Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin

A.N. Thanks for all the amazing reviews. Some of them made me realize that I need to go back and watch the show all the way through (I figure I'll edit the story after it's entirely done... maybe).

Balinor's heart rate spiked when a burst of magic erupted from seemingly nowhere, large enough to appear in the form of ethereal heat waves. The last time he'd seen anyone use magic, the sorcerer had been one of Cenred's bounty hunters, looking to "draft" sorcerers into the king's service.

Balinor didn't believe in coincidences.

Wary, he crouched and drew his sword, realizing that catching the sorcerer off guard would be his only chance to overpower him. Balinor was grimly aware of his certain loss if he allowed the sorcerer to start a duel of magic. (He'd never claimed the title of sorcerer beyond a few useful tricks and ceremonial rituals. Dragonlord would always be his calling.)

The sorcerer materialized in an ungainly position, which Balinor would have found humorous had he been less focused on attacking the... surprisingly young... man.

Face planted on the ground and rather oblivious to the impending danger, Merlin was imagining echoes of Will's wonder dissolving into laughter if he'd been there to witness the warlock's reappearance. Merlin's departures were usually clean (and rather impressive), but without the regulation of the sidhe staff, magic was quick to show its more sadistic nature.

Merlin was too busy spitting out a mouthful of dead leaves (still partially damp from the morning dew) to hear Balinor's cautious footsteps. He propped himself on his elbows, grimacing as he caught sight of glimmering trails spiderwebbing the ground.

"Who are you?" came a low voice, startling thought of slugs from Merlin's head.

Something cold and metal touched his throat.

Balinor didn't even have time to think before he found himself plastered against the closest tree, his sword stuck uselessly in the ground about twenty feet away. The young man was on his feet, panting heavily from the rush of adrenaline, hand stretched out in front of him, with shocked eyes slowly draining of magic.

"B-Balinor!" the boy choked, and quickly dropped his hand.

The magic pinning Balinor to the tree released, and he slipped to the forrest floor with a groan.

The young man ran forward like a panicked chicken, arms flapping and mouth squawking clipped phrases that made little sense, "Sorry... It's you! I didn't... no. I'm not... Why me?" He only became more distressed when Balinor indicated that he didn't want the sorcerer to touch him.

"Is anything broken?" the young man moaned, one hand covering his mouth as he watched Balinor struggle to rise.

Only his pride, Balinor decided.

But he muttered, "Nothing's broken," once he'd managed to balance unsteadily on his feet, tenderly running fingers over his bruised ribcage.

"I am so sorry," the sorcerer apologized anxiously, running a hand through his dark hair. "I thought you were– were– well, not you."

"Apparently," Balinor growled.

The sorcerer stared at him guiltily.

"Who are you?" Balinor demanded. "How do you know me?"

"Ah... do you want the short answer or the long one?" the sorcerer asked cryptically. Balinor could feel his irritation levels rising.

"Make it as brief as possible," he snapped.

"Oh. Er... I'm Merlin and I know lots of people."

Balinor wished his eyes could shoot fire. Roasting people seemed to calm the dragons down – it would probably work for him too.

"Leave," he said shortly.

He knew he would probably regret sending the sorcerer away without getting any answers, but his social quota for the day had already been filled, and it hadn't in any way been pleasant.

The young man (Merlin, Balinor reminded himself) didn't seem to understand the sentiment.

"But I need to talk to you," Merlin protested.

"We are finished here," Balinor said. "Leave me in peace."

"But it's about dragons!"

Balinor paused. So the sorcerer knew of his profession beyond sorcerer and woodsman. Then he shook his head. He didn't want to get involved in anything outside of his cave. The world would have to do without him. "The dragons are all gone, boy."

There was a moment of silence as the sorcerer stared at him.

"I promise," Merlin said quietly, "that I will make it worth your while. Please let me talk with you."

Balinor felt something suspiciously similar to curiosity. He didn't like it.

