Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Merlin hates visions. He completely and absolutely hates visions. Taliesin can talk seers up as much as he wants, but as far as Merlin is concerned, he’d sooner die than start actively trying to get visions. Knowledge of the future has only ever ruined his life, as he causes the events he’s trying to prevent: A self-fulfilling prophecy. So when he wakes in the middle of the night from a nightmare vision of being imprisoned by some bald fucker, he feels that he’s justified in his initial reaction being to consider deicide. That is, of course, until he realizes that he didn’t become a seer overnight—and thank the goddess for that—and is instead coming from his bond with Aithusa.

Now, Merlin knows he’s rather uneducated about the whole Dragonlord business. With no one able to teach him, he’s had to teach himself everything he knows about Dragonlords. But he knows that every Dragonlord bonded to the dragons they hatch. Knows that it’s their responsibility to take care of and protect the dragons they hatch. So when he realizes that the aforementioned bald fucker was, in fact, imprisoning Aithusa, he is understandably feeling very guilty for having failed to properly take care of his hatchling. He’s also feeling very, very angry. And of the two of them, he decides the anger is better to focus on right now—after all, he can always wallow in self-pity later—and gets up to prepare for a prison break.

Of course, even in his anger, Merlin is nothing if not thorough, so he makes sure to grab everything he thinks he might even remotely need. The leather armour that Arthur gifted him but that he never wore, His staff wrapped in cloth so as to conceal it, the Sword that Gwen made for him when he was going to fight Kanen in Ealdor, the set of throwing knives Will gave him for his 11^th birthday, and his spell book attached to the belt Gaius gave him. All things given to him by his loved ones to help protect him, but they will be things that he will help protect his hatchling.

He grabs a satchel off of his table and starts downstairs, walking through the thankfully empty room and to the hallway outside. He’ll need to get food, as stopping to hunt or forage will waste too much time. He’ll also need to get a horse ready, as while he’s still not entirely sure where Aithusa is being held, he knows that it’ll take too long on foot. He should probal-

“Merlin?”

“Huh? Oh, Mindy! I’m sorry but I'm really in a bit of a rush right now.”

“I can see that. Just wanted to ask if you needed any help.”

“Oh no, it’s fine. I don’t want to add more to your chore lis-“

“Oh come off it Merlin. You're always helping the rest of us out with our chores whenever we need it, let us return the favour, yeah?”

For the first time since waking up, Merlin smiled. “Thanks, Mindy. I need a horse prepared and some food packed into my satchel.”

While taking the satchel from Merlin’s hand, Mindy asks “What’re you going ta be doin?”

Merlin gives a strained smile that is hopefully not obvious. By Mindy’s look of concern, he seems to have failed. “I’m going to be informing the king that something urgent came up.”

Council meetings are very important for running the kingdom. Arthur knows, understands, that. What he doesn’t understand, is how something so essential to the upkeep of a kingdom can be so mind-numbingly boring. And it’s not even a full council session, just the one with him, his queen, and the knights of the round table. Though, he should probably be happy that the meeting is boring. If something interesting were happening in these sessions it would usually mean his kingdom was in peril. Although is it honestly too much to ask for something interesting to happen, that doesn’t put his people in danger?

As if summoned by his thoughts, the doors to the council chambers burst open, startling everyone in the process. While Arthur is busy trying to regain his dignity from jumping a foot in the air, it seems that Leon, Percival, and Lancelot have drawn their swords and pointed at...a kneeling “Merlin?”

Thankfully, he wasn’t the only one completely confused. And far as he’s concerned, he’s perfectly justified to be. The idiot doesn’t show up all morning, then suddenly burst into the council chambers only to kneel deferentially? He’s half tempted to question if he’s been enchanted.

“Merlin, get up you idiot. What’re you even doing here? And where have you been all morning? Because I swear, if you’ve been in the tavern again, I’ll have you put in the sto…”

Merlin slowly looks up when Arthur starts talking, and the serious look on his face stops Arthur in his tracks.

