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It was a lovely day in the kingdom of Camelot. The sky was blue, the birds were singing, a boy and his dragon were walking down the main road, and there was the distinct smell of spring in the air.
‘Don’t fly ahead, Aithusa!’ Merlin called out in a chiding manner as she leapt forwards, the stunted white dragon crooning pitifully as she swung her long neck back and forth, eager to scout up ahead. Merlin shook his head at her. ‘We’re too close to normal patrol routes, now. You can’t fly around anytime you like anymore—and don’t give me that look! You know very well what could happen if you’re caught!’
Scolded, the ancient dragon stopped and waited for her master, who she called father. Merlin fondly scratched under the ridge of her temple, right where she needed him too. As he patted her head, he made sure the illusion disguising her remained intact, a necessity considering Aithusa’s scales regularly causing the magic to slide right off her. If not for the need to keep Aithusa hidden, Merlin wouldn’t have bothered, but the world was unkind to magical creatures and so, he was forced to apply the illusion of the palest wolfhound he’d ever seen atop Aithusa’s serpentine body.
‘We’re nearly there,’ he reminded her, walking along the path and coincidentally coming up onto the ridge where they could see Camelot in all her glory. Merlin breathed heavily at the sight of her, happy beyond measure and aggrieved beyond reckoning.
Arthur, he thought, feeling Aithusa nudge his arm in a comforting gesture. Merlin put on a small smile, knowing she could see right through him.
Injecting a false levity into his gait, Merlin brought on his old servant guise, waving to the patrolling knights as they passed, just as he knew they would. He saw more than a few look at Aithusa in alarm, Merlin fighting to keep his laughter to himself as he saw Leon among the rabble, eyes wide at the sight of his pony-sized companion.
‘Afternoon!’ He said cheerily, to which Leon blinked rapidly before he finally replied.
‘Afternoon,’ the knight said, stuttering slightly. He looked Aithusa in the eye, brown meeting gold, before tentatively saying, ‘Hello, there.’
‘This is Aithusa. She’s my baby girl,’ Merlin introduced her, unable to keep the coo from his voice as Aithusa snuffled against his shoulder, only having to lean his head down slightly to kiss her nose. He heard the knights’ horses nickering nervously as her scent started to make its way around the clearing and secretly nudged his mind against theirs, calming the dozen beasts of burden who knew all too well there was a predator hidden somewhere.
‘Are- will you be heading to Camelot on business?’ asked Leon, still caught off-guard by Aithusa’s sheer size.
‘Yeah—Uncle Gaius is taking me on as an apprentice healer!’ Merlin beamed at the knight, deciding to revel in their meeting. It wouldn’t do to despair needlessly, not when he had so many other friends to re-meet.
Leon looked him up and down, eyebrow rising as he finally found his equilibrium. ‘I didn’t know Gaius had a nephew.’
‘My mother, Hunith, is his half-sister,’ said Merlin, recounting his mother’s lineage in a bored, rote manner. ‘Gaius was the son of Ninian and Agostina and then, when Agostina died, Ninian took a mistress who had Hunith and another uncle who we never see, because he’s nasty and we don’t like him—and then, there was me. Merlin.’
‘Merlin,’ Leon repeated, before glancing at Aithusa. ‘And you’re bringing…that, into Camelot? Permanently?’
Frowning, Merlin asked him, ‘Does she need a permit? She hunts her own rabbits. The kennel-master won’t have anything to do with her.’
‘Uh-’ Leon was clearly bamboozled by the whole conversation. Looking to his fellow knights, he eventually said, ‘If it becomes a problem, we’ll let you know. Give my name at the gate: Sir Leon. Welcome to Camelot, Merlin—and don’t tarry on the road. It’ll be getting dark, soon.’
‘Alright. Have a nice day.’
As the knights rode off, Merlin felt a shudder run down his back, realising he’d just finished his first interaction with one of his friends from Camelot. It had been different back in Ealdor—he was just a child again, and children were strange, sometimes. He’d had his toddling years to cry over Will and his mother, to make friends again and convince everyone that no, it wasn’t a problem that he was being followed around by a dog who looked liked she could have eaten him for breakfast. Only his mother had ever seen Aithusa in dragon form—or so Merlin hoped—and while it had let him learn his father’s name earlier than in the original timeline, that didn’t mean he’d actually changed anything outside of his little village.
Meeting Leon changed things. Merlin didn’t think he’d originally met Leon except in passing for at least a half-year after he first arrived in Camelot, an introduction now irreversibly erased. Merlin was, to Leon, Gaius’ future apprentice who happened to have a ginormous dog. He wasn’t Arthur’s manservant. Not someone who’d saved his prince’s life multiple times…
‘I hope things don’t go too far off the rails,’ he muttered to Aithusa as they finally approached the castle, gut tightening at the sight of all the merry peoples around the marketplace. It surprised him, in a morbid fashion, just how many he could name on sight. There was Nicholas the baker, Anna with the lopsided ears who died of the plague, Bartholemew, Sybil, Eryn—she’d have the set of twins, Merlin recalled—and even that stupid cat who used to live down by the blacksmith shop. It was deaf as a post after all those years listening to Tom hammering out swords and armour for the knights.
