Chapter Text
Aithusa looked worse than Merlin remembered. Time hadn't helped her heal as well as Merlin had hoped. As she grew, her disfigurements grew more pronounced, her neck bending at an awkward angle as her wings curled inwards. She was larger than last time he'd come across her, while new scars and wounds laced her entire body. He knew the villagers had tried to defend their livestock against her, but her injuries betrayed so much more than damage done by a few frightened villagers with rocks and pitchforks. They told the story of a creature used as a weapon, unaccustomed to survival in the wilderness.
She shuffled on her feet, obviously uneasy as Merlin approached, one hand extended to discourage an attack. He didn't think many people had approached Aithusa with good intentions, but she understood the gesture anyway, bowing her head to the warlock's level as he came to stand in front of her. He stroked her face gently, feeling cool scales shift and slide beneath his palm.
"You're going to be okay." He promised.
With his aching knees screaming at him after an hours long hike up a mountain, Merlin searched for a place to rest. He found a tree with a large trunk, and dropped clumsily under it's shade. He invited Aithusa over, and she followed by her own volition, settling down next to him and resting her head on his lap like it was the natural thing to do. She was heavy, and his legs would most definitely go numb soon, but any comfort he could offer was the least she was owed. Stroking her head softly, he poured all of the power he could master into a healing spell. Aithusa shivered and growled as her injuries healed all at once, but she relaxed again easily, surrendering to the warlock's touch.
It was an abomination, to see a dragon, a symbol of magic and strength so broken, and so afraid. She clung to him, pressing her head closer to his body. Their connection felt tangible at times, like an invisible string that tied them together, and Merlin knew Aithusa felt it too. So, if she understood it was his responsibility to protect her, care for her, how could she not understand he'd failed already? How could she forgive him for it?
.
"Did you know?" Arthur asked, even though he knew every answer was guaranteed to hurt the same.
"He hadn't told me, if that's what you're asking." Gwaine replied, his tone more bitter than usually.
Arthur leaned closer. "But you suspected."
"He's literally the strangest man I've ever met. I had my theories."
Arthur let out a sharp laugh. "Yeah, I guess he is. I don't know how I didn't see it."
"I imagine he'd do anything to make sure you didn't." The knight said, thoughtful.
"Actually he confessed once. I thought "just Merlin being Merlin, what an idiot". I guess I didn't want to believe it."
Gwaine shook his head. "You are the thickest man I know."
"Careful." He warned. "I'm still your King."
He'd meant for it to be playful, forgetting for a second how long it had been since Gwaine had even smiled at him, let alone joked with him. The expression on the Knight's face reminded him.
"That you are. Doesn't mean you deserve my respect." He said, not a hint of playfulness in his voice.
Arthur tried not to look too offended. "Have I not earned it?"
"Not with the way you've been treating Merlin." He replied, voice thick with resentment.
Sickeningly truthful, the Knight's words felt like a slap to the face. He'd regret it always, he thought, not treating him the way he deserved. Merlin had understood his pain, and in his futile attempts to run from it, Arthur had pushed him away, as if that would offer him the escape he longed for. For his loyalty, his friendship, Arthur had rewarded Merlin with his misplaced anger, or his dismissal. He couldn't stand it, the gentleness with which Merlin answered to his sharpness, as he looked at him with such understanding and unconditional compassion he wished to curl in on himself in shame. Without meaning to, he'd pushed even harder, retreated even further, did everything he could to force Merlin to give up on him, but Merlin never did.
Arthur didn't understand why. When he'd first met him, Arthur thought that simple village boy was subtlety's greatest enemy. Everything he did was loud, bright, captivating. He'd believed in him in the same way, and it was intoxicating. When he promised Arthur he was worthy, for some mad reason, the king always believed him. He thought it was that look of quiet wisdom that he got, that left him no choice but to trust he knew more than he ever could. Lately, however, if he looked at him at all, it was with a heavy sadness, some pity. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen him smile in his presence, or heard his laugh. He'd taken the sun and singlehandedly turned it dull. So why did he stay?
"I'm glad he has you, Gwaine." He said.
If it was, incidentally, an escape, it didn't make it false. Gwaine was a better friend, a better man than him.
