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Arthur Pendragon lived in a beautiful, tidy flat in the middle of Camelot. His cleaner came round once a week even though it wasn’t really necessary. Everything was kept in its correct place. Perfect order.
Then Arthur met Merlin. And Merlin moved in. Merlin was quite messy. And wherever Merlin went, so did his pet cat, Aithusa.
Strictly speaking, Aithusa was not a cat, but Arthur didn't know that at first. Aithusa was in fact a miniature white dragon, very rare, very valuable, very magical. Very keen on chewing and/or scorching various items of Arthur’s furniture. However, Merlin had claimed Aithusa was a cat. And Aithusa had come into the flat looking exactly like a fluffy white Persian.
“He can’t stay here,” Arthur announced on the second day. His solid oak dining table was heavily scratched and also had what looked like scorch marks across the top. He wasn’t quite sure how the cat had managed that overnight.
Merlin had picked Aithusa up, cuddling the innocent-looking beast close. Both of them had gazed wide-eyed at Arthur as if Arthur were the one somehow in the wrong. It was a look Arthur grew to know well over time.
“Aithusa is a girl, Arthur,” Merlin told him. “You’ll hurt her feelings.”
“She’s hurt my table’s feelings.”
“Tables don’t have feelings. Aithusa does. She’s very sensitive.”
Aithusa let out a little sound of agreement. It was an odd noise, nothing like any cat Arthur had ever heard before. It was almost like a chirrup. He hadn’t had much experience with cats but he was fairly sure they were supposed to purr and yowl and that was about it. Not chirrup.
“There’s something in the lease about no pets…” Arthur attempted.
“You said there wasn’t.”
Damn, he had said that, hadn’t he?
“And Mrs Cooper downstairs has a budgie.”
Aithusa was probably going to get into Mrs Cooper’s flat somehow and eat the budgie, Arthur knew. He frowned at Aithusa. The cat matched his gaze, looking far too comfortable and superior in Merlin’s arms. Merlin, on the other hand, had gone from wide-eyed amazement that anyone could criticise his beloved pet, to an indignant defensive pose.
“Mr Taylor on the ground floor has a dog,” Merlin continued. “Pet-friendly, that’s what this place is.”
“Pets,” Arthur replied. “Not demon spawn.”
Merlin made some sort of attempt to cover Aithusa’s ears with his hand. “You’ll hurt her feelings!” he claimed a second time.
Aithusa chirruped again. It almost sounded as if she were agreeing with Merlin. But she was a cat, and despite what owners might think, cats did not understand English. Of that, at least, Arthur was certain.
“Merlin, she’s a cat. She doesn’t have feelings beyond an urge to get fed. And apparently to scratch my poor table to death.”
“She’s settling in! She’ll be okay in a few days, won’t you Aithusa?”
Aithusa chirruped, wriggling around in Merlin’s arms. Most likely Merlin was about to get scratched, Arthur supposed.
“She’s used to open spaces. There’s a field behind Mum’s house.” Merlin had lived at her house too, before he’d moved in with Arthur.
Arthur raised an eyebrow, because the solution was pretty obvious to him. “Perhaps she would be happier living at your mum’s? A city flat isn’t the best place for a cat. Not one used to living outdoors.”
“She’s mine. I have to raise her.”
Arthur was fairly sure Merlin’s mother would be more than capable of doing just as good a job. He watched Aithusa stretch out her front legs, ridiculously (almost unnaturally) long claws extended. No wonder the tabletop was shredded.
“Is there something wrong with her?” Arthur asked. Diplomacy had never been his strongest point. “That’s a funny noise she keeps making. And her claws are a bit long… maybe the vet should clip them?”
Merlin pouted at him and cuddled Aithusa close. “Don’t listen to the bad man, baby. You’re gorgeous, yes you are.”
Aithusa chirruped once more, hiccupped, and…
“Was that just a wisp of smoke coming out of her mouth?” Arthur exclaimed, pointing.
Merlin looked mildly panicked for a moment, then shook his head. “No! Why on earth would you think that? She’s a cat! Clearly!”
Aithusa hiccupped again. That was definitely a faint tendril of smoke coming from her nostrils. Arthur narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t stupid. Merlin had explained about the magic and everything a few dates in, when it was clear Merlin and Arthur weren’t going to be some short-lived fling.
“Mer-lin…”
“Um…”
“Is Aithusa your familiar?”
Merlin frowned in puzzlement. “My familiar what?”
“Familiar! Your witchy familiar.”
“I’m a sorcerer!”
“Same thing!” Arthur had lived with his wretched witch of a sister for long enough to know a few things about witches and their familiar creature thingies. Usually a cat.
Aithusa wriggled some more in Merlin’s arms, stilled, then suddenly made a wild burst for freedom, leaping down onto Arthur’s plush Axminister carpet with a trill of triumph.
“Witches and sorcerers are not the same thing,” Merlin told him. “For one thing, sorcerers are more powerful. Sorcerers, then wizards, then finally witches and warlocks are the lowest in terms of power.”
Arthur was hoping he would be present when Merlin told Morgana that one. Although he loved his boyfriend and it would be nice if Merlin was allowed to live to a ripe old age instead of being beaten/stabbed to death with one of her stilettoes.
“You all have the familiar cat thing though.”
“Sorcerers don’t need familiars,” Merlin told him loftily. “That’s a myth.”
Aithusa chirped her agreement. Arthur regarded her suspiciously.
“Aithusa is clearly a magical creature though, isn’t she?”
“Maybe,” Merlin admitted reluctantly.
Arthur raised an eyebrow, waiting.
Merlin sighed. “Fine!” he exclaimed. “But just remember Aithusa and I were trying to make you feel comfortable with a cute little cat!”
Aithusa was not a cute little cat. “She’s a vicious, scratchy Firestarter!” Arthur pointed out.
“Because she’s unhappy in her fake skin!” Merlin told him. He clapped his hands together. “Aithusa! Thirku!”
Arthur barely had time to register the way that Merlin’s voice had just gone all deep and ridiculously sexy, because immediately afterwards Aithusa sneezed, twitched, and sneezed again. And then the fluffy white cat was gone and in her place…
“She’s a lizard!”
“Dragon,” Merlin corrected. “Miniature white, very rare and precious.”
