed his head, unexpected pain filling his heart at losing his cryptic mentor. Lancelot and Percival came into the cave, propping Gwaine between them. “Killy, is it true?” Gwaine asked quietly. When Kilgharrah simply nodded instead of rebuking Gwaine’s silly nickname for him, the latter’s face fell.

Before anyone else could speak, a blinding light filled the cave along with a deafening noise, leaving everyone incapacitated.

<->

When Gwaine could finally see and hear again, he was shocked to be looking at a dragon easily twice the size of Kilgharrah. The next thing he noticed was that they were in the open plain in front of the White Mountains. 

Makes sense, they wouldn’t have been able to fit into Killy’s cave, Gwaine mused to himself. He was startled when the dragon swung their head to face him, eyes glittering with amusement. “No, I wouldn’t have been able to fit into Kilgharrah’s cave, young knight,” the dragon said in a voice both young and old, female and male.

Gwaine had the strangest feeling, this dragon that he could never have seen before, they seemed almost familiar. “I’m sorry, but do I know you somehow?” Gwaine asked, and the familiar yet strange dragon let out a soft churring laugh.

“Indeed you do, young knight,” the dragon purred. “I am the Dragon Goddess, known to mortals as Veda. Though I suspect young Emrys might be able to say my true name,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.

Veda suddenly shook her head. “Apologies, I’m getting off track. I’m here for three reasons,” the goddess proclaimed. “Firstly, I know how to obtain the last dragon egg.” There was a stunned silence.

“As the myth has been heard, the last egg is in the tomb of Ashkanar. To enter the tomb, you must have the key. One piece is guarded within these very mountains by a griffin that Ashkanar himself asked to guard it. The griffin will only give the piece to someone pure of heart,” Veda explained, the warning at the end darkening the mood.

“That would be you, sir Gwaine.” Gwaine looked up at Veda in surprise. “Me? Why? I am many things but I am not pure of heart,” he said, fidgeting about uncertainly. Veda smiled gently at him. “I chose to give you the powers of a Dragonlord because I saw the man you would become. You are pure of heart and the griffin will accept you,” she said kindly, reaching out a claw to gently touch his forehead.

“I will now unlock your full potential so that you and Emrys may go forth to find your courage,” Veda rumbled. As she touched her claw to Gwaine’s forehead, his world exploded into vibrance. Everything suddenly felt alive. 

And then he shifted. He was now the same height as Merlin in dragon form, and they had similar features such as gills and three sets of eyes. Veda looked between Merlin and Gwaine. “The time of your destiny is nearing, you must make yourselves whole,” she commanded before turning to Kilgharrah, her eyes softening.

“My child,” she murmured, walking over to embrace Kilgharrah in her wings. “As there are no others to do so, I will perform your ascension ceremony,” she said quietly. Kilgharrah’s eyes shone brightly. “Thank you,” he whispered.

As Kilgharrah lay down in front of Veda, eyes slowly closing, the goddess began. “On swift wings may you find the next world. May you find your love, your happiness, your family within. As you are returned to the earth, you will be remembered as all before you were and all after you will be.” 

With a final heaving breath, Kilgharrah lay still.

“Find your third,” Veda instructed, and then she was gone.

Chapter Text

So, I'm not happy with the current contents of this story. I'll be rewriting it completely but probably keep certain elements from this story with some lines plucked straight from this. I'll leave this up, but it will be tagged as abandoned.