Chapter Text
Many similar conversations followed over the next several weeks, some far more difficult than others. There had been some truly awful moments for them both. Merlin's confessions to releasing the dragon and poisoning Morgana had led to a few days of painful silence between the two of them when Arthur needed time and space to work through the anger and grief. On those days Merlin had feared Arthur would never forgive him. But Arthur had come back to him each time. It didn't seem to matter whether Merlin felt he deserved forgiveness or not, it came again and again.
Arthur's hatred of Kilgharrah was something to behold though.
Discussing all the guidance and instructions the great dragon had given him over the years had allowed Merlin to see them in a new light. Gaius had never questioned a word Kilgharrah had said, treating the magical beast of legend as practically all-knowing. Merlin had frequently done the same, out of awe of the creature, following his father figure's example in trusting it, and because he had desperately needed to believe in the prophecy. He'd needed an answer for why he was different. A purpose for his magic. A reason for it to be a gift rather than a curse.
And besides all that, he was just a peasant from the countryside with no knowledge of the wider world or the long history of the old religion. Who was he to question a learned man like Gaius and a thousand-and-something-year-old dragon?
Arthur, on the other hand, questioned everything. Initially, Merlin put this down to the fact it was impossible to trust a being that had inflicted pain and suffering on your own people. But now, Merlin was beginning to question things as well. He was grateful Arthur hadn't called him a moron for ever trusting a word Kilgharrah said, though he had a bad feeling he'd thought it many times. He'd been thinking it as well. If he'd been more willing to question Kilgharrah, how much of the suffering he had inflicted would have been avoided?
He was caught between his innate feelings of kinship with the dragon, Arthur's furious scepticism, and his own growing doubts. That was why today was important.
The knights had not come with them when they left camp that morning, instructed by Arthur to entertain themselves and hunt down some game for dinner. They'd been confused at first, had the king really pulled all of them away from their duties just to mill around in the forest? But the serious expressions he and Merlin had worn when they mounted their horses and departed left them suspecting this wasn't simply a camping trip. The king and the warlock had something important to do, and none of them questioned it.
The two of them rode for an hour before deciding they were far enough away from the knights. Merlin's aimless chatter wore increasingly on Arthur's nerves, but he gave up snapping at him to shut up quickly. Merlin was anxious, and Arthur couldn't blame him for that. He was anxious as well, and impatient for what was waiting for them at the end of the ride. Now that he knew Kilgharrah was still alive, he had a few things he would very much like to say to him.
The identity of Merlin's father had been one of the most shocking of his friend's secrets. He hated to think how unintentionally cruel he had been to Merlin in the aftermath of Balinor's death. So much worse than that though had been the realisation that it was his own father's fault that Merlin had never known his. He was glad Merlin told him before he proposed changing the laws on magic to the council. Arthur would have the final say on all of this, but the politics surrounding his decision mattered. The more of his council he had on his side in this the better.
The reactions of some had been unexpectedly positive, while others did not know what to think. Predictably, there had been those who were vehemently opposed. One of them in particular, a holdover from his father's time who had witnessed the Great Purge, had argued ferociously and slammed his fist on the table as discussions became heated.
He had yelled, "Magic has torn families apart!" with a look that made it clear he thought Arthur would never be half the man Uther was.
Arthur in turn had shot to his feet, placed his hands on the table and bellowed back. "And my father's war on it tore apart more!"
From behind him, he had heard Merlin take a sharp breath, and when Arthur next caught his eyes they were shining, and full of fierce pride. In that moment it felt as though bringing magic back to the kingdom would all be worth it, if he got to see that look on Merlin's face again.
Arthur would have preferred Merlin was sitting at the table with him, able to take part in the discussions. However, Merlin had been resistant to the idea when Arthur first hinted at it. It seemed all Merlin wanted right now was to remain as his manservant, though George had taken over some of those responsibilities now that Merlin was assisting Arthur with the magic reform. Having him as an unofficial advisor would have to do for now.
Arthur wasn't sure why Merlin had baulked at the suggestion of a change in his position, but he'd wondered if it was the same reason he himself was relieved Merlin didn't want it. There was a selfish part of him that had been glad Merlin didn't want things to change. It meant Merlin was still by his side most hours of the day. Things would change eventually though. He would need Merlin on the council with him at some point, so he would be giving him a title, whether the idiot wanted it or not. The only downside was it would not do to have a member of the court as his personal servant.
