A.N.:// You know, I came up with really good chapter titles, I should totally edit them in....
(Also: random Gwen art :) Because I finally drew again after weeks of nothingö. The colors are off btw, because every screen i work on makes it look different and it is EXHAUSTING)
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The dragon attacked them. Try and describe it any other way and you'd come up empty. (Believe me, I tried.)
The dragon screamed a blast at the knights who barely managed to dodge the fire that was send their way.
Ciril may be small, but that only made them faster. More agile. Flexible. Their long body made it hard for opponents to pin point their vital points.
Especially, since the knights weren't familiar with the anatomy of dragons.
Gwaine immediately jumped back into the boat, trying to gather his sword. Then he threw the remaining weapons to Lancelot and Elyan.
Both caught the weapons easily, barely managing to shield Sir Leon from the attack.
Shielding was probably the wrong word.
They dragged Leon by the arms out of the dragon's reach and counted on Gwaine to distract him.
But Ciril's eyes flashed a bright gold, which blinded them in the darkness of the cave,
The ground beneath them turned against them. Chains of earth and vines rooted them to the ground and made them yelp.
Gwaine managed to roll his way out of the vine's reach and jumped at the dragon. He was their very last chance to create some damage. Of course, he was doomed to fail.
Ciril roared once more and a blast knocked Gwaine against the next wall. A loud rumble made Lancelot and Elyan cover their ears with their hands. The raised arms made them vulnerable and stripped them of their chances to land another blow. Because the vines raised up to their waists and held them in place like that. Swords clattered against stone, as the vines pressed into their flesh enough to let them loose their strength. They lost their control over their hands and muscles.
"HECTOR!", the dragon growled again and roared in Leon's direction.
Their voice was deep. But somehow sounded painful. Sorrowful. Not that the knights had time to examine the voice or interpret their intentions. There was no fire in that roar. Nor was it a blast, as it had been against Gwaine.
"Answer me, you liar!", Ciril growled again and finally managed to evade both Elyan's and Lancelot's attempts to defend their unconscious friend, which was quite easy for the dragon. Especially since the two men could barely move their heads against the vines.
But then they both stopped in confusion. Finally noticing how the dragon's voice merely shifted and broke and that the creature wasn't focusing on them at all.
The voice was full of mirth. Regret, fear, worry, hatred, a strange sense of longing even. None of which made sense.
The breath they roared at Leon's face didn't even singe the knight's blond hair. And a sob escaped the dragon's lungs.
It was a swirl of emotions that illuminated the cave for a moment and turned to grief.
Gwaine, Lancelot and Elyan exchanged helpless glances, as they lay were they had been knocked down or stood where they were chained. The dragon was small. So tiny. They were three against one. And yet, they didn't stand a chance against this tiny thing.
The tiny thing that barely acknowledged them. Because they were occupied with the one man of them who wasn't even trying to defend himself. Not that he had a choice.
Just how on earth had Uther Pendragon expected them to defeat these creatures?
Suddenly, Ciril stopped. Their voice caught in their lungs as they examined Leon's still beating heart. "He's alive?"
They lay their head on Leon's barely heaving chest. They sounded surprised, which almost gave the remaining knights a heart attack. Was Leon SUPPOSED to be dead? What did they know about Leon that the knights didn't? He had been sea sick! Nothing more! Why would he die from that? He would be fine, if they let him rest. Right? RIGHT?
Then the dragon used their sharp claws to open Leon's eyelids. It made the knights flinch. Imagine someone was carefully opening your eyes with a pair of scissors. The image is about as pleasant as sharp nails scratching over a chalk board.
Eyes are the windows to the soul or so they say. And that is exactly what Ciril was investigating at this moment. After all, dragon magic was connected to blood and soul. Of course they had means to investigate the state of the human soul.
"You're not Hector.", Ciril whispered to themselves.
"You're.... you're Hector's son." Ciril backed away. Green scales fading to lighter milkier colors.
"Hector had a son.", they realized with panting breaths.
Ciril's eyes snapped up and turned to look at the remaining knights. May it be the darkness, but only the dragon could see their gaping.
They stared at Ciril, shocked beyond believe. Because none of them had ever known or heard anything about Leon's family. And that a dragon apparently knew his name, was a very concerning thing for a knight of Camelot to hear.
Leon wasn't the type to share personal information. But THIS information seemed like something a traitor would hide. Or a man who was ashamed of his past. This was crossing the line to treason.
Then again... Had Leon really hidden? He had never denied anything. Maybe they just never bothered to ask?
"Who are you and what do you want?", the dragon suddenly snarled at them. They sat on Leon's stomach. Almost protectively. But only just. As protective as a prison guard who had grown to like their prisoner.
