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Chapter Text

“Surrender yourself! There’s nowhere to run.” Arthur’s harsh words echoed through the small, dark alley. A boy no more than seventeen stood there with his back against the wall. His shoulder-length brown, matted hair was wet with sweat after the furious chase. His breath came in short gasps and his eyes searched desperately the alley, like a cornered animal, looking for a way out. But there was none. The king’s knights were blocking the only exit.

He was searching for a spell that would do some good in this situation, but his magic was useless now. Opening a prison cell was one thing, but he was quite untrained in sorcery, and the few spells he had learnt were only good for making plants grow faster. And now he was going to die for it.

Suddenly a man appeared seemingly out of nowhere, gasping just as hard as the boy.

“You ’eard the prince! Come on, boy, back to your cage. Now!” The man breathed out menacingly.

“Excuse me, but who are you?” Asked said prince with a confused frown. He was annoyed with everything at this point that kept him further from his bed. The bells had roused him from his sleep, to chase some sorcerer who had escaped from the dungeons. It was almost dawn, just three hours till his execution.

Merlin too had been roused from his sleep, and had gone to see what the commotion had been. He had watched the scene unfold from a distance, covered in shadows. What he saw took his breath away. The boy with his back to the wall looked quite similar to him, and he also had magic. It easily could have been him.

“M’name’s Dugan.” Said the man with a deep bow towards Arthur. “I’m a bounty hunter, sire. I captured this boy on me way to Camelot.” Merlin only saw the man from profile, but he instantly felt repulsed. If not for his profession, than for the man himself, for he was a disgusting example of mankind. A man nobody in their right mind wanted to be around. His clothes, while expensive, were tasteless and dirty, his hair unkempt just like the boys’ he was so proud to have captured, and he had no teeth, just a black hole gaped back at the prince when he opened his mouth. Even his accent put Merlin off, he was obviously not from Camelot, and he wished that people like this wouldn’t exist anywhere in the world.

“Well, thank you…Dugan.” Said Arthur. “I’m sure, you’ll get your well-earned reward from my father, but we can take care of this now. You are no longer needed here.” He just wanted to put the boy back into his cell and go back to bed.

“I’m sure you can, sire, but you are tired, and yer guards are not so capable, it seems. They already let him escape once. Believe me when I say, he’s a sorcerer and a dangerous one at that. M’cage were designed with sorcerers in mind, there’s no way he can open that one.” He said in a derisive tone and he drew his thin mouth into a mocking smile which he instantly disguised with another, unnecessarily low bow. Suddenly a cart with a big cage appeared, ridden by a man equally as repulsive as Dugan. “Ah, thank you, Blothan. If you allow it, sire, my assistant will put the boy in there, and we’ll guard him with our lives until his time to die comes.”

Arthur gave up at this point. He wasn’t in the mood to argue, and definitely didn’t want to be roused again because of this boy, so he nodded.

Merlin felt sick as he saw Blothan walk up to the boy and grab him by the shoulders. At first he tried to struggle but then the assistant whispered something in his ear that made him accept his fate and he allowed himself to be dragged to the cage.

The prince and his knights retired, leaving the two men, and the boy alone, but Merlin stayed. Something told him that these men were up to something, and he shouldn’t leave the poor boy alone. He knew he was beyond saving now, but still, he was reluctant to leave.

He was so caught up in staring at the cage that he failed to realize that Dugan disappeared. Suddenly someone caught him from behind, a strong, grimy hand covered his mouth preventing him from uttering a sound, and he was spun around.

“What are you doing ’ere, boy?” He whispered threateningly, then his eyes went wide, and his jaw dropped. Merlin realized that he had his teeth, every single one of them, but they were also covered in grime, so they remained unseen until his face came within inches from his. “You…you have magic!” The man mused, his accent dropped instantly and Merlin was seized by a whirl of panic. He was sure his life was over.

Dugan suddenly released him, and for the first time, Merlin saw his eyes. They were intelligent and deep, so deep that he lost himself in them for a moment. They were so in contrast with the whole appearance that he refused to believe they belonged to this man.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. Just make sure you go back to your bed, and forget this whole night. You haven’t seen anything, right?” He smiled and went back to the cart, leaving Merlin there dumbfounded.

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Three hours later the bells roused him again. Uther was furious when they found the cart abandoned and the cage empty just outside the gates of Camelot. Only a small piece of paper was left there with a little flower with five petals made of red wax on it, and a strange rhyme.

“They seek him here, they seek him there,
Those Britons seek him everywhere,
Is he in heaven?-Or is he in hell?
That damned, elusive Pimpernel.”

Merlin wished more people like Dugan existed. Or whatever his real name was.

Chapter Text

In the hours that followed Uther’s outburst a silence fell over the castle.

What little information Merlin could gather surprised him. This wasn’t the first time a sorcerer escaped justice, leaving only a little paper with a flower-shaped seal on it behind. But the king forbid everyone to talk about it, discretion was demanded in such delicate situations.

There had been rumours before, sure, and Merlin had heard all that, but never from Arthur or Uther. From random people on the market, from maids that liked a little gossip, and who were more often than not terribly misinformed.

He could remember clearly how Uther had reacted when the rumors had first started about such an incident. He had been furious and had wanted to put an end to them.

A huge crowd had been assembled the next day to hear what the king had had to say in the matter.

“I herefore declare that the rumours of a mysterious personage helping enemies of the realm escape are without foundation.” His voice had been strong and confident. He had known that no one would have questioned what he had been saying. “We can assure you there had been no such escapes, and there's no such rescuer. Furthermore, in Camelot, no sorcerer can hope to be saved by anybody.” He had greatly stressed the word anybody.

That had been all a lie, Merlin now knew the truth without a doubt. And so did a small crowd who had been there when the king lost his temper that morning. While the king’s residence bathed in silence, word among the people spread like wildfire. Some were scared, some were joyous but no one dared to comment on the news.

Meanwhile Uther paced the throne room knowing that the damage had been done. He didn’t want to face anyone, not even his own son. He had brought this upon himself, he should be the one to deal with it. He chose the method he had always been the best in. Lies. He could probably deceive the people, but he had to accept the truth. There was someone that had to be dealt with, and fast. He couldn’t swipe this under the rug anymore.

Sorcerers must be given no hope. They are a threat to the crown. His crown.

Chapter Text

Merlin was roused from his sleep in the middle of the night by noises coming from outside of his room. He quickly grabbed some clothes and went to see what the ruckus was about.

When he stepped out he saw a little boy spread out on Gaius’ table and a woman crying beside him. The physician was searching through his books in a hurry to find the proper remedy. He looked calm and professional but Merlin instantly caught the worry in his eyes.

“What happened?”

“Ah, Merlin! I’ll need rosemary, garlic and hawthorn.” Gaius looked up from the book to look at him.

As he moved to the table and took a closer look at the small patient he was shocked.

The boy’s body was covered in sweat, his skin turned a dark colour where big ulcers festered on his limbs and his whole form was spasming violently.

“Merlin!” Gaius shouted.

As if woken from a trance, Merlin walked to the shelf to gather the ingredients the old man needed for the treatment.

“Please, don’t let him die!” Cried the woman clinging to his son’s limp hand. Gaius gently guided her out.

“Don’t worry, we’ll do everything we can, trust me. You can’t stay here, but we shall send for you if there any change in his condition.”

After he heard the door close behind the mother, Merlin turned to the old man again with the herbs in his hands.

“What’s the matter with him?”

“I wish I knew.” The physician sighed and started on the potion. “I’ve never seen anything like this, only on a battlefield. It looks like some sort of infection, but I have no idea what illness can cause such symptoms for I’ve found no open wounds.” He pointed to the open book. “Would you search for any natural illness that can cause such necrosis?“

“But you can save him.” Merlin said unconvinced as he started going through the pages.

Gaius looked at him knowingly.

“He’s dying. We don’t have much time”.

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“Do you think I should bathe in my clothes today?”

Merlin’s head snapped up to look into the prince’s eyes, then to his own hands only to realize he had started buttoning up his shirt which he had previously unbuttoned.

“Sorry, Sire.”

“Where are you today, Merlin?” Arthur queried none too pleased and swatted the servant’s hand away to undress himself.

Before Merlin could apologize, there was a knock on the door.

“Enter.” The prince shouted as he stepped behind the screen.

A guard entered and with a small bow of his head he addressed the unseen royalty.

“Sire, the court physician asks if he could use your highness’ servant for a while. He says he needs some help with the patients.”

“You mean the boy?” Merlin chipped in.

“Yes, and the rest of them.” He told them, and waited for the prince’s response who stepped out from behind the screen surprised, unconcerned about his state of undress.

