merthur microfic

There is a man in his cave.

This in itself is nothing special, for over the years there have been various men in Merlin’s cave for various reasons, some more pleasurable than others, but something about this man is particularly striking. In one hand he holds aloft a torch, its flickering light illuminating his golden hair, and his other hand grips the pommel of a very finely made sword. His piercing blue eyes are not filled with the fear or hatred that Merlin has come to expect, but instead seem to be brimming with steady resolve. Merlin is most certainly intrigued.

“What are you here for?” Merlin asks, his voice a low growl that echoes across the rocky chamber. The man before him does not flinch at the sound – no, if anything, he looks even more determined.

“I am Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot, and I am here for you,” the man replies, taking a step forward. “The druids speak of a great prophecy, a prophecy in which Camelot and the mighty Emrys work side by side to restore magic to the kingdom. They told me I would find him here, although I must admit, you are not quite what I was expecting.”

Merlin laughs. “No, I never am.”

For @merthurmicrofic prompt: Devotion

Happy Aromantic visitbility Day! I have in honour of that written an aromantic asexual Merlin Merthur fic! Not all aro folks want love in a romantic sense and that's okay! But in this story Merlin does, and that's his experince.

AO3 Link in title

Hope you enjoy!

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"I love you."

Those were the three words that threw Merlin's world upside down.

Three words that morning, when Arthur had insisted that they go for a ride in the woods like old times, and he had taken him to his favourite spot and confessed those three words.

Merlin knew he loved Arthur, he was devoted to him body and soul, he cared for him so very deeply to the depths of his very being.

Yet Merlin didn't know if he'd ever experienced love, at least in the romantic sense.

"You don't have to say anything in response, if you do not feel this way for me, we can continue on. I know you care for me, you always have, and now things are different with magic returned and you being my court sorcerer. I wanted to tell you how I truly feel, how I've always felt," Arthur said so earnestly taking Merlin's hand softly in his, and reaching down to kiss it.

It didn't feel strange, it felt warm, and comfortable, because he was Arthur, his king, the man he trusted most in the entire world.

A man who had been so honest right here today with him, and so he breathed in deep and decided to be honest to.

"Arthur, I- I have to tell you something, something that may, and probably will change your feelings for me, and that's okay, I won't be mad," Merlin explained softly.

"I don't think anything could ever change how I feel for you, but please tell me anyways," Arthur replied.

Merlin sighed, it was now or never.

"I care for you, so very deeply. When I found you I was instantly drawn to you even when you tried to take my head off with a mace," he winked and Arthur chuckled.

"I love you Arthur, but I don't know if I've… If I've ever loved someone in a romantic sense… Which probably makes no sense but just listen please."

Arthur smiled and kept watching him intently.

"I have never really found people attractive, in the sense of I've never had the desire to have physical relations with another person. I'm not adverse to the idea of having sex, I- I have done it before, but I didn't really care much for it, but I cared that the person I did it with found connection and love through that. I don't know if I romantically love you, but I do know that I care for you and love you so terribly much. I would do anything for you. If you still love me and wish to court me, I would be honoured and would love to do so with you, but I understand if this isn't what you wish. I will respect and care for you regardless of your feelings," he said softly.

"Oh Merlin, my Merlin, my dearest most beloved friend, none of that changes a thing," Arthur said throwing his arms around Merlin in a tight embrace.

"I understand what you're saying, I understand that your feelings are complex, but I also understand your devotion is deep, your love however you say it is, is true, and I wish to return it, so Merlin of Ealdor, Court Sorcerer of Camelot, Emrys of the Druids will you do me the honour of allowing me to court you?" Arthur said getting down on his knees.

Merlin chuckled a wet laugh, "Yes, you clotpole, I'd be happy to court you."

Arthur stood up and picked up Merlin swinging him around in a joyful embrace, before placing him back down, and asking, "May I kiss you?"

Somewhere overhead, hidden beyond the clouds and the city lights, the stars wait.

Merlin talks about them as though he knows them personally.