"We are knights of Camelot.", Sir Elyan stated firmly. Which was probably a mistake. After all, for once, Camelot was the enemy.
Ciril growled and it was like the walls were tingling with their anger.
Tiny rocks fell from the ceiling and maybe it was a bit late now to notice the dangerous stalactites hanging there. Let alone worry about them. Like giant teeth they hovered over them, just waiting to chew the out.
"Please.", Lancelot finally tried. "We mean no harm." Of course that was a half lie. But right now lies were what they needed. Their only chance to survive, perhaps.
"We didn't mean to intrude. We lost two of our friends on our way. We were hoping to find them here."
Ciril's head snapped from one to the other. "You mean Arthur and Merlin?", they curiously concluded, reading Lancelot's intentions from afar. Then they settled on Leon's barely rising chest. Probably making it harder for him to breathe in his unconscious condition.
"Yes, THEM!", Lancelot happily nodded, while Gwaine tried to cut himself free from the vines. He found, that the dragon's knowledge sounded an awful lot like a trap.
His attempts to free himself didn't work. The vines were made of a metal like substance. Nothing a simple human could cut with a sword.
"That's impossible. They came here on the wish of Kilgharrah. They bear his mark. And Arthur is a prophesied king. There is no way they could have deceived us. The gate permitted their entrance. And I have checked their intentions personally."
The dragon themselves was trying to be vague. After all... there had been something about this Merlin kid. Something... clouded, hidden. It didn't seem quite natural.
"They didn't deceive you.", Lancelot tried calmly, but the dragon was relentlessly offended.
"Kilgharrah defended our kind. He would never send anyone to murder us. He got imprisoned to protect the island."
"I didn't say he would. We're friends of them. We're harmless.", Lancelot almost begged for them to believe him.
"You knights of Camelot come to this island, searching for these men, while being armed, huh? How considerate of you.", Ciril growled once again, defensively. "And bring the son of a traitor too?"
The last sentence sounded forced, almost irritated, but Ciril still eyed them warily. "No. You're lying.", they decided.
And with that the walls suddenly began to swell. In a matter of seconds, they could hear Gwaine scream in panic, rather than pain, as the wall swallowed him whole. Elyan and Lancelot panicked, trying to get off of their chains, but instead, they got tangled even deeper into the mess and sucked into the next alcove.
Sir Leon was last. But mostly, because his breathing was ragged and Ciril scanned him with worried eyes.
Sir Leon wasn't defending himself, or struggling. The way the walls took him in,
it merely looked as if someone closed a drawer shut.
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*Flashback: Leon's dream*
Leon was walking in his chambers. He was pulling at his hair in a frantic panic. Anger laced his growls and each step was forceful.
The stone floor clanked loudly against his metal protected boots. Everything he wore was heavy and for once he felt quite glad for it.
The weight on his shoulders felt better, if he could blame it on metal, rather than the responsibility.
He reached the end of the room and immediately turned around.
The action was repeated about three more times, when he almost ran into George.
Where the hell had HE come from?
"George, what the hell!", Leon almost jumped out of his skin.
George blinked, chin raised and hands folded behind his back. "Sire.", he bowed lightly, like he hadn't just jump scared the life out of the knight.
"How many times do I have to tell you! Don't sneak up on me!"
"This is the first time, Sire. You never complained before.", George turned around and went to straighten the room, as if nothing had happened. Leon stopped and reconsidered. Actually... George was right. Leon usually expected to be sneaked up on. That doesn't stop him from flinching each time. But it made him pretty good at covering up his surprise.
But this was George for you. He just... materialized out of nowhere. Leon still had to figure out how he did it.
"I heard.", George finally said and brought Leon back to the current situation that had brought him here in the first place.
"Of course you did.", Leon sighed and leaned against the window to catch his composure.
"When are you leaving?"
"In two days.", Leon said.
"What will you do?", George asked.
"I don't know!", Leon pressed out, trying to avoid thinking about the little announcement the king had given earlier.
They were to go and raid the dragon island. Not only did Leon always get sea sick, as soon as he stepped on a boat. He was also supposed to lead the entire thing with Arthur.
The king of Camelot had pulled Leon aside only an hour ago, asking him if he could handle the dragons. And by asking- Leon meant, heavily applied the pressure on Leon that it was to be expected that he could handle the situation.
And give Arthur the credit in the end, of course. Because the people were supposed to believe in the prince. Not in a random knight.
George regarded him with a sympathetic glance. "Leon, I don't know what to tell you.", he said, face scrunched and yet managing to look emotionless.