“What rest?”

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Arthur had been soaking in the bath when there was a knock on his chamber’s door once again, but this time the guard barged in without waiting for permission to enter.

“Your highness, your presence is required in the throne room immediately.”

The prince sensed the urgency in the statement and got up to get dressed. He knew that his father wouldn’t have sent for him in this manner without a weighty reason.
He jumped in his clothes hastily and followed the guard without delay.

When he entered the throne room he found Uther leaning heavily on the table in the company of four of his knights, talking animatedly.

The king looked at his son and worry wrinkled his brow.

“Arthur! We’ve received alarming reports from the lower town. A strange winged creature had been spotted on more than one occasion. I want you to investigate at once.”

“A man was seen with the creature.” Sir Leon interjected. “A sorcerer.”

“It’s official then. We are under attack.” The king’s fist came crashing down the table. That was the last thing he needed. If that mysterious rescuer figure wouldn’t have been enough, now they had this creature and a spreading illness in the lower town.

“The lower town should be closed down until we can be sure it’s safe.”

“Yes, father.” Arthur affirmed. “But what will happen with the people there if they can no longer bring their sick ones to Gaius?”

The glance Uther threw his way showed no compassion.

“We have priorities.” And with that, the discussion was over.

The prince went out uneasily to gather his knights. His history with mysterious winged creatures wasn’t one of utmost success. He prayed that this time the creature would prove to be mortal and defeatable.

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When Merlin arrived to the attic, it was already packed with sick people. They more or less showed the same symptoms, some to a greater extent than the other.

The children and the older ones were affected more gravely, but there were also strong-looking young men and women with only dark patches on their skins. The latter group were for the most part conscious, which gave the physician a lot more work to ease their pain which appeared to be great.

When Gaius spotted his apprentice he quickly walked towards him.

“Did they tell you what happened to them?” The young man asked looking around.

“Yes.” The old man nodded. “Their minds are clouded with pain, but they are almost mad with fear. They’re all talking about magic, and of seeing a big, green, winged creature. According to their description, I think it’s a dragon breed.”

Chapter Text

“Please Mylord, tell me more about what happened after the boy had escaped! I’ve been dying to know since the first guests walked in.” She laughed merrily, and with a twinkle in her eyes she glanced at the boy who sat quietly at the end of the table.

Count Rathar followed her gaze that landed on the silent youth whose life had been hanging in the balance only days ago, and who hadn’t said much since they had delivered him to the safety of Tournai, their hometown.

“Well, Mylady, it was a gallant and tricky business, and very funny at the same time. Sichar disguised himself as a bounty hunter. But it’s certainly not my…” Suddenly he was cut off by a big snort that came from a particularly handsome and huge fellow who sat on the other side of the Lady, and was sleeping, his head hanging on his chest almost as if he would fall from his chair any moment. The two counts and the lady laughed gayly at the sight, before Rathar ended his sentence loudly. “…coward and always sleepy friend here who should get the credit for it.” Silence followed but the previously snoring man still did not wake.

“Come on, Sichar, quit being rude in front of our beloved princess, we’re alone now and in good company.” Count Bertram said, who sat beside Rathar and the princess.

A large room that had been packed with guests the whole evening was now bathed in silence. The candles almost burned out in the enormous chandelier that hung from the ceiling, their light burning low casting long shadows everywhere. The tables were still full of the cold, leftover food and cups half full of wine. The gathering had been held by the king in honour of his second son’s 26th birthday, but the last guest had bidden his farewell minutes ago, leaving only the king’s daughter, her few close friends and the Briton fugitive behind.

Count Sichar de Lamain, who until that point had pretended to be asleep, slowly opened his heavy lids and looked curiously at his comrades, a smile already playing at the corner of his lips.

“Go on, tell Her Royal Highness all of your bravery. You don’t need me for that. Pray, continue!” He said in his deep, slow and playful tone that rang pleasantly through the room.

Usually Sichar loved to feign being asleep. Not because he was rude, but all that talk and no action bored him out of his mind, and besides the seven days long journey home through dangerous territory took a lot out of him. But God forbid anyone knowing about that.

As the night wore on his companions tried on more than one occasion to engage him in conversation though with little success. These were those very rare nights when troubling thoughts and fatigue took the better of him, and he wanted nothing more than the comfort of his own bed.

“Oh, I would give half of my jewellery to have seen the look on Uther’s face when he found out!” Princess Hilde clapped her hands in excitement. In truth she would have sold all her jewellery to just once be a part of anything her friends took part in. „That man’s a true tyrant if I’ve ever seen one.”

“Forgive me, Mylady, allow me to remind you, you’ve never seen him. And I hope you won’t be holding it against me if I correct you. You haven’t ever seen a true tyrant. Uther is not even close to one.” Sichar interjected.

“I’ll say.” Rathar laughed as he filled his own cup, since the help had taken to their beds already. “He’s making damn good progress.”

Princess Hilde looked at the man bewildered. He was tall, -a giant compared to all men she knew-, and had shoulder-length blond hair probably due to his gaul heritage, and generally very pleasing to women’s eyes, hers included, but very few people knew his true personality and the wits that lay under the facade. He was a natural leader, one that should be listened to, but the words he had just said sounded unbelievable to her ears.

“Surely you don’t mean that, Mylord. Uther’s been slaughtering our kind for decades now without reason. Only a tyrant would do such a thing, and his people are weak to let him get away with all that.”

“Our kind, Your Highness, had caused him great pain which is not an easy thing to forgive. I wouldn’t justify his actions, I’m only pointing out that his people frown upon the likes of us, and not many would find fault in his views. They only see a strong leader who brought prosperity and peace to their previously war-torn land. It’s more than they had hoped for. Few people are complaining, and those who’d want to, wouldn’t dare.”

The levity of his tone only underlined the severity of his words and he had no intention to scare the beautiful girl who had become a trusted ally to them in the last few years. In truth, everyone was fond of her for her genuineness and her intrepidity against anyone who wanted to put her into her place, especially her brothers.

“Wouldn’t dare?” She asked, her brow rose and her little mouth was drawn into a thin line. “We’re on the same page then. Fear. Only a tyrant would provoke fear in the hearts of his subjects.”

The blond count only smiled at her knowingly. He wasn’t about to lose his own argument.

“Yes, Mylady, fear has a proper place in the bosom of all who got the gift. But their numbers are getting fewer by year, and those who willingly choose to stay are taking a great risk.”

His gaze landed first on Bertram then on Rathar who both had been looking back and forth, listening eagerly to their friendly debate, but at this point they had uncertainty in their eyes. Sichar knew the meaning of that. He himself had had his doubts recently about Uther’s ways, because the number of executions had increased drastically, and with that also had the number of false accusations.

In Tournai, to those who were trained to use magic from early childhood, the first trick that was taught was the parlor trick of telling the gifted and the non-gifted apart. A small but certainly useful thing Uther would have surely liked to learn if he had known how to use it. All it took was a small touch on bare skin and a deep look into their eyes and it became obvious even if the magic lay dormant not even revealed to the person who had it.

That tall, young boy with the black hair who had seen them rescuing that poor youth had magic. Sichar had sensed it the moment he had grabbed his arm. It had been flowing through his veins steadily and strongly under the count’s fingers. And his eyes though not glowing at the moment had had that unmistakably unnatural shine to them. Whoever he was, he was dangerously close to the snake’s nest. Sichar wouldn’t be surprised if he were the next one that needed saving.

The tinkling voice coming from beside him roused him from his depressing thoughts.

“I’m sorry, I want to believe in your words, desperately so, but I have difficulty. You just have to prove me wrong.”

“Gladly.” He nodded dreamily, already thinking about his manor in Lamain still a few leagues away waiting for him with a warm a comfortable bed, and he hadn’t been prepared to see Hilde’s mouth turning up into a smirk.

She wanted to see that prosperity, sure, but it wasn’t what she was really after. She gracefully rose from her seat.

“I bid you goodnight, Mylords, and I’m hoping to find myself in your company soon enough, for a lady’s heart is always eager to know if she’s in the right.”

With a tiny bid of her head she quietly exited the room, leaving the men behind in stunned silence.

Sichar played the last part of their conversation in his head again and again and was confused. He could smell a trick from a distance and he had a vague suspicion that he had been played.

“What did I just agree to?” He asked his friends uneasily who in turn burst out laughing.

“You know, my friend,” Started Rathar, who hadn’t spoken since he had recounted their latest adventure to the princess. “You’re the most cunning man I know. I really admire your wits, you’re a genius at war strategy but when it comes to women you can be completely clueless.”

