Chapter Text
Merlin looked around the castle.
It looked absolutely opulent, vibrant with the colours of the kingdom of Camelot: Gold and Red.
Being a dragonlord meant a comfortable and wealthy life, but of course, he could never afford so much luxury. And he didn’t want to, either. He was content with his life the way it was.
The sound of approaching footsteps brought his attention to the man walking towards him. He bowed in respect as the King of Camelot — the one who had summoned him — came and sat down on his throne.
“Your Majesty.”, Merlin said reverently.
“I’m glad that you were able to make it.”, Uther Pendragon said.
“Of course.”, Merlin said with a polite smile. “How could I defy the King of the greatest of the five kingdoms?”
Uther laughed, but the laughter sounded hollow. He was grinning only with his lips; his eyes remained distant and appraising. He was sizing up Merlin. Probably trying to figure out if he was right for the job.
Merlin cleared his throat.
“I assume you’ve been facing trouble from a dragon?”, he asked. “If you brief me about the beast, I will begin planning my strategies as to how to tame it.”
Uther looked surprised.
“So you’re willing to take it up?”
“Indeed. If my service means saving several lives from the wrath of a dragon, then of course I’m willing to take up the job.”
The King hummed. “You haven’t named your price.”
Merlin smiled. “You can pay me as you see fit once I’m done with the task.”
If Uther was impressed, he didn’t let it show. But his silence gave away most of it.
Eventually he said, “You sound like the perfect person for my purpose. . . But I must tell you before you agree to anything, that it isn’t a dragon that you’ll be taming.”
Merlin’s brow furrowed. “I’m afraid I don’t quite understand. . .”
The kind sighed. “It’s my son.”
“Your. . . son?”
“Arthur.” The King said his name with so much disappointment, that Merlin pitied whoever the boy was. It was obvious from the King's expression, that the Prince must have faced several too-high-expectations in his childhood.
“He grew up without a mother.”, Uther went on. “So I gave him anything and everything that he desired without second thought. I didn’t realize that I was pampering him to an unhealthy extent. Today, when I see him mistreating his servants and talking to peasants and villagers with shocking arrogance, I finally understand how much I’ve spoilt him. I didn’t teach him humility. I didn’t teach him to respect. Now, when I look at him. . . I’m afraid he is too far gone. I need him to learn the values that I failed to impart to him. I need someone to teach him manners. And I reckoned, who is better than a dragonlord, to train a Pendragon? So I hope—”
“Your majesty,”, Merlin said, cutting him off. “Sorry to interrupt you, but I must stop you right there. I’m touched that you think you can trust me to discipline your son, but this is not what I do. I don’t — I can’t train people. I can’t control the way someone moves and acts, like I do for a dragon. It feels like a misuse of my power. So I’m sorry, but I have to turn down the offer.”
Uther looked at him for a long time with an inscrutable expression. He seemed to want to say something, but he didn’t. Instead he nodded and waved his hand in dismissal.
Not even a “thank you" to Merlin for spending his time and effort to reach Camelot. No wonder where that boy — Arthur, was it? — got his arrogance from. . .
As Merlin walked out of the castle, he heard laughter from the courtyard. Along with it came the noise of jeers and catcalls.
His curiosity got the better of him, and he walked over to the crowd of by-standers. Once he reached a spot from where he had a clear view, he could see what all the fuss was about.
A servant ran around the place, clutching a round, wooden target, as a boy Merlin’s age threw knives at him. Merlin looked down at the red tunic the boy sported. The Pendragon crest shone in gold over his chest.
‘Arthur Pendragon.’, Merlin realized.
“Run!”, the Prince yelled, hardly able to contain his amused laughter. “We want some moving target practice!”
As he watched the blond ridicule the innocent servant along with his friends, Merlin felt an urge to reconsider his stand on that offer.
But he couldn’t. It would be wrong.
But then the servant fell down, and the Prince laughed, tipping back his head. He strutted over to the poor lad and yanked him up by the arm roughly.
Before the servant could even regain his balance, the Prince pushed him down again. This time, the man looked like he sprained an ankle, from the way he howled in pain.
Merlin turned his attention to the arrogant Prince who was laughing so hard that he was clutching his stomach. Merlin sighed.
There was no denying it.
This dragon desperately needed taming.