About constellations and comets and dead suns whose light is still travelling across the universe. Arthur understands very little of it. He finds, to his surprise, that he doesn't mind.

Merlin's eyes shine when he speaks.

Arthur thinks they might outdo the stars themselves.

Neither of them notices the hours passing.

Neither of them notices the rain stopping.

Neither of them notices the beginning.

Ten years later, Arthur will learn the names of meteor showers he can't pronounce, constellations he can never remember, and exactly how Merlin's face looks when starlight catches in his eyes.

Arthur still isn’t quite sure how they’d ended up here. One moment she was almost in bed, hair braided and wrapped up in a veil, fire dying slowly, the stones of the floor cold against her feet. The next she was hastily dressed only in a tunic, stumbling after Merlin, shivering despite the lingering warmth of the sun. 

“Merlin,” she growls, teeth clenched together. “Why on earth are we out here? At this hour?” 

“Oh be calm, My Lady,” Merlin says, throwing a glare over her shoulder. Which is easy for her to say because she’s dressed, with a cloak around her shoulders to go with it—the fur lined one Arthur had given her last winter, which means Arthur knows, precisely, just how warm it is.

“I’ll ‘be calm’ when I’m warm and in bed, like I’m supposed to be.”

“Don’t worry,” Merlin says, all sing-song and cheerful, “you’ll get all your beauty sleep, this won’t take long.” Arthur is too busy trying not to shiver her tits off to bother with the clear uncertainty in Merlin’s voice, but she makes a note of it anyway.

“Right,” Arthur mutters, making a show of rolling her eyes even though Merlin won’t see it. “Whatever ‘this’ ends up being.”

They are slowly making their way to a part of the town Arthur isn’t sure she’s seen before. It’s still within the walls of the castle, tucked right up against the edge of one. Nearing it they are met with what appears to be a wall of trees next to the bakers, impenetrable and a dead end.

“Wow!” Arthur says, trying to sound as falsely enthused as she can. “Trees! This was really important, Merlin! I’m so glad that I was drug out of my bed just to—”

“Can you stop being a prat for two minutes?” Merlin’s eyes are wide and she looks about two seconds away from attempting an attack on Arthur, her hands on her hips and her eyebrows raised. Arthur raises her hands in surrender and makes another show of rolling her eyes, which would really have carried more significance if Merlin hadn’t stuck her tongue out in response. 

“Come on,” Merlin says, turning away and lifting up a branch revealing a path that Arthur is entirely sure wasn’t there before. “After you, your Royal Highness.” Arthur makes sure to take a swing at Merlin with her elbow when she ducks past. 

Inside, after the trees, is a careful sort of clearing, a few flowers scattered around, some bushes growing up against the wall, tall grass. Merlin glances at her carefully once she’s followed. 

“What… is this?” Arthur asks, hushed and soft, scared to break something, to shatter the strange bubble of peace they’d stumbled into. 

Merlin flaps her hands around and chuckles. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just a—just something I’d—you know. I stumbled in here one time by accident and it’s. Nice. You know.” Arthur does know. 

“What, something you’d stumbled on while you were slacking off?” Arthur asks instead of the other million things she wants too, because everything else seems too raw, and the moon is too clear for honesty. 

“No! Can you—! Oh for goodness sake, come here.” Merlin grabs Arthur's arm, fingers resting in the bend at her elbow, palm hot against Arthur's cold skin, through Arthur’s cold tunic. 

Somewhere in the center of the clearing Merlin unclasps her cloak and spreads it against the ground. Her breath catches when it leaves her shoulders, and Arthur pretends to feel vindicated about not being the only cold one and shoves the urge to wrap Merlin back up way down. 

Merlin gestures for Arthur to sit, and, when she does, settles down by her side. Wordlessly, Merlin lies down, shifts so that her feet are brushing against the grasses just past the end of the cloak, and reaches out a hand to pull Arthur down beside her. 

“This,” Merlin says, gesturing up with her other hand, the one that hasn’t found a place to sit on Arthur’s shoulder and isn’t, therefore, slowly driving her insane, “is why I brought you out here.” 

