Disclaimer: I own nothing in this marvelous universe; it all belongs to BBC Merlin.

Author's Note: This chapter wraps up a final, few loose ends, as well as lays the groundwork for my next AMM installment, The King's Grace. It's gone through a ton of edits and revisions, but I think I'm pretty happy with the outcome. I hope you enjoy it!

Reviewers: All 276 of you, thank you!

Rating: T/M

Summary: Winter has come to Camelot, and Destiny blows in with the snow, leaving Merlin with a few vital decisions to make…[Friendshipfic. Bromance.]

"Speech"

Personal Thoughts/Memories (Italics)

.:A Man's Measure:.

By Sentimental Star

VII: The Dragonlord's Son (Part 12, Epilogue)

(Three Weeks Later)

"…You're mad," stated flatly, as they rode along a little used path meandering through Camelot's surrounding forest. "Absolutely mad. This is a horrible idea!"

Merlin did not find it necessary to quiet his grumblings. Of course, the subject of his ire merely snorted, "So you've said maybe a dozen times this week, and over fifty times within this past moon cycle."

"Good. This is a horrible, misbegotten, atrocious idea!"

Arthur outright laughed, "Come now, Merlin, there's no need to be dramatic—"

"I see plenty of reasons to be dramatic!" Merlin retorted around a scowl. "Not the least of which seems to be that you've lost your bloody mind…!"

"Since you agreed to it, what does that say about you?"

Merlin glowered at Arthur for his mirth, not finding this situation the least bit funny, and slouched into the warmth of his new cloak's fur-lined, woolen hood, "That my best friend is an infuriatingly persuasive prat?"

"I thought it was 'an infuriating, dollop-headed idiot?'"

"That, too!"

Arthur chuckled, amused by the simmering glare shot in his direction. "Will you relax, Merlin? You're the one who is supposed to be an all-powerful Dragonlord."

"That doesn't mean Kilgharrah will be happy to see us! In case you have forgotten, Your Highness, he was rampaging through Camelot not even a full month ago!"

Arthur rolled his eyes, "I haven't forgotten, Merlin, but well…it has been nearly a month. Maybe he's over his snit?"

"A snit? Arthur, that was hardly a-!"

Arthur had been riding close enough to Merlin that he could touch him if he desired, and he did so now, prompting Merlin to stare at him in shock for the gloved hand he clamped over his manservant's mouth.

"Stop ranting, you idiot," he chided gently. "You'll fall off your horse with all your flailing about."

Merlin made an indignant sound behind the large palm, reaching up to yank it away from his mouth.

His best friend beat him to it, sliding his hand up into Merlin's hair and ruffling it through the dark strands before withdrawing back to his reins. "Besides, weren't you the one who granted him clemency?"

"With the caveat that if he came anywhere near Camelot again, I'd kill him!"

Arthur snorted, "Well…good job we will not be close to Camelot, then."

"You are exasperating, Arthur Pendragon!"

The prince smirked, "So you've told me multiple times over the past few weeks."

"Because it's true! I don't know why you want to meet Kilgharrah, or what made you think this was a remotely good idea, but you haven't given me a moment's peace about it since you first brought it up during Yule!"

"Now you're just exaggerating—"

Merlin opened his mouth to inform Arthur that no, actually, he was not…but the prince suddenly reached over and snagged his reins, pulling both horses to a momentary halt. Nervously, Merlin eyed the intent look on his best friend's face as Arthur surveyed him. Had he pushed too much?

"Merlin…" the warlock gave a dry swallow under Arthur's unrelenting gaze. "Do you honestly think this is a bad idea? Because if you do…we can turn around right now and go straight back home."

Merlin blinked at him, slightly taken aback. He really hadn't been exaggerating when he said Arthur had pestered him endlessly about this quest. Almost as soon as the man was well enough to ride a horse again (and it had taken a good week or two for his side to heal up), he had been after Merlin to take him out to meet the Great Dragon, sometimes even daily.

It had baffled Merlin and caused more than a few misgivings about Arthur's safety (and his own, to be honest), given Kilgharrah's temperament the last time he had encountered them.