"With your abilities," Balinor grumbled, "you could force me quite easily."

The sorcerer shook his head. "While that's true, I will only have you do it of your own free will."

Balinor snorted, "Foolish."

"You're the fool if you'd rather that I force you," Merlin quipped dryly.

Balinor's thinned lips parted to let out a sigh.

"Very well," he said shortly. In return, he received a full-harvest smile. "We will talk. Fetch me my sword, boy." He gestured at the weapon sticking upright in the ground like the trees around it.

As Merlin scampered towards the sword, he achingly lowered himself to sit against the tree he'd been viciously tossed against. The bark had not grown any softer in the last two minutes. He sighed and attempted to massage the his neck, wondering how many days it would take to put everything back in alignment.

Something about the sword seemed to daze Merlin, Balinor noted as he watched the young sorcerer eye the weapon. Or maybe he simply found its entry into the ground as improbable as Balinor had. After a moment of contemplation, Merlin shook his head and tugged the sword out with both hands, nearly losing his footing. The corner of Balinor's mouth quirked of its own volition.

"Got it!" Merlin cried, waving the sword around in a way that made the warrior side of Balinor cringe. At least the boy didn't hand it over blade-first as Balinor had expected. Hilt proffered, the dragonlord took the weapon out of the Merlin's hands gratefully. Even though it wouldn't be much use against the sorcerer (it wasn't dragon-forged, after all), the familiar feel of metal and leather grounded him.

Until the sorcerer sat down.

Instead of taking the logical seat against the tree facing Balinor, Merlin seemed to think it would be best to plop down within less than an arm's length of the dragonlord. Balinor was tempted to use his sword to show Merlin exactly how close he was allowed to sit. Taking calming breath, he sheathed it before Merlin could throw him into any more trees.

"Before we begin," Balinor interrupted when Merlin opened his mouth to speak, "Tell me how you found me so that it doesn't happen again."

Merlin answered immediately, "I found you with magic – a little too efficiently, I suppose. I did not mean to appear so closely to you."

"With magic," Balinor repeated dubiously. "How?"

"Ah... complicated. Similar to a tracking spell, I suppose."

If Balinor hadn't seen Merlin appear in front of him with his own eyes, he wouldn't have believed it. "What amulet did you use?"

"I didn't use one," Merlin said, looking awkward.

Balinor quirked his eyebrows, skeptical.

Merlin shrugged. "I didn't," he insisted.

"You're more than just a sorcerer," Balinor accuseed what he'd suspected since the moment Merlin had blasted him into the tree. "You're a warlock. A powerful one."

Merlin smiled nervously. "Somewhat" he confirmed.

"Are you a druid?" Balinor inquired, following logic.

"No, I'm from Essetir," Merlin answered easily.

Balinor eyed him doubtfully. Merlin wasn't wearing the usual uniform of a clan, but very few powerful magic users survived outside of druid clans, especially ones as young as Merlin, even in countries where magic wasn't outlawed. If they weren't executed for their magic, then they were "enlisted" into the service of a greedy nobleman.

"My mother was careful," Merlin said, anticipating Balinor's doubts. "Only one of my friends ever found out."

"You must have a remarkable mother, then," Balinor said, still skeptical.

"Yes," Merlin agreed readily.

"Is she a noblewoman?" Balinor asked, a suspicion forming in his mind. Merlin's clothes weren't rich, but his cheeks were too rounded and rosy to fully justify the peasant-look.

Merlin's surprise was guileless as he replied, "Mother? No. We live in a farming village."

Balinor narrowed his eyes, caused the boy to duck his head slightly.

"I admit," Merlin said after a moment, "that I don't live there anymore. I left a few months ago, and now I work as a manservant for a nobleman."

Balinor's eyes immediately narrowed. "As a sorcerer? Did he send me to you?"

Merlin snorted. "I doubt he realizes that I've left Camelot yet."

