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Aithusa had never understood his place in the world. He was born in a world that felt both too new yet too old for him. His mistress, Morgana, cared for him the best she knew how, but she was not a dragon. She saw him as an intelligent and beloved beast. Even newly hatched he knew he was more than that. His mind carried in it memories that had no place in the world he was in. But Morgana was kind, even put her life on the line more than once. The least he could do was stay with her.
In the pit, he grew hard. His muscles twisted painfully. His bones didn't develop right. Even though he could not speak in her language, he cried for Morgana day and night. Or maybe he cried for others of his kind. There had to be others. He couldn't be the only one like himself. And if he was...there was always Morgana.
There was a man, no wizard, who spoke to him in a language he not only understood, but was forced to obey. Aithusa rebelled as hard as he could against the words. His mistress had told him of this wizard, Merlin and his king, Arthur. Told him of the things they had done to her. It was worse than being imprisoned. And now he could not carry out her orders. He had a vague memory of Merlin and a larger dragon. It was Merlin who gave him his name. But it was also Merlin that gave him away. For that, Aithusa would never trust anyone other than Mistress Morgana and anyone she called friend.
Aithusa crouched low in the small cave cradling his Mistress' body. She was dead. Merlin had killed her. Merlin, who drove him away before he could help his Mistress. Merlin, who had taken from him and his Mistress for years. Merlin, who was a wizard. Merlin, who could never die. But he could suffer. Aithusa would make sure of that.
[present day] There was no place in the world for dragons or wizards or magic of any kind. As much as he denied it, Aithusa had no more purpose to be than the day he had hatched. He'd gone on with his plan to hurt Merlin as much as possible until that too was futile. Merlin hoped for Arthur to return, and that alone was enough to keep all other grief at bay. Even when his family was burned alive, Merlin merely banished Aithusa to his cave for a hundred years. No amount of slaughter or mutual retribution did what time accomplished; and that was to fade away. They still lived, but did not thrive. Old feuds' became the stuff of legend and poetry, most of it rubbish but all of it a direct mockery of what went on back then. He still cried for Morgana, though he recognized how she had, on an unconscious level he was sure, used him for her own misguided purposes. Still he loved and mourned her. The way a child loves and mourns a mentally ill mother. Every year he placed flowers on her grave, the location of which only he and maybe Merlin knew of. The one thing Merlin did not know of was his power to turn human. It was an elaborate illusion, one that few dragons could have mastered. One that he mastered quickly and easily thanks to all the memories passed on by his ancestors. The memories came on slowly. They made him feel even more alone and unwanted/needed. He was supposed to be hatched when Arthur returned to be a magnificent hero. Instead he was an old, unloved, not needed, dragon in a time when such 'beasts' were passed off as dinosaurs or as coping mechanisms for ancient civilizations. To top it off though, his human self was a cripple. All that time in the pit had warped his magic somehow that only Merlin could, and never would, fix. Aithusa had made sure of that.
He's near death. Only a few years left. What's that to a dragon? Nothing. Nothing at all. A blink, maybe. He’d stopped talking a hundred years ago. Who would he talk to? Merlin? Never! This last bit of hate was all Aithusa had left. The humans either avoided him, pitied him, or kicked him because he was still a crippled old man in his human form. As he wanted none of that, he generally avoided people altogether.
She blinks her eyes. A man, or is he a boy?, stands over her. He has lovely black hair, and an even lovelier smile. He looks familiar. "Hello little one. Welcome to the world." Behind him is a man with golden hair and stunning blue eyes. "Merlin, she's a baby. How in the world do you think she can understand a word you say?" The one known as Merlin looks over his shoulder and smiles brighter. "You were never a father, so you don't know. Babies, especially baby dragons, can understand a lot more than you give them credit for. Lanny and Nyma were always staring up at me with wisdom beyond their years." The golden man raises an eyebrow with a grunt, "They probably were wondering if they would have the misfortune of having your big ears." Merlin just shakes his head. "Is she really going to save us? I mean, she is the direct result of... of his heart blood being shed. They all are. Can we take such a risk...?" "Yes." Merlin's response is quick quiet and full of authority. A long silence, then, "If you say yes, then I won't ask again." Unspoken words pass between them. A history she, he called her Kara, has no understanding of, yet feels she should remember for the same reason the men appear to remember her. "It will take many years to get them there, Merlin." "We have many years to spend. And after that, forever." A memory of a woman, dressed in a dark blue dress, flashes before Kara's eyes. A voice "Mother, I finally found my place in the world," echoes in her head, "I am who and where I was meant to be all along."