However, Arthur was nothing if not persistent, and Merlin had finally given in, despite his own reservations on the matter.

Now Arthur was willing to turn around and give it up just because Merlin said so? That was unlike Arthur or, at least, Arthur prior to several weeks ago.

A light squeeze of the hand Merlin had used to manipulate the reins startled him out of his thoughts and his attention back to the Crown Prince who waited expectantly, if not patiently, for an answer.

"Well?" demanded, his too-blue eyes momentarily derailing Merlin's thought process before he recovered enough to give the question due consideration.

Did he think this trip was a bad idea, truly? If Merlin were honest with himself, most of his reservations stemmed from his lack of confidence in his new abilities and their capacity to guarantee Arthur's safety from a potentially-still-enraged Kilgharrah.

"I—" Merlin's voice caught in his throat. "These powers are so new, Arthur. I-I barely know how to use them. A-And I can't guarantee—"

The warlock's throat closed, and he could not continue, but Arthur seemed to understand anyway. His hand left Merlin's on the rein and a finger rose to lightly flick him across the brow, furrowed as it was by worry.

Ignoring Merlin's indignant 'Oi!' Arthur tweaked his ear. "Idiot," retorted softly, with a gentleness the warlock had yet to grow accustomed to hearing in his best friend's voice, "did you really think I would propose this trip if I didn't have full confidence in your abilities? We will be fine, Merlin."

Before Merlin could react to the genuinely meant compliment, Arthur lightly kicked his stallion's sides with his heels, urging the noble beast forward into a steady trot and leaving Merlin to stare at his beloved friend's cloaked back, eyes welling with far too much emotion.

IOIOIOIOIOI

"…Why aren't you angrier with me?" Merlin at last ventured to ask some time later, when he had caught up to the prince and they were approaching the clearing Arthur had deemed large enough (and Merlin had deemed safe enough) for Kilgharrah to land in.

It was a question Merlin had wanted to know the answer to ever since he had revealed his inheritance and admitted to freeing the Great Dragon. So many lives could have been spared that night if he had only been a little wiser, a little surer—

Arthur gave a soft snort, "Angry with you? Merlin…in case it has escaped your notice, I've had very little luck remaining angry with you for any considerable length of time, even before I knew…what I know now. Why would you expect this time to be any different?"

Merlin's throat clogged and his eyes stung. "That's not true," whispered around the lump in his throat, "you've yelled at me plenty when we've been in danger."

Arthur hummed thoughtfully where he rode beside him, "…Good point. How about I be angry with you for even thinking you should take on the Great Dragon alone, last Dragonlord or not?"

Merlin chuckled thickly, relieved. "Prat. And who was it that suggested we should meet up with the Great Dragon, in broad daylight, without an army or detachment of knights?"

"…Be fair. I brought you."

Despite himself, Merlin snorted out a laugh, adjusting his seat on the saddle and feeling a great swoop of warmth in his stomach at Arthur's apparent confidence in his fighting abilities, "I am not sure what good long daggers will do against a dragon, milord."

"I wasn't talking about your long daggers, Merlin."

Oh.

Merlin blinked, turning away to hide his stinging and watering eyes. Even though almost a month had passed since the night he had revealed his powers to his prince, Merlin remained unused to being this open around Arthur. And that Arthur clearly had confidence in those powers and who Merlin truly was…well…

"You are such a girl's petticoat, I swear, Merlin," but the softness of Arthur's retort and the fingertips that pressed briefly into his right side betrayed his best friend's knowledge of just how much that declaration meant to Merlin.

Before the warlock could retort (or sniff, and then retort), Arthur squeezed his hip and gently withdrew. "Besides," he added with a smirk, picking up his reins again as they rode on, the horses' hooves crunching against the frozen gravel on the ground, "I think it's been well-established that you are obstinate about keeping your promises. Although why you promised to free the Great Dragon in the first place currently escapes my comprehension," but Arthur's teasing was fond, and a crooked smile twitched his lips.