Both pairs of eyes widened simultaneously as Merlin's words registered.

"Camelot?"

Merlin grimaced.

"Your master lives in Camelot?"

Balinor's temper flared as the young sorcerer let out an exasperated sigh.

"The castle, actually."

"Foolish. Uther will behead you after the first sign of magic," Balinor growled.

Merlin's eyes were a twitch away from an eye-roll. "They can certainly try," he muttered in a tone Balinor didn't appreciate.

"Even if you escape, it will not stop them from hunting you like a pack of rabid dogs," Balinor warned. The hardened wrinkles on his face loosened as he muttered, "They do not stop until you are dead."

Persistence. If nothing else, Uther had that trait in spades. Sheer, stubborn persistence.

"Come what may," Merlin said with a tired expression. "I'm not here to discuss my precarious living situation."

"Then why are you here?" Balinor asked tiredly. "You mentioned dragons."

"I've come to you for several reasons," Merlin answered honestly, "but foremost because of your abilities as a dragonlord."

There was a long pause filled with heavy memories.

"The dragons are all dead, boy," Balinor broke the silence roughly.

"Not all of them," Merlin reminded softly. "One is still alive."

Balinor frowned in confusion, then realization at his heart like a fist. "Alive," he said grimly. "If you can consider imprisonment 'living.' I have no wish to reminisce about times past. Times forsaken."

Merlin shifted impatiently. "I don't want to talk about dragons," he said, folding his arms. "I want to free one."

Balinor blinked, startled.

"Free one? The great dragon in Camelot?" Even with his suspicions still reigning, he couldn't hold back the gleam of temptation.

"Yes," Merlin nodded enthusiastically. "Release him!"

"The great dragon is not easily caged. There are bound to be powerful enchantments binding him to his prison. Even though I may have some talent," he said significantly, "it will not be enough to do as you wish."

"It's not for that," Merlin said. "I can take care of that."

Balinor cocked his head.

"You are a dragonlord," Merlin emphasized significantly.

Balinor frowned, eyes narrowing. "You wish me to command the dragon," he stated carefully. "What is it that you wish me to bid him? To burn Camelot?" he asked bitterly. "I fear you will need no encouragement on my part."

"And that is why I needed to find you," Merlin said patiently. "You must command him to leave Camelot alone after I've freed him. Although I believe he is sincere in most of his vows, I fear that leaving his kin unavenged is one vow he could not keep unless you were there to implement it."

Balinor couldn't hide his astonishment as he examined Merlin's face. "You've talked to him?" he asked, throat dry.

"He called me to him," Merlin said, face serious. "And he has helped me in many matters of magic."

"How... how is he?" Balinor asked, leaning forward.

"His heart is vengeful, but still wise. He is frustrated and hungry for the outside world," Merlin responded grimly.

Balinor regarded the young man in front of him with small wonderment. "You truly wish to free him?" he asked.

"Yes," Merlin affirmed. "He is my friend."

"Friend," Balinor murmured in disbelief. He reiterated, "Yet you also wish to ensure Camelot's safety."

Merlin nodded once, determination written across every feature.

Balinor raised his eyebrows. "Why do you care what happens to Camelot?" he asked, feeling more curious than frustrated.

Merlin bristled. "Good people live there," he said.

"Even the best of people are inherently selfish," Balinor pointed out.

"That doesn't make them bad people," Merlin countered immediately.

"Nor does it make me incredibly inclined to help them," Balinor said calmly with a thin smile.

Merlin folded his arms. "Then think of it has helping the great dragon, not Camelot. I'm not releasing him without a dragonlord," he said firmly. "And you can't free him without me."

Balinor's face softened and he sighed, "I would not leave my friend imprisoned for the sake of my bitterness." He looked up and met Merlin's eyes.

Merlin bit his lip and nodded once. He seemed touched.

"Well," the warlock intoned after a moment, rising to his feet and brushing off his breeches, "that didn't take as long as I expected. Ready to go?"