“You most certainly wouldn’t mind bringing the princess along with us to Camelot on our next visit.” Bertram joined in, and they laughed merrily at the sight of their friend’s startled expression.

The blond man didn’t know what to say for a moment, he just cursed his own fatigue and stupidity inwardly. He had no intention to admit that he was beguiled by a woman and he was a man of his word.

“It will be a pleasure.” He said tensely as he raised his cup in a toast. “To the bravest princess who’s putting her head in the lion’s mouth.”

They all drank to that but the conversation ceased so they all bade goodnight to each other and started on their respective journeys home.

Sichar only prayed that Hilde would forget his promise, but he didn’t think she would.

Chapter Text

For a moment Arthur’s breath was caught in his throat when the beast towered over him. It was nowhere near as big as The Great Dragon that somehow had escaped from under Camelot months ago, but its size was impressive nonetheless.

Its body was covered with greenish scales that sparkled in the sunlight, it had two enormous, beige coloured, silver-tipped leathery wings and a long tail. Its deep green eyes glowed devilishly at Arthur. But what made the prince tremble was the tremendous jaw with apparently hundreds of small, needle-sharp teeth sitting in it. One bite would mean certain death, and of course, as luck had it, swords would be useless against this monster. Why had he even thought that this could be easy? Why would it be? This was Camelot after all, everything just had to be difficult.

But the prince had a phrase that he kept repeating in his mind that helped him in situations like this. It went something like ’show no fear, we’ll get through this as always, everything will be all right, just show no fear’. It did a great deal to soothe his nerves and to preserve his sanity.

When Arthur had arrived to the lower town just minutes ago with a handful of knights, the streets had been full of people running in all directions screaming, but now it appeared strangely quiet and deserted. Only the growling of the creature could be heard and the prince’s commands.

While he prepared to strike he spotted a man standing not far from them. He had been so concentrated on the beast that he hadn’t even noticed him until now. He had a long grey cape with a hood over his head, his mouth was moving and his eyes were glowing with a suspicious gold colour.

How could he forget about the man? Sir Leon had told him about the sorcerer, the one that surely controlled the creature. He was probably the answer to Arthur’s prayers.

He signalled to Sir Vidor and Sir Caridoc to catch the sorcerer while he would battle with the beast alongside his remaining knights.

The dragon stilled for a moment, then to everyone’s surprise it just flew away.

The prince took a deep breath and looked around to make sure that all his knights were unharmed and then he decided to concentrate on the sorcerer. If he really was the puppeteer, his father would be proud if he caught him.

When the man realized that all eyes were on him, he started to run.

“Catch him! He mustn’t get away!” Shouted Arthur without missing a beat.

The knights chased the sorcerer from alley to alley when finally they closed in on him at a dead end. Luckily for them the man seemed to be a stranger in Camelot and didn’t know his way around too well.

He turned around as Sir Vidor and Sir Caridoc inched closer.

“You’re making a mistake, Arthur Pendragon.” The man declared calmly.

“Seize him!” Arthur gasped holding his side.

Sir Leon stepped next to the man restrained by the two knights and removed his hood. The man was in his forties, but his hair was already turning silver, on the right side of his neck an ugly, blackened wound gaped at the world, slightly crawling up on the line of his jaw. Even the bravest knights withdrew in disgust by the sight of it.
The events of the past few minutes caught up with the prince. He was out of breath and suddenly he felt tired.

The sun was setting low on the horizon when they finally got to the cells. Arthur decided that questioning the prisoner should wait. When he reported the capture of the sorcerer to his father he was satisfied to see pride glistening in his eyes. He did not speak of the dragon. It had vanished, so what would have been the use? If it appeared again, they would deal with it then, but not before. For now, he was content with the thought that with the 'puppeteer' out of the way, the beast was gone for good.

He went back to his room and almost shouted for Merlin when he realized that his manservant was probably still tending to the sick in the physician’s quarters, just like Gwen.

Arthur thought about going there to see if he could help with something. Even two of his newest knights were there who had gotten sick earlier, and his presence would have been welcome, but he couldn’t bring himself to think about anything else but to lie down for a minute.

When he finally collapsed on his bed, an unfamiliar weakness washed over him and within moments he fell asleep still fully dressed in his armour.

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The beast opened its awesome jaw just seconds before Arthur was prepared to strike it down. Clouds hid the moon in the midnight sky, leaving the streets devoid of light. The beast growled triumphantly. Even nature was in its favour, for its green eyes glowed and Arthur was sure it could see perfectly in the dark while he was trying to find his way about blindly. The next moment he screamed out loud when sharp teeth pierced the skin of his upper arm and blood splashed on his face. His own blood.

He woke up from his nightmare panting, covered in sweat. He could still feel the unbearable pain in his right arm, where the beast’s bite had made contact. He clenched his teeth as to not cry out loud and grabbed at the non-existent wound. When he did, a pain even greater washed over him and he nearly passed out. He felt it, and it was right there where the creature marked him in his dream. His eyes snapped open so he could look at it. He winced as he removed his chainmail carefully.

In a circle almost as big as his palm the skin was missing. Black rotting flesh took its place, but Arthur had no time to dwell on the meaning of it because unconsciousness came to claim him once again.

Chapter Text

Hilde was taking one last look in the mirror to make sure she looked every bit the innocent girl she was. On occasions like this she let her long auburn hair hang freely from her shoulders which made her look younger than her nineteen years.

She had a very important position at court and she had always had to look older than her age to be taken seriously, but in her heart she still felt like a little girl.

Childhood had slipped away silently when her dear mother had died. She had only been eight years old at that time, but she had had to step into her mother’s shoes as the court sorceress. It had been a great responsibility on the shoulders of such a young child, but she had been trained for that role since birth and she hadn’t disappointed.

At court she had never been treated as girl whose only use was to marry a prince or a king someday. Though she had had difficulties at first, after a short while people had started to listen when she had had something to say. Her father had made sure of that.

For this not only her two sisters hated her, but also her two brothers. After the passing of the first beloved queen, the mother of her siblings, King Klogard II had married his court sorceress. A move of which a lot of people had disapproved, but they had learned to accept it. The new queen had been regal all the way, from a very rich and ancient family, and with the talent of seeing the future. And after Hilde had been born, she had become not only the king’s youngest, but his most favourite, in whom he had seen the reflection of the last love of his life, and the woman who would sweeten his last years on this earth.

Hilde had known perfectly how high her father had put her on a pedestal and she had been aware of her footing at court. She always played her cards well to get her own way, and she never admitted defeat.

As she walked through the castle towards the throne room she rehearsed inwardly the words she wanted to use to persuade her father to let her travel to prince Alric’s wedding. She had already tried many ways to convince him to send her instead of her brother. She only had one method left. The dirtiest.

“My sweet angel!“ The king rose from his seat to greet his beloved daughter when she entered the room.

“I’ve just heard the news, father! You’re sending Clodio to Nemeth! I thought I would be the one to have the honour to give Austrasia’s good wishes to princess Mithian’s brother!” She said accusingly.

“We’ve talked about this, Hilde. A journey like that is very long, and I need you here. The delegation from Lombard will be here in three weeks!” Klogard started to see where this conversation was going and he feared the outcome.

Hilde pouted. While she hadn’t inherited her mother’s seer powers, there was one thing she was exceptionally good at: reading people. Whatever their intention or feelings were, Hilde could sense them. Her powers weren’t great, but the king trusted her with his life, and she in turn told him who he could and couldn’t rely on. She didn’t know if it was part of her magic or just a natural talent, but it had saved the kingdom a lot of trouble, for which she had been grateful.

She knew her father counted on her to be there and help him with the Lombards, but she had already made her own plans and she had actually managed to trick Sichar into taking her with them. She couldn’t let this opportunity slip.

“You’d just need to keep them here for a while until I get back. But I’m sure you’ll do fine without me. I haven’t seen Mithian in ages, and the last time she was here we understood each other so well.” She replied with the sweetest naiveté.

“It’s not just that. You’d need to travel through Camelot. We’re on neutral terms right now, but Uther hates everything that has to do with magic. I fear…”

“Uther doesn’t know about me, and I promise, it’ll stay that way. We’ll travel straight to Nemeth, and won’t seek Camelot’s hospitality.” She said convincingly, taking a step closer to the throne on which his father sat down on once again.

“You’ve never left Austrasia before. You have no idea of the dangers that can lie in your path.” The king tried to explain, but he had the feeling that he was slowly losing this battle.

“Please, father. Count Sichar, Count Bertram and Count Rathar will accompany me. And Gisela and Alan will be there too. I’ll be protected, have no fear.” Hilde wrapped her arms around the king’s shoulders and sat on her father’s lap, kissing his cheek.