On Merlin's side, he was hesitant at the idea of change, or at least a change of that type. As much as he complained about Arthur overworking him, and as much as that was often true, Merlin liked his job. He liked being close to Arthur in such a way. He was happy being a source of support, advice, and friendship. Higher social standing didn't matter to him. Yes, it would be nice to have his thoughts and opinions taken seriously, but if Arthur did that then it really didn't bother him if no one else did. If Arthur listened to him and wanted his help with the law changes, that was enough for him.
Although a pay rise wouldn't go amiss...
When Merlin pulled his horse to a stop and said they should tie them up before going further Arthur felt a hum beneath his skin. It felt similar to the tense high that came on before battle, despite there being no plans for a fight that day. Not a physical one at least. Merlin glanced at him as they made their way through the trees and seemed to sense the change. "Don't worry, he won't be able to hurt you." He smiled, then made a face like he was considering a difficult decision. "Well, not unless I tell him he can."
"And what about you?" Arthur's voice was tense and Merlin looked confused. "How do you know he won't hurt you?"
"He won't, even if he wanted to he couldn't," Merlin assured him. Arthur watched his back as Merlin turned away, ambling towards the edge of the trees up ahead, and noted how different his posture was at that moment. In the castle, Merlin usually kept his shoulders a little hunched and head slightly bent down, or stood with his hands clasped subserviently behind his back. He didn't walk with the calm confidence of this Merlin, his shoulders relaxed and head held high. He knew Merlin was still nervous, but it no longer showed. This was Merlin in his element. Arthur's first peak into the man's other life.
Arthur followed him into the forest clearing, wondering how many times Merlin had visited this place, and stopped a few paces behind the warlock. Merlin glanced back at him over his shoulder. "Ready?" Face resolute, Arthur gave him a nod. He took a breath, let it out slowly, and faced the sky.
Arthur never would have believed Merlin capable of such a sound if he hadn't heard it with his own ears, as a guttural roar erupted from him. Merlin held his arms wide as he called for the dragon in a language Arthur knew no other human could possibly understand. His voice seemed to echo through the clearing, reverberating through Arthur's chest and shifting the air around them.
"O drakon, e male so ftengometta tesd'hup'anankes!"
Then all was quiet, and they waited.
Half a minute or so passed and Arthur realised he hadn't actually asked Merlin how long it would take the overgrown lizard to come. Merlin hadn't moved, his eyes still fixed on the sky. "So, does he usually-"
He blanched and almost drew his sword when the sound of beating wings and trees quaking in the wind reached his ears. A shadow passed over them and Arthur jerked his head up to watch the enormous dragon circle. The last time he'd seen that silhouette in the sky it had been night, and he'd been sure he was mere minutes away from meeting his death. How jarring it was to see the dragon again, and have his manservant standing before him, unfazed.
As Kilgharrah descended Arthur took a hurried step forward, instinct screaming at him to place his body between the beast and Merlin. He held himself back though, trusting what Merlin had said. He stood strong and did not flinch as the ground shook beneath the great dragon's feet. Arthur still kept one hand firmly on the hilt of his sword though, and he glared at the beast warily. If he was surprised by Arthur's presence, the dragon hid it well.
"It seems there had been some changes in Camelot since we last spoke young warlock."
Arthur had been prepared to hear the creature speak, but the reality of it was still somewhat... disconcerting.
"You could say that," Merlin said, a nervous note in his voice. The dragon huffed and turned its eyes on Arthur. He thought it looked wary of him as well.
"Arthur Pendragon. We meet again."
"Under somewhat different circumstances this time." The two eyed each other. Kilgharrah looked to be appraising Arthur, while Arthur's gaze was full of distrust. He put aside his desire to spit in the creature's face and order Merlin to enchant his sword and strike. He'd chosen vengence before in his time as king and it was not a mistake he wished to repeat. "I have some questions for you."
"Oh you do, do you." Arthur bristled at the condescending tone. "Go on then young king, I will answer if I am able."
"Merlin has told me about this destiny you claim to have foretold we have."
"I claim no such thing Arthur Pendragon, I am the conveyor of your destiny, not the foreteller of it." Arthur narrowed his eyes.
"Then where did this prophecy come from?"
"That is not for you to know."
"Like hell it is!"
Merlin stood between the two of them, feeling far more awkward than he had predicted he would as Arthur yelled at the dragon. He hadn't expected these two to get on exactly, but he hadn't quite expected this much tension so soon. Kilgharrah glared at Arthur, and Merlin was sure he was about to give them a cryptic and mildly insulting speech. But to his amazement, it was with a look of begrudging respect that Kilgharrah continued, and Merlin hung on the dragon's words as much as Arthur did. He wanted these answers as well.
