So... hehehe. Long time no see? ...

Obviously it's been a long time, and I really really am sorry. My reasons for the hiatus are boring and irrelevant and so again, sorry.

It took me a while to see where this story should go but I've finally found the right way move forward. I can't say when the next update will be and I won't give you false hope because productivity isn't really my thing apparently.

I hope you like it.

And review.

Please?

Kilgharrah

Kilgharrah was lying in a large clearing, the same he and the young warlock had met for almost a year.

The dragon had been wondering about the warlock. He hadn't heard from him in a long time, and on the last full moon he had felt the connection he had with him as a dragonlord disappear momentarily. Since then he had felt something was mysteriously different about the feeling of the bond. So tonight he had delved into it, just in time to see the warlock dying of self-administered poison.

The dragon used raw instinctual power to teleport him to the clearing, and healed him quickly.

After ten minutes of the dragon roaring and shouting furiously about destiny and responsibility to a warlock who was obviously ignoring him (quite obstinately), the dragon finally calmed down. Though he was no less rageful, as the almost black smoke pouring from his nostrils proved.

He leveled his draconic head with Merlin's and asked with dagger eyes, "What in the name of the gods were you trying to do?" he asked, almost hissing. "And why?"

Merlin was curled up on the ground, still feeling the pangs of the poison trying eat his stomach, and cursed all the things in the world.

"You can't understand. You couldn't understand."

"Merlin, if you don't answer me I will find it- "

-for myself

Merlin flinched and clutched his head as the dragon's words spoke in his mind, stabbing.

"I'm protecting Camelot!"

"By eliminating it's protector?"

"Kilgharrah, I was bitten by a werewolf!"

Silence. Shock.

"I... I am a werewolf. If I am alive in Camelot on the next full moon, I will change. I will kill people. I. Cannot. Live."

Merlin didn't notice, but tears were flowing down his face.

The dragon did not answer for a long time. He took in the hopelessness on the warlock's face, and he examined him. Now that he was up close, the dragon could sense that what the warlock said was true. Along with the human, and dragon biology in Merlin there was a lupine, savage entity residing in him. Regardless, he knew beyond a doubt that Merlin was not meant to die, and he told him this.

This was met with the annoying stubbornness that the dragon should have come to expect.

"It doesn't matter what is 'meant to be'. I am a danger to everyone around me and I must protect them. I have to protect Arthur."

"Merlin. If you are gone, there will be no one as capable as you to do that. As I have told you many times, you are one side of a coin. What do you think will become of Arthur when you are gone?"

Merlin huffed. "Arthur isn't helpless."

"That is not what I meant. You are not simply a defender. You are a guide." A pause. "Since you and he have met, he has learned much about ruling. About being a leader. Even if Arthur lives forever, without you he will never become the King that will bring about the Golden Age of Albion I have told you about."

Merlin contemplated this for a time.

"Now, I do not know how you can fix this problem. However, I know that the answer isn't death. You have a long life ahead of you young warlock. You will find a way."

With that last word, the dragon took flight.

Merlin

"OH, THANKS FOR THE LIFT BACK HOME YOU USELESS LIZARD!"

Merlin's furious shout was answered with careless wing beats, growing further and further away. He sighed dejectedly and turned, having every intention of trudging all the way back to his dimly lit room in the castle.

He wouldn't get far.

Merlin thought about what the dragon said. He had to admit that Arthur had made a big leap from the spoiled prat he was when they met. Now, he was a man ready to become a king. Apparently, Merlin was supposed to guide him into becoming an even better king. One who accepted magic. That particular task was even more daunting than it had been the first time he heard of it. So much had happened...

Merlin's thoughts were more focused on how he was supposed to get himself out of this werewolf problem. In the preceding weeks, he read books about lycanthropy; case studies, history records, even fairy tales. Not a single one had a happy ending. The magic books said nothing either. They only held the several forms of the curse with which to turn a person into a werewolf, there was no way to do the opposite.

He had been truly convinced that the only way was for him to die. He hadn't been entirely swayed by the dragon, but he conceded that he would at least do everything he could until the very last second before the full moon.

He stopped his trudging. There was a prickling on his neck as though he were being watched; so in all likelihood he was. He could see the castle wall in the distance through the trees. He wasn't far. Whoever or whatever was there was they might not catch him before he got to the gates. He also had magic on his side.

He tried to scan the surroundings surreptitiously, and then he ran.

Headlong into a trap.

An undignified yelp. The sound of rope being yanked taut. The whooping and laughter of men.

Merlin blinked and groaned. He was hanging upside down by his ankle, suspended six feet in the air. Someone grabbed his hair, and he saw an ugly face sneering maliciously at him.

"We caught us a mighty big fox here this time, boys!"

Apparently this was really funny, because Merlin was nearly deafened by roaring laughter from all around. Several things went through Merlin's head. These bandits were notoriously stupid for being this close to Camelot, and so were the knights for letting bandits get this close! And of course they would set traps in the middle of night and lie in wait for someone to be caught. Who does that? But foremost, was that this bandit smelled, he was grabbing his hair, he was right in his face, and Merlin was already having a bad day, (actually a bad month, the worst of his life).

He punched him in the face.

In no time he got a face full of grass as he was cut down from the trap; his arms were tied behind his back, and a bag that smelled like dried beef was forced over his head after a gag was shoved in his mouth.