Merlin swallowed, taking in a deep breath to fortify himself against the ache that built up in his chest, aware, even after only a month of having to dance around this topic, that although Arthur knew what he had, his beloved friend didn't—couldn't—know anything about it. Not when Uther still sat on Camelot's throne: "That's…That's part of the story we also promised not to discuss while your father is still ruling Camelot," Merlin reminded him in a murmur.

Arthur made a frustrated sound deep in his throat that told his best friend the need for continued secrecy had begun to wear on him, too, "…Right."

Merlin reached out to grip Arthur's knee, "We just have to wait. You'll see, it will be fine. Then…Then one day you'll…you'll just know. We'll get there, Arthur. I promise."

Despite himself, despite everything, Arthur chuckled, bringing his hand down to squeeze the slender appendage resting on his knee, "Oughtn't I be the one telling you that?"

IOIOIOIOIOI

Not long after, Merlin dismounted, feeling Arthur do the same beside him, and patted his mare's withers as he surveyed the clearing. Bare stone pervaded most of it, rock scrambles and coarse grass its dominant features. Several dozen yards out, scrubby bushes stood at the edge of the clearing and, several yards beyond them, the mature pine forest began again. Nothing immediately flammable, save for the two young men and their mounts.

"We should probably picket the horses at the edge of the forest," Arthur murmured, touching his stallion's nose, and giving it a gentle rub.

Merlin emitted a thoughtful hum, "…You're probably right."

Arthur smirked. Merlin knew what he was going to say, which was why he felt entirely justified reaching up to clamp his hand over Arthur's mouth and retorting sweetly, "Discretion is the better part of valor, Your Highness, so do us both a favor and shut up."

The prince laughed against his hand, the corners of his eyes crinkling up as he smiled at Merlin, causing the warlock to feel oddly shy. Hastily, he retracted his hand and gathered the reins of both horses, trying to ignore how Arthur's eyes followed him as he led them over to a nearby tree.

Once their reins had been fastened around two separate tree limbs (and Merlin was sure the faint heat on his cheeks had stopped burning), the warlock touched both noses one last time before inhaling a deep breath and heading over to join Arthur.

His best friend hovered at the edge of the clearing, a deep frown marring his face as he surveyed the land in front of him.

Merlin swallowed, uneasily wondering what had caused the frown, and reached out to touch the prince's upper arm, "Arthur?" murmured.

Arthur's frown turned to the warlock. "Are you certain you are willing to do this, Merlin? I don't want you to think—"

Merlin offered up a smile, albeit a far shakier one than he might have hoped. "Well, I'll have to be, won't I? Th-There's not much room for uncertainty in…things like this, Arthur."

"Merlin—"

Arthur had barely voiced the plaintive entreaty before Merlin's fingers gently laced around the braided leather cord that hung around his neck. "Come here a minute," mumbled.

Arthur raised an eyebrow, "Merlin, I know I allow you more liberties than most other servants, but—"

Merlin rolled his eyes and impatiently tugged at the braided leather, "Just come here already, you great git. I want to try something."

Arthur gave a terribly put-upon sigh, but stepped forward until he was close enough to stand toe to toe with his manservant, "What is it, Merlin? We haven't much time."

Merlin gulped, "Umm…" responded intelligently.

Bloody hell, he had not counted on those impossibly blue eyes pinning him in place as they gazed back at him with unnerving intensity.

Arthur gave a breathy laugh, "Eloquent." A gloved hand slipped up to touch his chin, "What is it, Merlin? You're staring."

"Oh, um…um…right," stuttered, as Merlin struggled to wrangle his thoughts into some kind of coherency. He squeezed his eyes shut, and that helped a little, as he inhaled a deep breath and let his fingers clench slightly around the necklace he had gifted Arthur for Yule. "Right. I-I'm going to try something."

Arthur's thumb brushed his nose. Startled, Merlin blinked his eyes open and glanced up at Arthur. His best friend offered him a crooked smile, "Whatever it is you are going to do…get on with it, will you? We haven't got all day."

"You aren't going to like it," Merlin warned him softly.