"In the early days of the old religion, long before my birth, the great seers foresaw it. Their words have been passed down from generation to generation by those who practice magic."
"So, you've never actually spoken to the people who had this," Arthur twisted his hand in the air, the way Merlin had noticed he often did when he was unimpressed by a concept, "vision?"
The dragon raised his chin, looking slightly haughty. "No."
"And you haven't seen it yourself?"
"No, but why does that matter Pendragon? Seers are the ones who are capable of seeing the future, not I." Arthur stood a little taller.
"Because a story passed down for centuries is unlikely to have stayed the same, how can you possibly know what you have heard is really what they saw?" Kilgharrah huffed again, clearly irritated by Arthur's implications about his knowledge.
"It has been passed down amongst the druids, the same way it was by my kind before Uther slaughtered them, the prophecy remained the same between us all."
"Exactly the same?"
Kilgharrah hesitated.
"Wait, hold on." Merlin was staring at the dragon with a mortified look on his face. "Are you telling me you didn't know all this for certain?" Kilgharrah paused again before continuing.
"There are parts of the prophecy which are more certain than others. Some of the predictions are considered more... conditional."
Merlin felt sick.
"Know that the two of you are destined to unite the land of Albion and return magic to the world. That is beyond question."
Merlin's gaze fell to his feet, and Arthur noticed his hands were now trembling.
"I don't believe in destiny," Arthur told Kilgharrah resolutely. "We will bring peace to Albion, but we will do it by choosing our own path." He was looking at the dragon but his words were meant for Merlin as well, and the warlock raised his head again, watching Arthut now instead of his own feet. The dragon made a small sound of amusement.
"If that is how you wish to view it, young king, you are free to do so."
Arthur was getting fed up with the dragon. He was glad there was just one other thing he wanted to ask before he and Merlin could leave. "Merlin says you are an ally of ours. However, considering both your past actions and what my father did to you and your kind, I find this hard to believe." Merlin glanced from one to the other, with a 'please don't fight' look on his face but Arthur ignored him. "So tell me Kilgharrah, are you an ally of Camelot?"
The dragon narrowed its eyes coldly. "I care only for Merlin and the fulfilment of the prophecy. I have no allegiance to Camelot." Arthur gave a derisive snort.
"You have a strange way of showing you care for Merlin. You should work on that." Merlin was taken aback, even more so when Arthur turned and smiled at him. It was a somewhat patronising smile, but there was a warmth in it too. The dragon considered the warlock and his king for several moments as the two watched each other. Then he chuckled.
"My my, how things have changed since we first met young warlock." Merlin turned his confused stare on Kilgharrah. "What was it you said when I told you of your destiny to help Arthur? You were fairly certain I must have had the wrong prince." Merlin's jaw dropped and he raised his hands pleadingly.
"Hey, just hold on there-"
"I believe it was something along the lines of, this Arthur's an idiot, if anyone wants to kill him I'll give them a hand."
"Is that so." Merlin turned back to Arthur as he growled at him.
"Uh, well," he stuttered. "I don't think those were my exact words." He gave Arthur a sheepish smile. Arthur glared at him, and the dragon laughed raucously. Merlin gave him a glare as well and muttered, "Traitor..."
When Kilgharrah was done enjoying Merlin's misery he fixed his gaze on Arthur once again. "All I wish for is for the two of you to fulfil your destiny. I am an ally to Merlin and you Arthur. If that means I am also an ally to Camelot, then so be it."
"Good," Arthur said, satisfied.
The dragon rustled his wings restlessly. "If that is all then," he drawled, turning his gaze on Merlin, "I shall take me leave."
Merlin glanced briefly at Arthur, then nodded. "Yes, it is."
"Good, then farewell Merlin, Arthur. I wish you well." His tone wasn't what the two men would call friendly, but the dragon seemed sincere in what he said. Without another word, Kilgharrah spread his great wings, sailed into the sky, and soon disappeared.
Arthur eventually broke the silence with a huff. "Well, that was enlightening." Merlin turned and grinned at him, but the smile dropped when he saw Arthur's expression and his crossed arms. "I'll give them a hand?" Merlin gaped at him.
"That's what you took away from that conversation?" Arthur continued to glower at him. Merlin rolled his eyes. "Look, to be fair, you didn't make the best first impression... Or second." Arthur bit his lip and considered that.
"I guess I did try and take your head off with a mace."