Arthur glances up, and feels her breath leave her in one fell swoop. It’s only the sky, it’s only the stars. The same ones Arthur has seen a million times before, this time framed on one side by the walls of her castle and on the other by trees grown lush and green in the summertime. It’s nothing special, nothing worth being taken from her bed for, and yet.

There is something about the stars, tonight, by Merlin’s side. Something about the way they cluster and something about the way they swoop together and something about the careful pictures they draw and something about the way Arthur can feel Merlin’s smile burning into the side of her face. 

“Do you like it?” Merlin asks, whispers, Arthur can feel her breath against her cheek. Arthur turns to face her and their noses almost brush they are so close.

“Yes,” Arthur whispers in reply. She watches in an enchanting kind of fascination how Merlin’s smile changes from something tentative and awed to something mischievous and maybe a little evil. 

“Worth getting dragged all the way out here for?” 

---

The cold water was a visceral shock, dripping from Merlin's messy hair and pooling on the floor beneath his raised, aching arms. Chained to the ceiling of Morgana's grimy hovel, every breath felt like a slow painful rasp in his lungs.

Morgana’s touch came as a cold mockery of kindness as she then cleaned a jagged gash on his ribs.

"You know, there's one thing I don't understand, Merlin," she mused, "you're Arthur's servant, nothing more. Yet, time and again, you've proved yourself willing to lay down your life for him. Why are you so loyal to Arthur?" "I don't expect you to understand, Morgana," Merlin countered, hiding the secret warlock behind a mask of defiance. "You have no sense of duty, no sense of loyalty." "Don't think I don't understand loyalty just because I've got no one left to be loyal to. Not like I used to. And your devotion? like mine, it is utterly misplaced." With a flick of her hand, a shimmering vision of Camelot’s high halls ignited the air. Merlin’s magic itched beneath his skin, telling him this was no illusion. It was a true glimpse of his home. He saw Arthur, face drawn with a familiar, desperate conviction. He saw Gwen urging Arthur to abandon the search, her voice a low whisper "Arthur, please, think about what you are doing," she kept following him as they exited the castle and descended the steps, "Who knows if the mercenaries have even left the forest? The patrols found no sign of him."

 "You see, Merlin?" Morgana hissed, her eyes showing a victorious glint that testified her belief of having won. He forced a mocking grin, even as the pain settled like a heavy weight in his chest. He had to lie. Had to pretend not to believe what he was shown. Just like the mundane, trusting Merlin would have. He shielded his true self behind a facade of disbelief while his feelings are silently hurt. Inside, he was relieved that Arthur would remain safe from this trap, yet a sharp ache radiated outward from the hollow space within him. The physical torture was nothing compared to this heartache: the quiet realization that to his oldest remaining friend, he had become replaceable, expendable. And for his safety he had to pray to be the same to the man he loved.

Later that day, even while his thoughts remain shrouded from the vessel his body had become, a spark ignited in his heart at seeing Arthur looking for him. That his King had not abandoned him.

---

Merlin never intended to keep the letters.

That, perhaps, was the strangest part of it.

He never intended to send them either.

The first was written three days after he left Camelot, in an inn so damp that the ink feathered across the page.

••●━━━━━━●••

Arthur,

You will be pleased to know that exile is every bit as miserable as you would have hoped, though I suspect you imagined it occurring at a much greater distance from your borders and with considerably fewer sheep, because I seem to be surrounded by them no matter where I go, their mournful complaints following me along roads that twist through hills so empty and grey that they look as though the world simply forgot to finish them, and if there is a lesson hidden somewhere in this landscape then I have not yet found it, unless the lesson is that loneliness grows louder when there is nothing else left to make noise.

I do not know why I am writing this.

You are not going to read it.

Even if you did, I suspect you would crumple it up before reaching the end.

Merlin

Some people give their lives to a cause.

Some people have an innate sense of honor or duty.

Some people spend their lives wandering, and it takes them a while to find what they're searching for.

He found what he was searching for.