“A dragon…” Arthur stared down at the tiny creature.
Aithusa was padding on the carpet, shaking out her little wings and stretching experimentally.
“Peeeep peep!” she called. Or something like that anyway.
This was amazing. And incredibly cool. Much, much cooler than some fluffy cat. Everyone had cats. Arthur had never even seen a real dragon. Well, apart from that huge one on the famous TV documentary with David Attenborough talking in hushed, reverent tones over the footage. The Secret Life of Dragons. Yes. Arthur absolutely loved that documentary. He’d watched it… a lot.
“I thought they were only on that remote island? Isla Kilga?” Arthur asked, crouching down to look more closely at Aithusa. She stopped moving, regarding him then giving a cautious sniff. “Shouldn’t she be in the nature reserve?”
“Miniature dragon,” Merlin reminded him. “She’d struggle in the wild so she has to stay with her drugglelub.” He mumbled the last word.
“Her what?”
“Um…” Merlin looked a bit guilty. Possibly even more guilty than he had when they’d first discussed his magical powers “Um… Well, you see, my dad is… um… he works on Isla Kilga and… um… when I visited at Easter there was this egg and I accidentally hatched it and Aithusa was born and she sort of imprinted on me.”
Arthur was so envious he couldn’t trust himself to speak for a few moments. Though it did explain why Merlin had been away so long at Easter. They’d only just got together and Arthur had been terrified that Merlin was working up to dumping him. Then he thought about it all and something else occurred to him. “Wait a minute. I saw The Secret Life of Dragons.” Four times but no need to tell Merlin that. “The only person living on that island is that bearded hermit bloke, Balinor. He’s a dragonlord!”
“Yeah… um… that’s my dad.”
“Right. Of course he is. A dragonlord. So that makes you a dragonlord heir…”
“I’ll inherit his powers one day, yes. For now I’m just Aithusa’s dragonlord, because of the hatching thing.”
Arthur swore under his breath.
“Shh!” Merlin told him. “She’ll hear you. No bad language!”
Arthur thought he was fairly justified in swearing. He’d had a bit of a shock, after all. He didn’t stand up though, far too fascinated by his new houseguest.
It seemed to be mutual. Aithusa sniffed at Arthur again. He wondered if she was going to blow fire at him or something. His table hadn’t done well from the earlier encounter.
“Can I feed her a treat or something?” he asked.
Aithusa trilled excitedly and hopped up and down.
“Oh… she understands, doesn’t she?”
“Yep,” Merlin confirmed. “And yes, one treat. Just one. She’s on a careful diet. Here.” He retrieved something that looked like a dull green marble from his pocket and handed it over. “Hold it out on the palm of your hand, hand flat, the same way you’d feed a horse.”
Arthur carefully placed the treat in the centre of his palm and held it out hopefully. Aithusa didn’t even hesitate. She immediately hopped up to him and scoffed the treat, making a rumbling noise afterwards that sounded a bit like purring.
“Now she sounds more like a cat,” Arthur commented.
Aithusa gave an indignant snort.
“Peeep peep!”
“Uh, no, sorry Aithusa, you sound much better than a cat. More intelligent, prettier…”
Aithusa clicked her feet and gave another little trill. And then to Arthur’s shock, she flew at him, landing on his shoulder and almost causing him to overbalance.
“Oh!”
The claws were not particularly comfortable, but luckily they were digging mostly into the heavy sweatshirt he’d pulled on earlier, expecting to go for a run.
“Ah look, she likes you!” Merlin exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. “But we’ll just… uh… get her down… come here, Aithusa.”
Aithusa trilled at him, shaking her head. Arthur didn’t like the way that Merlin looked a bit worried at that.
“Aithusa! Thull!” Merlin commanded in the sexy dragon voice that Arthur was definitely going to get him to use in the bedroom at the earliest opportunity.
Aithusa grumbled, but obeyed, flying across into Merlin’s arms and allowing herself to be cradled like a baby, purring again as he stroked the ridge of her snout.
“Good girl,” Merlin told her. “Now remember that we don’t stand on people’s shoulders unless they have a cushion pad, do we?”
Aithusa blew out a tiny curl of smoke in response.
“You wouldn’t want to hurt Arthur, would you?”
Aithusa wailed mournfully. Arthur decided to take that as a no. It probably was. He hoped it was, anyway because Aithusa was the best pet he could ever have hoped for and he was determined that they were going to be friends. Possibly even better friends than Aithusa and Merlin. Arthur could be the nice parent, the one that didn’t tell Aithusa off all the time. Aithusa would adore him. Yes, that was an excellent idea.
“Where can I get one of the cushion pad things?” he asked. “I mean obviously she likes my shoulder, and I want her to feel comfortable in her new home.”
Aithusa trilled happily up at him.
“Look, she wants that too!”
Merlin narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Arthur immediately tried to look as guileless as possible.
“It’s going to be strange here for her, I just want her to feel at home,” he explained.
“Hmm,” was all Merlin said. He set Aithusa down on the carpet and pointed a finger at her. “Stay there.”
Aithusa fluttered her little wings and gave a low whistle. She did stay put though, while Merlin headed off to the bedroom. Arthur could hear him rummaging around in there. In the meantime, Arthur crouched down and carefully stroked the little dragon’s snout just as he’d seen Merlin do earlier. To his relief Aithusa purred happily and did not bite his finger off or anything.
“Aw, you’re a gorgeous girl, aren’t you?”
Aithusa made a noise that sounded suspiciously like ‘yes’ but couldn’t possibly have been.
“Yes, you are!”
“Peep peep!”
“Oh God, you’re going to spoil her, aren’t you?” Merlin groaned, coming back into the living room with an armful of stuff which he dumped on the sofa. “Here, this one will probably fit you, it’s too big for me.”
Arthur stood up and took a thick foam shoulder pad from Merlin. It had a stretchy band attached to it.
“Just slide it up your arm,” Merlin instructed. “She likes being carried around but she has to learn that she can only do so if we’re wearing one of these. Trust me, her claws are sharp and if you turn suddenly she’ll dig in.”
Arthur belatedly recalled the small scars he’d noticed on Merlin’s left shoulder. “Ah. She’s done that to you.”