"And I stopped you with magic." It was Arthur's turn to gape.
"You cheated!"
"Yep."
Merlin grinned as he tried not to laugh. The king shook his head despairingly, chuckled, and made his way over to clap Merlin on the shoulder. "Come on then, let's head back before the knights cause too much trouble." He started making his way towards the tree line, but Merlin didn't follow.
"Actually Arthur..." Merlin sounded hesitant and Arthur turned back, immediately suspicious. "There's someone else I need to introduce you to." Arthur narrowed his eyes at him.
"You haven't got a pet griffon have you?"
"God no," Merlin laughed. "A griffon would be an awful pet."
"A unicorn then?"
"Not a unicorn, and you shouldn't keep magical beasts as pets Arthur!"
Arthur snickered. "Alright, then who?" Merlin looked sheepish again.
"Just, uhh, don't freak out OK?" Without waiting for an answer Merlin turned away and directed his attention to the sky. Another dragon call definitely wasn't what Arthur had been expecting and his stomach dropped. Oh no. Another one.
The sound Merlin made was the same thunderous roar as before, but there was something a little different about it this time. It seemed less forceful. More of a call than a command. The silence that followed was longer than before, and Arthur braced himself for the resounding beating of wings. But this time it didn't come. Instead what he heard was far softer, and the shadow that passed over the grass could have easily been mistaken for a hawk's.
The second dragon didn't cause the earth to quake beneath them when it landed. It didn't even land on the ground. Instead, it landed on Merlin's shoulder. His damn shoulder. Merlin turned to him, smiling nervously, with a damn dragon on his shoulder.
"This is Aithusa."
Aithusa was nothing like Kilgharrah. It was tiny, the size of a large cat, and its scales shone an opaline white. It trilled a happy greeting to Merlin as he reached a hand up to stroke its neck. Arthur was focussing hard on not passing out.
"He doesn't talk like Kilgharrah, I only hatched him a few months ago so I think he might be a bit too young, I don't know much about baby dragons to be honest, Kilgharrah looked after him until he could fly and apparently dragons are pretty independent after that so I haven't seen him much."
As he rambled Arthur stared at the creature with its tail curled loosely around Merlin's neck and wondered just how much more of this his mind could take. Maybe it had already imploded and this was all a hallucination. That felt much more probable than what he was seeing and hearing. Merlin hatched this thing?
Merlin paused in his babbling and scratched his head, staring at the ground as he thought out loud. "Actually, I'm not even sure if he's a he, could be a she or a they..." He looked up at Arthur. His eyes were flitting between Aithusa and Merlin so fast Merlin was sure he'd be making himself dizzy. Feeling almost as nervous as when he called for Kilgharrah, Merlin turned to the dragon on his shoulder and gestured to the petrified king.
"Aithusa, meet Arthur."
The little dragon tilted its head as it peered at the stranger and didn't move. "It's alright, he's a friend," Merlin soothed. Aithusa hesitated, before jumping to the ground and taking a few tentative steps towards Arthur. Arthur immediately took a step back and threw Merlin a terrified look.
Merlin was tempted to laugh. Arthur had stood confidently before Kilgharrah, not a trace of fear on his face. Aithusa on the other hand seemed to have thrown him into a state of utter shock. He smiled at Arthur and nodded encouragingly.
Heart in his throat, Arthur turned back to the creature, who had halted its approach at once. Its eyes were curious rather than cautious now. It tilted its head at him again and made a sound like an inquisitive hum. It seemed to be waiting for him to make the next move.
Arthur couldn't remember a time in his life when he hadn't felt contempt towards these creatures. He'd been brought up to hate and fear them, just like all magical beasts. He'd been told tales of their evil ways and their innate desire for destruction since he was a child. Kilgharrah's attack had only solidified those feelings. He'd been trying to confront those beliefs for Merlin's sake. Merlin called them his kin, and Arthur knew an entire people (or maybe species in this case?) shouldn't be judged by the actions of one individual. He hadn't had any success though. He still felt little other than contempt towards the beasts.
That is, he had, until now.
Summoning his courage, he took a knee and held out his hand, the same way he would greet an unfamiliar hound. He wasn't sure if that was a particularly appropriate greeting. The intelligence in the dragon's behaviour was nothing like that of any animal Arthur had ever encountered. It seemed practically human, but he couldn't exactly shake its hand. He gulped. "Hello, Aithusa."
The dragon chirruped at him, and trotted forward, curiosity winning out over fear. They stopped to sniff at Arthur's hand.