It's not what he expected-mainly because he hadn't expected anything at all.

But a man?

No...not just a man.

Merlin was much more than that. He was something inexplicable. Something that pulled Gwaine towards him and kept him firmly in place at his side despite the fact that Merlin did not need him there.

Because of course, when he found what he was looking for, it would already be taken.

Tragic, really-a painful sort of wound that festered in his heart.

He'd never been a jealous man, but people can certainly change.

The truly unfortunate thing is that Gwaine cannot compare.

He cannot offer Merlin the safety a king who would break laws and hault armies to assure him peace can.

All he can offer is his heart, his dedication...his life.

And from there, all he can do is watch as a king he does not measure to holds a man he fell hopelessly in love with to his chest, slowly-gratuitously savoring the taste of what Gwaine imagines to be finer than any wine.

It's pointed, possessive even, a direct warning.

Modern AU | first date | fluff with a bite | romcom energy

— The Big and Little Dipper—see them? — I think anyone can find the Great and Little Bear in the night sky, Merlin. — Probably. Now look a bit to the left. See that bright star there—the brightest in that little W of stars? See it? — Yeah. (He isn’t looking at the sky. He’s looking at Merlin.) — That’s Cassiopeia. And if you go right, along the handle of the Big Dipper, there’s another bright star—Arcturus. That’s Bootes.

— You’re quite the expert on constellations, aren’t you. Into astronomy? — Not really. I was ill a lot as a kid, and Mum didn’t want me parked in front of the telly all day, so she got me a telescope and a star atlas. And between the Dippers there’s this long chain of stars—see how it sort of winds around the Little Bear? That’s Draco. — You talk about it like you love it. Your eyes practically glow—like starlight.

— (alarmed) Oh—bloody hell. I got carried away. I’ve ruined it, haven’t I? — Not at all. — (flustered) I just… When I like someone, I get nervous. And when I’m nervous, I start talking. Usually about something I know loads about, and which is generally interesting only to me. Sorry. — You like me, then. Should I be expecting a second date? — Well… if the stars align. — …? (staring questioningly)

— I mean—what if you go home, realise you’ve gone out with a total nerd, and decide you never want to see me again? — I realised you were a nerd when you flooded my place and, instead of helping mop up, your first move was diving under the bed to rescue a box set of every season of Doctor Who on DVD. — …Did I? I don’t remember that. I was in a blind panic. — Sure. And the Deadpool poster in your living room was a bit of a clue as well.

— So it doesn’t put you off? — No. Nor does your nervous chatter. It’s actually quite cute. I like you. What about our second date? — Are you always this pushy? — Yes. I don’t like uncertainty. You like me too. What’s stopping you? — I don’t know. Your overwhelming self-confidence, maybe? — Or your evident lack of it.

— Ouch. That was fast—straight from compliments to criticism. Maybe I should think more carefully before I agree. What would my friends say if I went on another date with a bloke who’s got such arrogant tendencies? — I think you should spend less time worrying about what people might say and accept that our second date is already written in the stars. — Oh really? And why’s that?

Canon Era | Angst | Post Camlann | Arthur POV

The pain from the wound was fierce. Pulsing. The kind that made you move with care, that forgave neither sudden shifts nor deep breaths.

But he was used to bodily suffering. He was always ready for it.

Each time he drew his sword, he weighed injury—and even his own death—as a possible outcome of the fight.

The pain of lies, though—of duplicity, of betrayal—was something else entirely.

It hurt just as much every time. Every bloody time.

An unbearable, unendurable pain that shredded him from within.

He had been betrayed by subjects, by knights, by a lover, by every member of his family.

And now—even by the one person closest to him in the world: Merlin.

“Yeah, I’m still going to stay. Tomorrow’s the day, and—”

“That sounds more like a reason to go.”

“I know, but it’s already well gone midnight, and I’ve been drinking.”

“I’ll come get you. All you have to do is ask.”

“You wouldn’t get here until dawn.”

“I don’t care.”

“I know.”