“Yep. And be really careful if you’re sitting down and she decides to sit on your lap!”
Arthur winced at the thought.
“I’ve put a couple of pads on the sofa for that,” Merlin continued. “She doesn’t mean to hurt anyone, she’ll be upset if she does.”
Arthur thought that he probably would be as well by the sound of it. “So she can sit on my shoulder now?”
Merlin did look a bit wary. “If you like. I wouldn’t encourage her though, she’ll never leave you alone.”
Excellent news, Arthur thought. He patted his padded shoulder. “Aithusa, come!”
The little dragon immediately obeyed, her leathery wings batting against Arthur’s head as she landed.
“Peep peep!”
Arthur didn’t even try to hide his huge grin. “She did it! She came to me when I asked! Can I give her another treat?”
Merlin rolled his eyes, but handed over a second treat. “Don’t spoil her.”
“As if!” Arthur held the treat up to Aithusa. “You’re a good girl, Aithusa, aren’t you? Yes, you are.”
Aithusa was mostly just interested in gobbling down the treat, but she did chitter happily after she’d finished it, and stayed on Arthur’s shoulder. Even when he tried moving around she stayed put.
“You’re not going to like it when she shits down your back,” Merlin warned.
Arthur looked at Aithusa, her little face just inches from his own. “You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?”
“Peeep!”
“She will if you keep feeding her those treats,” Merlin told him.
Aithusa trilled gently. Arthur wasn’t sure whether that was a yes or no. He supposed that he was going to find out sooner or later.
---
Aithusa, as it turned out, adored Arthur and did not ever poop down his back.
As well as the treats, which Arthur had found a box of hidden away at the back of the wardrobe, Arthur also started buying her toys.
It wasn’t hard to tell whether Aithusa liked a toy or not. Quackers the plushie duck was getting a bit ragged round the edges from all the carrying and cuddling that it received. The feather on a stick that Arthur had thought might induce cat-like playing cuteness had been turned to charcoal within minutes. Merlin had smirked at that one.
“Shut up, Merlin,” Arthur grumbled. “I’m enriching her environment.”
“You’re spoiling her.”
“She loves me. I’ll get custody of her in a divorce, I swear.”
“We’re not married.”
“Not yet.”
“Is that a proposal? Because it was rubbish, even for a giant clotpole like you!”
“Nope! You’ll know when you’re being proposed to,” Arthur grinned. And Merlin would, because Arthur had elaborate plans that involved training Aithusa to fly in with a ring in a basket and a little note. So far the trial baskets and notes had ended up in much the same state as the feather on a stick. He hadn’t dared risk an actual ring.
“When?” Merlin grinned back.
Arthur smiled. “And we won’t end up divorced like your parents either.”
“My parents aren’t divorced. Mum just refuses to live on Isla Kilga because it’s in the middle of nowhere.”
Merlin’s mother lived in a cottage in the Brecons, in a small village that could only be reached by a narrow winding country lane. There was a high risk they’d be snowed in when they visited at Christmas. It was the middle of nowhere as far as Arthur was concerned.
“We visit him though, and he comes here. He’ll be here for Christmas, you’ll meet him then. You could come with me next time I go out to the island as well if you like.”
Arthur tried extremely hard not to jump up and punch the air and then run around the room screaming with excitement. “That would be good,” he managed with what he thought was a studied calm. “I’ll look forward to meeting him.”
“I bet you will,” Merlin muttered.
Arthur wondered whether he perhaps wasn’t hiding his lifelong love of dragons quite as well as he thought he was.
It hadn’t helped when Morgana had waltzed into the flat unexpectedly one afternoon and found Arthur trying to get not a cat Aithusa to shake hands. Arthur was convinced that he wouldn’t have needed stitches if his witch of a sister hadn’t startled Aithusa with her high-pitched shriek.
Fortunately Merlin could manage a certain amount of healing magic, and patched up Arthur while scolding both Arthur and Aithusa.
“I’m sure it’s not this little darling’s fault,” Morgana declared, settling herself in Arthur’s usual spot on the sofa. “Arthur’s always been obsessed with dragons. He used to have all these little toys…”
“Merlin doesn’t want to hear about that,” Arthur put in quickly.
Merlin smirked. “Merlin’s already guessed that,” he assured them. “Arthur’s still got those toys, they’re in a box at the back of the hall cupboard. And I’ve found old pairs of socks with dragons printed on them in his underwear drawer.”
Morgana’s delighted smile stretched from ear to ear. “Really Arthur? I must mention it to Father!”
Their father did not approve of anything fun or frivolous, and keeping childhood toys would definitely fall into that category.
“Just don’t mention Aithusa to him,” Merlin warned. “You two shouldn’t really know about her. If my father finds out then I’ll be in trouble. I’m supposed to keep her secret.”
“Not my fault Morgana doesn’t know how to knock,” Arthur grumbled. Aithusa had hopped over to Morgana and was sniffing at her curiously. And of course Morgana was encouraging her. She’d even picked up one of the protective pads and spread it across her lap.
“It is your fault she has a key,” Merlin pointed out.
“Have you met Morgana? You try arguing with her on that one.”
“Security,” Morgana told them. “Safety for my baby brother if the sensible member of the family has a key. And also now I know I have this adorable little niece living here, there’s absolutely no chance of me ever walking in and finding the pair of you shagging on the living room carpet so even better!”
“Why am I attached to this family?” Merlin muttered to no one in particular.
Morgana beamed at him. “You love us!” she told him. “And I love little Aithusa. She’s gorgeous! I always knew she wasn’t a cat, I could sense the glamour on her. Come to Auntie Morgana, Aithusa!” she patted the pad.
Aithusa, the little traitor, immediately flew to her and curled up in her lap, enjoying the fuss.
“She loves me best,” Arthur grumbled, already jealous.
“Hah. Auntie Morgana’s the best, isn’t she Aithusa? Yes she is!”
Arthur wasn’t having that. He’d been training Aithusa for weeks. She wasn’t quite there yet, but his honour was at stake against the evil that was his sister. So. He held out a treat from his pocket. “Aithusa, who’s the best? It’s Arthur, isn’t it? Say Arthur, go on…”
“Aaaaah!” Aithusa called. “Aaaaaahs! Peep peep!”
