The Storm Chapter Twenty

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin BBC. I don’t own Frozen, either.

Chapter Twenty

She couldn’t stop worrying as they took turns carrying the golden haired knight, no king is what the sorcerer called him, out of the bundle of underbrush. No matter how gentle they tried to get him to safety they could all see that he was struggling. His pain had to have been high as he slightly coughed and groaned through their journey. As soon as they made it out of the sorcerer’s protective gathering of trees she hurried over to create something that would block the downpour. Using vines and weaving techniques she usually reserved for making baskets and feet mats, she tied together branches of trees and ferns. It wasn’t going to be a perfect covering, but she needed something to lay the man under.

Arthur’s breathing had started to come in short bursts by the time they could hide him under her small roof. Leon looked to her in fear for the man’s life and hope that maybe she could do something.

“I can’t,” she whispered back. The others were in varying states of shock, wonder, and even anger. Elyan was worried for his sister mostly, but worried what would happen if she couldn’t save the king’s life. Percival was tired, since he did most of the carrying of the man, and Lancelot was still in a bit of shock of discovering who this man really was. The ire was coming off of Gwaine, who was now pacing in the pouring rain and stomping into the mud fiercely.

“Bloody king, of all things,” he muttered loudly after a large crack of thunder split the now darkening day. “Had to be helping a blasted noble!”

Leon went to stand up and confront the rogue, but Lancelot placed a well-meaning hand onto the knight’s bicep. He shook his head and stood for the Camelotian.

Lancelot wasn’t afraid of the dark haired man, but he certainly wasn’t stupid. The drunk had thrown himself into a state. “Need a drink?” he asked as he approached like coming upon a wild animal. Gwaine stopped pacing and eyed him suspiciously.

“We have been together on this journey for about two weeks now, and suddenly you have a pint?” The man’s anger was thrown into his words. It spoke volumes of warning and Lancelot understood the threat. Out of the corner of both of their eyes they saw Percival shift slightly. He was getting ready to break up the fight.

“I’ve been keeping it for special occasions. I had thought we would all like a bit after we stopped the storm, but now I think you need it now,” he kept his voice level.

The men all eyed each other as the storm continued to fall down. The only break to their silence was a wheezing cough emitted by the king who still hadn’t regained consciousness.


When the dragon awoke a bit later to the dry sun baking against his scales, he felt peace inside. Merlin opened his eyes as well and they both just enjoyed the peace away from the storm in silence. The sun was dropping beyond the far off gray clouds and they both knew night would be on them soon. Merlin wanted to sleep in his fern bed inside and not on the now dry ground, but he didn’t want to leave yet.

“How do you know me?” he asked suddenly to the dragon. He shifted as the dragon carefully raised his head to regard the small sorcerer beside him. Well, the young man was small to the enormous dragon, at least.

“Your father before you was a Dragon Lord and since his death has come it was passed to you. I have been waiting for you to call me,” a toothy grin was given, “Though I didn’t think it would take you going against the king to do so.”

“I’m sorry. He wants to kill me because I caused this storm,” Merlin stood up and then looked away as the dragon tilted his head in confusion.

“I do not think he would kill you, Merlin. The king needs you,” the dragon felt through the small bond they have that the black haired boy wasn’t ready for this conversation quite yet.

Kilgharrah saw the boy shake his head suddenly as he imagined the thoughts running through it were immense. The child did not understand that his purpose was to be near the king. The dragon held his thoughts to himself, though. “Young warlock,” he called out to gain the dragon lord’s attention.

“What is a warlock?” Merlin asked suddenly. He still didn’t look up. A shiver caught suddenly and he wrapped his arms around himself. He was unsure and scared.

The little bit of advice that Kilgharrah was going to bestow onto the young man was drowned even further back into the dragon’s brain. This boy wasn’t the knowledgeable young man that Gaius had promised would be there to call him when he was able to. This was a terrified child hidden within the confines of an adult body. This boy had the magic only others could dream of, but without the teacher to show how to use it.

Merlin never found out the answer to his innocent question as the trees burst suddenly spewing out fifty soldiers. The dragon reared up to defend his master as Merlin went to hide inside the house. The warlock never made it into the confines of the tree fort. The dragon was so distracted by the swords, spears, and arrows that he didn’t even notice when the young magic user snuck upon the dragon lord. Merlin only saw a sudden sight of green to gold before his own world turned black.


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