Forehead pressed to the cool, black window-glass, Arthur closed his eyes and smiled. After the chaos of the evening, the shouting and the accusations and the old familiar wrench of disappointment, his father’s house now was quiet, near to peaceful. He had Merlin’s voice tight and fierce in his ear. Arthur hated to worry him but could revel selfishly in the second-order effects: in being protected, even from afar.

“I’ll be heading back first thing tomorrow. Home before you’ve time to miss me,” Arthur said softly.

Merlin’s sigh came through the phone receiver like the rustling of sheets, like the intimate friction sound of a hand stroking down an arm, like they might be together and touching and not needing to speak at all.

“That’s not possible,” he said.

“It’s only that I don’t feel right leaving without even seeing him tomorrow,” Arthur replied.

“You don’t have to make excuses—not for me, and definitely not for him.”

It might have been a rebuke if it weren’t said so gently, and if they hadn’t had that exact conversation a hundred times before. Arthur nodded, rolling his head against the window where it lay, even though Merlin couldn’t see him.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you too. Sleep well, okay? Call me back if you need to, whatever time.”

“I will.”

“Okay. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Still, a heartbeat passed before either of them could stand to hang up; but Arthur steeled himself and did so, bolstered by his commitment to being home again before supper tomorrow. He could stand one more night after all he’d stood before. Whatever Merlin feared, Arthur had changed in many ways, and mostly through him. His father did not hold the same absolute power over Arthur’s head and heart that he once had.

It wasn't surprising that Merlin's attire hadn't come up as of yet. Merlin's life had been thrown so upside down recently that for a while he could scarcely acknowledge what his own name was, let alone give space for aesthetic concerns. From the moment his crew had been called out to check in on a man passed out along the riverbanks, expecting a drunk, and finding instead a very familiar blonde head and aquiline nose, Merlin's heart had both frozen and exploded, caught high in his throat and never settling back down.

There was Arthur's confusion, and Merlin's joy, but there was also grief and anger and panic and a change that Merlin had spent his centuries praying for and now that he was here, entirely did not know what to do with. He hated the fear in Arthur's eyes when a car drove by on the road, the sorrow when he read through Merlin's history books, the insecurity when he quietly asked Merlin what he was to do in a world that no longer needed kings.

So Merlin's mind is understandably distracted as he dresses, pulling on an oversize sweater that was a gift from a coworker, his favorite flowy maxi skirt, a loose scarf for the early fall chill. And really, it was Arthur's fault too, for he had something to say about the ring in Merlin's lip and the length of his hair and the size of his platform boots, and yet nothing about his dress. But when they left Merlin's terrace house with Arthur charging out the front door and insisting that Merlin was lagging behind, as always, Merlin thought no more of his clothes than what he always wore off-duty.

And how could he, when it felt like the sun had finally returned after an endless winter? He knew the terror of being a man out of time, he saw it reflected so clearly in Arthur's eyes. He was prepared to protect Arthur against it all, to feed him the world in bits and pieces, morsels he could swallow.

Arthur didn't want a morsel. He was wide-eyed at indoor plumbing and email and matcha lattes and antibiotics and travel documentaries and Duolingo and breadmakers. He insisted Merlin take him to the local cafe, the thrift stores, the library, the high-end shops, the parks. He was ravenous (at times literally, when anything containing the taste of vanilla or citrus was involved) to take in the world that fate had thrust him back into.

Merlin could never deny his king anything. Every time Arthur smiled at some new flavor or appliance or disease now neutralized, Merlin felt the sun reflect its warmth on him, too. And it was impossible not to smile back.

Even when he was being a brat.

Words: 512

‘I, and the kingdom, need you to find your strength son.’

Uther stepped down from his throne. Arthur kept his head bowed and stayed kneeling before his father and his king.

‘I, know you can do it Arthur. You’re a good knight, and a good man. ’

Uther’s words echoed in Arthur’s head and pressed upon his shoulders.

Prince, legacy, knight, man…

All things he apparently was, yet all things he constantly seemed to fall short of being.

*

‘What should I do Merlin?’ Arthur asked his manservant later in his chambers.