“Oh, Hilde, don’t do that. It’s really not fair.” Klogard complained.

“Please, father.” A single tear slipped from her right eye, staining her cheek. “This is really important to me.”

“It is not nice to take advantage of an old man’s adoration.” Sadness laced his voice, because he knew at that moment that he couldn’t deny his daughter anything she’d ever ask for. He knew exactly how manipulative Hilde could be when she wanted to.

“I know. But we both know you can’t say no to me. “

“Yes, I know. But will you promise me to not stay in Camelot? Please, that’s all I ask.”

“I promise. We would…” She started but her eyes betrayed her.

“No! I want you to promise this, and mean it. I know your mother stuffed your head with stories of Camelot and Emrys, but forget all about that. For now, at least. It’s far too dangerous.”

Hilde wasn’t sure if she could lie through her teeth like that, but she tried. She loved her father dearly, but this was one thing she couldn’t promise. If the king knew that her real destination was Camelot he’d never let her go. She looked into his eyes with all honesty.

“I promise that I’ll not search for Emrys, and I won’t challenge Uther. I’m only looking forward to spend time with Mithian.” And she meant all that. In the very short time she had known the princess they had become quite close. They had a lot in common.

Klogard’s eyes were full of worry. Hilde could see the doubt in them, but he had let her go and that’s all that mattered.

Her plans were set in motion and she couldn’t wait to find out what destiny had in store for her. But whatever it was, it waited for her in Camelot, she was sure of that. Because her mother had told her so a long time ago.

Chapter Text

It was late afternoon when Alan politely knocked on his master’s door and entered when he got the permission he had been waiting for.

“Count Rathar de Vezon is here to see you, Sire.”

“Yes, let him in.” Sichar said and looked up from his work and signalled his manservant that he could take his leave. He looked at his visitor for a long moment and understood that this was more than just a friendly visit. “What happened? Another one?”

Rathar nodded and sat down on a chair on the other side of the table opposite the blond man. Maps and papers were scattered on top of it, but they were momentarily forgotten.

“Regno visited me a few hours ago. He said he had seen the man’s capture, but he wasn’t sure if it had happened yet.”

Sichar pursed his lips in thought. Regno had been part of their small gang for a long time, and their visions had always proved very accurate. There was only one thing a natural seer couldn’t usually tell: if they saw the past or the future. That made things a little bit complicated.

“What do we know about him?”

“He is most likely a druid. He’s in his forties, he has silver hair and has a big, black wound on his neck. That’s all. He said something about a dragon too, but that was very blurry.” He recounted with a gesture to indicate that it really wasn’t much.

“I see. We based our plans on less information in the past, we’ll manage.” Sichar said as he pulled a map of Camelot out from under the stack of papers. “But that sounds really interesting. A dragon. In Camelot!” He mumbled to himself.

“You seem to forget something. This time everything will be different.” Rathar tried to pull his friend back to reality.

“Oh, yes, I know. Our beloved Princess Headstrong. But you know what? This situation has its pros and cons. She’ll definitely want to go to Camelot, so we won’t have to make something up to persuade Clodio to stop there. Hilde will take care of that.” With that he offered some wine to his comrade.

“And we’ll be inside the castle this time. We’ve never done that before. And just why do you think Hilde will be able to handle his brother? Clodio isn’t as soft as his father.”

“Are we talking about the same woman here?” Laughed the blond man heartily. “Have no fear, m’dear fellow. We cannot plan beforehand but when we’re inside the lion’s den, we’ll be able to move about without raising suspicion. I’m sure we’ll come up with something in no time.”

“I drink to that.” Rathar said and raised his cup. “Still, without the princess we could get rid of Clodio and all the troubles that may come with them. We could start early at dawn without telling anyone and let the prince travel with his guards.”

“Indeed, we could. But then we wouldn’t get inside the castle.” Argued the blond one.

“And since when is that a problem? Come on, Sichar. How many times have we done this already? Ten? Twelve? We’ve never been inside.” Count de Vezon tried reasoning with his friend.

“There’s a first time for everything, I suppose.” Sichar stood up and went around the table. He half sat on it and leaned closer to the other man. “Think about it, Rathar. Think about the excitement. Think about your blood pumping madly through your veins.” He whispered in his ear. “It’ll be damn good sport!”

Rathar looked into the sparkling blue eyes of the giant, blond man who was only inches away from him and stared at him with pure admiration. He sighed.

“That is all I think about.”

Sichar smiled, straightened himself and walked to his window to gaze outside. The sun was already setting on the horizon. They had precious little time left to get everything together for their journey.

“So, when are you going to tell her?” De Vezon asked casually like his words held no meaning.

“I’m going to take your advice on this. Well, partially. I’m not planning on telling her. I’ll let destiny take its course. If the gods want her with us, she’ll be there.” The giant mused as he twirled the curtain around his fingers.

“That sound like a plan. But I wasn’t talking about our trip to Camelot, I was…”

“Ah, but you were. Because we can’t talk about anything else concerning Hilde. Out of the question.” Sichar said. His voice was calm and firm. He wanted his words to sound final but his friend wasn’t going to back down that easily. They knew each other too well.

“How long do think you can go on hiding it?” Rathar rose from his seat and stepped behind the tall man. “Even a blind man could see how much you idolize her.”

“That I do. But that’s all there is to it. She’ll always be the court sorceress and I’ll always live for adventure. We’re not a good match. Besides, I can’t imagine she haven’t sensed it already, and if she did she gave no encouragement whatsoever.” Count de Lamain’s mood deteriorated dramatically. It wasn’t a topic he liked to think or talk about. His life was good the way it was. Why should he long for something he cannot have? “We’ll start before the sun rises. Get some rest, and leave unsaid things unsaid. I’ll shortly go and talk to the king.

Count Rathar sensing his friend’s mood silently left the room and set off for the Saint-Maur estate to tell Count Bertram of their plans.

The tall man stood by the window for a long time watching as the sky was turning into gray and the world darkened rapidly. It did nothing to improve his mood.

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“A dragon, they say?”

“Yes, it’s green and has big wings.” Gaius said and gave the young man a meaningful look.

“And all these people saw it?” Merlin looked around the attic which was crowded with the sick now. More and more came every hour and there were other temporary infirmaries all over the castle.

Gwen was tending to one of the sick knights. She looked back at him with fear and hopelessness in her eyes, and she shook her head. There was nothing she or Gaius could do. Merlin marvelled at the strength or her. Amidst this chaos she managed to stay calm and helped where she could. She was the rock everyone could lean on. A serving girl with the noblest of hearts.

He could definitely see the woman in her who was worthy of Arthur’s love, worthy of wearing the crown of Camelot and to write history by standing beside the greatest king the world has ever known.

Merlin roused from his thoughts to look around again and realized there would be no kingdom if everyone died.

This was madness, and he knew no one was able to stop it. If anyone could, it would be him. He thought of Arthur. The prince was probably out there somewhere in the lower town. He hoped against hope that he would be all right.

The little boy who had been brought to Gaius was on the very brink of death. It seemed the children’s and the elders’ condition worsened the fastest. At this rate their beautiful home would become a ghost town in a matter of weeks.

His power had come with the responsibility, and if the realm had ever needed a dragonlord, it was now.

Fear gripped his heart at the thought of going out there to look for the beast that made the people of Camelot suffer. But he had to go. He had no time to waste.

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The princess came out from the throne room pleased with herself. Her head was already somewhere else and on the corner she almost bumped into a man.

“Sichar!” She exclaimed in surprise. “What brings you here?”

The tall man recognized fate when it stared him into the face. He could do nothing now. He cleared his throat.

“I came to tell you, Mylady, if it is still your intention to come with us…”

“It is.” Hilde smiled at him expectantly.

“Then pack at once. We’ll start tomorrow at dawn.”

“Thank you!” For a moment her excitement drowned out everything else but it the next moment it dawned on her. The man’s strained expression told her that something wasn’t alright. “What if we hadn’t met just now?”

“I was on my way to your chambers.” The tall man shifted uncomfortably. It was stupid to even think of lying to her.

“My chambers are the other way.” Having her suspicion confirmed she decided to play the guilt trip card. “You wouldn’t have told me! Then you would be happy to be informed that I’m going to Nemeth instead of Clodio. I’ve talked with my father, and I have his blessing.”

“Wonderful news. I’m sure you’re quite satisfied.” Sichar was not the man who could be manipulated easily. It annoyed him to no end that Hilde had won once again.
This game between them had been going on as long as he could remember but why couldn’t she see that now she was playing with her own life? Camelot was not for the faint hearted.

“You clearly don’t want me with you.” Hilde challenged him.

