Merlin: A Fictional Narrative

That feeling of elation had all but disappeared when he had finally returned to his chambers, the same one that Arthur had been given use of. Merlin had laid down on the bed, only to find himself tossing and turning, unused to the soft down-filled mattress. After what seemed like hours, he'd gathered a blanket and pillow to stretch out on the floor in front of the fireplace, where he finally fell into a restless sleep.

The long night translated itself into even more apprehension as he stood next to his horse, awaiting the rest of the royal party to be ready. He trembled in the chill of the morning air, but it wasn't from the cold, it was the anticipation he felt. Rodor had informed him over an early breakfast that they were going deep into
He swears that he has seen the dragon, though and that the herald from Camelot had been mistaken. If the dragon did survive it gave him, and myself, hope that Balinor still lived...which did not sit well with any of the others. They considered him a coward and a liability for the way he walked into Uther's trap."

Gulping, Merlin shook his head nervously. Arthur now knew that the Great Dragon was still alive, and he wasn't happy about finding out. Merlin really wasn't sure he was ready for others to know, but it seemed that calling Kilgharrah was the only thing that would assure King Rodor's lords that Merlin was indeed who he claimed to be. Exhaling loudly, Merlin rubbed the back of his neck. "I understand, I think."

The king smiled and started moving toward his waiting horse. "We'll discuss this more as we ride."

Merlin bit his tongue. Each bit of new information only served to pile on more anxiety. Turning to Mithian, he saw something he hadn't seen since he'd left his mother back in Ealdor to find his fate in Camelot...someone there for him, standing with him, no matter what.

"No matter what happens, I won't give up what we have found," she reassured him.

"What about your