"I am ninety percent sure I should have died, when the great dragon attacked. I didn't even lift a finger! I -", Leon sighed, panic flooding his mind.
"I can't do this! We're going to ride out there and die!", Leon pulled at his hair again.
"Honestly, I don't even know why you stay in Camelot. Leon, you're a great knight, you could find another kingdom and serve there. Or live on a farm. You hate this responsibility. And you don't agree with the believes this king lets you spread. Why are you so loyal to Camelot?", George put down the pitcher with water he had just used to pour Leon a glass of water.
Then he went to arrange the meal.
"My father was a traitor to Camelot.", Leon suddenly blurted out, his breaths heaving from the sudden outburst. Leon was a very private person. There were little people out there whom he trusted with his secrets.
George knew this. And he stopped everything he was doing to look up patiently. Waiting. Not judging, but definite surprise in his eyes.
"He was burned for sorcery. Do you know what happens to the family of a sorcerer? Usually that is? Especially if the sorcerer is a knight?"
George nodded slowly. "They either die as well, or they get banished."
"Uther pardoned my mother and me. He let us keep our status and provided for us. And he allowed me knighthood. After everything my father did and after everything Uther Pendragon did, my loyalty is the least I owe him.
So I can't sit this one out! He depends on me. But if I fail, then not only will I die. Arthur will too. The prince will die." Leon covered his eyes in a desperate motion to block out the colors of the room. Usually, they felt so dull. Right now the bright sun felt vibrant and blinding in his eyes.
George stared at him.
"What about Merlin? He's the one who send the dragon away. He's the real dragon lord. Whatever king Uther thinks you are, we know better. And Merlin never leaves Arthur's side."
Leon looked up. "Yeah.", he sighed. "Arthur and him have been arguing since the meeting. Arthur insists that Merlin stays in Camelot."
George snorted. Then he realized his behavior and straightened his back again.
"Sorry, Leon. I just... as if the prince could stop Merlin."
"Yeah. But he has to sneak on the ship. And there are knights watching every corner. I'm not sure he can do it."
"Then how about you'll help him?", George asked, making Leon look up at him quizzically.
"Me?"
"Or you could hint a plan in Sir Gwaine's direction. I'm certain Sir Lancelot would be more than willing to help."
"And how do we do that?"
"Sir Gwaine never says no to a drink."
"Wait... You want me to get drunk the day before we departure for our deaths?", Leon asked, eyebrows raised.
George sighed with pity. "It's not like it could get any worse, could it?", George asked and finally walked over to put a respectful hand on Leon's shoulder to firmly show that he cared.
"Try not to die."
"Reassuring as always, George."
"You're welcome, Sire.", George bowed and left to return to his duties. Knowing, that Leon's sarcasm held a tiny bit of truth to it.
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The entrance to the dragon island lay within a cave. That is not surprising, when you know the outline of the island. Meaning, the entire thing was surrounded by mountains.
The island was shaped like a moon. And the part where the island curved into itself, was a place were wind gathered and twirled.
The temperature on the island was much higher than the outer surroundings. The wind that gathered and heated up here and then cooled down at the sea again, created an every lasting storm. Uncaring, if they entered or left the island, all ships were bound to get caught up in that.
That is one of the reasons why visitors were rare. And why even the dragons avoided flying in and out of their safe homes.
Of course, during the purge, the dragon lords had more or less forced them to get out and fight, but that was different.
It wasn't impossible to get in and out. But it was a risk you really shouldn't take, unless you were familiar with it.
There was, however, one way to get in that only few would consider.
And that was from below.
Of course you know that. That is the way Arthur and Merlin came in. It is not, however, a path that you should choose, as mortals are most likely to drown.
And even immortals would avoid this way, because all living creatures felt pain. Immortal or not, lungs full of water are not fun.
But there is one person in this story, who does not need air to survive. Because she was already dead.
From below, ears deaf from the pressure of the ocean, there could be seen a nut shell settling close against the nearest mountain. An even tinier nutshell lay beside it. It were the ships that Leon had left in Percival's care. The knights must have decided that Leon, Gwaine, Lancelot and Elyan had been gone for too long and now send for help to the king of Camelot.
Freya took note of that, but it was expected that the remaining knights would eventually make such a choice.
Deep down, where Freya watched the scene above her, you can also see a faint bluish light emerging from somewhere.
After a moment of contemplation, Freya's eyes narrowed. The glowing was too strong. Something must have happened with the knights. She should have never left them.
With frustration, but also curiosity, she followed the light deep inside the cave.
Freya was a friend to the dragons. She was not the first lady of the lake, but she did follow their tradition to visit the island once in a while. It was part of her job to take care of the dragon kin. In whatever way she could. Though she hadn't quite figured out what that meant.