Gwaine scoffed, his eyes burning with something Arthur couldn't put a name to.
"You don't deserve him." He said. It was spoken like a realization, with all the disappointment and desperation of one finding out he can't stop a sphere from rolling.
He hadn't caught it before, but it was clear as day now. Gwaine was jealous. Envious of Merlin's loyalty to Arthur when the servant was the only one to have earned the Knight's. Something in Arthur stirred. It mattered very little that he knew Gwaine to be right, as well as that he'd do anything to change that. His offence turned to pettiness.
"And you do?" He retorted.
"No. Not even close." Gwaine's head hung low for a moment, before his eyes found Arthur's. "But Merlin knows that. It's you he loves, Arthur."
Arthur couldn't have spoken if his life depended on it. He choked on his breath, his eyes going wide at the words.
"Gods, you really are thick." The knight stood abruptly, looking straight into his eyes as he spoke. "Be better for him Arthur, you owe it to him." He said, voice low, before walking away from him.
.
Merlin had been talking to Aithusa about how to avoid angry villagers when he saw Gwaine peek through the woods, his chain mail removed and hair flowing with the breeze. He nodded to invite him close.
"Gwaine is my friend. He's not gonna hurt you." Merlin told the dragon.
The Knight approached calmly, seemingly fearless, sitting next to Merlin, where Aithusa could see him, his legs straightened beneath him as he leaned on his hands.
"You have a dragon sleeping in your lap." He pointed out, amused.
"She's awake." Merlin corrected, and she chirped softly to prove it. "Her name is Aithusa."
"Nice to meet you, Aithusa."
She stirred slightly in acknowledgement.
"So. Magic, huh?"
"Told you I'm a man of many talents."
Gwaine grinned as he rolled his eyes.
"I wanted to tell you." Merlin told him, apologetically.
Gwaine looked at him, a bitter half-smile forming on his lips as his brows fell. He had this air of deep sadness to him, a permanent loss in his eyes that never faded. He was vivacious, bright, funny, but in the quiet moments, it shone through.
It was one of those moments now, and Merlin felt wretched.
"Don't hate me." He pleaded, voice watery.
"I couldn't." The knight replied, uncharacteristically earnest.
He couldn't hide his relief even if he tried. Gwaine was his best friend, the only person in his corner, it often felt like. Few people were patient enough to tolerate the unanswered questions and the more than obvious excuses Merlin spewed, but Gwaine was one of them, even if he didn't look it. It was so often the confession hanged at the tip of his tongue, begging to be heard, and all it would have taken was one small jab, one reminder of all he owed his friend, and he would've given in, but Gwaine never pushed. It wasn't that he didn't want to know, because he made that more than obvious, he just trusted Merlin enough to let him keep his secrets. He'd appreciate him for that always.
"Ask me anything. I'll be honest." He urged now, because he had no reason to hold his tongue any longer.
At that, Gwaine's smile brightened.
"Do you have a thing with Mary from the kitchens?"
Merlin snorted at the unexpected question, unsettling Aithusa, who bumped him forcefully with the side of her head. Gwaine laughed, a teasing smile on his face.
"I'm pretty sure she has a crush on me. She keeps bringing me pies." He admitted, still laughing softly.
"And you never thought to share." Said Gwaine, mockingly disappointed.
"Wanna see something?" Asked Merlin.
Gwaine smiled warmly, gesturing for him to proceed. Careful not to disturb Aithusa, he cupped his hands in front of his face, bringing them to his lips to blow into them like he was blowing on dice. When he opened them again, he was holding a small round pastry. It was one of his favorite feelings, to feel the flow of magic and be the one to direct it, to feel it change and become physical, adapting to his own will.
Laughing at the look of awe in the Knight's face, he extended his hand, offering the sweet to him.
"Strawberry tart. No nutritional value, but it should taste good." He explained.
Gwaine threw the whole thing into his mouth, humming at the taste in a way that said "pleasantly surprised".
"We can use that, you know." He said after swallowing down most of the tart, with a look that promised mischief.
"I've got ideas." Merlin replied.
"You owe me a drink once we're back. You can spill your secrets then." The knight winked, and before Merlin could respond, they were interrupted by the sound of branches cracking as Arthur approached.
.