“Good girl!” Arthur beamed proudly at the little dragon, then up at Merlin who did actually look quite surprised. “She’s learning to say Arthur.”
“Sounds more like Arse,” Morgana pointed out, making Merlin laugh. “So I suppose that’s right.”
It was a shame she was holding Aithusa so he couldn’t throw anything at her.
---
Arthur couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked forward to Christmas.
For years it had just been him and Morgana, their father often called away on business at the last moment. Whichever staff member had been left in charge of them was never happy at having to work at Christmas and usually spent most of the day on the phone to their own family.
This year was his first with Merlin, which would have been pretty special anyway. But there was Aithusa too, and they were all off to Merlin’s mum’s place for Christmas. Morgana had also got an invitation the moment Hunith realised that Arthur’s sister was going to be left on her own. Arthur pretended to be grumpy about that, but actually he was relieved. He wouldn’t have felt right if he’d actually abandoned her. And anyway, as it turned out Hunith was pleased to have another female around the place. The pair of them spent far too long sitting out in the kitchen gossiping around bottles of wine for Arthur’s liking. Still, that meant Arthur could sit with Merlin’s father and they could get to know each other.
Or, more to the point, Arthur could ask Merlin’s very famous father lots of questions. Merlin’s dragonlord father. Who flew in to the tiny Welsh village of Ealdor on an actual dragon. Sadly this was a few days before Arthur had arrived, and he wouldn’t be flying back until well after New Year.
“We can come back and watch though, can’t we?” Arthur asked as soon as he got Merlin alone. (Which wasn’t that long because Balinor had found a sudden need to go down into the village and catch up with old friends).
“I’ll be working,” Merlin said, opening up his case and starting to unpack.
“Mer-lin…” Arthur wheedled. “I taught Aithusa to speak, I’m almost a dragonlord myself, I should see the full-sized dragon!”
Merlin rolled his eyes. He did that quite a lot, Arthur had noticed. It was very rude, Arthur was just showing an interest in his future spouse’s career and absolutely not just mad about dragons, no matter what Morgana claimed.
“You’ve taught Aithusa to say Arse,” Merlin pointed out.
“Arthur. She says Arthur.”
“She says Aaaarths. It sounds more like Arse than anything. Mum thought we’d been watching too many re-runs of Father Ted in front of her.”
“She’s learning.”
“Hmm…”
“So we could come back and see the dragon? Maybe your dad will arrange it on a weekend or something? It would be good for Aithusa to see another dragon…”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Merlin told him. “Maybe cut down on all the dragon questions you’re bombarding him with though.”
Arthur didn’t think he was asking that many. “No problem! You’re the best boyfriend ever!”
“I know.” Merlin threw a pair of underpants at him. “Now drop your dragon obsession for a few minutes and help me unpack.”
“Can’t,” Arthur grinned. “You’re a dragonlord. I’m never going to stop being obsessed with dragons because they’re you!”
He could see from the pleased little smile Merlin was trying to hide that it was the exact right thing to say. Which was good, because Aithusa had learned to stop torching the ring basket when she carried it and Arthur had high hopes for a successful proposal on Christmas Day.
---
It was Arthur’s best Christmas ever.
Hunith, apparently, was the worst cook in the entire world. But this didn’t matter because she’d bought everything pre-made from M&S and anyway Merlin’s Uncle Gaius came over with his wife Alice and the pair of them took over the kitchen while Hunith and (eventually, when she emerged) Morgana taste-tested numerous bottles of Prosecco and raided the selection boxes while taking the piss out of some dire Christmas Netflix movie.
It was also, Arthur supposed, Morgana’s best Christmas ever as well. It almost made him decide to forgo their traditional joke gifts but then he opened the one she’d given him and changed his mind.
“I am not a sad, deranged dragon fanboy!” he growled at her. He could see Balinor watching him with more than a little suspicion, so quickly shoved the t-shirt and its offensive (to Arthur) slogan down the side of the sofa.
“You are a bit,” Merlin whispered.
Rude.
Arthur pouted a bit, just biding his time until Morgana unwrapped the lovely coral pink polyester bedjacket that he’d bought her, with its elegant round collar and attractive pearly buttons. He’d thrown in a pack of incontinence pads as well ‘for my older sister’.
Morgana’s face was like thunder, satisfyingly. But only for a few moments because Aithusa chirruped excitedly and was straight over there, snuggling in the fleecy softness.
The little traitor.
“Aww… did Daddy Arthur buy you a lovely soft bed?” Morgana crooned. “Isn’t he kind? This is so nice, Arthur. Look how Aithusa loves it! Say thank you to Daddy Arthur.”
“Peep peep! Aaaarths!”
“Is she saying arse?” Balinor wondered. “Who taught her that?”
Arthur took it all back. He was not pleased that his witch of a sister was having a wonderful Christmas after all.
---
By the evening, things had quietened down. Morgana was on the phone to one of her friends out in the dining room. Probably Gwen, judging by the amount of evil cackling that was going on. Hunith and Balinor were in the kitchen with Alice. Uncle Gaius was asleep in the armchair by the fire.
Arthur wasn’t quite sure how Gaius was Merlin’s uncle, particularly as it appeared to be on his mother’s side and Hunith barely looked old enough to have a son Merlin’s age.
But anyway, Gaius was asleep, so Arthur, Merlin and Aithusa were to all intents and purposes alone in the living room. Aithusa was still snuggled up in the bedjacket, snoring her little head off. It seemed a shame to wake her. Still, Arthur knew the perfect way to do it.
“Wonder if Aithusa would like a treat?”
The little dragon was instantly awake and alert, head up expectantly.
“She’s had enough,” Merlin warned.
“Just one, it’s Christmas,” Arthur begged, getting to his feet. Aithusa chirruped agreement and quickly abandoned the bedjacket for her other favourite spot on Arthur’s shoulder.
“You spoil her,” Merlin grumbled.
“Yes,” Arthur crooned, mostly to Aithusa as they headed off to the bedroom. “Yes, I do spoil my favourite girl, don’t I? Let’s go and get you a treat. You’re a good girl, Aithusa, aren’t you? Yes, you are!”
“Aaaarths!”