There were familiar runes at the walls of the entrance. But they are merely the beginning of an underwater tunnel that leads much deeper into the heart of the island. This was a route Freya knew well. It lead right to the heart of the island. Once again, hardly anyone would ever get the idea to use this route, so the passage was not only secret. It was also save.
The runes eventually glowed brighter the deeper she swam.
Finally, at one point, her head broke through he surface of water. Calm water.
She was inside a tunnel.
The walls echoed the splashing of the water around her and reflected the glowing moving lights. They settled and swam at the uneven walls and it looked magical.
Then she heard voices. Startled, Freya turned her head to make out the source.
Somewhere, through a crack in the wall, she could see into a prison cell. She swam closer and pressed her right eye to the crack in the wall. She made out four figures laying there. Three of them wide awake, trying to find a way out. They looked shaken, almost traumatized.
The fourth one had both eyes closed and appeared to be unconscious.
Curiosity got the better of Freya and she looked inside. It were them. Sir Leon, Sir Gwaine, Sir Lancelot and Sir Elyan.
And then she saw Ciril. Ciril looked shaken as well. Almost outraged with worry. They were examining the blond one.
The blonde knight looked extremely pale and sick. Freya frowned. Sure, she had known the man was suffering from a headache. He had been sea sick.
But that shouldn't be enough to make Ciril worry.
Ciril seemed undisturbed by the remaining knights, who were sitting at windowless walls, trying their best not to move. They looked they had just been swallowed by a monster.
Freya contemplated for a second. They probably were. That happened faster than she had expected. She had thought Sir Leon's heritage would provide them a save passage.
She had send it. Radiating from his soul. He was dragon kin.
Ciril breathed against Leon's face, making it twist with displeasure. The blond hair fell aside, but otherwise the man stayed completely motionless.
"Ciril?", Freya whispered through the crack in the wall.
Ciril's head snapped up and they noticed her immediately. "Freya.", they mouthed and with another rumble, the crack widened enough for Freya to step through.
"What on earth -", Sir Gwaine muttered, completely stunned, but also tempted by the sudden opening in the wall. He didn't dare move though.
"I wouldn't try escaping through that.", Freya turned to him. "You'd have to swim under water for quite some time, before you reach air again. You cannot take a break or turn around. I don't recommend this for mortals."
"Ohh...", Gwaine rolled his eyes. "So, because you're a Siren, you can just -"
Freya frowned. "Do I look like a fish to you?", she rose both eyebrows. Gwaine shut up, but tilted his head to consider.
Freya rolled her eyes in irritated amusement, before turning back to Ciril.
Ciril looked at her pleadingly. "Can you break his curse?", they asked.
And maybe one would wonder, why Ciril brought them into a cell, only to heal one of them.
But that wasn't Ciril's plan. Ciril wanted to make sure they couldn't escape, so they would have time to inform Rebecca. That didn't mean they wanted either of them dead.
And Leon's condition worried them. Freya's sudden appearance was a god send, actually.
(Partly, because she was a goddess herself.)
"Curse?", Freya asked and tried to come closer. It was strange how the dragon island was the only land she could actually walk on. As a water spirit, she was bound to live in the ocean or the sea. But the dragon island had always been an exception.
"Kilgharrah's work."
Freya frowned, before she scanned Leon for any signs of magic. Her eyes widened a little. How had she not noticed this sooner? The soul of this man was bound by a powerful chain. And it did bear the mark of a powerful dragon.
"Are you sure? If he was marked a traitor, are you sure he should be freed from it? You don't know what he did.", Freya pointed out.
"This is a punishment worthy of a murderer and a traitor. I have never seen this man before. I doubt he did anything that deserves this punishment. At least not that we know of. He deserves the chance to be judged by his own actions. He is not his father. And you know how dragon magic works."
Freya's eyes widened, then they settled softly on the knights. "I see.", she said, realizing that this curse was placed on the man without any justification.
Then she placed both hands over Leon's chest. The knights behind her inhaled sharp breaths. Surprised and confused by the sudden turn of events. The sudden use of... magic.
After all... they had just been attacked by this dragon. And imprisoned. And now the dragon showed mercy?
Freya's eyes glowed golden. Not the way Merlin's eyes did. Her eyes went wide and yellow, and her pupils changed into that of a giant cat. These eyes were the last remnants of the curse she herself had been under before she was killed.
In response to her magic, Leon inhaled a sharp breath. Suddenly, the man sat up and vomited what looked like a mix of blood and glitter to the side.
Freya shuffled away, slightly disgusted. And Ciril as well, remained a little distant.