As he watched a small smile appear on Arthur's face, Merlin's heart began to swell. It was a smile he had seen gradually more and more over the past few years. When they'd first met most of Arthur's smiles could only be described as smug or cocky. Sneers used to mock, or given when laughing at another's expense. They were far from endearing, but those smiles had at least been real.
The others Arthur gave back then were meticulously designed and calculated. They were the smiles a representative of the crown was meant to wear when in public and at the appropriate moments in court. He used them to form strategic alliances, to hide behind, to deflect and lie without words. Merlin had never liked the look of those smiles on Arthur's face.
But this smile - the one now growing wider as Arthur watched Aithusa inspecting the dragon crest on his cloak, the one Arthur had directed towards him occasionally at first, and then more with each year of friendship that passed - this smile brought a warmth to his chest and made his heart soar. Because it was more than just real. It was open and natural. The kind of smile a person was meant to wear when they were happy. It was involuntary. Truly joyful. Beautiful, and just Arthur. This smile he loved, and as Arthur raised his head and turned that warm smile on him Merlin didn't care if he saw that he was crying.
The knights had been successful in their hunt, and several hours after he and Arthur bade farewell to Aithusa, Merlin was to be found sitting by the campfire, preparing supper for the knights as he always did. Unlike any previous time though, he could now do it with his magic.
Setting up camp was a much easier and quicker process now that he could use his magic freely. It felt impossibly strange, lighting a fire in front of Arthur and the knights with simply a word and a wave of his hand. He doubted he'd ever get used to it, and he couldn't help feeling a tad smug when he caught the others watching with wide eyes as the pot of stew hanging over the fire stirred itself, and a knife sliced vegetables into it in midair.
He huddled close to the fire as the stew simmered, shivering in the chilly evening air. The days had been growing shorter and colder lately as the end of Autumn approached. Samhein and the beginning of winter would be upon them in less than a week. While most of his strength had returned, he was yet to regain all the weight he had lost while injured and was thinner than he used to be (too thin based on Gaius's nagging and Gwen's fretting). He should have expected the chill in the forest to affect him more than it used to and thought to wrap up warmer.
He tasted the stew, savouring its heat, and scooped a generous portion into a bowl. Only then did he announce the food was ready and moved quickly away as the other men stampeded over. He'd learned by now to serve himself first before letting them near the pot and chuckled as he dropped down onto a log to eat. The bowl was wonderfully hot against his cold hands, but his shaking must have been obvious because a few moments after he took his seat he felt a warm weight settle on his shoulders, and when he looked around his vision was full of Pendaragon red.
"You looked a little cold there," Leon said, and Merlin looked up in surprise because it wasn't a spare blanket Leon had draped over him, it was his cape. The cape only a knight of Camelot was allowed to wear. "It suits you." Leon smiled and ruffled his hair before following the others.
"Looks like someone's usurped Percy's position of second most attractive knight," Gwaine announced to the group loudly. "If you were a tad less scrawny maybe you'd rival me." He winked at Merlin as he made his way over to join him. Merlin responded with a glow of gold in his eyes and a flick of his hand.
Gwaine's cloak flipped itself up over his head, and the knights roared with laughter as he stumbled and landed hard on his backside. When Gwaine yanked the cloak away from his face and found his bowl hovering before him without a drop of stew spilt and Merlin smiling he joined in with the guffaws.
"I hope that means you'll stop spilling wine on me every time you fill my goblet," Arthur remarked, pointing to Gwaine's bowl as he sat down next to Merlin.
"I would sire, but then I'm fairly sure you'd have to execute me." He gave Arthur a nervous smile, joking about such things still new to them, but Arthur chuckled. They both knew as soon as they got back to Camelot the next day they would be back at work on the next round of law changes. Soon using spells for innocent tasks like cooking and cleaning would be just as legal as doing them without magic. Merlin expected it wouldn't be long before interest in learning such spells grew amongst the other servants. Gaius would probably be the one to help them with that though. He had no idea how to teach others something that was, to him, as innate as breathing.
The knights chatted away as they ate, and watched with interest when Merlin cleared away and cleaned their bowls with a couple of quiet words. The few occasions when his friends had asked him to show them some magic had been some of the most joyful moments he'd had in a long time, but tonight he was thankful no one made any requests. Maybe it was obvious to them just how exhausted he was. He wasn't used to days this long and full of so much riding anymore.