“It’s not that. It’s dangerous.” How could she not understand how much he feared for her? How could she not understand that he and his friends had an easy routine and there was no room for anyone else?

“You mean it’s not for a lady.” She got slightly offended when she realized the true meaning of the man’s posture. Reading Sichar had always been harder than anyone else, but she couldn’t explain why. “You actually think I would jeopardize your mission?”

“If you’ll excuse me, my princess…” The count wanted to get out of this conversation before it got even more awkward, but Hilde was having none of it.

“Don’t princess me, Sichar!” She snapped.” We practically grew up together, you are like a brother to me. You of all people should know me. The real me.” Hilde could see she wasn’t making progress with the tone she had chosen. So she continued more gently. “I know that many would only see a weak woman, but you should know better. I would never do anything to get you into trouble. If anything, I’d help you.”

“I know.” The word brother hit the blond man like a punch to his gut. Not that he had ever hoped to be anything more to this strong and beautiful woman than a friend. And it should have been enough. Still it hurt.

Hilde’s eyes went wide when she felt the aching vibe radiating off of the count. Somehow she couldn’t decipher the look in Sichar’s eyes but she sensed that this time she wouldn’t get the acceptance she sought for. She had never lost. Not a battle, not a war. She quickly closed the discussion before she could further embarrass herself. “I believe you have some urgent matters to discuss with the king. See you at dawn.” She said and the next moment she was on her way without looking back.

Count de Lamain leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. He couldn’t understand why he got these feelings. Why her? Of all the beauties of the country who practically threw themselves at his feet, why did he have to long for this obstinate, manipulative, amazing woman? He was probably the richest man in the land after the king, the most eligible young man. He could take his pick if he wanted to, but he chose not to.

Rathar had been right. He was twenty-six years old and still completely clueless when it came to women. Especially this one. But the rush he got when she was near him was unbearably wonderful. He lived for adventure. For the blood pumping frantically through his veins. But no dangerous mission had ever given him a feeling this strong. This was the sweetest thrill.

Chapter Text

It was past midnight and Merlin picked up the pace as he made his way to the lower town. Fear gripped his heart as he thought up dozens of ways how this confrontation could go. His biggest concern was that he didn’t exactly know what he would be facing. As far as he knew Kilgharrah was the last living dragon, and he wasn’t sure how to handle other dragon breeds. But he would find out within minutes.

He was a dragonlord, the last of his kind. He had only used his power once, but he had to have faith in himself. He believed that Balinor was still watching over him somehow. He had to make him proud.

As he sneaked past the guards and entered the lower town he went from dark alley to dark alley. The people of Camelot had shut themselves in their homes, they were either sick or scared out of their minds.

The streets were empty and silent, like it was already a ghost town. There was no sign of the dragon anywhere. He had been walking for more than an hour, he had already circled the whole area twice and had found nothing.

He was anxious to get this over with and help the only way he could but in his heart he felt relieved that this encounter was postponed. He kicked himself inwardly for being such a coward but he couldn’t help it. This was not the kind of thing he wanted to meet in a dark alley. Not now, not ever.

Suddenly he heard a noise from behind his back and turned around. A woman stepped out of her house and made her way towards the castle looking over her shoulder to make sure no one had seen her.

Merlin thought that probably she wanted to sneak past the guards like he had and get to Gaius. She might have a sick child or husband she wanted to visit, or wanted a remedy of some sort to bring home. But there was no remedy, he knew that.

He continued his patrol when he heard the woman scream. He ran towards the sound and saw the beast towering over her. She remained rooted to the spot and couldn’t do anything but squeal.

The creature spread its wings and it looked huge but not as big as The Great Dragon was. Still it was a terrifying sight. It growled loudly and though its posture spoke of a coming attack, it did nothing.

Merlin felt that this was his chance. It was now or never. He would either defeat the monster or die trying.

With the power that his father had passed on to him he reached deep within himself to bring the language of his ancestors to the surface. He opened his mouth and let an inhuman growl break loose from the deepest part of his being.

“Knōdalon hamaxērēs thēriotēs, arkheuō su apaskholeō hamos arkha aphar! Baskō!” He thundered at it with all his might.

The beast stood still, it opened its enormous mouth as if devouring the whole world but made no move. It didn’t even glance towards Merlin, as if it hadn’t heard his command.

He tried to make it yield once again but to no avail. Its priority was clearly the screaming human in front of it.

The poor woman fainted. Silence fell over the town once again and that was when the dragon looked over at him. It stared for a few moments, its sparkling green eyes flashed with confusion at him then it disappeared into thin air.

Merlin stood there as if in a trance. He couldn’t believe what had taken place. He had no power over this Thing.

The first coherent thought that entered his mind that it probably wasn’t a close relative to Kilgharrah’s kind or that his dragonlord power wasn’t effective with all dragon breeds. It seemed like a logical thought. He hadn’t really explored his power yet. He hadn’t had the chance to use it in the months since the Great Dragon had left Camelot for good. It’s not like he could casually practice this kind of magic in his everyday life as a servant.

But whatever it was, they clearly didn’t share the ancient tongue. Their souls weren’t brothers.

He walked up to the woman who lay still on the ground and shook her until she woke up. She trembled like a leaf but other than that she seemed fine. He got her home and made his way back to the castle, but his mind was elsewhere.

He didn’t have any answers and didn’t have the power to help. This time he was completely useless. He had let down his friends.

The feeling of bitterness overwhelmed him at that thought. He could only think of one being who was wise and old enough to give him the advice he needed desperately. The one whose sole purpose had been to destroy Camelot and all its people. Kilgharrah.

Merlin wasn’t sure that he would help. He hadn’t thought that he had ever wanted to speak with him again after everything. Even though he had told him that their paths would cross again, Merlin wasn’t convinced of his good intentions. Still, he was his only option now.

He decided he would do this. He was running out of time and ideas. This could bring a result if the Great Dragon would even answer his call, and if he was able to help, and if he wanted to help. Too many ifs…

He didn’t want to deal with all that right now. The only thing he wanted was his bed and a good night’s sleep. He was drained and he prayed that the next day would bring a solution to his problems and not add to them.

He couldn’t even remember how he had sneaked past the guards and the night patrol and how he had got home, but the sight of the sick and an over-exhausted Gaius and Gwen made him lose the precious little hope he had managed to gather on his way back.

When the physician looked at him he only shook his head brokenly, went into his room and collapsed on his bed. He was asleep within seconds but the things that greeted him in his dream were no prettier than reality.

p

Chapter Text

The feeling of being cold woke him. Merlin was shivering violently so he was confused to find himself wet all around. His mind was clouded, pain ran through his body in waves.

He sat up with difficulty and grabbed at the sorest spot on himself. It was on his chest and when he felt it his fingers came in contact with damaged skin. He forced himself to open his eyes though even the light seemed to hurt.

The wound was blackened and rough and the edges were greenish where some sort of pus was oozing out of it. He let out a groan as his sensory nerves reacted to the touch.

He was wide awake and on his feet within a moment as he tried focusing on one thing: ‘I shouldn’t let myself go’.

He ran out of his room.

Most of the patients had been moved to other parts of the castle where there was more room for them. Only four had remained, those that were in the worst shape. Those that had been brought in first, including the little boy.

When Merlin looked around, he caught Gwen’s gaze. She slowly shook her head. The little boy that lay in front of her was dead, almost half of his small frame was covered in those dreaded black wounds, like his body had rotted away. And maybe it did. The first death. And the other three wasn’t far behind him.

“Did he…?” He started but he already knew the answer.

Gwen shook her head again.

“No, he was unconscious for the most part of it.” She said.

Three days was all it took. The weaker ones lost consciousness for good after a few hours, others held out for a day before passing out permanently. The pain was just too great to bear.

He understood what that meant. He had precious little time left to do something. He was stronger than the rest of them but he had one and a half days, or probably two at best. After that he’d be good for nothing.

Gaius was sleeping on his table with an open book under his head. The poor old man had hardly got any sleep since the outbreak of the disease.

He ran up to the physician and shook him, who in turn tried to open his eyes and looked up to Merlin. He was confused at first but then his glance wandered slowly downwards and stopped on the young man’s chest. The wound was small, no more than a size of a coin just under a similarly shaped white old scar; the reminder of his battle with Nimueh.

“Merlin! No!” He shouted and his eyes went wide with concern. He got on his feet faster than ever and reached for the potion that he gave to every patient. The one that helped enhancing the blood flow. It didn’t do much, but it was better than nothing. Better than feeling utterly useless. “What happened yesternight?”

“I saw it. It attacked a woman.” He said trying to think clearly. “No, wait. It didn’t actually attack, only stood there. I looked at it, it looked at me and then…. it disappeared.”