When Leon was done emptying his stomach, he leaned his head back against solid stone, trying to regain his breathing.
"Leon!", Elyan heaved out in relieved surprise.
After all, Leon had grown up with both Gwen and Elyan when they were younger. As Elyan's and Gwen's mother had been a servant in Sir Leon's household. (1)
Elyan was probably one of his oldest friends. Even if he was never allowed to acknowledge it, until Arthur decided to be a righteous man and knighted the man.
"What?", Leon slowly regained consciousness. He looked around, trying to take in where they were.
"Where are we?", he asked irritated, then his foggy vision cleared on Ciril's confused face. Their scales were completely white now.
In a matter of seconds, they could hear Leon scream and scramble to his feet, obviously searching for one of the swords that they had involuntarily left at the cave entrance.
When he saw Freya, he merely frowned, before reaching the other side of the cave and pressing himself against the wall next to Sir Elyan.
"Good to see you're alive again.", Elyan muttered, while Lancelot and Gwaine exchanged irritated glances.
"What does that mean? Did I die?", Leon paled.
Okay.... that reaction was odd. Leon looked nervous, confused, worried. Like they had figured out a huge secret of his.
Which meant....
Gwaine's mouth made an 'o' shape, but it was Lancelot who exclaimed:
"You're a dragon lord! Aren't you?, he finally connected all the pieces. Finally it made sense to them. The implication that Leon dying wasn't a rare occasion. The mention that his father was a traitor and cursed by a blood curse which went down to Leon as well, hinting at the possibility that Sir Leon's father had been a dragon lord himself.
And Ciril's confusion at seeing his face only underlined that hypothesis.
Ciril looked at Freya and they exchanged confused expressions.
"He's no dragon lord.", Ciril puffed, almost offended, while Leon opened his mouth, unsure how to respond.
"You just said, he was one!", Gwaine pointed out. And well... he wasn't entirely wrong. After all, the knowledge in Camelot about dragons, dragon kin and dragon lords was scarce.
Even you readers, don't know the full story yet.
"He is dragon KIN.", Ciril rolled their eyes. They couldn't blink, but they would definitely close their eyes at their stupidity.
"There are no dragon lords left. Balinor is dead."
All the knights were breathing heavily now.
"How -", Leon was panting between his words. "How am I dragon kin?"
"Apparently, your dear old dad was a traitor.", Gwaine explained.
Leon frowned. Then he blinked, before opening his eyes. "I know that.", he said, receiving odd glances. "He was burned for sorcery."
If the stares directed at him had been daggers, Leon would have been stabbed multiple times over.
"Your father was a sorcerer?", Lancelot asked, mouth wide agape.
Ciril, however, was fuming now. "Your father was more than a meager magician. He was one of the noblest kinds of creatures. He was our kin and he was one of the few, who saw us dragons for who we were. He protected us from the power of the dragon lords!"
Once more, the knights exchanged glances.
"What do you mean... he protected you. Then why was he cursed? How was he a traitor?", Gwaine asked.
"Cursed?", Leon asked, voice slightly too high for his usual tone range.
"Your sea sickness. Apparently that was a curse. You were banned from the island.", Freya explained. "Dragon magic works over multiple generations, as it is bound by blood.
Your father was cursed. But the curse you were under should have killed him. They didn't expect him to survive. You do not deserve this treatment."
"Wait, am I supposed to be dead?", Leon asked again, as if that question was the most important of all.
Ciril tilted their head at them. "Yes. I suppose you were. We weren't sure if dragon kin's who lost their immortality could still pass it on to their children. But apparently, they can." Ciril was wincing apologetically.
All while Leon gaped at them, as though he was considering whether or not to be surprised. "Why does this keep happening?", he muttered to himself. Like he had expected this.
Like this was a thought he had been playing with for a while and a part of him was relieved to finally have gotten a steady answer.
"Okay... stop. One thing at a time.", Lancelot shook his head.
"First of all... we'd like to know who you are. And how you know Leon's father. And that has to do with him. And AFTER that -", he turned to Leon. "You'll explain what the ever living fuck you were just implying."
None of them seemed opposed to that idea. So Ciril sighed a little, before turning back towards them.
They settled on the ground, wings widening and shimmering silvery now.
And then they began to explain all they knew. All of which you already know.
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Merlin seemed to be sweating with nerves, Arthur noticed. And boy did he notice. Because he currently had one hand wrapped around Merlin's and he fought the urge to let go and wipe it off on his own trousers.
Instead, he once again proved how much he cared for Merlin by keeping a strong grip on them.
Merlin squeezed back appreciatively.
Then Merlin gathered all his strength and knocked on the wooden front door.