It did sound like arse. Well, they’d just have to work on it. Aithusa was at least better at saying Arthur than she was Merlin or Morgana, so Arthur was going to take that as a win.
“So, here’s a treat for you, my good girl,” Arthur told her as soon as they were safely inside the bedroom.
Aithusa chomped on it with little cries of happiness. Food brought her much joy, it seemed.
“Would you like another one?” Arthur asked.
Aithusa trilled that yes she would. Or that was probably what she said anyway. Arthur didn’t speak dragon but he got the gist.
“Okay! Now,” Arthur had got the little basket all ready. The ring and note were safe in a small box fastened inside, so that there was no fear of Aithusa’s enthusiastic (and slightly wobbly) flight dislodging it. “You’re going to give this to Merlin, aren’t you?”
Aithusa let out a series of clicks and whistles. Arthur hoped they meant yes.
“And then I’m going to give you this delicious treat!”
Aithusa trilled happily at that and immediately made a grab for the basket. Arthur quickly opened the door and headed downstairs, Aithusa flapping her wings hard and zooming past him, down into the living room. Arthur had to run to get there in time. He could hear Merlin’s voice as he raced into the living room.
“What have you got there? Oh! Is that for me?”
Arthur just got into the room in time to see Aithusa dump the basket unceremoniously in Merlin’s lap.
“Peep peep!”
She then flew straight back to Arthur for her reward. It wasn’t quite how Arthur had envisaged it going, but it would have to do. Merlin was busy looking at the basket and didn’t notice at first that Arthur was going down on one knee (while surreptitiously reaching out to feed Aithusa the well-earned dragon treat).
“Arthur?” Merlin had pulled out the box. “What’s this… oh!” He looked at Arthur, then at the now open box, then back at Arthur.
“Merlin…”
“Oh my God!” came a shriek from behind them, followed by a lot of shushing, but Arthur ignored it.
“Yes, Arthur?” Merlin had stopped looking surprised and instead was grinning from ear to ear. An excellent sign, Arthur thought. Promising.
“Merlin Emrys, would you do me the honour of becoming my husband?”
Merlin, because he was an absolute shit, shook his head and curled his lip, still grinning from ear to ear. “Nah… don’t fancy it…”
“Merlin!” That was definitely Hunith’s voice.
Arthur raised an eyebrow but before he could come out with anything equally teasing or sarcastic, Merlin launched himself at him, beaming all over his face.
“Course I will, you dollophead!”
And then Merlin kissed him, while Aithusa flew around their heads squawking proudly because it was of course all her doing.
When they eventually came up for air there were many congratulations and hugs and handclasps, as well as tears of happiness from Hunith (and Merlin as well, briefly. Definitely his mother’s son, Arthur thought, storing the information away for future teasing).
“You’d better call your father, Arthur,” Hunith told him. “I’m sure he’ll want to know the happy news straight away. Oh, this is so exciting! What a lovely Christmas it’s been!”
Arthur exchanged a silent, apprehensive look with Morgana. They both knew that his chances of even getting an answer were going to be slim.
“Take it in the hallway,” Morgana suggested. “Reception’s better out there. I’ll come with you, I can wish him a happy Christmas. Hunith, we should break open that champagne you’ve got for new year. I’ll replace it as soon as the shops open.”
“No need to do that!” Hunith protested.
“I insist. Come on Arthur, Merlin, make that call and then we can all celebrate properly!” Morgana steered them towards the hallway and let the door close behind them.
That effectively gave them a little privacy, although Aithusa had flown out there and was perched on the stair rail, crowing happily. They weren’t going to get rid of her any time soon, she was too excited.
“Shush,” Merlin ordered. Aithusa snorted disgustedly, but did actually obey.
Arthur took a deep breath, then called his father before Aithusa started up again. He was half-hoping that Uther wouldn’t be there, but no such luck.
“Uther Pendragon speaking.”
“Hi Dad, it’s Arthur. Happy Christmas.”
Silence for a moment, then; “Are you drunk?”
“No! I wanted to tell you, Merlin and I just got engaged.”
“Engaged? That’s a little fast, Arthur. You’ve only been seeing that boy for a few months.”
“Ten months.” Ten glorious months. “And we’ve been living together since June.”
“Hmm.”
“Morgana says Happy Christmas. Did you want to speak to her?”
Beside him, Morgana was pulling faces and shaking her head. Awkward phone calls with their father were never much fun.
“Is she engaged too?”
“No.”
“Hmm. Well.” There was a lengthy pause. “If this Martin…”
“Merlin.”
“…this Merlin is going to be part of the family, I’d better get to know him better. You’ll come over for dinner. I’m back on Wednesday, so come over on Thursday evening. Morgana too.”
Arthur put his hand over the mouthpiece. “He’s invited us to dinner Thursday night. You too,” he added to Morgana. “Bad luck.”
Merlin nodded. “No problem, I’m off until New Year.”
“If I must,” Morgana sighed.
“That’s fine for us,” Arthur told Uther.
“Good. You’ll stay over. I suppose we can break out the Scotch to celebrate.”
That was a definite step up from ten years earlier when Uther had been less than delighted to learn he had a gay son. Arthur appreciated the effort. Although he did realise that perhaps Uther just felt that he needed a drink.
But there was another problem.
“We… um… have a kitten,” Arthur told his father, glancing nervously at Merlin as he said it. “She’s too little to be left overnight. She’s fully house-trained, she won’t be any bother.”
Aithusa flew around their heads, still hugely excited by the success of her mission although she was keeping quiet as ordered. Hopefully she would have calmed down by the time they got to Uther’s place, Arthur thought.
“I suppose it can be shut in your room,” Uther allowed. “I’ll see you on Thursday, Arthur.”
“Happy Chr…” Arthur began, but Uther had already ended the call.
“Was he full of Christmas cheer?” Morgana asked drily.
“In his special way. He sends his regards.”
“No, he doesn’t.”
“No,” Arthur admitted. “Well, at least we’re going to see him during the Christmas period this year, just about.”
“Wonderful,” Morgana’s voice dripped sarcasm. “I think you owe me a bigger present!”
“I’ll get you another bedjacket if you like. We’re all staying over, by the way. Aithusa too.”
“Great,” Morgana pouted.
Merlin looked up at Aithusa worriedly. “I suppose we’d better start retraining her to stick to that cat glamour.”
