Merlyn's Only Hope

Le Morte d'Arthur P3

Creeping down to the dragon's cave was usual a symbol of hope, a comfort that there was still something out there that could help the desperate witch. But as she descended the steps, the gloom held none of the anticipation that she usually felt. Instead, her faith was replaced with wild rage, hatred for the suffering he'd caused. And for what? For a slither of a chance at freedom? Merlyn's mother was dying painfully; there was absolutely no way that Kilgharrah didn't have an inkling about it.

"You knew this would happen!" she bellowed, disregarding any pointless pleasantries. The dragon regarded her with steely eyes; she had no doubt that he had anticipated her arrival. "You had me trade my mother's life for Arthur's."

"You said that you would do anything." Kilgharrah's nonchalant tone irked her, getting under her skin. Evidently the decades spent rotting away had done nothing for his empathy.

She tilted her head upwards, gazing into the large eyes of the dragon above. She needed the truth. "Did you know that my mother would die?" she asked, her stare not wavering for a second.

"I knew the price would be a heavy one." Kilgharrah deflected, his golden orbs scanning the cave behind the young witch.

"But you sent me anyway." Merlyn heard her voice break, but it didn't matter. Her mother had always told her that to show emotion was a sign of strength; she wasn't about to turn her back on her teachings now.

"We need Arthur to live."

Merlyn felt her eyes flash gold. "I'm not one of you." she screeched, ignoring how the flames of the torch in her hand rose up, spreading through the air, dying only metres from the dragon.

Kilgharrah's eyes narrowed into slits. "We are both creatures of the old religion. It is the source of your power. Your destiny is to protect the young Pendragon until he claims his crown, the time where magic can be returned to the realm. Only then will I be free."

Merlyn let the beast talk, allowed him to perform his little speech, scoffing as it neared its end. Of course this was about him. About escaping, flying free over snowy mountains and green fields, swooping over cities with great beats of his wings. Of course it couldn't simply be that both Merlyn and Arthur had to be alive for their entwined destiny to be fulfilled. Kilgharrah may speak of Albion, but if he could find liberty without it, the witch wasn't sure if he'd still help her.

"So that's all you cared about? I thought, clearly foolishly, that you were my friend." she almost stuttered the last word. She didn't have many people she'd consider true friends. Morgana, Gaius, Gwen, Arthur, maybe, but even the knights she fought, the other servants who smiled at her, rarely dared to say more than a few words to the prince's personal servant. It was a lonely bubble she was trapped in, left to dwell on her lies and deceit.

"I am more than that, Merlyn, I am your kin." the dragon spoke with a reverence that made Merlyn's skin crawl. How dare he call her such a thing on her mother's dying day.

"No, only one person alive is worthy of that title, and she's currently dying in my chambers." The witch shook her head violently, suddenly wishing her father, who she hadn't thought about in a long time, could be with her. He'd know what to do, she was sure of it.

"Her life has not been taken in vain. We will achieve great things together, you and I." The dragon promised, stretching its wings in an attempt to show some sort of regal power.

"You will never be released!" she spat, suddenly so, so angry. She couldn't continue this conversation, not when there was no sorrow in his eyes.

"For what you've done, I'll make sure that you never see the light."