Merlin paused what he was doing and turned to look Arthur in the eyes.

‘I think you should follow your heart.’

Merlin often said odd things like that. To be fair, Merlin was a pretty odd man. Arthur had caught him looking at, feeling and even stealing women’s dresses on multiple occasions.

But he was still a man.

A man who gave very different advice to his father.

Arthur stayed silent.

‘You shouldn’t have to marry the princess if you don’t want to.’

Merlin moved towards him.

‘I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t relieved to hear you say that Merlin.’ Arthur began. ‘But how can I follow along with what I want when so many are counting on me to do something different? What could it mean for the kingdom?’

‘It would mean,’ Merlin said, stepping even closer, ‘that Camelot will one day be ruled by an honest man who only does what he truly believes in.’ Merlin was close enough to touch now. ‘When he believes in his knights, and in his people, when times are hard, they will believe in themselves too.’

Merlin moved to give Arthur’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

‘Your heart is good Arthur. You should believe in it. I do.’

Arthur felt himself both shrink and grow as Merlin’s intense blue eyes beheld him. He lifted his hand up to meet Merlin’s, giving it a squeeze as he closed the small distance between them, making it almost non-existent. Arthur kept in contact with those blue eyes as he let Merlin’s hand go. Merlin reached for Arthur’s face, almost as if in a daze, and held it reassuringly as he stroked his thumb along Arthur’s cheek.

Merlin gave a little jump, and took his hand away, as if he hadn’t realised what he’d been doing. Arthur’s cheek still felt warm where it had been, and he felt his heart cry out for Merlin’s touch again.

‘Merlin,’ Arthur whispered in a hushed, deep tone, ‘Merlin, I don’t mind if you don’t.’

Merlin responded by returning his hand to its place and pressing his lips into Arthur’s. Arthur felt his entire body relax into Merlin’s hold, applauding him for the most correct action he’d ever undertaken. He felt so elated it was as if his heart could fly out of his chest. Based on the way it banged against his ribs it seemed like it might be trying to.

for @merthurmicrofic prompt "frog" / @merlinbingo prompt "Gaius" (yeah ik frog is a super old prompt but i hope this is worth it!! lol) G - 500 words - can be read as gen or pre-slash merlin/arthur ***

“And thus, after making an incision, carefully, Merlin, you don't wish to slice the entire beast to ribbons, do you? after making the incision, you may separate the skin to reveal—”

“Hahah!” Merlin crowed, prodding at the frog's innards with a frankly worrying degree of alacrity. “Is that his stomach? I wonder what he had for breakfast?” He peered closer, squinting, and muttering. “Bet it was nicer than my breakfast.”

“Be serious, Merlin,” Gaius admonished, and smacked the offending pupil upside the head. Gently, of course. He was a tutor, not a tyrant. “You would do well to remember that we are engaged in scientific inquiry. Your complaints about my cooking can wait.” Then, as an afterthought, he added, “Or you may do the cooking yourself if you are so dissatisfied.”

Merlin, wisely and hastily, shut his mouth.

There was a polite cough from the vicinity of the door, followed shortly thereafter by a less polite cough, and both physician and apprentice looked up. “Hi Arthur,” said Merlin brightly, attempting to wave. Unfortunately he did so with the hand still holding the knife, and nearly took Gaius’s eye out in the process.

“Hello, Merlin,” Arthur drawled. “My laundry has been languishing for three days now. What ever are you doing.”

Merlin beamed. “We’re dissecting a frog!” Then he pulled an exaggerated frown and continued, “But if your royal socks need washing, I suppose the frog can wait. It’s not as though we’re doing any important scientific inquiry or anything.”

The eyebrows (both of them; Arthur was not such a master of the facial expressions of disdainful incredulity as Gaius himself, after all) elevated themselves. The mouth said, “No, no, by all means, carry on.” 

“Actually,” Merlin said, and dashed across the room to seize Arthur by the wrist, “why don’t you join us? I’m sure Gaius wouldn’t mind, would you, Gaius?” He crooked a thumb in Gaius’s direction and stage-whispered, conspiratorially, “He loves a captive audience.”

