Archive of Our Own ^beta

His skin itched.

Itched and burned and felt too small and like he wanted to just rip it open and crawl out of it.  He couldn’t get any relief; not from the itch cream he’d slapped on, not from scratching at his chest (which he forced himself to stop, lest he give himself a nice set of gashes on top of everything else), and certainly not from tossing and turning on top of his blankets like he’s been doing for the last several hours.

Merlin sat up suddenly, fed up with his body.  He crept out of the room, careful not to wake Gaius, before breaking out into a full fledged run once he reached the hallway.  He tore through the courtyard and down towards the gate as silently as he could, his hand clutching at his chest all the while like it could somehow relieve him of that burning ache. 

He was in the forest before he knew it, and it was only then that he realized that he had forgotten to grab a jacket, let alone shoes, before he made his escape.  But the thought left as soon as it came as he stumbled to his knees from the force of his shiver, feeling like his skin was ready to shake off.  He reached back to claw at himself, and succeeded only in removing his tunic before the pain got too intense. He fell to his side instead, body spasming as the tremors continued to run through him, more intense with each wave.  His fingers scrabbled at the dirt, trying to find something to hold onto and ground himself with as he clenched his teeth against the force of it all.

His sight became blurry; maybe from tears, maybe just from the intensity of the pain.  And when the first crack! tore through him, he was sure he screamed aloud.  The harshness of his breaths became all-too loud in his ears as he tried not to panic, but soon his breath was all he could focus on as the next crack reverberated through his bones. And the next. And the next.

And the next.

He was a whimpering mess by the time he realized the pain was receding, and it was probably close to an hour gone by the time his breathing had slowed enough for him to take stock.  He moved his hand to rub his sore eyes--and somehow ended up punching himself in the nose.

Merlin blinked.  Then blinked again when he noticed that his view seemed too... wide?  The colors of the forest seemed all off, and it was a rather brighter night than he remembered it being.

He snuffled, which was an odd sound to hear himself make, and looked down, scrambling back in surprise when he saw black reptilian legs out in front of him, then subsequently freezing when he realized that the legs matched his every move.

Tentatively, he lifted one arm, and his brain finally seemed to make the connection that this black thing was his own limb.  He turned the paw this way and that, studying the matte black scales--so dark they could probably blend in with the night--and the pearly white claws, each wickedly pointed.  He wiggled the fingers -- toes? -- and watched them all react.  It felt kinda like his hand was numb; there was so little feeling in the limb, and the digits didn’t quite react with the same range of motion he was used to experiencing as a human.  It was probably due to the intense padding the paw had, signifying that the limb was meant to be walked on, and it left it kind of useless to most of the tasks that he was used to using a hand for.

Merlin doubted that he’d be able to grab anything with his hands as they currently were, and eyed his discarded--and mostly shredded--clothing with an air of regret.  They wouldn’t be able to cover him much as it was, so they’d be as good here as anywhere as he worked to change back from... whatever he was.

His back twitched, and his head snapped to the side when he heard a rustle to his left, only to give a little screech in surprise as he spied a black wing spread out next to him.  Oh no, was he...?

He swiveled his head around to get a better look at the rest of his body, then surprised himself with how far his head continued to move.  By the gods , how long was his neck?!

The sight of the rest of his body was almost expected at this point.  He must be at least as big as a horse!  And double that length if you add in the tail (Oh gods he had a tail! ).  There’s the pair of wings--each probably expansive enough to hide a small hut--and a duet of spines lacing down his back, from his neck to his tail.  Everything was covered in those deep matte black scales that almost perfectly blended him into the shadows cast by the trees overhead.

Okay.  Okay, so he’s a dragon.  He can do this, he’s been in worse situations...

Oh, who was he kidding, this was definitely the worst!  He just needed to figure out how to turn himself back and return to Camelot before Arthur misses him in the morning. No problem!

… Merlin wanted to cry, really.  Just curl up into a little ball and go to sleep, and pretend like everything will be fine and he’ll wake up back as his human self in his bed in Gaius’s quarters, running late for waking the prince, as usual.

But... he couldn’t do that.  As usual, he was on his own.  This problem didn’t directly seem like it was an attack on Arthur’s life, but if he can’t go back to Camelot, then how will he continue to protect the prince?

Okay. Think Merlin.  There might be something in his book, back in his room, but that would assume he could even make it to his room; unlikely in his current form, especially after Kilgharrah’s attacks just last week--

Kilgharrah!!

The dragon’s a bastard, but he’s Merlin’s best shot about being able to figure out anything in relation to his current situation, let alone how to turn back.

Merlin lifted his head, ready to call the Great Dragon, then hesitated.  What if he couldn’t speak in this form? Could he still call the dragon?