“And have you tried…? “ The physician didn’t know how to ask the question with Gwen in the room, so he prayed than Merlin would understand.

And he did.

“Yes. It didn’t work”. He drank the potion half-heartedly, and went back to his room to put on a shirt. “I have to go to Arthur now to make sure he’s alright. It’s already midday and he hasn’t sent for me yet.”

Gaius only nodded but Merlin could see the question in his eyes. The one that asked him about his plans and feared that he didn’t have one.

“If it’s a dragon…” The youth said cryptically looking over at Gwen who had her back to them, but still within earshot. “…then the answer is a dragon.”

Gaius’s gaze followed the young man who had become the most important person in his life in the two years he had known him. He wished he would have been of more help now because he knew Merlin looked at him for guidance even if he didn’t take all his advices to heart.

He had to believe in Merlin’s power and wit. He had run out of ideas and his medicinal knowledge was useless, but there was still something he could be good for. The hard work he did for Camelot on a daily basis and the lack of recognition for it were taking their toll on the young sorcerer and the physician had to make sure he didn’t lose heart.

Destiny, the future of Albion and Arthur were his faith. Gaius had to be his guide, the rock he could lean on when he felt weary. He had to be his strength.

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When he entered Arthur’s chambers without knocking and saw him lying on top of the sheets still partially dressed with his armour beside him he knew that something was wrong.

He ran to the bed and shook him. When he didn’t even stir, Merlin panicked.

“Arthur, wake up!” He looked at his right arm and recognized the wound. He had seen enough of these in the past few days to know that it meant that Arthur had got the disease too. And now he knew that it also meant certain death. “Arthur, please, you have to wake up!” He slapped him lightly a few times.

“Leave me alone.” The prince moaned as he tried to come to his senses and his manservant could imagine the pain he was feeling. He felt something similar himself.

Merlin helped his master sit and took out a vial which he had gotten from Gaius from his pocket.

“Come on, drink this.”

“You’ll be the death of me, Merlin.” Arthur slurred but obeyed.

“And now we’ll take a walk. That’ll wake you up. On your feet, Sire.” Merlin put the future king’s arm around his own shoulder to make him get up, but it felt like he was carrying dead weight and after the first tentative step they both fell back on the bed.

He tried again and this time they could take a walk around the bed slowly, and then another and another until Arthur could walk on his own.

“Enough, I’m alright. See?” It seemed that with his physical strength returning his brain started functioning somewhat normally, although slower than usual. He didn’t know if it was thanks to Gaius’ potion or his servant’s insistence on walking but he was grateful.

Merlin knew that Uther would find out that his son, the sole heir to his throne had gotten the disease but the thought of him having to break it to him didn’t seem appealing to him. It turned out for once he was lucky.

“I want breakfast, now, I’m famished. And then I’m off to see my father. We still have a sorcerer to question.” Arthur managed to resume some tone of normalcy, but Merlin only stared at him agape. “Today would be nice.”

“Right! Yes, Sire!” He roused from his thoughts and went to the kitchen to get something nutritious enough for the prince. He’d need all the strength he could keep to stay on his feet.

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The little band decided to slow down their horses to a slow trot. They were only about two hours away from Camelot and it wasn’t even midday so they weren’t in any hurry.

Count Sichar and Rathar led the party talking quietly among each other, the princess and Count Bertram followed them closely, Alan, Sichar’s manservant, and Gisela, Hilde’s maid ended the line.

They had been travelling for five days now, and the royal girl who had never been away from the comforts of the castle she lived in for more than a day was definitely starting to regret that she had requested to join them.

On the first day of their journey they had reached the big water at late afternoon and they had boarded a merchant ship to cross it. It had taken only six hours but those hours she would never forget as long as she breathed and her stomach would always turn at the mere thought of it. She had put on a brave face to not show the others how it had affected her though, because no one had complained.

She had been thanking the Gods that her tiny feet had touched solid ground once more when they had finally arrived, riding a horse was so much more comfortable to her. She already dreaded the way back.

But now that they had been travelling for three and a half days with very few rests she was becoming restless and the parts of her that didn’t hurt were becoming fewer by the minute.

Alan’s and Gisela’s faces contorted with pain now and then but they were servants and servants weren’t allowed to voice their discomforts, at least not publicly and Hilde assumed that Sichar, Bertram and Rathar were accustomed to these trips.

The princess shifted slightly to ease the pressure on her sore bottom. It did little to decrease her growing pain, but she would have been damned if she had said anything. The last sentences she wanted to hear was the ‘I told you so’ or the ‘this kind of thing is not for a Lady’.

“When will we arrive?” she asked to test the waters if maybe she could coax the blond leader into calling for a rest.

“Why, are you tired, Mylady?” He didn’t turn back but the smirk was evident in Count Sichar’s voice.

“No.” she almost shouted when she realized her mistake. “I just thought we shouldn’t slow down if we want to arrive as soon as possible. We were making good progress.” Her dignity was the last thing she would give up and that wouldn’t come soon. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

“The Sun hasn’t even reached its peak on the horizon, it would be rude to ask for hospitality at lunchtime, my princess. You surely don’t want us to interrupt the king while he’s eating and get on his bad side?”

“Of course not.” Hilde didn’t know what else to say so she remained silent for the remainder of their trip.

The tension between them was evident in the air and Rathar looked at his friend trying to understand what was going on but didn’t comment on it. There would be a more proper place and time for that, he thought. When they would be alone.

“So does she know about the druid?” He asked quietly instead.

“I told her about him and our non-existent plan so far where rescuing is concerned when we were on the ship, but I doubt she was listening. I think she was preoccupied by other, more pressing matters.” Sichar laughed. “I can only hope that some of it made through to her subconscious somehow. I really don’t like to tell anything twice.”

That was true. Rathar knew for a fact that his friend was not the most patient kind of person in the world. When it came to intelligence, he had high expectations of those who followed him, he didn’t tolerate slowness well. His friends always find that particular trait in him quite funny, because he himself often liked to play dumb, and he generally made people think he was a half-wit.

“What about Alan and Gisela?”

“Alan knows everything, I clued him in after your visit to Lamain, he will be able to communicate with the servants of the castle. He might be invaluable to us even though he doesn’t have magic. I don’t know about Gisela. If Hilde tells her it’s fine, she can be trusted, but I don’t think there’s any need for her to know.”

Rathar nodded and looked straight ahead just in time to see the great towers of Camelot coming into view. He sighed audibly and turned to his friend.

“I just hope Regno saw the future and not the past or the present because if the druid man was captured a week or more ago, he is surely dead by now.”

Count Sichar didn’t reply, but his gaze darkened. He considered that possibility every time they came here. Every time there was a good chance that they would arrive too late or worse, just in time to catch the execution. He knew they couldn’t save every single soul from Uther’s wrath and after every person they rescued the guards were doubled. Uther was furious that all the security changes he was making continued to fail, but the Count knew that with every change made, the risks they were taking grew with them.

But now that they would be inside the castle their chances altered considerably. Whether it would be for better or for worse he couldn’t guess, this could go either way.

And here was Hilde. They would have to protect her as well. Like they needed another burden added to their already existing ones.

When they entered the gates of the great city after showing their papers to the outside guards the sight that greeted them wasn’t the one they were used to. The streets were almost empty despite the usually busy hour, the market was closed and the air was filled with something entirely indescribable. It was unsettling to say the least but he had a feeling that they would find out its cause very soon.

Chapter Text

Uther Pendragon sat at the head of the big table in the throne room with his son on his right and four of his most trusted knights. Merlin, the only servant in the room, stood behind his master’s chair and waited for a signal to fill their cups with water.

The men were deep in discussion about the current situation of the kingdom, and it seemed it would last all day long. Even lunch was forgotten in the face of events, and Merlin’s stomach started to growl audibly, but his own strength and needs were the last thing on his mind. He did not focus on the words that were spoken at the table, his mind was on the strange dragon, and his failure the previous night.

“Sir Leon is right, father, we need more men.” Arthur sighed. He had told his father about his state of health, and since then Uther had barely looked at him, like he was angry at him for something, so up until this point he had stayed silent.

“But we don't have more! We have to work with those we have. Gaius will see to it to get the sick back on their feet as soon as possible.”

“You know as well as I that they are dying. Gaius told us that the first victim of the disease passed away this morning. The knights are stronger than the rest, but they will die eventually.”

The king’s gaze hardened. He didn’t know how to acknowledge the fact that his son was just as sick as the rest of his knights who had been sent to the lower town yesterday.