“Arthur. You are a Great King. A Kind King. And I am proud to have served you and watched you become the King you are. I’m proud to call you my King, but I’m prouder yet to call you my friend. Take care of yourself and Gwen alright?”

Arthur is, if possible, somehow more confused than he was before. Confused and concerned, because that sounds like a goodbye, but it can’t be. It can’t be a goodbye because Merlin can’t leave. Merlin’s been the one constant in his life for years. But he doesn’t voice any of that, because he’s not entirely sure he knows how to. But it seems Arthur isn’t the only one concerned about the finality of Merlin’s goodbye, so everyone else at the table voices what Arthurs wanted to. With Gwen, it seems, being the loudest.

“Merlin, what’s going on? Why are you saying goodbye? And stop kneeling on the floor literally all of us are your friends you goof.”

 When Merlin gets up, Arthur is finally able to pay attention to what, exactly, he was wearing. Instead of his usual clothes, he’s wearing the leather armour Arthur got for him for the first time in Arthur’s memory. He has a Sword sheathed at his waist, and an old book of some kind strapped to his hip. On his thighs were a set of old throwing knives carefully sheathed. Lastly, he had some sort of long stick—A spear? No, neither side seems to be blunt enough. A Quarterstaff? Maybe—wrapped in cloth tied to his back. And his expression was grim like he was about to march to his death.

Merlin licked his lips and cleared his throat. “I, uh, there’s a family emergency. I’m not entirely sure if I’ll make it out alive, so I just wanted you all to know that I’ve cherished all of your company and that I’ll miss you.”

There was a loud groan and the scraping of a chair on the floor. Lancelot got up, and walked over toward Merlin while saying “When do we leave then?”

For the first time since Merlin barged into the council room, he expressed an emotion other than a grim, resigned determination. He looked alarmed at Lancelot’s offer and said “You’re not coming with me, Lance. You’re a Knight. You can’t just go with a servant on a suicide mission.”

Lancelot pauses, as if to consider this, then nods. “If that’s the case, Sire, I request to be de-knighted.”

Some part of Arthur takes a bit of satisfaction at the fact that Merlin is finally as confused and concerned as the rest of them are. Though it seemed like Gwaine had other priorities, for he immediately jumped up and declared “A suicide mission, huh? I like those odds. I’m in.”

Merlin starts sputtering, trying to string together a sentence, most likely about how Gwaine and Lancelot shouldn’t go with him. Lancelot just stands off to the side waiting, while Gwaine is arguing back against Merlin. And Arthur? Arthur is just so very lost. Never in any of his lessons as a child was he prepared as to what to do when his best friend, who is also a servant, declares he’s going on a suicide mission, and two of Arthur's most trusted knights decide to follow the servant. But when Merlin starts eyeing the window part-way through his sputtering, like he’s contemplating jumping out of it to escape the situation, Arthur decides to step in. Because he’s fully aware that the idiot would actually do it.

“Merlin! Shut up for a moment and sit down. Lancelot, you won’t need to quit being a knight to help this idiot. And Sir Gwaine, will you please get off the table.”

Seeing that his orders were obeyed, he wheels around on Merlin and starts. “Merlin. Explain. Now.”

Merlin straightens his shoulders and looks Arthurs straight in the eye. “I’m going whether you like it or not Arthur. I’m sure you can find another babysitter for yourself.”

“I’m not going to stop you, you idiot. We need to know what the situation is to make a plan.”

Merlin blinked his stupid wide eyes. “You mean you’re going to help?”

“Of course, I’m going to help- did you really think I would let my idiot servant walk off whatever bandit warlord on his own?”

Merlin wipes his misty eyes and nods. “Thank you”, he croaks out. “It’s, they have my daughter. But, uhm, we-“

“You have a DAUGHTER?” Everyone turns to look at their Queen for her uncharacteristic loss of composure. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Gwen, we don’t have the time right now. Can I explain while we’re riding?”