With Aithusa at his side, he got more than his own fair share of looks, a new feeling after Merlin had spent the last eighteen years being known in Ealdor as ‘that boy with the dog’. Aithusa herself was sniffing around like mad, bounding from place to place. She even stopped once to let a trio of children pat her, licking their faces until Merlin called her onwards, shaking his head at her antics.
‘You’ll be mobbed,’ he joked, before moving onwards to the castle. The two guards tried to redirect him to the stables at one point, clearly thinking Aithusa was a new hunting dog, but Merlin told them what he told Sir Leon, the knight’s name getting him a free pass into the square.
Inside, his smile fell, as the execution of Thomas Collins was already underway, the grieving mother screaming at Uther that she would have her vengeance. He was late. From the shadow of the archway, Merlin watched as she spun away into the winds, his eyes tracing the magic as it spun off into the distance.
Making sure he kept a hand on Aithusa’s neck, Merlin led the dragon around the courtyard, keeping her face against his side so as to avoid her seeing Thomas’ body. There was no doubting that she could smell the blood, but not even a thousand years could stop him from wanting to protect her from the cruelties of men. He asked the guards for instructions to Gaius’ quarters, then made his way to see his uncle.
That was where things become…gelatinous.
Stride slowing to a stop, Merlin felt a strange magic attempt to ensnare him, the dark corridor where he was walking becoming filled with a small bank of fog. Aithusa sharpened to attention, but she didn’t growl, looking almost curiously into a nearby alcove.
‘What is this?’ Merlin questioned sharply, looking to the shadow. Aithusa sniffed the air in confusion.
A familiar melodic voice whistled through the hallway.
‘For some reason, I didn’t expect to see you looking so young, Emrys.’ Stepping into the light, Morgana’s eyes flared gold for the briefest of seconds, causing the fog to fade. At the height of her beauty once more, she dressed in emeralds of old, hair braided in a crown around her head. A delicate steel tiara sat tucked into her curls. ‘I wish you no harm.’
Merlin stayed quiet, reserving judgement. He hadn’t expected Morgana to be here. At his silence, Morgana hummed and instead looked to Aithusa, who crept forwards inch by inch. Merlin heard her voice within his mind, not often heard, asking, ‘Is it the mother I know?’
A flicker of regret ignited in his chest. ‘Yes, Aithusa,’ he murmured, Morgana’s neutral expression turning to joy in an instant. She dropped to her knees, Aithusa leaping to practically bowl her over into the wall as the dragon cried into her chest. Morgana was shaking, not letting herself sob aloud as her arms wrapped around Aithusa’s neck. How long had it been since she last saw her companion, Merlin wondered—how long had she resigned herself to never seeing Aithusa again?
‘Have you changed things?’
She choked out a short, ‘Have you?’ to which Merlin shook his head. Morgana brushed her hand over Aithusa’s snout, eyes glistening as she smiled at their dragon child, before turning her gaze on him. Some of her enthusiasm faded, but her sincerity was genuine as she said, ‘Not much. I threw a fit when Uther took me as his ward and called him out on taking me in because I was his bastard. Arthur and I joined forces at a young age to have him acknowledge me. Gaius turned out to be my ally in that.’ Her lips pursed, as if remembering what Merlin knew of her opinion on the old physician. ‘I have kept neutrality, just as you promised the Triple Goddess. We share that vow.’
Under his breath, Merlin cursed. ‘I had thought to use you in my stead,’ he told her, meaning the Morgana who hadn’t remembered. This Morgana—the High Priestess, the Witch—immediately glared at him in an only slightly malevolent way.
‘You will not use people like that. Our oath is to fulfil the Prophecy of the Albion Cycle and keep the peace. We cannot do that if you try to manipulate the outcomes or play god.’
‘But half of Arthur’s antagonists are magical beings!’ Merlin argued, already feeling a headache coming on. ‘You barely know the half of it, Morgana, the things I had to protect him from…’
‘We shall figure it out.’
The sorcerer scoffed. ‘There is no we.’
‘Oh?’ Morgana stood tall, spine straight as she bestowed upon Merlin a false smile. ‘I think there will be. I wield power, here, Emrys. I’m a princess of Camelot, after all,’ her voice was simpering, ‘All it would take was a word.’
Threats. How lovely. Merlin rolled his eyes, then tapped his leg. Aithusa crooned mournfully, before slinking over to his side, Morgana looking at their shared child in betrayal—for as much as Merlin might hate her, Aithusa was theirs. He could not deny that. He also could not deny he felt a twist of pleasure at her sorrowed expression.
‘For Albion,’ said Merlin, voice as cold as the White Mountains. Morgana matched him tone for tone.
‘For Albion.’
And so began a new era.