Arthur's eyes narrowed, watching the warlock as he carefully extracted the prince's necklace from beneath his chain mail, "What are you on about, Mer-?"

Merlin's eyes flared gold and Arthur yelped, trying to jerk back as the warlock incanted a string of words that, a moment later, caused an echoing flare of gold to envelop the two wooden pendants.

"Merlin…! What did you just-?"

Merlin blew out a breath, releasing his grip on the pendants' cord and leaning back to gaze up into Arthur's eyes as the gold bled from his own, "Protected you. From flame and fire and several other possible means of destruction."

He saw Arthur's jaw clench in the telltale sign that he was displeased.

"Arthur…" Merlin sighed, brushing his thumb against the rock-hard set of the Crown Prince's jaw, "it's just us. I actually meant to take care of it sooner—"

Arthur released a gusty sigh of his own, shoulders slumping, and pressed his nose against Merlin's jaw. "Idiot," he muttered, gently headbutting him, "that's not fair."

Merlin chuckled, "Sorry, Arthur."

"No, you're not," grumbled against the skin where Merlin's jawline met his ear.

The warlock snorted warmly in agreement.

Pulling back, Arthur thumbed his ear and held him by his jaw, "Are you ready for this, idiot?"

Merlin inhaled a deep breath, trying to steady the quaking of his lungs, and murmured, "When you are."

IOIOIOIOIOI

In the end, it went better than either of them might have hoped:

"Young warlock," Kilgharrah chuffed as he landed. If he sounded a little surprised, Merlin did not mention it.

(It probably was not a good idea to provoke a creature about ten times his height, one thousand times his weight, and many centuries older than he, Dragonlord or not.)

Merlin swallowed, hoping his voice emerged above a croak, "Kilgharrah," greeted.

Arthur's fingers splayed themselves flat against his back, and Merlin felt a little better when he realized he was not the only one trembling (and trying to hide it).

Kilgharrah huffed in surprise, yellow, cat-like eyes going wide as he saw Arthur. "Who's this?" he rumbled, sweeping his wings back to conceal his body.

Arthur swallowed audibly behind him. However, although his beloved friend was many things, Camelot's Crown Prince had never been a coward. Therefore, Merlin almost expected it when the man stepped out from behind him and moved to stand at his side, the hand he had placed on the warlock's back smoothing down it once before falling away.

"I am Arthur Pendragon, Ancient One," the prince bowed as regally as he would in any throne room. If his voice shook a little, Merlin did not notice, too busy gaping at the long-ago title Kings and Priests of the Old Religion had once used to address members of the draconic race. "I come as a companion to your Dragonlord."

Kilgharrah snorted out a thin stream of fire and smoke, giving a huff as he shuffled backwards, "Uther Pendragon's son?"

Merlin saw Arthur glance away, jaw clenched and eyes dark, but he gave a single nod, wordlessly leaning into his best friend when the warlock touched him.

A surprised burst of flame and the Great Dragon settled on his haunches, "Well…you are not what I expected."

Merlin repressed the sudden, hysterical urge to giggle, bringing his free hand up to smother the sound that wanted to emerge from his mouth.

As Kilgharrah and Arthur both leveled him with a highly unamused glower, the warlock snorted out a disbelieving laugh, despite all his best efforts, and drew away from Arthur to drop his face in his hands, most of the tension in his shoulders fleeing.

This wasn't what I expected, either! That could have gone so much worse…

He did not see Arthur's face soften as the prince watched him, but Kilgharrah did, and huffed out a thoughtful breath, "Yes, you are not what I expected at all."

While Arthur blushed and glanced away, Merlin raised his head from his hands and frowned, unsure how to translate the Great Dragon's admission, "How do you mean, Kilgharrah?"

The dragon sighed out a great breath, shuffling around so that he could watch them both; one great, golden eye observed the two of them together with interest, "You of all people know what Uther Pendragon has done to our kind, young warlock," his voice deepened momentarily to a low growl. "You'll forgive me for believing at first—destiny or not—that the son who raised arms against me would not be so very different from his father."