There was a small window within that door. So they could peak inside.
But instead of looking into the house, a wide yellow eye was already directed at them.
There was a tiny screech and then someone came down the floor. Someone was shouting and then the screeching something stepped away from the door.
With a creaking sound, it opened a gap and an older woman looked at them, scrunching her nose.
She had black hair, that somehow wasn't graying yet. She had blue eyes and a pointy nose. She had a little similarity to a stoat, Arthur thought distracted. And wondered why he had thought that.
"Yes?", the woman asked, her voice a little hoarse, as though she was very displeased by their interruption. She scrunched her eyes at them with annoyance.
Her eyes flickered to their intertwined hands and Arthur suddenly felt quite strange. Like he was being judged. In response, he just squeezed Merlin's hand more tightly.
Merlin, on the other hand, took a deep breath, before approaching the woman.
"Hello.", he said quietly, expectantly. "My name is Merlin. I'm from Ealdor. Are you... Balinor's mum?", he asked and Arthur blinked a couple of times.
Why was Merlin introducing himself like that? Why would she need to know where he was from?
He brushed the thought of. Maybe it was just a habit.
The woman frowned. Then she rolled her eyes and was about to close the door, when it bounced off Merlin's shoe. He had reflexively pushed his foot between the door and the frame, so she had no way of not letting them in.
"We just -"
"I don't want to hear any stories of that man.", she scowled angrily. Merlin stared at her, visibly disturbed by her reaction.
"I'm sorry mam. We just wanted to inform you of his death.", Arthur decided to step in.
That sentence, made the air around them freeze. Merlin turned around to him slowly. As if horrified of Arthur's action.
"What?", Arthur shrugged. "Why beat around the bush, if we can get it over with?" He rolled his eyes, mouthed an "sorry for the intrusion" and marched into the house.
The woman wasn't even stopping them, as she stared passed them in shock. Clearly not having expected the news.
Merlin apologized hurriedly, before he followed Arthur into the hut.
The hut was bigger from the inside than they had expected. There were stairs that lead upstairs. And a rather big living room with a fire place and a rather comfortable looking sofa. Only that I'm not sure sofa's existed at the time.
Either way, it wasn't a sofa. The furniture had a head and a tail and was snoring loudly.
Finally, they noticed the small ball of paranoia that had screeched upon their knock as well.
Both the furniture and the little bundle of confusion were dragons. Of course they were.
Arthur instinctively reached for his sword again, but Merlin bend down and started petting the damn thing.
A smile grew on his face, as the dragon's giant eyes bored into his soul and it made another shrill sound.
"He likes you.", Irene looked confused, but then she closed the door shut.
"Alantrope usually doesn't like strangers.", Irene muttered, then shook her head.
"Fine, come in.", she said distractedly. As if that was still necessary.
If you followed her eyes, you could see how they were looking at nothing in particular. She walked passed the two men and into the living room.
There she let herself fall onto the snoring dragon and reached for a cup of tea that sat at the coffee table.
Her hands were shaking. As if her moody expression was just a facade.
"So... Bal is... dead.", she said after taking a sip.
She didn't offer them a cup. Or tea. Or a place to sit.
"How did he die?", she asked, sounding almost bored. But her voice sounded too forced to be believable.
"He -", Arthur tried to explain, but Merlin interrupted him.
"He saved my life.", he said and crawled the tiny dragon's head, who had jumped on his arm and snuggled it's head into Merlin's neck.
Merlin wasn't even looking at it, like it was the most normal thing in the world to snuggle a dragon like a tiny dog or cat.
Arthur was leaning a little away from them. Too intimidated by those tiny claws.
"So... he abandoned the future of all dragon kind for a random boy.", Irene said, her voice stern and unmoving. And she looked just as displeased as Rebecca had. Though her expression held a bit of pain in them. As if she really missed the man, but still couldn't forgive his actions.
"He saved my life!", Merlin growled pointedly.
"Yes. But he was the last dragon lord. And instead of honoring that, he died for you and threw away his family and the future of our civilization."
She locked eyes with Merlin, whose eyebrows scrunched with displeasure. Arthur grabbed for his sword again, waiting for the situation to escalate. Irene sounded like someone had trained these words into her brain, so she was unable to say anything else.
"You think he should have let me die?", Merlin growled and Irene looked away.
"Better you than him.", she said and for the first time there was something akin to grief radiating from her voice. It was faint, but it was there.
Arthur however felt anger rising up his chest.
He drew his sword and within a second, the blade was raised against the women.
With disinterest the woman regarded the blade. "You wouldn't dare kill me.", she said.
"You shouldn't test me on that.", Arthur growled, but Merlin put a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"Let's leave.", Merlin said instead.