Aithusa chittered down at them. It didn’t bode well.
---
Christmas at Hunith’s place had been wonderful, but it had to end.
“How lovely that you can now go and celebrate with Arthur’s father,” Hunith had said to Merlin and Arthur while they were loading the car. “He’ll be so excited too, I’m sure. You’ll have to invite him over next time so that we can all meet up. We’re going to be family now, after all.”
“Mmm,” Arthur had replied, exchanging a wary glance with Morgana, who grimaced behind Hunith’s back.
“He’s a very busy man,” Morgana explained diplomatically, lifting the tiniest of her four cases into the car.
“You’ll be back though?” Hunith asked.
“Try to stop me! This has been wonderful, Hunith, thank you so much. And I’ll see you next month anyway. My friend Gwen is going to love you. We’re going to have a fabulous time!”
Some sort of shopping and cocktails weekend had been planned for the girls. Arthur tried not to be too disappointed that a matching dragons weekend (or longer) had yet to be planned for the boys. He’d dropped a number of hints as well, but Balinor had failed to notice. Being alone on the island all the time probably meant that he had stopped noticing social cues.
That was most likely what it was, Arthur told himself, slamming shut the car boot and turning to say his farewells to Hunith.
Balinor had emerged from the house when they were packing up. He had something in his hands and was looking very serious. Although that did appear to be his default expression.
“Arthur!”
The moment had surely arrived. Balinor was going to say something like “Please accept this invitation to my island at any time. I’ll send the dragon to pick you up!” Arthur just knew it.
“You forgot this.” Balinor handed over the t-shirt that Morgana had joke-gifted for Christmas.
Arthur wanted the ground to swallow him up.
And perhaps he did look mortified because Balinor gave a snort of what might have been laughter.
“You’ll probably want to wear something a bit more substantial than that at Easter though. Gets a bit cold in the evenings over on the island.” He slapped Arthur on the back. “Welcome to the family, son.”
Arthur did not stop smiling the whole way home.
---
Christmas, or Twixtmas as it was by then, at Uther’s was very different from Christmas at Hunith’s.
As usual, the mansion was immaculately decorated. Even though nobody had been there for Christmas, Uther still liked it to look good. He would have hired someone, that was what always happened. And in the drawing room there was as always a huge, scented pine, tastefully decorated in red and gold.
“We’d better make sure Aithusa doesn’t go anywhere near that,” Merlin whispered as soon as he saw the tree.
Arthur frowned. “She’s been fine with ours. And the one at Hunith’s. She even helped me decorate ours.” They had a couple of smashed baubles to prove it. But Aithusa had behaved well, they hadn’t once got up to find the Christmas tree had been attacked.
“We didn’t put a huge shiny gold star on the top though, did we?”
“No.” There was actually a glittery dragon on the top of both their trees. “But what difference does that make?”
Merlin didn’t answer, just grimaced, and hurried on through the drawing room, heading for the stairs with the kitty carrier before Aithusa noticed the tree.
They’d persuaded Aithusa to transform into a cute, fluffy kitten. Just how long she would stay that way was anyone’s guess. Merlin’s plan was to lock her in their bedroom and keep her there. They’d brought Quackers the duck, and a bunch of her other toys. And between the three of them doing a duty rota of keeping her company, they hoped she would behave.
Uther had taken one look at the kitten shut in the carrier, and sneezed theatrically.
Which was interesting, because Aithusa wasn’t actually a cat and it wasn’t real fur, so there shouldn’t have been an allergy. The same alleged allergy that had meant Arthur and Morgana weren’t allowed pets when they were growing up.
“He’s a lying liar who lies!” Morgana exclaimed as soon as they’d got Aithusa safely tucked away in Merlin and Arthur’s bedroom. “All those times we asked for pets!”
“It could be psycho-somatic,” Merlin suggested. “Because he thinks she’s a cat?”
“Just psycho, Marvin” Morgana told him. Uther had already addressed Merlin by three different names and they’d barely been there half an hour so far. “I would have loved a cat! I’m getting one. I’m going to get a flat in your building, Arthur, they let you have pets…”
“Oh God,” Arthur groaned, and then, “Ow!” when Morgana smacked him on the arm.
“I’ll be an amazing neighbour! The best! And Aithusa will love my cat.”
Aithusa would probably eat her cat given half a chance, but they’d worry about that if and when Morgana actually moved there.
“Let’s just get through the next 24 hours first,” Merlin suggested.
“Peep peep!” Aithusa agreed. She had already slipped back into dragon form.
It would be fine, Arthur told himself. Just as long as they kept the door shut…
---
Dinner was served, appropriately, in the dining room.
Sometimes Arthur thought that his father imagined himself the lord of the manor or something. Some sort of noble at any rate. He sat at the head of the dining table, which might have been more impressive if there had been more of them, but as it was Arthur and Merlin sat on one side, Morgana on the other, all close enough to pass the salt, and then there was a long stretch of empty table.
“We have one of those tables that folds out,” Merlin volunteered. “Arthur got it from IKEA.”
“Ikea?” Uther looked genuinely puzzled. “What is that?”
Morgana smirked into her starter.
“It’s… well, it’s IKEA,” Merlin didn’t appear to know how to answer. Because surely everyone knew what IKEA was? “We get most of our furniture there.”
“It’s a Swedish chain of warehouse-style shops selling affordable furniture,” Arthur explained. “Mass-produced and flat packed.”
Morgana had her head down, very interested in the contents of her plate. He could see her shoulders shaking slightly.
“So, nothing unique or collectable?”
“Oh, we’ve collected an entire set of plates and cups and things,” Merlin told him.
“Crockery,” Uther replied.
“Yes. It’s all in primary colours.”
“Mervin,” Uther sighed. “Do you know what good taste is?”
“Calling someone by their correct name?” Arthur suggested.
Uther frowned, about to say something, but at that moment they were all distracted by a loud shriek from somewhere upstairs. Arthur, Morgana and Merlin all exchanged worried looks.
“That ridiculous maid has probably seen a spider again,” Uther grumbled. “Mark, I suppose your parents don’t have to put up with that sort of thing?”
“We have lots of spiders,” Merlin told him. “Mum’s house is out in the country.”