Merlin heard Arthur grit his teeth and saw his mail clad arms clamp across his chest, an achingly vulnerable position made even more so when the prince refused to look at either one of them. His guilt was obvious (at least to Merlin), and while Kilgharrah's point was true…

"Surely this makes up for it, Kilgharrah!" Merlin exclaimed. "He addressed you as 'Ancient One.' Surely that must mean he is at least willing to try and make amends!"

He heard Arthur draw in a sharp breath beside him, finally turning around to murmur, placatingly, "Merlin…"

Merlin whirled on him, eyes snapping and mouth opening to angrily defend his best friend…when Kilgharrah's loud, booming laughter echoed throughout the clearing, "If he has managed to so drastically alter your opinion of him in a little more than three years, young warlock, then I suppose it must!"

The dragon's chortle caused Merlin's cheeks to burn red, recalling the words he had spoken upon their first meeting, and his utter disbelief when he learned how intimately connected he would one day be to such a royal arse.

Three years on, and he could not imagine belonging anywhere else.

Arthur drew in a deep breath next to him, "If he has…it's only because he has changed me."

Merlin made a strangled sound of surprise, eyes widening as he turned to stare at Arthur. His beloved friend lifted his chin and defiantly met his eyes, daring the warlock to contradict him.

In front of them, Kilgharrah chuffed both in amusement and wonder, "So I see. Come, Once and Future King, I believe I have information I must impart to you." The dragon turned and met Merlin's suddenly alarmed eyes, "News I must impart to you both," emphasized with a gesture of Kilgharrah's foreleg to a nearby rock.

An exchange of bemused, vaguely uneasy glances, and warlock and prince followed the Great Dragon over to a flat boulder on the other side of the clearing.

"You are playing a dangerous game, young warlock. You both are."

Merlin and Arthur, in the midst of seating themselves shoulder-to-shoulder on the boulder's hard surface, froze and traded another set of uncomfortable glances. "What do you mean, Kilgharrah?" the warlock asked at last as they sat, turning back to the dragon who had since settled himself near their feet and rested easily on his haunches.

The Great Dragon snorted out a breath filled with sparks and smoke, eyeing the two of them from the side as if they were a most interesting sort of meat.

It was not terribly reassuring.

"I have lived for many years on the earth, young warlock, and never have the currents of destiny and chance swirled so chaotically about a creature as they do the two of you. Every choice you make, every action you take…Jörmungandr's Tail, every touch you share…it is rewriting Albion's fate—rewriting your fate—even as we speak!"

Merlin heard Arthur inhale sharply beside him and thought he might have done the same. Now that he was really looking at Kilgharrah, there was a slightly wild glint to his cat-like eyes, expanding and contracting, then expanding again, as they tried to process and read the magical currents flowing around the three beings in the clearing.

Distantly, the warlock considered he should probably feel more worry than he did upon hearing that declaration, but it seemed that Kilgharrah, for all his centuries of living, had forgotten one important thing:

"But humans—or any other creature, for that matter—do we not have free will? And if we do…then is it really so surprising that every moment our destiny is changing?"

"…Our destiny…"

The rightness of that phrase slid down Merlin's spine and settled comfortably in his heart. As the warlock glanced shyly at Arthur, his beloved friend held out his hand and met his gaze, blue eyes clear with the certainty of his response. Timidly, he reached out to grip the hand Arthur offered him.

No, Merlin supposed, not so surprising, after all.

Kilgharrah let out a stream of smoke and fire, half-chortle and half-startle, shuffling around to face Camelot's future king, "Perhaps not, Arthur," the Great Dragon acknowledged, using his name for the first time and intently eyeing the entwined hands of Emrys and the Once and Future King with what Merlin swore was a smirk, "You would know."

Betrayal. Invasion. Cenred. Morgause. Immortal Army. Cup of Life. Undead. Death. Coronation. A Redemption? And Gold…a Golden Age? And, oh...oh, this is interesting…! A silver circlet and a ring...! You are remarkable, young warlock, you…and your Once and Future King…

Finis (The Dragonlord's Son)