"We've said our piece.", he sounded disappointed and angry as well.
He looked at her precisely as he had at Balinor, when the man initially rejected the idea of helping them defend Camelot.
"Merlin -", Arthur wanted to stop him, but Merlin shook his hand off.
Kindly, he placed the dragon on the floor, who tried to jump back on his arm.
"Balinor had a responsibility! After we found out he miraculously became a dragon lord against all odds, we placed all our hopes in him! He was the last of his kind.
It would have been his duty to get an heir! It was his destiny!", Irene growled at them, but merely followed them to the door.
Merlin's eyes flickered golden for a second, and then the door slammed shut behind them. Right into the woman's face.
Arthur didn't really know what was going on. But this reaction was uncharacteristically strong for Merlin.
"Merlin, wait up!", Arthur cursed under his breath, as he jogged after him.
"Merlin, don't be mad. You understand why she's reacting like that, right? I mean... he brought shame to their family."
"NO HE DIDN'T!", Merlin sharply turned around and stared at Arthur with an expression so angry, it had Arthur stumble back in shock.
"Merlin -", Arthur tried again, feeling like he was missing key information here.
"The dragon lord powers are given from father to son, Arthur!"
"Yes, so they have been telling us all day!", Arthur sighed. "It's like the crown, it's given down generation to generation to the oldest son. It's normal."
Merlin's face was crunched up in a painful expression. It was like he was on the verge of crying, on the verge of blurting out his feelings.
'Another secret', Arthur realized. And he had a horrifying feeling about this.
"Arthur-", Merlin nearly sobbed.
"Who do you think I am." It wasn't a question. It was a hint.
He turned around, back turned to Arthur as he marched back into the village.
The wheels turned in Arthur's head, and he barely noticed how the door to the hut opened a little once more. Irene had heard them and stared after Merlin, a thoughtful expression on her face.
But she startled, as Arthur's sword clanked against the ground beneath him. It landed, where Arthur had let it fall and realization came over him in another shock wave.
Another... because this wasn't the first revelation he'd had today.
Irene stepped outside, carefully.
But Arthur still stared, uncaring, when the tiny dragon jumped on HIS shoulder this time.
"You're Balinor's son.", Arthur whispered to the figure who was disappearing on the horizon. Knowing exactly what that meant.
Finally understanding why Merlin knew the great dragon. Finally realizing why Kilgharrah had listened to Merlin and left Camelot on his orders.
Merlin was a dragon lord. The very last of their kind.
And Arthur had been to stupid to see it. Too stupid to see why Merlin was so insistent on coming with him on this bloody mission in the first place.
Too stupid to connect the dots.
Irene gasped next to him. Her crossed arms slowly uncrossing. Her eyes widening, her posture falling as she blinked.
"What?", she breathed.
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"Okay... I have a question.", Gwaine sarcastically raised his hand. He was sitting cross legged on the ground of the cell.
Everyone had gone silent quite a while ago, as Ciril had finally ended the story. Or at least... the part of the story they/she were/was aware of.
Ciril looked at him, her head tilting to the side and the silver on her scales fading to light blue once again. "Ask away,", she said, her voice a little higher than before.
The other knights weren't looking at him, they just stared at the walls ahead of them with the new knowledge. That Leon was immortal and dragon kin. And how Sir Hector had come to betray the dragon lords.
"So... I get all this.... Dragon lords abuse their powers and dragon kin being the lesser people mumbo jumbo....
But how on earth does this blood magic work?
I mean... Clearly all dragon kin are immortal and magic and all that shit.
But why can only the oldest son inherit the dragon lord abilities?"
Ciril sighed. "It's genetics.", she said.
"Yeah no, I get that. But -", Gwaine frowned with frustration. "Are there no female dragon lords?"
Ciril shook her head, while Leon, Lancelot and Elyan collectively rolled their eyes. "Seriously, Gwaine?", Elyan muttered and covered his face in desperation.
Gwaine frowned. "Not like that, you imbeciles.
I mean... Why doesn't the oldest daughter inherit the powers. Or... the youngest.
Is this inheritance thing defined by gender or by sex or what is this bullshit?"
They all looked up.
"What? I think it's a reasonable question.", Gwaine flared his arms.
Ciril shook her head. "Does your king inherit his crown to his daughter?"
"No. But that's different.", Gwaine frowned.
"How?", Ciril asked.
"Because...", Gwaine looked around, confused as to how nobody seemed to get his point.
"Because that's a social issue! Also, women CAN be queen, if there is no male heir. She then marries and then her husband gets the power.