“I forbid you to talk like that!” he almost shouted. “Gaius is the best physician in the realm, I’m sure he will come up with a remedy to this as he always did in the past.” He tried to stay calm, but the thought of losing Arthur weighed heavily on his mind and made his blood boil. He wanted to blame someone for this. Anyone. Arthur was not only the future king of Camelot, he was his everything, the only person close to him, the only person he would die for in the blink of an eye.

“Nevertheless, we don't have enough men to protect the city. If our neighbours get a whiff that Camelot is weak they will take advantage of that. We have enough problems as it is.” Sir Leon tried to reason. He felt the tension between father and son, but now the fate of the whole kingdom was at stake. The best strategy was to apply some pressure to Uther’s pride. He had learned that a long time ago.

“We need to recall the two search parties which you sent to find Morgana back. That would mean twenty men, more than enough to keep up appearances.” Arthur said and he was happy that he didn’t have to look into his father’s eyes. He didn’t want to give up on Morgana, whom he loved as dearly as one could love a sister, but he thought that the search could be resumed after they averted the danger to the city. If they didn’t succeed, then there would be no Camelot for Morgana to return to.

“No! They will not return until they find Morgana. We will have to manage without them.” he said forcefully.

The king couldn’t believe he was having this particular discussion with his own son. They both loved Morgana, how could Arthur possibly want to give up on her?

“This is insane! Morgana disappeared more than six moons ago. The first party is near the eastern border, but the other one is close enough. They could be here in two days. That should suffice until the first patrol comes back. I can send…”

“I said no! That is out of the question. I would be seen as a weak king who cannot even protect his own ward.” The cups on the table clattered as his fist came crashing down on it. His temper got the best of him, and it was threatening to get out of control.

His own daughter. He lost his daughter, and now his only son, the heir to his throne was… No, he couldn’t even think about that. He could not lose both of them. Fate couldn’t be that cruel to him. He had made mistakes in his life, but he didn’t deserve this. He had to believe in Gaius’s competence for the sake of his sanity. ‘Everything will turn out fine, like always’, he told himself.

“But you cannot protect the city with eleven knights. That is just not possible. Eight of our men are sick, and…” Arthur couldn’t finish his sentence because his father interrupted him harshly.

“Seven.”

Denial. The prince sighed, and continued, “Seven of our men…”

Once again he was interrupted. This time a guard came into the throne room and announced the unexpected arrival of a royal party.

“Princess Hilde of Austrasia and her company seek your hospitality, Your Highness! They arrived only moments ago.” The guard stood there, waiting for the king’s reaction or a message.

For a moment, Uther couldn’t even blink he was so surprised. His mouth twitched and slowly turned into a frown. This wasn’t the best of times for playing the merry host, but he had to keep up appearances. That seemed like the best strategy for now.

Austrasia was a strong kingdom. Not exactly an ally, but not a foe either, and a friendly gesture toward them could prove to be fruitful in these dangerous times. He looked at his son to confirm he understood what was at stake here.

“We will continue the meeting in an hour. Come, Arthur, let’s greet our royal guest.” With that, he rose from his seat and went out of the room with the prince and Merlin in tow.

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After the servant ran up the stairs to tell Uther about the arrival of a royal guest, Hilde and her company waited outside the castle, not even getting off of their horses.

The princess was itching to finally dismount after the tortuously long ride, but she could definitely understand why Sichar insisted on greeting the king from horseback.

Thea, true to her name, seemed like an equine goddess with her exceptional height. She was a perfect match for the blond giant seated atop her who looked the very picture of grace and magnificence.

There was an air of pride about him when he slipped easily into his role as the escort of the Princess of Austrasia. Appearances were essential. He wanted to send the king a message: we are strong and firm, and despite our country’s different views, the refusal of hospitality would result in an ugly conflict.

Hilde’s heart fluttered at the sigh. She rarely saw him like this, proudly wearing the features of his ancient nobility, and his long, wavy, golden hair framing his face like a crown glittering in the sun.

They didn’t have to wait long for Uther, with his son by his side, to appear at the top of the stairs. The king’s smile seemed forced and the prince beside him was sickly white.

“Princess Hilde, welcome to Camelot!” the older Pendragon greeted them while the party dismounted at the same time.

Arthur rushed to help the beautiful lady down, but he got there too late.

“Thank you, Your Highness! I hope our presence here won’t cause you any inconvenience. We’re planning to resume our long journey to Nemeth in a few days, but we are tired, and our horses need a good rest too. Until then, your hospitality would be much appreciated.” Hilde said in a polite and charming tone that she knew no one could resist.

“Of course, my lady. Your presence here is a gift to us. You may stay as long as you like.” Despite the strained smile, the king’s words flowed genuinely from his lips.

Arthur went to her side and took the princess’s hand to help her up the steps. Hilde threw him a bewitching smile which seemed to hypnotize him. She knew exactly the effect she had on men, and she was using it to her full advantage.

Rathar winked at Bertram who smiled back in turn, but when he turned to Sichar, his smile faded. His gaze followed Count Sichar’s, which was fixated on a tiny white hand resting lightly in Arthur’s hand.

Sichar’s jaw tensed slightly. He knew that smile. That was something reserved for friends and good acquaintances who had her interest, those who were close to her. Like him. That smile belonged to him. Not to a stranger.

He scolded himself inwardly for letting jealousy creep up his spine for a moment, but he couldn’t stand the sight. Surely Hilde wouldn’t plan to tie her life to a Pendragon in marriage. He was a handsome fellow, he had to give him that, but he also was the son of a slayer of their kind.

He wouldn’t let her do this. He trembled at that thought wondering where it had come from. He had no claim on this woman; he was only a friend. But as long as he was at least that, he would use all his friendly influence he might have to prevent anything from happening between her and a Pendragon.

They followed her and Arthur to the stairs and a young, black haired boy smiled at them and went to Alan to help him with their baggage.

“This is Merlin, my manservant. He will be at your disposal if you need anything during your stay. He’ll show you to the guest chambers.” Arthur pointed at the scrawny boy, who bowed politely.

Sichar immediately recognized him, the boy with magic he had met the last time he had been in Camelot disguised as a bounty hunter. He averted his eyes, and hoped that he wouldn’t be identified.

Merlin looked at him with suspicion. The man was definitely familiar to him, but he couldn’t place the face, the intelligent, heavy-lidded eyes. He felt that he had seen those eyes somewhere, but the whole posture was wrong. He dismissed the thought quickly and focused on his tasks instead.

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The day dragged on pretty much uneventfully. So between tending to the guests who had settled in and had needed a bath, and tending to Arthur who had also wanted a bath and some food in the breaks between the council meetings in the throne room, he didn’t have much else to do. He waited for the night to fall to seek the help of someone who might give him the answers he needed.

He was trying not to think about the life force that he felt draining out of him, or how Arthur’s strength decreased at the same rate as the colour left his cheeks. Worry invaded his soul as he watched the sky rapidly turning grey, then dark blue as night crept over the great city of Camelot.

He had decided not to go back to Gaius after he had finished everything, but went straight to the small clearing outside the city walls.

He had his doubts about Kilgharrah and he dreaded this whole encounter but he had run out of options.

He reached inside himself, deep into his soul to invoke the power his father had passed down to him on that unfortunate day when Camelot had been in grave danger. The irony of the situation was not lost on him: then it had been Kilgharrah who threatened to destroy her, and now he would probably prove to be their saviour. If he even showed up.

He let out an inhuman growl and sent it towards the sky to be carried off on the wings of the cold night air.

“O Drákōn! Aeiestṓ opōrinόs palaiόphrōn. Pόr sόs authaímōn boēdromíē haníka áplētos akhēnía!”

For a long moment all his will and strength left him, and he sunk down on the ground. He couldn’t do anything but wait.

Chapter Text

After Arthur, his manservant, Merlin and Princess Hilde had left the dinner table only the three Counts from Austrasia and the king of Camelot remained.

The darkness outside matched the mood of the room and the king’s expression, who had even failed to entertain his own guests.

“The prince seemed rather pale. I hope his health would return to him soon.” Rathar broke the silence and motioned to the servant who stood close by to fill his cup with the delicious wine that could only be found in this kingdom.

“Yes.” Uther replied and his brow furrowed. “I believe it will. The sorcerer who caused this would be executed tomorrow at first light.”

“So he confessed? What had he hoped to achieve by this lurid deed?” Bertram seemed to be equally horrified and intrigued.

“We had no time to time to question him, but he was caught murmuring spells at the monster, we know he’s a sorcerer. He broke the law, that is more than enough to put him to death. No further evidence is necessary.” Uther had reached his decision hours ago, and now that he had said it out loud he was convinced that the series of tragic events that had befallen the realm would soon be over.

