Disclaimer: The day I'm magic is the day I'll own Merlin, I've decided. Which as my life stands now looks unlikely.

A/N: Hello everyone! I present to you, the final chapter! Think of it as a little Xmas present from me if you will- I hope you enjoy it and it ties up all the loose ends for you!


Chapter 7

Merlin stood in his chambers, his hands clasped in front of him, staring up through the high window, waiting, waiting. Always waiting.

Waiting for war, waiting for a moment, waiting for the inevitable.

When the full moon is unobscured by the clouds, you must come to the clearing two miles south of Camelot. There I shall give you something few mortal men have been entrusted with.

Pale light finally bled into the room, casting Merlin in an ethereal glow, his irises almost white as he stared at the smooth surface of the moon. Releasing a quiet breath, he picked up his cloak, silently exiting his chambers and out into the night.

He crept silently across the courtyard, lurking in the shadows as he dodged the guards. He would be shot down on sight if he was spotted; Uther had grown paranoid, convinced of traitors in his court aiding Cenred. The curfew had made the kingdom grow silent, yet soon all they may hear soon could be the horrific cry of war.

He reached the edge of Camelot, his hood concealing his face as he skulked in the darkness. The sound of hooves on the cobbles would've been impossible, so instead he must travel alone, and ensure he returned before first light.

Merlin moved quickly through the trees of the forest, the damp moisture of the rain heavy in the air, drops trickling from wet leaves like the distant footsteps of a thousand soldiers. The warlock shivered, his black cloak undulating behind them as he weaved through the increasingly dense foliage.

He finally broke from the tall trees, the openness of the clearing exposing him to the cool night wind, pulling his cloak further around his lithe frame as his eyes searched the sky.

Merlin saw the shadow against the clouds, like an elegant ship gliding on the ocean of the sky. Somehow he barely made a sound as he gradually descended, like a dark apparition in the corner of his eye.

"You're here, young warlock."

Merlin pulled his hood from his face, looking up into the piercing yellow of Kilgharrah's eyes.

"Why did you ask me to come?"

"I would not have asked for your presence unless I believed it was something of great importance." He replied, his voice rumbling deep from his chest.

Merlin's eyes glittered with worry, "Cenred's army will have descended on Camelot by tomorrow. They're thousands of them. . . we are outnumbered. . ."

"Merlin, I have foreseen this among many battles my entire life, and it is one that will shape or destroy your destiny."

The dark haired boy's expression changed, fearful as he questioned, "Why? What will happen?"

"Arthur will be in the greatest danger you will have known thus far in your journey together."

"How? What do I have to do to stop this?" Merlin cried.

"Hush, young warlock, and listen."

Merlin clamped his mouth shut, his eyes filled with a culmination of slight ire and worry as he stared at the magnificent beast in front of him, his scales gleaming in the light as if he were cast from gold. He was running out of time.

"Although he is bloodthirsty, Cenred is not your main concern; he is like any young warrior ruler- he has come here only to destroy Uther's army, and to claim Camelot if he can. Despite the disadvantages, Camelot will win through. . . but not without help."

The glint in the dragon's eye should've comforted Merlin, but instead he felt slightly nauseous, "What do you mean?"

"I mean that you may well be forced into showing the world what you truly are."

Merlin felt the world shift slightly on its axis, he gulped; Kilgharrah had never been wrong, despite the amount of times he'd purposefully ignored his words and done as he pleased. Merlin was headstrong; it was both his greatest asset and his greatest weakness.

"Your worry should lie with the sorceress Morgause; she and Cenred have united to bring Camelot and Uther to their knees. Unlike Cenred, she will focus on one person, and one person alone."

"Arthur. . ." Merlin barely whispered.

"She will find his weakness; to destroy the only heir, the once and future king, will surely destroy Uther and Camelot. . . and the destiny you share will die with them. She is as sly as a serpent; she will not bring Arthur's downfall about in a conventional way. . . and she will rarely feel the blood of those she kills on her hands."

"What is his weakness?" the boy questioned.

"That only you can answer young warlock, you know the prince better than anyone."

Merlin's brow furrowed, "Must I kill her?"

"That I can tell you; her death is not written for immanency, but you must stop her regardless."

The warlock's voice stern and clear; a statement, not a question, "What must I do."

"I will bestow a gift on you that will save Arthur from all injuries; all ills. It is a gift that I would only entrust you with- the last Dragonlord- for the love of Albion. You must hold out your scarf."

The raven haired boy tilted his head in intrigue; "Why do you need my scarf?"

"For many ills, you need more than magic and enchantment to bring someone back to life. Something familiar to them. A memento. A keepsake. "

His brow crinkled as he hesitantly reached around his neck and untied his neckerchief.

Kilgharrah looked downwards, bringing a claw to his front leg and growling lowly as he made a small incision in his scales. His blood was thick and dark, yet somehow it was as bright as fire.

Merlin stepped forward tentatively, carefully reaching out and dabbing the liquid with his scarf. The blood has settled around the cut, but it never fell. It was almost as if it could not fall.

"You must take it and give it to Arthur. With it he can cure anything that befalls him. My blood shall never dry, yet nothing will ever absorb it; even the soil shall never drink it, for it is too strong for even Nature's womb to accept it. It shall only fade when it has been used for the purpose it was set."

Merlin held his scarf, the small cuts inflicted by his daily role on his hand disappearing. The boy looked up at the dragon incredulously.

"Thank you."

Merlin concealed his face once again with his hood, striding off into the darkness as the dragon called after him.


The young man stopped, a rush of wind blowing that made the grass have the appearance of a deep, impenetrable sea. He turned, their eyes meeting again.

"Should you need me tomorrow, I shall be close."

"Does that mean I will need you?" Merlin asked, a small quirk gracing his lips.

Kilgharrah released one of his rare, rumbling chuckles, "We shall see."


Merlin woke a few hours later, groaning as first light came through his window and ceremoniously fell onto his face. He pulled himself out of bed before he had time to fall asleep again, rubbing his face slowly, the dark rings under his eyes stark against his pale skin. He dressed quickly, the scarf in his pocket, the physicians' quarters empty; Gaius was probably preparing the hall for inevitable casualties.

He dashed through the long corridors and staircases to the prince's chambers; he charged through the oak doors as usual, surprised to find the prince up and already dressed, one foot on the bottom of his window, as he leant on his knee, looking pensively onto the horizon; thick smoke was curling like an angry fist.

"Sorry sire, I didn't think I was late."

"Merlin, you're always late."

A/N: There you have it, the end! I hope you enjoyed this slightly unconventionally structured little tale; the only thing I hope I have left open to this story is what happened to Morgause- this is in case I have the time of fully developed idea for a sequel, so yes, she has indeed survived (it's a little ambiguous when you read it backwards, but obviously in this chapter you find out that she's not meant to die yet). Please review if you could be so kind, and I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas and New Year! :) Minx x