Lancelot, seeming to realize an argument they can’t afford to have right now will break out regardless, steps in. “Gwaine, why don’t you and Percival go ready the horses? Merlin and I can go pack some food.”

Understanding what Lancelot was doing, Arthurs takes over. “An excellent idea Sir Lancelot. My Queen, am I right to assume that you would like to participate in this particular quest?” At Gwen’s firm nod, Arthur continues. “Then the two of us shall pack some medical supplies. Sir Leon, Sir Elyan, I’m trusting the two of you to keep the kingdom in one piece till we’re back.”

Chapter Text

Ever since Elyan left home to travel, Gwen has been lonely. She’s never been alone, she’s always had friends, but she has been lonely. Her status as the maidservant of the King’s ward kept the rest of the servants wary of her.

And she was fine with that. She was perfectly happy working at the castle, and helping her father whenever she could, with herself as the only company she could rely on.

Then Merlin showed up, and he became Arthur’s servant, and she finally had someone that was at the same place on the hierarchy as her, and he started spending time with her and talking with her, and somewhere along the way, he became her best friend.

Merlin was her best friend. He was family, just as much her brother as Elyan was.

So it stung that he never told her about his daughter. She gets that he has secrets, but she didn’t think this would be one of them. She thought he’d have trusted her with this.

“Gwen.”

She turns to glare at her husband, who’s looking at her like one would a feral cat, which only served to annoy her further.

“What.” She bit out.

Arthur puts his hands up in surrender. “I know that you’re upset, but can you calm down for now? You can yell at Merlin once we’re on the road.”

Gwen huffs out a breath and starts walking faster. The sooner they get out of here the sooner she can grill Merlin.

When they arrive at the stables, she sees six horses saddled and ready. Gwaine and Percival were already on their mounts, and Merlin and Lancelot seem to have just arrived, considering that they were still fastening their bags on the horses. Gwen hurries to do the same.

“We ready to leave, Princess?”

She heard Arthur sigh in resignation. Gwen smiled at that. Gwaine’s nickname for Arthur never failed to get on Arthur’s nerves or amuse Gwen.

“Yes. Where are we going, Merlin?”

Merlin doesn’t look away from what he was doing. “North.”

“North?”

Done with what he was doing, Merlin steps back and gets onto his horse. “Yes, North. Take too many hits to the head sire, or is this the normal level of stupid.”

Gwen snorts. Leave it to Merlin to insult the king even in this situation.

“Shut up Merlin. I meant, is that all the information you have.”

“For directions? Yeah, it is. Now can we get moving or does his highness need a more glamorous send-off?”

Arthur gets his horse trotting, cursing under his breath all the while. Gwen mimics him, guiding her horse to be beside Arthur. Gwaine and Percival took their place behind her, with Merlin and Lancelot taking up the rear.

It would make sense for Merlin to lead, but it wouldn’t do for everyone in the kingdom to see their King following a servant. So as soon as they put distance between themselves and Camelot, they move aside, letting Merlin and Lancelot get to the front, letting him lead and set the pace.

Merlin pushed their horses to go as far and fast as they could. Gwen was starting to worry about the poor things. Eventually, Lancelot convinces Merlin to let them set up camp, considering that dusk was fast approaching.

They all sit around the campfire, waiting for their food to finish cooking. Gwen fidgets, the only sounds that of the fire and Merlin cooking.

Eventually, Gwaine broke the silence, and did what he does best: address the elephant in the room with complete disregard for everyone else’s awkwardness.
“So. A daughter, huh? Why’s this the first we’re hearing of this? The poor kid missed out on so many presents!”

Merlin puts the ladle down in the pot and sighs.

“I wanted what was best for her, and living in Camelot wasn’t it.” He looks up at them and rolls his eyes. “Let it out. I’m sure your all bursting to know.”

“What do mean living in Camelot wasn’t what was best for her? I’m the King, Merlin. I could’ve made sure she’d be safe!”

“And why would you do that for a servant, sire?”

“Because you’re my friend, you moron!” Arthur shouts.