Balinor frowned. "Immediately?"

Merlin raised his eyebrows. "I've only got until tomorrow morning before I have to go back to work," he informed matter-of-factly. "If we leave now, we'll have time to give you a castle tour!"

Balinor looked incredulously at the young man who was gleefully rubbing his hands together. "We'll need supplies for the journey," he pointed out, trying not to grimace as he achingly pushing himself into a standing position. "And I'm not exactly welcome in Camelot..."

"What journey?" Merlin scoffed. "It'll only take a few minutes!"

Balinor frowned. "Camelot is a two day's walk from here," the dragonlord said impatiently.

Merlin looked at him incredulously. "Walk!?" he cried. "Arthur would have me in the stocks for days if I was that late. I intend on leaving the same way I got here." He wiggled his fingers.

Balinor looked at him blankly.

"Magic?" Merlin reminded.

Balinor blanched. "Teleporting yourself alone in such a manner is dangerous. It would tempt fate to attempt it with another person."

Merlin scoffed, "Don't be such a worrywart. Regulations are for normal people, which I most certainly am not."

Balinor ignored Merlin's self-implied greatness as another fact caught up to the dragonlord. "You work for Arthur..." his brow crinkled. His eyes widened in disbelief. "As in Arthur Pendragon?"

"The very same," Merlin said cheerfully. "I'll introduce you if you'd like."

"You work for the same family who scourged our kind? Who treated us worse than rats in a food cellar?" the dragonlord could feel cool incredulousness was turning into hot anger.

"I'm Arthur's manservant," Merlin said simply. "I know the castle as well as he does, if not better. I have access to prisoners who were unjustly accused. I can easily get to Kilgharrah. There are dozens of magical relics sitting only a few staircases away every single day. So the real question is, why didn't I start working there sooner?"

Balinor's frown remained, but he relaxed his tense stance.

"Who are you, really?" he finally asked.

Merlin smiled crookedly. "Just Merlin," he replied. "But that means something different to everyone, I suppose."

Balinor wondered what Merlin would come to mean to him.

"Even if you can confidently teleportation the both of us," Balinor said, "I will not travel with you in that way."

Merlin blinked. "Why not?" he asked.

"Because I do not trust you," Balinor said with a grim smile. His oldest instincts trusted the young man. But his honed experience whispered wariness.

An unexpected flare of hurt crossed Merlin's face (Balinor refused to feel guilty – he was only being realistic), but he quickly pulled it back into a more cheerful expression. "I have to be back by tomorrow morning," he reminded.

"I'm surprised that a Pendragon would give you so much time to yourself," Balinor said.

"Yes, I imagine he feels the same way," Merlin said with a satisfied smile.

Balinor raised his eyebrows.

"So, if you won't teleport, will you still come to Camelot?" Merlin asked, obviously trying to sound more confident than he was feeling. His eyes wouldn't meet Balinor's.

Balinor sighed. "I'm not exactly welcome in Camelot," he said.

"It has been twenty years," Merlin pointed out. "Will anyone remember you?"

Balinor had often wondered the same thing. "It's uncertain," he admitted. "Few people in the castle who knew me by name, let alone who knew me well. And my appearance has changed... weathered over the years."

Merlin frowned softly. "Have you ever thought of returning to society? People have stopped hunting you, yes?"

Balinor answered, "You are the first to call me dragonlord in over fifteen years. Returning to society might be safe for a while, but it is difficult for me to live falsely for very long. As a dragonlord, it is not in my nature to cower. In more populous settings, someone would quickly discover my secrets and betray me to those who wish me dead."

"Secrets."

Balinor sent a questioning look towards the source of the dull response, who was sightlessly staring at the forest ceiling.

"We're different you and I," Merlin said finally, gaze still upturned. "I'm good at lying. I lie even when I don't have to because it's such a habit for me."

Balinor kept his face emotionless when Merlin took his eyes off the trees and looked at Balinor.