“It’s a gorgeous house,” Morgana put in quickly. “Hunith is so lovely.”
“I meant atrociously bad hired help,” Uther snapped.
“Um… I think Mum has someone in to clean once a month. Dad pays for it as a treat because she’s always so busy. They’re really good though.”
“Once a month?”
“I know,” Merlin agreed, or seemed to think he did. “I tease her about it. Such a posh thing to do!”
Uther stared at him for a moment, then clicked his fingers at the servant who had been standing to one side, waiting on them. “George. More Scotch.”
“Very good, Sir. On the rocks?” George gave a little bow as he spoke. Arthur supposed he must be Uther’s favourite servant ever.
“God, no.”
George backed out of the room, closing the doors behind him. Arthur got a glimpse of that magnificent Christmas tree in the next room. Really it would have been nicer to eat in there around a smaller table, surrounded by the festive decorations. Much better than the over-abundance of anthracite grey panels all around the room that they were in, making it grim and dark rather than anything else.
There were no further shrieks from upstairs. Arthur wondered if perhaps Uther was right and it really had simply been the maid spotting a spider? He hoped so. Aithusa was clever but probably wouldn’t have worked out how to unlock the door. Only Arthur and Merlin had a key.
And housekeeping, Arthur supposed. But they wouldn’t have gone in yet. Would they? Arthur and Merlin had only just arrived. There was no need to go into their room to change sheets or towels or anything.
There was another yell, much, much closer. A male voice this time. From the next room.
“Oh no,” Merlin muttered, gazing worriedly at the closed door to the drawing room.
“What on earth is going on out there?” Uther demanded, getting to his feet. “George?”
“Don’t come in, Sir!” George called back.
Nobody listened to him. Arthur wasn’t sure which of them made it to the door first, but a moment later they were all in the drawing room, staring in horror at the scene before them.
Aithusa was not hidden away in the bedroom.
Aithusa was not even disguised as a fluffy cat.
“Oops,” Merlin offered.
“Peeep!” Aithusa cried. “Peeep!”
She had gone for the star at the top of the tree, just as Merlin had feared. Somehow she had managed to get tangled up with the rich red ribbon that adorned the tree and was now struggling to both free herself and reach the star at the same time. There were dozens of smashed red glass baubles all over the floor.
“Don’t worry, Sir,” George had fetched a broom from somewhere and was heading for the tree. “I’ll deal with it.”
“No!” Morgana quickly blocked his way. “Don’t hurt her!”
“Aithusa!” Merlin called, standing beside the precariously teetering tree. “Come!”
“Peeeeeeep!” Aithusa replied.
“Is it his?” Uther asked disgustedly. “Arthur, I really must ask you to reconsider this hasty engagement. Merkin is most unsuitable…”
Arthur ignored him, following Merlin to stand on the other side of the tree. “Aithusa! Look, I have a treat for you! Come here!”
“Dear lord,” he heard his father mutter. “Where’s that Scotch?”
George was too busy doing battle with Morgana, who was trying to wrest the broom from him.
“Aithusa!” Arthur called again.
The little dragon ignored them. That golden star was apparently the best prize ever and she was determined to have it. She opened her mouth. She took a deep breath…
“Oh no…” Arthur gasped. He knew what was about to happen. He’d seen it with the feather toys.
“Aithusa, NO!” Merlin yelled.
But it was too late. Uther’s beautifully decorated tree and ribbons were reduced to a charred skeleton, only the star escaping as Aithusa finally claimed her prize.
George gave up on the broom and immediately located a fire extinguisher, although the magical dragonfire was out as quickly as it had started up.
“Peep peep!” Aithusa told them all happily, standing over her newly acquired star.
“Bad girl,” Arthur told her. “Very bad girl.”
“Aaaaahs.”
“Arse? Arse? What the hell is going on here, Arthur?” Uther demanded. “What is that thing? George, call pest control!”
“Don’t you dare!” Morgana cried. “Aithusa did nothing wrong!”
“Er, she almost burned the house down,” George pointed out. But he stayed where he was.
“That tree shouldn’t have jumped out and scared her!” Morgana decided. “Bad tree. Very bad tree!” She held her arms out to Aithusa. “Come to Auntie Morgana, precious darling Aithusa!”
Uther stared at her as if he thought she’d lost her mind. Perhaps he did. Aithusa clearly didn’t as she flew up into Morgana’s arms, happily chirruping as she did so, still clutching the gold star. ‘Auntie Morgana’ was becoming a reliable source of dragon treats. Arthur suspected she had raided Merlin’s stash at some point over Christmas. He wondered whether she knew what they were made from and whether she would be so keen to keep them in her expensive designer bag if she did.
“So,” Uther asked, his voice far too calm and collected as he pointed to Aithusa, “do tell me because I’d very much like to know. Exactly what is that?”
“Um…” Merlin said.
“She’s… er… our dragon,” Arthur offered.
“Dragon?”
“Oooh,” George exclaimed. “I like dragons. But aren’t they bigger?”
“Miniature white. Very rare. Highly prized,” Arthur told him.
“Rare?” Uther suddenly seemed more interested than angry. “Highly prized?”
“My father is the dragonlord on Isla Kilga,” Merlin explained. “You may have seen the David Attenborough documentary, The Secret Life of Dragons?”
“I have!” George piped up. Arthur immediately liked him a little more.
But not as much as Uther suddenly appeared to like Merlin.
“Your father is friends with Sir David Attenborough? Merlin, why ever did you not say so sooner? The man is a national treasure!”
“Er…” Merlin clearly wasn’t sure what to say.
“Yes,” Morgana put in quickly. “They’re very good friends. Obviously Aithusa is a rare and protected breed, and it’s a great honour to have her here. Sir David often calls Merlin to see how Aithusa is getting on. I expect there will be a documentary on her at some point.”
“Really?” Uther was looking at Aithusa with fresh interest.
“We do all have a responsibility to keep her safe though,” Arthur put in quickly. He could imagine the publicity opportunities that his father was already considering. “And that means she’s kept secret for now.”
“Er… yes,” Merlin joined in. “She’d be in danger of theft if her existence was known.”
“Sir David would not be happy with whoever endangered her,” Arthur added.