Merlin’s eyes widen at that. Everyone stays silent for a beat, until Gwen speaks up. “Why wouldn’t you just raise her? I know you wouldn’t just give away your kid for no reason.”

Merlin gives her a bitter smile. “Because I had a life in Camelot, a family. I couldn’t just abandon all of you to go raise her. So I sent her to be raised by someone I trusted. Guess that was the wrong decision, considering she’s in danger now.”

“But you didn’t have to leave Camelot to raise her!”

“Yes, I did. Camelot was not safe for her. I didn’t want to put her in danger because of my selfishness.”

“You could’ve told me,” Gwen whispers, “I would’ve kept it a secret!”

Percival cuts in before Merlin can say anything, speaking up for the first time since this whole thing started. “Who is it?”

Everyone turns confused looks towards him “What?”

“Sending away your daughter, keeping her a secret. Who is it that you don’t trust? You are cagey and vague with your answers even now.”

He’s right, Gwen realises. Regardless of the reason he kept it a secret, Merlin would have been forthcoming now. Unless, of course, he didn’t trust them.
“Is it me?” she asks. She knows that he can hear her voice break, but she doesn’t care. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Arthur look as heartbroken as she feels.

Merlin runs a hand over his face. “This got out of hand so quick,” he murmured, yet with how quiet it was, everyone heard him regardless. Seeming to have realised that there was no way out of explaining now, he starts.

“Lancelot is too honourable to ever try and harm a child, Gwaine would commit treason for dumber reasons than keeping my daughter safe, and Gwen would go absolutely feral if someone tried to harm her niece.”

Gwen smiles regardless of how tremulous her emotions were right now. She has a niece. She’s an aunt! Her smile dims when Merlin finishes what he was saying.

“Arthur, though, was too much like Uther for me to take the risk. I trust each and every one of you with my life, but I’m not about gamble with my daughter’s life”

“I-wh-I don’t-I would never hurt your daughter, Merlin. For so many years, you were the only constant in my life. The only one who was there for me. The only one who’s always seen Arthur, and not The Prince. Like I told you, my father's time as king is over.”

Merlin stares at Arthur. “Swear it,” he says. “Swear that you won’t harm her. You can have my head instead.”

“I swear it. You have my word as a Knight. Though your dumber than you look if you thought I would behead you. Especially after bearing my heart out! Can you truly not come up with a better response to what I said, Merlin?”

Merlin laughs, though Gwen can hear the sobs in it.

“Thank you”, Merlin sobs.

Deciding to cut the tension, Gwen intervenes.

“So,” she says, “what’s the name of my little niece?”

“Aithusa.”

“Aithusa,” Gwen repeats, sounding the name on her tongue. “It’s a wonderful name, Merlin. I’m sure she’s as cute as her name is.”

“Nah, it’s a weird name, mate.” Gwaine pipes in.

“It’s a naming tradition from my father’s side of the family, Gwaine.”

“Wait a minute,” Arthur says, “I thought you didn’t know who your father was!”

“I didn’t. I found out later. He died a few days after I met him in a bandit attack.”

“A bandit attack? How come you never told us about this before? We could’ve hunted the bandits down.”

“Apologies sire, I didn’t think it important to inform you about a bandit attack you were present for. I’ll rectify this next time.”

“I was there? Wait, I met your father? Who was it?”

“Balinor”

Chapter Text

Arthur’s mind screeches to a halt. That can’t be possible. Dragonlords are people from a bloodline who accepted to become more beast than human, more fangs and claws and feral instinct than human intelligence, who chose to take the likeness of Dragons, with their horrid curse passing from parent to child through blood and ritual which includes murdering their Dragonlord parent. And he knows this, because he took the time to research about Dragons and Dragonlords after the Great Dragon’s Attack. And it can’t be possible. And yet here Merlin was, grieving the man-beast, honoring its kind’s traditions, as if he claimed them as kin. But that can’t be possible, because Merlin of all people isn’t some feral beast intent solely on mindless destruction.