But you said the dragon lord abilities were inherited by blood. It makes no sense. How does this work? How does the dragon magic know who the oldest son is?
I mean, imagine there was a boy, who would later figure out she's actually a woman?
Does she just... not have the abilities anymore?
Or the other way around? Are there trans dragon lords?", Gwaine added.
Ciril looked at him confused. "No.", she said, suddenly frowning in confusion. "I don't know.", she said, eyes blinking rapidly.
"They just... all.... don't have the powers then. Well... I think, the powers are only inherited, when the previous dragon lord dies. So... it can only be one person who inherits the powers."
"That doesn't sound in any way how biology works.", Gwaine pointed out again.
Ciril opened her mouth, but closed it with confusion. "The human has a point.", she said to Freya who stared back at Ciril as though she'd gone mad.
"I mean... as far as I can tell, you dragons seem more open to the idea of the fluidity of gender. I mean... I don't want to assume, but the thing you do with your voice is quite telling.", Gwaine said and nodded at Ciril.
Ciril would have blinked, had she been able to, so she just nodded back. "Gender is a concept of society.", she agreed.
"Well then I don't understand this rule. The immortality yes. But the powers of controlling people... that doesn't sound right.", Gwained shrugged, crossed his arms and then leaned back with satisfaction that he had made his point clear enough.
"Wait a second...", Freya spoke up and turned to Ciril again.
"You don't know?"
Ciril tilter her head. "What do you mean?"
"Well... the origin of all dragons. And dragon lords.", Freya looked from person to person, slightly startled.
"The origin?"
"Yeah.", Freya nodded firmly. "It's an old tale, but you were taught the story! You're older than any of us. How don't you know?"
"Know what?", Ciril asked, now turning red with unconcealed impatience.
"The story of the first dragon lord.", Freya didn't elaborate further, instead she stood up.
"Actually, Ciril... please open up the way to the heart of the island."
Ciril looked at her as if she had gone mad. "What?", she asked.
"I'm the lady of the lake. I'm vouching for these men. Now show us the cave."
Grumbling with displeasure, Ciril jumped to her feet, looking around in displeasure that all the work to catch the intruders had been for naught and opened her mouth to breathe her magic.
The walls around the glowed to live one more and Sir Gwaine, Sir Elyan, Sir Lancelot and Sir Leon more or less groggily jumped to their feet.
Without a word, Freya walked forwards, and they followed wordlessly.
The tunnel they followed was inked with runes. All of them familiar, as they were the same that had decorated the entrance of the dragon island.
But these ones, as Leon had learned earlier, even he couldn't read. The ones on the gates, he could have read.
But these were different.
And they lead them deep into the mountains. After what felt like an eternity, they ended up inside a round cave.
Water flooded the place. Only a small platform in the middle separated them from the only object inside this room. If you could call it a room.
The water must be deep. It would have been part of the route Freya had dived through. But with living people curiously following behind her, she had no choice but ask Ciril to make a save passage for them. And order her, where to open up the walls, because apparently Ciril had no idea where the heart of the island was. Much to Freya's disbelieve.
"What is this place?", Sir Lancelot was the first to ask. Because, apart from the rushing of water from somewhere, they could hear nothing. And only the runes on the walls illuminated the place once again.
Freya turned to them and pointed at the object in the middle.
"I don't understand.", Ciril asked, confused as she stared at the object. She had never seen this before.
"This statue, is the heart of the island. The runes tell her story.", Freya pointed at the statue.
It was true. There was a woman carved into stone right in front of them. She looked high and mighty, the way she looked down on them. It was overgrown with moss, but someone must have been cleaning the statue of regularly. It was to assume that that was part of Freya's job here.
Her eyes were wide open and she wore a stone dress, that fell of her shoulders in wide stripes. On her head, she wore a crown and in her hand, she held a dragon egg.
"In a time, where the dragons were hunted and humans fought nothing but war, the destiny of a great kingdom, rested on the shoulders of a young woman.
Her name - Myrddin."
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(1) This is actually canon. I think Gwen mentioned it briefly in the episode, where they thought Leon dead. Only to have him come back, saved by the cup of life.
Honestly, I remember that episode mostly as Arthur telling his father of the death of all the knights on the patrol and then especially pointing out Leon. And Uther went like: 'What? O.O NO!'... you know... that reaction was heavier than when his own son died. I'm not even kidding.
I bet Uther wished Leon was his son, instead of Arthur (sorry Arthur). At least that's what I thought. Anyway, I think Gwen mentioned it to Merlin, right after Arthur explained how he grew up with Sir Leon. Something like that. Maybe my head got it all confused. If it did, now you have a side scene in your brain, which you can enjoy :) You're welcome.