“I’ll never say a word,” George assured them. “An actual dragon! It’s an honour to meet her.”
“So we disguise her as a cat,” Morgana added. “We were quite surprised when your allergy kicked in. It must have been a very convincing disguise.”
Uther did actually look a little uncomfortable. “Yes… well… erm… of course I won’t mention it to anyone. But you know, that gives me an idea. Sir David could film his documentary here if he likes? More room, and obviously that would give the creature better protection as it isn’t where it actually lives.”
“I’ll be sure to let Dave know,” Merlin told him, deadpan.
“Good. Excellent! Well,” Uther looked around at the wreckage of the Christmas tree, “I’m sure the little creature has had its fun and now needs to go away and… do whatever these things do.”
“She’s actually better behaved if she stays with us,” Merlin admitted. “If you don’t mind, Mr Pendragon?”
“Oh, do call me Uther, Merlin my dear boy. You’re about to become one of the family after all!”
Morgana raised an eyebrow at Arthur, who shrugged.
“Yes, of course… um… Uther,” Merlin replied. “She doesn’t normally do things like this. She’s very sociable. Arthur and I will tidy it all up, I’m very sorry.”
“She probably won’t want to give the star up though,” Arthur warned.
“Oh never mind about that, I only have the tree up for you and your sister. Let the creature keep the star if it wants it. Are you going to take it away and put it somewhere safe now?”
“She’s much better behaved if she’s down here with us,” Merlin repeated patiently. “She’ll sit quietly with her new toy. Perhaps we could get her a bowl of water and a few scraps left over from dinner?” he looked hopefully at George, who happily agreed. People generally did tend to love dragons.
“Aaaaaahs!” Aithusa called again as George hurried off.
“It is saying arse,” Uther commented. “I hope it doesn’t say that to Sir David. I’d be mortified.”
“She’s just trying to say Arthur,” Morgana told him. “Although of course I think she’s got it right already!” She smiled smugly at her brother who scowled back.
“She’ll learn to call you a witch soon enough!”
“Not if you’re teaching her!”
“Hah!” Arthur crouched down beside Aithusa. If his father could learn to say Merlin’s name correctly then there was always hope Aithusa could do the same for Arthur. “We’ll show you! Thusa, say Arthur. Arrr-thurrr.”
“Aaahs.”
“Arrr-thurr.” He reached into his pocket. “There’s a treat for you if you say Arrr-thurr.”
“Peeeeep. Aaaahs.”
It wasn’t going to work. Arthur sighed, and held out the treat anyway because he couldn’t resist Aithusa’s cute little face. “Here you go.”
“Pee-Eeeep!” She even let go of the star for a brief moment. There were loud crunching noises as the treat was devoured.
Arthur stood up, resigned to always being Arse. At least it amused Merlin and Morgana, he supposed. George was back in with a couple of bowls. Merlin was making a futile attempt to clear up using the discarded broom.
“Why don’t you go and finish dinner, Father?” Arthur suggested. “There’s broken glass in here, we should put Aithusa in the dining room where she’s safe. Merlin and I will clear up.”
“George can do it,” Uther waved a hand dismissively, heading back towards the dining room.
“That isn’t fair,” Merlin pointed out. “It’s our pet’s mess. Please could you get us another broom, George, and maybe some bin bags. We’ll sort it out. Me and Arse,” he added as soon as Uther had walked out of earshot.
“Aaaaarrrth!” Aithusa cried. “Aaaarrrth!”
That was definitely better. “She said it! Clever girl!” Arthur couldn’t hide his delight. “You’re cleverer than my father! Yes, you are!”
“You do know she was actually trying to say arse that time, right?” Merlin pointed out, making Morgana cackle with laughter.
“Remind me why I’m marrying you?”
“Is it because you love his aaaaarse?” Morgana crowed, and of course Uther had to choose that moment to walk back into the room.
“Really, Morgana. That’s no way for a lady to speak,” Uther tutted. “Whatever will Sir David Attenborough say?”
“Something like ‘and here we see the lesser spotted Aaaaaarse Pendragon in his natural environment?” Morgana smirked.
Uther huffed, shaking his head. He turned away from his evidently rather disappointing daughter and wandered off to examine some paintings on the other side of the room. It was all a bit of a win for Arthur who was not normally the favourite. There were various reasons that the situation wasn’t destined to last long, though, and he decided to enjoy it while he could.
“You know Dad’s not actually friends with Attenborough?” Merlin whispered to Arthur. There. That was one reason.
“Can he pretend?”
“Not really. Dad greeted Attenborough by telling him he thought he was really good in Jurassic Park.”
“I like that film!”
“Yes, but that’s Richard, his brother!”
“Ah.”
“Yes! And then when his mistake was pointed out Dad got a bit huffy and said that he never watches wildlife documentaries because they’re a bit boring unless they’re about dragons or dinosaurs.”
“Humour him,” Arthur advised. “At least until after the wedding.”
“Wedding?” Uther asked, having fortunately missed the rest of what Merlin had said. “You’ll be inviting Sir David, of course?”
“Well…” Merlin began.
Arthur elbowed him.
“Maybe!” Merlin allowed, smiling far too brightly.
Uther smiled back, nodding happily. “Excellent. George, let’s change the décor in here. I think some award-winning wildlife photography would be in order…”
Merlin leaned close to Arthur and whispered; “Is your dad going to hate me again once he realises I don’t know Sir David, and that there is never going to be a Secret Life of Dragons Two?”
“No,” Arthur grinned, watching Aithusa perching herself on the rim of one of the expensive antique urns next to the dining room door. She had a particular expression on her little face that Arthur and Merlin had come to learn was a warning. “I think he’s going to hate both of us, and Aithusa, just as soon as he realises what she’s just done in his priceless vase!”
Merlin followed his gaze and winced. “Oh no…”
“Peeep!” Aithusa called happily. “Peeeep!”
“Don’t worry, boys,” Morgana told them, draping her arms around their shoulders. “You can always pick him up a replacement on the way home!”
The smell started to drift across the room. Arthur saw his father looking around curiously, sniffing the air. There was only puzzlement on his face at first.
“We can’t afford a new vase!” Merlin exclaimed.
“Oh you can,” Morgana smiled, “The perfect one. IKEA should be open tomorrow…”