He might be impertinent and insolent and a fool and wise and a hundred other things, but one thing Merlin wasn’t was mindless. Even when he played the fool, played the idiot, Arthur could always see the gleam of sharp intelligence in his eyes. Could always hear and count on his quick wit as one of his universal constants. Merlin had known and seen him as Arthur first, and Prince second. And sometime later, he saw something in Arthur, saw a King in Arthur, that won over Merlin’s loyalty and trust. And Arthur has spent every day since that realization to live up to that, to be the man Merlin thinks he could be.

His internal crisis (always internal, a good king never shows his true feelings to others) was very rudely and very expectedly interrupted by Sir Gwaine.

“Sorry to cut into everyone’s brooding, but who the fuck is Balinor? Other than Merlin’s father, obviously.”

And when Merlin answers, Arthur’s attention snaps to him, cataloguing every microexpression he can notice. He is well aware that texts, or even people, often have bias. And considering the texts he was able to find were left there after his fathers inspection, he suspects that not all of it might be perfectly accurate. And to pass fair judgement, Arthur needs to hear both sides. Only with the grievances of sides of a dispute fully considered, along with the circumstances surrounding them, can a fair judgement exist. Only then, can a just judgement exist. So he will listen. Listen attentively to everything his best friend says, both spoken and unspoken. “Balinor was the last of the Dragonlords left alive from the Purge. He met my mother on his run, injured. She told him she was going to help him heal, irrespective of if she had to knock him out first. He stayed even after he was healed, and were planning to wed. Uther’s Knight came looking for traces of the last Dragonlord, and he had to flee, before my mother could tell him she was carrying me. Uther sent us to find him and convince him to save Camelot from the Great Dragon, with Gaius informing me that Balinor, the man we were about to hunt down, was my father. Then I knew Balinor for all of a day before he jumped in front of a Bandit’s sword to protect me.”

Arthur blinks, remembering Merlin’s mother. Disregarding Merlin’s character, Hunith was one of the kindest people he’s ever had the honor of knowing. She took a banished Gwen in, and cared for her. Took an injured Arthur in when he just showed up on her doorstep with Merlin in tow, and healed him. She’s mothered everyone that’s lived under her roof, however brief, and still sends Arthur and Gwen letters asking of their health, if they’re eating enough, if they’re overworking themselves, offering her home should they need a break, or an ear to listen to whatever problems they have. She’s the closest Arthur has ever had to a mother.

And if she, trusted this Balinor despite his Dragonlord status, Arthur is firmly sure in the decision that the matter of Dragonlords, at least, was one his father was wholly wrong about. Because between Uther, and a strong yet paranoid man, and Hunith, a woman who always saw the best in other and inspired them to live up to that potential for fear of disappointing her, Arthur knows whose judgement of character he would trust.

It seems Gwaine too, is confused at what Merlin said, if for a different reason, so frowns in thought. “Wait, then how did you get rid of the Great Dragon, if the Dragonlord died?”

“It’s called Dragonlord for a reason, Gwaine.” Merlin dryly retorts. “It passes from parent to child on the parent’s death, as any inheritance does. As his son, after his death, I became the Last Dragonlord. When I came face to face with Kilgarrah, the Great Dragon, I told him if he didn’t leave me the fuck alone and attacking people I’d make him lick Gaius’s Leech tank clean. Apparently the fucker knew enough about Gaius from before the purge to take that threat seriously, and has spent the time since either minding his bloody business or occasionally popping over to give me unwanted and bad advice. How ‘metal is malleable like your very bones, Young Lord’ is supposed to be advice of any kind I still don’t know. I’m pretty sure he’s just old and senile, but doesn’t want to come clean about it.”

Arthur frowns. Merlin’s talking about it like it’s just some weird inheritance. Talking about it in the same tone some of his knight talk about inheriting troublesome, expensive to handle estates. And the way he talks of the Great Dragon, like it was some doddering old fool, gives him whiplash compared to the Great Dragon he witnessed laying siege to Camelot.