"But you don't have to worry about that," Merlin said, a smile dawning. "You won't have to stay in Camelot for very long."

Balinor folded his arms. "And how should I find you once I get there?"

"I could attach a spell to you that would alert me when you entered the city," Merlin said. "Or you could ask for my mentor. He's well-known in Camelot."

"I see. Is there a a chance that he might know me?" Balinor asked.

Merlin's smiled twitched. "I doubt it would matter if he did," he said. "Gaius already knows about me. A dragonlord wouldn't add much to the nonsense he already puts up with."

Balinor remembered to breathe and he choked, "Gaius? The physician, Gaius?"

Merlin blinked innocently, "Oh, do you know him? My mother sent me to Camelot to learn magic from him."

Balinor took a deep breath. "Gaius... he saved my life," he replied with a soft smile. "He is a good man."

"One of my favorites," Merlin agreed. He frowned to himself. "I should probably warn him you're coming so I don't give him a heart attack."

"It would only be polite," Balinor reproved. "How is he doing?"

"Well," Merlin answered, "but really, you should come see for yourself."

Balinor chuckled. "Very well, I will go to Camelot," he conceded.

Merlin beamed.

"Is there anyhting I can help you with?" Merlin asked. "I'm not expected until tomorrow morning."

"So you keep saying," Balinor said with amusement, his brain still attempting to paint what Gaius might look like. Frankly, he was surprised the man had lived for so long. (But then, he'd always been a very good physician.)

"I happen to cherish my free time," Merlin replied with a sniff.

Balinor hummed. "Well, if you're so eager for something to do, you can walk with me to check all of the traps I've set."

Merlin nodded violently.

"On the way, you can explain to me how the prince of Camelot ended up with a warlock from Essetir for a servant," Balinor said expectantly.

Merlin rubbed his hands against his shirt. "Ah-ha... yes. That is a bit of a story," he said.

"Good thing you have until tomorrow then, isn't it?" Balinor asked pleasantly, stepping away from the tree and starting his walk into towards the trap by the rabbit nest. "Come along, then!"

Merlin grinned and scampered after him.

O o O

Merlin loved talking to his father. He suspected that this would be the case even if they hadn't shared a blood relation. Balinor was a good listener.

He wasn't prattish about things. He was a painting of stoic wisdom.

The only thing he couldn't calmly accept was the fondness Merlin had for Arthur. Merlin told him about Arthur's obsession with sparring, about Arthur's goodness, his blindness, about his relationship with his father the king, about how he always needed rescuing.

"You talk too much about this prince," Balinor criticized.

Merlin told him about his chores around the castle, about the plan to free prisoners arrested for doing magic, about the druids in the castle, and about his work with Gaius. He even went into extreme detail about a few of his interactions with Kilgharrah, since Balinor really seemed to appreciate them.

"Annoying," he repeated even more assuredly.

"I'm amazed he hasn't flame broiled you," Balinor noted dryly.

"Oh, he's tried," Merlin said.

"Tried," the dragonlord repeated with amusement. "Dragons rarely fail at anything they try."

"Yes, well, I doubt he really wanted to roast me – it would have been detrimental to his personal interests," Merlin said.

They even talked about Balinor, what life was like when he wouldn't see another person for months on end. Sometimes, his father admitted, he felt like he was going mad, but those occasions were very rare. For the most part, he felt that the forest, the animals, the elements, the plants were a part of him.

"Not everyone is like me," Balinor said after Merlin mentioned that his lifestyle sounded lonely. "Some people need other humans to feel like themselves. Maybe it is because of my kinship with the dragons, but this has never been so for me."

Merlin wondered if this was true for himself. He imagined that he would probably have the chance to find out.

In the end, after hours and hours of talking, Merlin still managed to avoid discussing the important things. Gaius would undoubtedly lecture him for it.

O o O

"What do you mean you never told him?" Gaius asked, visibly exasperated, candlelight highlighting his unforgiving wrinkles.

