Chapter Text
Thunder rumbled furiously as rain pelted the earth. It was not a natural storm, but one born of anguish and a deep sadness. Kilgharrah felt the hurt which fueled it as he flew to the clearing where Merlin had summoned him this time. Rarely was Kilgharrah called to any other place than where Merlin had set him free – much less in a time which if not for the rain would be broad daylight.
The fact was not lost on the ancient creature. It made something unpleasant curl in his gut. Regardless, Kilgharrah kept a sarcastic and mysterious quip about destiny at the ready for the young warlock.
He stopped short before he could even breathe a word of it.
Merlin lay curled up on the wet grass of the meadow, not in pain nor in worry as was usual, but drenched and shaking with the force of his sobs. He did not stand with power, demanding deference as he had grown to do with each visit from the Dragon. Here was not the all powerful warlock, but the young, pained boy behind the growing legends.
At first is seemed that he was not aware of Kilgharrah’s presence. When he whispered, it was hardly heard over the thunder, “You were wrong.”
Kilgharrah doesn’t need to hear anything else – he knows what troubles him with those few words, and he hates his part in fate a bit more.
“You were wrong. He hates me; our destiny is ruined.”
Kilgharrah doesn’t do gentle . He wasn’t comforting, nor all that caring, truth be told. The two decades of imprisonment did away with what little he had, leaving him empty, cold and bitter, though Merlin’s soft cries called to that long buried gentleness he once reserved for young dragonlings. Through their bond he felt Merlin’s distress, instinct driving him to comfort. It was that instinct which prompted him to say, in a voice soft as a bonfire’s flame, “I do not lie when I say a half cannot hate that which makes it whole, Merlin. Have faith, for Destiny –”
“I don’t give a damn about Destiny!”
The rage he felt emanating was one he had never known the warlock could posses. He felt the air tense and crackle with Merlin’s shifting mood, giving way to louder thunder.
“I’ve lost so much because of it! Everyday I have to - had to - I had to” he breathes harshly, words sticking to his throat as realization of his situation settles in him. Kilgharrah can do nothing, but stand in silence.
“I had to pretend to be an idiot. To smile when I feel alone and hated because of who I am. Nothing has changed! Arthur still hates magic – he hates me . He will never trust in me or magic. I’ve ruined everything. I’ve ruined everything – we will never be free; it’s all my doing.”
Tears streamed down his face like the rains fell from the darkened sky. His magic coursed through the earth, seeking relief from his emotional burdens. Kilgharrah came closer, enveloping him in the safety of his forepaws to hide him from the rain. His kin was in pain. He could feel it as if it were his own. He curled his tail around them, letting Merlin curse at fate, letting him cry out his hurt and later, whisper desperate apologies for his failure.
Kilgharrah had always had a way to make his words into something mysterious, something foreboding or even hopeful. However, he had never managed to convey them as something to soothe - not for a long time at least. Now, he could only watch silently as his Dragonlord vented the dark thoughts that plagued him, and hold him close as Kin was supposed to do.
Merlin cried himself to sleep that night, Kilgharrah watching over him. When Merlin was finally, truly slumbering, Kilgharrah had called to Arthur. He lured Arthur by pulling on the bond the warlock had with his prince. He felt it when the prince answered the call, magic vibrating as he bolted to his horse and galloped through the land, following the pull of Kilgharrah’s magic.
As the night dragged on, the Dragon waited.
The sun had risen, though Merlin slept on, exhausted. With a breath of magic, Kilgharrah ensured he would not wake with what was to come. A few birds chirped and the breeze picked up. Merlin snuggled up closer to Kilgharrah, seeking his warmth. Both let out a sigh of contentment at the contact. It was after Merlin had settled that a figure on horseback appeared. Kilgharrah straightened his neck, paws curling even closer to better hide Merlin. When the rider reached them, Kilgharrah made sure to snort hot puffs of smoke in his direction.
“So you have come, young Prince.”
Arthur dismounted, eying the Dragon in terrified wonder. He had not known the creature, the beast that had put his Kingdom under siege, the one that killed so many and destroyed their homes, could talk with intelligence gleaming in its otherworldly eyes. Arthur hadn’t had the chance before to properly look at it. Now in his presence, he felt small, the dragon’s towering frame easily showing up to him.
The Dragon stared. Arthur mustered up every last bit of bravery, standing straight and feet at shoulder width; chin high and jaw set. His hand went to the sword on his side, though he did not draw it yet.
“Where is Merlin?”
Kilgharrah gave him a haughty glare, “Why would you care to know?”
Arthur glared back.
“You sent him away, why would you care to find him?” Kilgharrah taunted, flashing dangerously sharp teeth in a sneer, “Will you kill him as you have done to other sorcerers? Will you hunt him down and set his flesh aflame, or is it cutting his head off, or hanging or drowning what suits your fancy this time? I never understood your father’s preference for one over the other,” Arthur grew paler as Kilgharrah listed everything that he knew he would by law be required to do if he indeed found Merlin.
“He murdered half of my Kingdom when he set you free,” and the words didn’t ring true, not even to himself, but they were laced with fury, “He lied to me since the day we met, what’s to say he is the man I thought he was?”
Enraged, Kilgharrah let out a powerful roar that had Arthur tumbling to the ground.
“Do not credit the actions of my will as his doing!” He bared his teeth in a furious snarl, “He has given everything for this Kingdom. He has sacrificed more than you will ever know.”
Arthur righted himself, but he could not stand with pride. Kilgharrah’s words struck deep in his heart, leaving him defenseless.
“If you believe that I plundered your kingdom because Merlin freed me, then you are the idiot he believed you to be in the beginning, and not worthy of the protection he has granted you throughout the years,” It sounded like gravel, like stone grinding down on metal.
Arthur didn’t dare speak. He drew his sword just as Kilgharrah stood at his full height, revealing Merlin’s body laying between his massive paws, “You alone cannot kill me. My orders are so that I cannot harm you,” Kilgharrah ignored the sword, plucking a sleeping Merlin from the ground, “I will protect my Kin, young prince, even from the Once and Future King.
“Heed my words; until you have proven yourself, I will keep Merlin from you.”