And he’s also annoyed at himself for not seeing this earlier. How Arthur ever believed that he somehow, killed the Great Dragon on his while unconscious, when previously, their swords were about as effective on the Dragon as trying to glare a man to death would be.

At that explanation, Gwen straightens, and narrows her eyes at him. “Merlin, dear, heart of my heart, please tell me you didn’t leave my niece in the custody of a potentially senile Dragon!”

Arthur closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, doing his best not to pinch his brow and ask the heavens for patience. Because of course, Merlin did something so moronically stupid. Something so trusting and naïve of a creature he himself admits to be a doddering fool. Regardless of anything else, Arthur can at least say with confidence that being a Dragonlord didn’t suddenly gift Merlin with common sense, nor self-preservation. It’s heartening to know that his friend’s demeanor of being far too trusting, even with magical creatures that could and have tried to kill him, isn’t a façade. A mask. Merlin really is just like that, unfortunately for Arthur’s sanity. If anything, he seems to put on a mask of having more common sense than he actually does.

At that thought, of having to deal Merlin’s behavior that seems to be tailor made to cause chaos and annoy Arthur in a new and unoriginal way every day, but at a higher level than now, Arthur can’t stop the urge to let his face fall into his hands.

With a sigh, he looks up at Merlin. “Enough of talk that is currently borderline illegal. We can sit down and fully appreciate the ramifications of these discoveries at a later date. For now, we should focus on the mission at hand. Rescuing Aithusa. So, Merlin, where is she being held? Do you have any information on who holding her prisoner, or how many men there are, or even why?”

Merlin, much to Arthur’s annoyance, shrugs at him. “Dunno, she’s somewhere north. Being held Underground, I think. Her captor is some bald fucker. I think he might at least be a very rich merchant, if not minor nobility. His clothes seemed of decent quality, though from what few memories Aithusa was able to instinctively send to me in her desperate need for help, she was in significant pain from being tortured, so I think the bald fucker might just be a hateful dick.”

Well, first off, at least that explained Merlin’s frantic urgency. If Arthur found out his and Gwen’s child was actively being tortured for seemingly no other reason than the torturer is a dick, much less see it because his child had somehow sent those memories to him in desperation and longing for their father to save them, he’s pretty sure that he too, would try and wage a one man war against an unknown enemy like an absolute moron.

And second off, what the fuck, Merlin, what kind of directions are those? Somewhere north underground being tortured by a rich bald fucker? How the fuck were they meant to follow that with anything resembling accuracy, especially quick enough to save his niece, Gwen’s decided that the child is her niece, so he supposes she’s Arthur’s niece as well. And he wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest if Gwen starts drawing up adoption papers to adopt her niece into the Pendragon family the moment she gets back to Camelot little Aithusa.

He also, of course, notices the murderous expressions on Gwen, Sir Gwaine and Sir Percival. He would be a little more concerned about that, if it weren’t for the fact that, Arthur condones any acts of arson, murder or general chaos that his Queen and Knights are going to wreak on the bald fucker. And because he pays attention to their expression, he immediately notices the moment Gwaine’s face goes from vague fury to focused rage.

Leaning forward, he prompts his Knight. “It seems like you’ve figured something out that the rest of us haven’t. Would you care to share, Sir Gwaine?”

With a sharp nod, Gwaine looks straight at Arthur. “Tell me that this doesn’t sound like the living coffins of Amata. Please tell me that I’ve come to the wrong conclusion.”

Arthur stills. Oh. Oh no. Sarrum of Amata is a bald king, with a reputation and infamy for his cruelty and hatred of anything even remotely tied to magic, much more than Arthur’s own father ever has. In fact, while his father appreciated Sarrum’s contributions to the eradication of the evils of sorcery, he also thought of him to be an extremist that is far too cruel. And coming from his father of all people, especially in regards to sorcerers, Sarrum had to be really messed up. And unfortunately, it checks off every piece of information Merlin shared.