He gave a jaw-cracking yawn and shivered again, still chilly despite the cloak. Arthur snickered from beside him. "Come here." He lifted an arm up and gestured for Merlin to move closer. Merlin blinked at him, taken aback. He hoped anyone noticing how pink his cheeks had turned would put it down to the heat of the fire as he shuffled over. Arthur wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer so he could lean against him. Merlin was extremely grateful he could now set up protective wards around their camps at night because it meant Arthur had removed his chainmail, and he could feel his warmth against his side.
Leon looked away so that no one would hear his long-suffering sigh, while the rest of the knights shared a few subtle looks and smug smiles. Neither Merlin nor Arthur noticed. The knights continued their relaxed conversation and Merlin let his head fall into the crook of Arthur's neck, too sleepy and worn out to join in with them. He was content to just sit and let his friends' voices wash over him, as Arthur rubbed his arm gently through the cloak. Merlin smiled and closed his eyes, feeling happier and more at peace than he had in years.
Arthur stayed sitting by the fire long after the others had left to sleep. It had taken Merlin just minutes to dooze off on his shoulder and Arthur hated the thought of moving. Standing up would mean waking Merlin. It would mean lying down on their own separate bed rolls, no longer having their sides pressed together and the comforting weight of Merlin leaning against him. No longer having an arm wrapped around him and his messy hair tickling his cheek. In these past few weeks, he had learned many things about Merlin. He'd learned a few things about himself as well. It had taken him a while to accept the reason he wanted Merlin close to him like this all the time.
What to do about that reason... that was something he was still working on. He knew that nothing could ever come of it, and yet he found himself still hoping. Still wondering. He spent too much of his time these days wondering about what was going on inside Merlin's mind. Inside his heart. Wondering if he felt anything like this as well. Wondering if it would even matter if he did. A king had many duties; marrying a 'suitable woman' and producing an heir was one of them. He did not have the freedom to love whomever he wanted the way other men did.
And yet he found himself still hoping.
With no one there to see, he pressed a kiss into Merlin's hair. Then he sighed. "Merlin?" He shook him gently. Merlin gave a sleepy hum as he woke but didn't move. "Come on, you can't sleep there all night."
"Why not," Merlin grumbled but sat back up. He blinked at Arthur blearily, and Arthur snickered and mussed his hair.
"Because I need to sleep too."
Reluctantly, they both got to their feet, Arthur steadying Merlin as he stumbled in his sleepy haze. Arthur tried to hide his disappointment by turning his back to Merlin as he set up and lay down on his bedroll. He was taken by surprise though when he heard a thump by his ear and found Merlin had dropped his own bedroll next to his. Right next to it. Merlin flopped down, tugged a blanket over himself, and shuffled a little closer to Arthur. It seemed the warlock was asleep the moment he settled down.
Arthur smiled and, unable to resist, reached a hand beneath the edge of Merlin's blanket. He laid it lightly on top of his upturned palm and smiled when Merlin's fingers instinctively moved to intertwine with his. Hopefully, Merlin wouldn't wake up and wonder why on earth they were holding hands, because Arthur didn't want to move away. If this was all he could have, then it would have to be enough for now.
He hadn't been entirely truthful when he told the dragon he didn't believe in destiny. If destiny dictated he and Merlin would stay at each other's side, he could certainly believe that part.
He'd been dreaming of soft curly hair and dark brown eyes. Of scattered freckles and a warm, welcoming smile. It had been a pleasant dream, but he'd been cold. So very cold.
Now, as his feet seemed to find solid ground and he stumbled forward he felt a sensation he hadn't realised he'd forgotten. Air on his skin. The feeling of it filling his lungs, and of light entering his eyes when he opened them. He heaved in a breath, deep and hurried, and then another, as though it had been years since he'd last been able to take one and he had so many to catch up on.
What had happened to him?
The last thing he remembered was Arthur being thrown aside by Merlin's magic before he had a chance to give his life, smiling over his shoulder at Merlin himself as his friend's eyes begged him not to do what he was about to do, and stepping through the tear in the veil. The rift that had to be closed.
And then he had been cold. So very cold.
He panted as he stared down at his gloved hands and fully intact body. He was alive? Why was he-
"You have been returned to the mortal world, Sir Lancelot."
He lifted his head and gazed at the old woman before him. She held a staff in her wizened hand and was clothed in a dark hooded gown. He recognised her at once.
"And you are here for a reason," she continued, her voice echoing in the stone hall. His breath now caught, Lancelot spoke for the first time in a long while.
"And what is that reason?"
The woman's eyes bored into his.
"To deliver a message. A warning to Emrys, and the Once and Future King."