Gaius sighed deeply. If only, he mused, he were permitted to recreate the old fairy tale about the prince who was turned into a frog. Such methodology was likely the only promising avenue by which to stimulate Merlin’s interest in the amphibious.

Still, there was something to be said for having, as his vexatious ward had so indelicately put it, a captive audience. Gaius drew himself up to his full height as Merlin, looking as though Yule had come early, dragged a stricken Prince Arthur round the back of the table and plonked him onto a stool.

“Indeed, sire,” said Gaius, adopting his most ponderous voice, “we would be ever so fortunate to have your company. Now where was I? Ah, yes,” he droned. “We had just created the initial incision.”

The look of abject horror on Arthur’s face was worth every bit of the whole frustrating exercise. Out of the corner of his eye, Gaius saw Merlin wink. Perhaps the boy did not exist solely to torment him, after all.

For @merthurmicrofic Man + @merlinbingo Aithusa

Happy Pride Month here is a dragon fic which is rather ace of me haha! I hope you enjoy this cute little merthur oneshot from Aithusa's POV!

It is technically related to my fic "Of Scales and Secrets" But you don't need to read it to read this!

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Aithusa didn't understand mankind. They seemed so complex, and strange always doing things for reasons beyond her understanding.

She did know one thing about man though.

Most of them hated magic. Her Papa taught her that. Merlin the dragonlord who called her from her egg and had been raising her alongside Kilgharrah.

Kilgharrah didn't like humans at all, Aithusa just thought they were odd, not bad, just misunderstood, after all how could one hate magic when it was the very life force of the land?

Papa told her that most humans didn't see the world the way they did though. Not seeing the magic everywhere they looked the earth vibrating with life.

Aithusa thought that must be a terrible way to live, blind to the essence of reality.

But her papa chuckled and said, 'It isn't sad when it's all they've known.'

Aithusa still would rather see life through magic's eyes.

Her Papa didn't stay for long though, always leaving the forest returning to his home in the tall stone towers.

Aithusa tried to follow him once when she was very little but he caught her and took her back home, that was when he explained his purpose, and why he had to live amongst the humans and not with Aithusa amongst the magic.

He told stories of a Golden King, a man destined to lead the world into a new era of peace, and freedom for magic everywhere. Finally uniting man and magic once more.

Aithusa loved these stories, and hoped one day she could meet the man that had garnered her Papa's love and devotion.

Her Papa seemed to hope for that too.

So Aithusa waited and continue to grow into a strong young dragon. Proud and magical just like her papa knew she could be, and then one day her Papa didn't come to visit at night.

Kilgharrah explained he had told him to rest for a few nights while he watched over her because he was terribly tired.

Aithusa didn't like that. She wanted him here now with her, she would watch over him while he slept but the older dragon huffed a laugh and said it didn't work like that.

Aithusa thought it could and they were both just being dumb.

A few days later however her Papa returned during the daylight, and with a wonderful present.

Walking beside him hand in hand was a man with golden hair, a long red cloak, and strange metal scales.

It had to be her Papa's king!

She soared down to greet them, prancing over to them happily when her papa said, "Arthur, meet Aithusa, Aithusa this is Arthur. Be gentle my dear."

Aithusa reached forward, her body low to the ground with her wings tucked in, she didn't want to scare off her papa's king, so she gently sniffed Arthur.

When he didn't flinch away, she leaned forward placing her snout against his chest snuffling a greeting, "Hello!"

She watched the man's blue eyes as they crinkled softly with a smile, and he began to stroke her snout.

A minute later the man bellowed letting out a cheerful laugh!

Aithusa warbled, "Happy! Happy King!"

She pranced around the king flapping her wings showing off her scales as she leapt up into the sky, getting a gasp from the king, "Wow, Merlin! She's amazing. Aren't you, Aithusa?"

He scratched her scales and Aithusa smiled bearing her teeth. Together now, now he saw how great magic was!