“Marvellous!” Count Sichar exclaimed as he brought his cup to his lips. “I myself couldn’t have said it better.”

The king looked at him in confusion, but welcomed the unexpected remark.

“Very interesting. I thought your kingdom embraces the practice of sorcery.”

“Indeed, Your Highness! But that doesn’t mean that everyone shares our king’s views on magic.” The blond man sighed and put down his cup. “Our king is wise but he is biased. After the mother of his children, our beloved queen had passed away – may the gods grant eternal peace to her soul -, he fell in love with a sorceress. Honestly, no one could have blamed him, that woman had been an exquisite beauty.”

When he saw the two other men nod, Uther suddenly seemed keen to know more about his guests.

“As I understood, you are the chief advisor to the king.”

“I am proud to say, I am. It is a great honour to serve a man like Klogard. That does not mean that I have to share his views on everything though. On the contrary, he likes to hear different opinions. He wouldn’t benefit much from an advice of someone who agrees with his every thought.” Sichar laughed.

Uther definitely wanted to hear his opinion about this sorcerer they had caught. He knew that the three men must have great knowledge in magic, their advice could prove invaluable in such matters. Originally he hadn’t wanted to bring up the subject for fear that the topic might offend his guests, but now his worries were gone.

“So you agree that executing the sorcerer would be the solution to our problems?"

“It depends on what you want to achieve.” the Count said and fingered the edge of his cup lazily. “If your goal is a dead sorcerer, then sure, it would be.”

The disdain in that remark was not lost on the king but he decided to hold his temper. He grabbed the edge of the table and leaned closer to the man.

“I see. And what would your advice be if you would be my advisor?”

Sichar also leaned closer conspiratorially and lowered his voice.

“I would question him. As I gathered the creature only attacked people in the lower town and hasn’t stopped since. That means that someone is still controlling it. I think the sorcerer wasn’t working alone, and his accomplice is still doing a fine job attacking your subjects and making them sick. And you’re letting him. Or them.” He seemed to finish his speech and considered his job done. He got up to excuse himself of the table.

He already had his back to the king, when Uther also got up.

“What do you think I should do about it?” He tried to suppress his desperation but it was in his voice nonetheless. Sichar smirked at Rathar who sat just a few feet away from him and turned to look up, as if asking if they should follow him, then he turned back to Uther.

“Everyone is suspicious. You send your knights to the lower town and have everyone questioned. Offer a prize for any useful information. And have the captured sorcerer questioned also. Find someone who has a knowledge in such matters, someone who knows exactly what to ask. You must break him.” he spat forcefully. “Now if you excuse me…”

“No one has such knowledge in magic in Camelot at the moment. It would take days to get a witch finder or a bounty hunter.”

At Uther’s words Sichar stopped to look back at the king and contemplated what he heard.

“That is a big problem. Your people will go on dying if you don’t act now. Your son will go on dying. Only the sorcerer has the cure and he won’t give it to you easily. Threats of executing him won’t do you much good.”

“Maybe you could help us.” The king was clearly getting more and more desperate. The only person in Camelot with magical knowledge was Gaius, and he knew that the old physician had a soft heart. He would be useless for such a task.

“Me?” The Count seemed genuinely surprised. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think it would be appropriate. We’re only guest here, and foreigners at that.”

“I would be… Camelot would be in your debt.”

Sichar smiled and bowed to the king.

“You honour me, Your Highness. I will start questioning him in the morning shortly after the sun rises. I would need two guards to escort the prisoner and a room. I’d rather not do it in the dungeons.”

“You will get everything you need, I’ll make sure of that. In the meantime I will send my knights to the lower town.” Uther felt relieved. Finally there was a man who seemed to know what he was doing and who was willing to help out in this situation where his advisers were of little use.

The other two men excused themselves from the table and followed the blond one.

The king sat back and sighed. He didn’t want to think about Arthur and the sickness that threatened to take his son away from him forever.

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He didn’t even hear the light whirring of big wings as Kilgharrah landed in front of him. The dragon looked at him in silence for a few moments before addressing him.

“You summoned me, young warlock.”

Merlin looked up and smiled when he realized that he wasn’t alone anymore.

“I didn’t think you would come.” He swayed a bit and stayed on the ground. He didn’t have the strength to stand although he didn’t want to seem as week as he felt, but he didn’t have the stamina to pretend.

“I have told you that our paths will cross again.” He had known that the day would come when he could repay the sorcerer for the mercy he had shown him, though he hadn’t expected it to come this soon.

“There is a dragon in Camelot…” Merlin started but the wise creature immediately interrupted him firmly.

“No, there isn’t.”

“I have seen it with my own eyes, but I have no power over it.”

“That’s because what you’ve seen is only an illusion of a dragon. I am the last of my kind, Merlin. We both know that.” Kilgharrah’s words echoed with conviction but they did nothing to ease his mind. In fact the answer made him uneasy.

“Do you know what is it?”

“It is called an Ajatar, a female demon that lives far away in the woods up north. I have no idea how she wandered so far from home.”

The warlock pondered over the words, and tried to think about something to say. He knew he had wanted to ask an important question but he couldn’t for the life of him remember what it had been. His mind had slowed down, his thoughts went around in circles.

“Is it the one spreading this disease?” It came out as a statement.

Merlin swayed again, even just sitting on his heels and staying awake took an enormous effort. His whole body pulsed with a level of pain he had never experienced before and he was wondering if his magic was making it easier and Arthur was going through even worse.

“Yes, one look at it will infect even the strongest of men.” The Great Dragon narrowed his eyes. He could see that the young man in front of him was fighting hard and losing. He hoped that the dragonlord would be able to ask the right questions. There were rules to this game they both had to abide by.

“How do I defeat it?”

“You cannot.”

“There has to be a way to…” Merlin put his right arm on the ground to steady himself.

“It is not your destiny to defeat it.”

“Then whose destiny it is?” The youth’s voice broke and he felt like crying in that moment. He felt useless and his world crumbled around him. His powers, his fate were meaningless now, Camelot’s future was out of his hands. He steeled himself for the answer and swore to himself that he wouldn’t give up, no matter what would come next. He wouldn’t just sit around and watch his friends die one by one.

“That I cannot know. I don’t see everything, young warlock. To my knowledge no Ajatar has ever been killed before.” The dragon’s words rang with a finality that made Merlin’s blood run cold. “Legend has it” he continued “that they are mortal in their true forms, but invincible when they assume the illusion of a dragon or a snake. When someone gives them what they ask for they must return to their normal forms.”

“What could it want?” Merlin’s voice was no more than a hoarse whisper, his vocal chords refused to cooperate anymore. His mind was still fighting, but his physical body was starting to give up battling for consciousness.

“That I do not know. You must have to find that out for yourself.” The Dragon waited for a long moment, thinking about how to help, but for once even he himself was out of ideas. “Perhaps they all want different things. They are not communicating with people in any way.” he added pensively, not sure about what else to say.

Merlin was not capable of coherent thoughts anymore, and wasn’t able to ask further questions. Kilgharrah watched him and understood that their conversation had come to an end. He could only think of one way to help the warlock at this point. Not with words but with his ancient power.

He lowered his head to be on the same level as Merlin and looked into his eyes. He felt a swelling of sympathy in his heart that he hadn’t felt for a human being in decades.

“I am sorry that I cannot give you the answers you seek, but I can stop the disease in your body from spreading further.” He waited for something, but he could see that the dragonlord was beyond asking anything or even nodding at this point, so he simply did what his heart told him to do.

Kilgharrah opened his mouth.

Cool breath embraced Merlin which barely registered in his foggy mind. Pure magic enveloped him and the almost unbearable pain left his body, leaving only an overwhelming but inviting drowsiness behind. He lay down on the ground and looked up with gratitude; that was all he could manage.

The wise creature looked down at him sadly; even his great powers weren’t enough this time.

“I cannot fully heal you. While the Ajatar is close by, its connection with its victims is too strong. Your only hope is to break that link.”

Merlin closed his eyes and let go of his worries. He let unconsciousness take him on its wings to carry him away from the problems of this world for a while.

“Perhaps it will ease your mind to know that the time of Camelot’s fall had not yet come. Arthur is still yet to build Albion with you by his side, helping him. I am sure of that. There are difficult times ahead of you, young warlock. Don’t lose your fate.” Kilgharrah whispered to him and scooted closer in an attempt to keep him warm against the chilly night air.

He stayed as long as he could; when the first light of dawn appeared on the sky over Camelot he flew away leaving Merlin sound asleep on the clearing just outside the city gates, sending a prayer to the gods of the old religion that his words would prove to be true.