Tentatively, he tried out a little, “Hello?” then shook himself a bit self-consciously when it came out just fine.  Without any more ado, he lifted his head, and, well, he intended to call for Kilgharrah, but what came out instead was a great screeching roar that he cut off as soon as he could, too late for the several flocks of birds that fled from the neighboring trees at the sound.  Oh gods, if anyone at Camelot heard...

“You called, young warlock?” the dragon said as he wheeled about for a landing.  Gods, did he have to sound so smug about it?

Merlin turned his head to hiss at the dragon that had landed behind him, no doubt showing off an impressive set of teeth, and he felt some weird new neck muscles tense at his displeasure as well.  

Kilgharrah chuckleed, then proceeded to duck his head this way and that, appraising Merlin’s new form.

“Will you quit it!” Merlin growled, while trying to ignore the fact that it truly was a growl, “I’m not some cow up for sale!”

Kilgharrah snorted, but stopped his study.

“Now, do you have any idea of why I’m like this, and do you have any ideas for how I can turn back? I can’t help Arthur like this!” Merlin whined.  Which was undignified, but when is he ever?

“Yes, and no,” Kilgharrah answered, oh so very helpfully.  But he continued, “It’s rare, but dragonlords with a lot of magic are often able to transform into dragons themselves. I am not surprised that this occurred with you, though I have never seen it myself.”

“Great,” Merlin mumbled, “So you have no idea if I can turn back?”

Kilgharrah rolled his head about in the dragon equivalent of a shrug, “The dragonlords I heard of were able to change back and forth at will.  I’m not sure how they managed it, though I’m sure intent played a large role in it.  Whether your transformation is the same as theirs…” He tilted his head to peer at Merlin, “That remains to be seen.”

Merlin snorted, looking up at the Great Dragon, (who was, unfairly, still a heck of a lot bigger than him), “So, what? I’m just supposed to close my eyes and imagine myself as human, and hope that works?”

Kilgharrah made the shrug-like motion again, “There is no harm in trying such a thing, young warlock.”

“You just want me to stand here and look dumb,” Merlin muttered under his breath, though judging by Kilgharrah’s  glare, it did not go unheard. He said, a little louder, “Well, here goes,” and closed his eyes.

I want to be human again, he thought, but was unsurprised when nothing happened. Okay, different approach.  How about how it feels like to walk on two feet? I’d like to do that again, thanks. To have two hands that can handle delicate bottles of potion, or polish a prat’s armour...  He felt the ground give a sudden lurch beneath his feet, and before he knew it, he had toppled head-first into the dirt.  

When he lifted his head, it was to the sight of his human hands before him, and he realized that it was not the ground that had shifted, but himself.

“Hey, I did it!” he shouted in glee as he pushed himself up to his knees.

Kilgharrah chuckleed, “So it seems.”

Merlin shivered as the crisp weather reminded him of his state of undress, “Right,” he said, cheeks flushing as he looked down at his nude body, “Clothes.”

“I will leave you to it, then,” the dragon announced as he opened his wings in preparation for flight, “Just be sure to transform at least once a moon; the dragon part of you will tear itself out if it isn’t let loose often enough.”

“Make sure to transform often. Got it,” Merlin replied, thinking that that might have been what happened tonight, though he’s distracted by how sharp some of his teeth seem right now.  He put a finger in his mouth to try to feel out the strange new points.

“Oh, and some traits may carry over between forms; you’ll want to make sure you hide anything incriminating,” Kilgharrah said, as he took off.

Merlin quickly pulled his finger out, “Wait!  Are these fangs?! Do I have fangs?!” he shrieked, but the dragon was already out of sight.  

“ Kilgharrah!! ” he yelled after the dragon, because he could, but only the rustle of the treetops answered him.

Merlin cursed, rubbing the palms of his hands over his face.  Another gust of wind made him shiver.  “Right, yes, clothes,” he said to himself, pushing himself to his feet.

The clothes were fairly easy to mend with magic, and once he was dressed, he got himself oriented and set off in what direction he’s fairly certain Camelot lies.

But as the sky started to lighten in pre-dawn light, he felt like he'd been walking too long. Was he lost? Or did he really manage to run all this way earlier tonight?  He’s almost ready to turn around and try a different direction (because of course he would have more trouble getting back to Camelot than he did in figuring out how to return to human form), when the citadel suddenly emerged from between the trees.

Merlin smiled in relief, but his face fell when he noticed that the city wasn’t the only thing emerging from the trees.  No, that’s the sun rising, cheerful as ever, and blind to the panic that it creates in Merlin with what time it signified.

Merlin immediately broke into a run, knowing full-well that he’s going to be late regardless.