Merlin was laughing. The sound reached the King's ears from afar, and it felt like coming up for air. It was the goofy kind of laugh that Arthur rarely inspired, even before he'd turned cold. That was always Gwaine's specialty, or the knights', whenever they made fun of him. It was the sound Arthur heard in the dreams he'd never dare express, the sound always repeating on the background of his thoughts like a melody.
He could see him, as he approached, relaxed against a tree's trunk, with a dragon laying on him, smiling so brightly at Gwaine he wandered how the Knight didn't need to cover his eyes.
It felt like intruding to join them, but he forced his feet to move anyway, making sure to announce his presence with heavy footsteps. The Knight didn't turn to face him, even though he could see him nod to the other to signal he was there. Merlin laughed softly at Gwaine, nodding in agreement to whatever he had said last.
Then, he turned his gaze to Arthur, and his smile changed. It turned bittersweet, heavy. Burdens that should've been Arthur's weighed it down, weighed him down, when he should be put high, higher than any man. Still, Arthur smiled back, because it was the most he'd gotten in a long time, and because he couldn't bear to be the reason he would watch it fade.
He realized he'd been standing still, probably looking like a fool, when Merlin turned away, to speak to the dragon. He was stroking the side of it's face like he was some kind of oversized dog, but talking to it like it was an adult human. Undoubtedly, it was the most bizzare scene he'd even encountered, and it didn't surprise him one bit that Merlin fit perfectly in it.
As he forced his legs to move, he resisted the urge to seek the security of his sword in his hand.
"Don't worry, he won't hurt you." Said the sorcerer when he got close, looking pointedly to him.
"I thought you said it was a female." Arthur thought out loud.
"I was talking to her."
"It's a dragon!" He protested. "The kind that spits flames!"
"Aren't you observant." The knight mocked. It made Merlin smile, so he didn't mind it.
"Better be nice then." Said the warlock.
"Alright." He agreed, feeling suddenly exposed. The dragon's eyes stayed trained on him, as it lifted it's head slightly from Merlin's legs to watch him.
His instincts told him to fight, to attack before the creature had the chance to turn him to roast meat, but Merlin was looking at him expectantly, wordlessly promising he was safe. Arthur didn't draw his sword. He sat awkwardly next to Merlin, so close he could feel the dragon's hot breath against his leg, and tried not to look as terrified as he was.
Aithusa didn't attack. Instead, she made a sound that was something in between a growl and a chirp and made herself comfortable again on Merlin's lap. Merlin smiled softly at him.
Maybe, he mused, his instincts had been wrong all along.
Now that he was closer, the dragon looked less like something with the power to wipe out entire kingdoms and more like a wounded animal.
"Is she okay?" He asked, nodding to the dragon.
Arthur almost shied away from the pride in Merlin's face.
"She was hurt, but I've healed her now. She'll be okay."
"Good." He said, even though his mind lit up with questions, particularly about Merlin's healing abilities. Is that why he rarely, if ever, got scars after meeting Merlin? Why Gaius' ointments and potions worked better for some Knights than they did for others? And how many people had he saved from death with his magic? How many people had he not, because he'd not been allowed?
He shook his head as if to rid it of the increasingly enormous pile of unanswered questions in his mind, telling himself there would be time for them to be answered later. "What happens now?"
"I'll call Kilgharrah. She needs guidance." He said firmly, which Arthur suspected was more for her benefit.
The mention was enough to make Arthur recoil. He could almost feel the absolute helplessness, the dread of watching his Kingdom burn and his men be slaughtered all over again. If the dragon decided to attack, there was nothing he could do to stop it, and Merlin said he could control it, but a part of him couldn't forget that, by his own admission it was him that had let it out in the first place. He knew it had been an impossible position, the choice between all the lives in Camelot and Kilgharrah's wrath obvious, but he'd still made it.
Maybe it was that it unsettled him that it was his servant that had had to make it, that he had held the lives of Camelot in his hand, and Arthur had not so much as suspected. Maybe it was that he was asking him to relinquish control once again, in a way a King never should. Either way, Arthur felt sick.
He begged Merlin to understand him with his eyes, and Merlin's eyebrows furrowed together. He did. Of course he did.
"Trust me." He said.