"It... never really came up," Merlin said.

"And just when are you planning to tell him?" Gaius asked. "I hope you weren't thinking that I would."

Merlin's silence answered.

Gaius sighed violently. "Merlin," he said in a tone that didn't allow for disagreement, "he will be your guest. The longer you put it off, the more hurt he will feel that you didn't tell him in the first place."

"How exactly do you tell a man that he has an adult child?" Merlin asked. During the first meeting with his father, he'd been so eager for Balinor acknowledge him that he hadn't really thought, beyond the most basic of considerations, how the dragonlord would feel about having a son. Now that he was older, he realized that Balinor had probably received a healthy blend of shock, betrayal, and fear.

There was no good way to ease someone into the fact that they had unintentionally abandoned their child. Especially a dragonlord, who felt so strongly about their kin.

"I'll leave that up to your immeasurable wisdom," Gaius said snidely.

"Your confidence in me is encouraging," Merlin said dully.

There was a pause, and Gaius took a moment to poke at the coals in the fireplace. Even if Merlin had been absent for a couple of days, at least he'd come back in time to replenish their log pile.

"So..." Merlin began, "do you think I should tell him that I'm Emrys before or after I tell him that he's my father?"

Gaius made a hand sign that was suspiciously similar to a curse-ward.

"Goodnight, Merlin," he said, ignoring the pouting warlock, blowing out the candles. "I'll see you tomorrow."

O o O

When Merlin returned exactly two days from the time he'd departed (like they'd agreed), Arthur was furious.

"You left me!" the prince accused, red in the face and in the sort of mood that usually found Merlin with his head planted in the cleaning pail.

"You told me to leave," Merlin reminded pointedly, trying not to be smug about the fact that he was currently more agile than his handicapped prince.

"Well you weren't supposed to actually listen to me," Arthur snapped.

Merlin raised his eyebrows. "You do realize what you just said, don't you?" he asked with a slight grin.

Arthur pounded his fist against the armrest. "You idiot! You know what I mean," he ranted. "Do you realize what a hellish nightmare it is to stay in here all day?"

"With you? I can imagine," Merlin retorted.

"They keep expecting me to sleep," Arthur complained, purposefully ignoring Merlin's pretentiousness. "I've been sleeping for days. I am not tired."

"It's because you're easier to deal with when you're sleeping," Merlin explained, seating himself across from Arthur, the desk between them.

The prince sent him a scowl.

"How's the leg?" Merlin asked.

"Useless," Arthur grumbled, glaring at the offending appendage propped up next to him, "much like you."

"I could just leave..." Merlin mimed getting up.

Arthur jabbed his finger at Merlin, who slowly reseated himself. "You. Stay where you are," he ordered with a clenched jaw.

"Yes, sire!" Merlin saluted.

"Now," Arthur said, eyes strangely alight. "I want you to get something for me."

"A washcloth?"

"No."

"Pillows?"

"Does it look like I need more pillows?" Arthur asked, disgusted. "Get me the small wooden box that's under the head of my bed."

The prince blinked several times when Merlin started clapping excitedly.

"We're going to play alquerque!?"

Before Arthur could affirm or deny it, Merlin was already on his hands and knees, dragging the decorated box from out of its designated place.

"How did you already know what it was?" Arthur demanded as Merlin set it on the desk in front of him.

"I knocked it over when I was spring cleaning (it's very dusty under there, by the way) and got curious," Merlin explained, lifting off the lid and taking out the pieces before Arthur could even give the go-ahead.

"Hm," Arthur intoned, a wrinkle on his forehead. He was mildly concerned by his servant's clumsiness, especially when it came to valuable possessions.

"Ready when you are, sire," Merlin said, a pleased expression on his face, as he sat down.

Of course he had set up the board perfectly.

"You can go first," Arthur said graciously.

Merlin laughed. "Yes, sire!"