(The art is an illustration of Merlin's and Arthur's play fight)

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

*Flashback*

When she came to her senses, she was on the run. She was, literally, in the middle of a sprint. Running and panting and almost stumbling over a root, as consciousness returned to her with a slam.
She didn't know where she was. She knew neither where she had come from, nor where she was headed.

She just knew that she was and something told her to continue running. No matter how hard her lungs burned, or her stomach ached.
Her head hurt as well, but it was of no matter while she ran.
Because running meant, she was okay. Even if her feet got scraped open by the stones she slammed into with every step.
Running meant, she could breathe, even if the cold air told her otherwise.

She was pale of exhaustion. Her lips merely a shade. She hadn't eaten properly in a while and her thin frame was about as fragile as a tooth pick.
You could call her beautiful, in a way. But it withered in comparison to the sickness of her appearance.

Only now did she recognize the voices that were shouting after her. Torches had been lit and she remembered.... they wanted her dead.
She remembered, she didn't come from here. She didn't belong here. She came from somewhere far away. Somewhere surrounded by mountains. A place with flowers of all kinds. And water. There was an ocean... or a lake. But ask as you want, she could not remember where that was.

She knew it was a place of the most rare trees and fruits. A place without animals that were used to be fed off from.
It was a place of kindness. And yet... she darkly remembered the face of a man. An evil man.
He had been angry too.
Just like the man behind her.
It was so long ago, she could hardly remember his face.

She had no shoes, and her dress was torn to shreds.
"KILL THE WITCH!", someone shouted. She understood the language, but it felt foreign to her.
"MONSTER!", someone else shouted.

Right. She had done it again.
Someone had attacked her again. She had killed him. Did that count as self defense?

Had she killed the man from the memory as well?
She ran harder, as the voices became clearer, louder. It was day. It was always day. She never slept, yet, she had never seen the night.

What was the man's name again?
She startled, she stumbled over another root. This time she fell and scraped her knee open. There was blood.
With a hiss, she brushed it away from her wound. It would get infected, if it mingled with her own.
It wasn't her own blood. Someone was dead.
She couldn't think, she couldn't breathe. Again.

Sentiell. His name had been Sentiell. Was he dead? Did she kill him? She didn't remember.
But she remembered that he tried to do things. Unspeakable things. Did he do them?
It was so long ago, she couldn't feel it anymore. The shame. The places he tried to claim for himself.
She could never remember the man who caged her.

She was free now. She had bled the shame away. She knew that. She remembered that.
Was she dead? She didn't feel dead. She should be dead.
She felt pretty much alive, with everything burning in pain.

She scrambled forward and crouched behind a tree. There was a forest around her. The trees had no markings on them. No runes. They didn't have the feeling to them that she was used to. None of those wild flowers she loved. The earth was flat. There were no mountains, no lake.

"She is here somewhere, I know that!", someone grumbled. He was a hunter. She remembered that now.
He was the kind of man who gained money by finding druids and selling them to kings who wanted her execution. If he caught her, it would be over.

For someone who had killed herself, she truly clung to life. She could have laughed, but she didn't. It didn't feel funny. Instead she tried to hold her breath. Which was impossible after the run.

She had hurt Sentiell. It hadn't been much. Or was he dead? Maybe he was dead. Maybe her mind just didn't want to remind her off the pictures of his dead body. Maybe she just didn't remember.
She never remembered anything.

There was a woman in her mind. Who was she? A goddess? A mother? The woman told her she was cursed. Had the woman cursed her?
The woman had told her, that breaking her chains so forcefully would grand her a cursed life, stuck in a timeless loop.

What loop? What was time?

The sun shone in her face. She was awake. She was always awake. But she never remembered the night. She never remembered anything.

Her breathing stopped. How long had she been here? Minutes? Hours? Days? Were they gone? The men who wanted her dead?
It felt like days. She got to her wobbling feet.
There was blood. It was her own blood. It came from the open wound.
She blinked.
The wound should be healing, but it wasn't. Why wasn't it healing?

'Only death will be your salvation!', the woman had said. How long ago was that?
It felt like days, months, years.

She came to her senses inside a cell.
"Monster.", someone hissed. Had it been night again?
The blood on her dress was dry. Then fresh. Maybe the other way around. Her head was spinning, she couldn't tell. She could never tell.

There were people around her, looking at her pitiful form.
Then no one looked. She was alone.
She would be alone forever.
Maybe it was better this way. At least like this she couldn't hurt anyone. The druids had hid her, for months, years, decades. Separate from their camps, so she couldn't hurt them.

At night, they said, she became a monster.
Had been for twenty years, they said once. She couldn't remember. Time was fleeting, when you never died.
Wait. No.
She did die. Once. A long, long time ago. Yesterday, it seemed.

They left her alone in the market. It was day. But nobody looked. Nobody feared. Not yet at least.

There was a boy who walked by her. Looked at her. Pitied her, but the old man beside him pulled him away.

She blinked. It was evening. The boy was back. His eyes flashed golden and her cage sprang open. "Come on, come with me!", he said, a lopsided smile on his lips, as he dragged her away.

He hid her. But separate from the others, so she couldn't get hurt by them.
He told her she was beautiful.
He told her she wasn't a monster.
She would never be alone anymore.

And then salvation came in the middle of the night.
In a form of endless time and opportunities.
She died, surrounded by mountains and wild flowers.
At the lake of Avalon.

She would always remember the man who freed her.
She always remembered.
Merlin.

*Flashback ends * (1)

------------------------------------------

One could probably wonder what George was up to at the moment.
After all, he had just learned he was a legendary dragon with abilities no other dragon possessed.
Not to mention he could shapeshift! Or should be able to.
George had no idea how to do that. It wasn't something Merlin could have taught him. Other than the dragon tongue order thingy. As Merlin didn't know how to shapeshift either.

Though, admittedly, George had no desire to try it. He felt pretty comfortable in his chubby little servant body.

And well... he was George. He wasn't exactly the creative type. George was the type who would, if games like Sims existed in their time, press the random button and then live with whichever character he was assigned with. IF he were told to be creative.
If he was simply allowed to be whatever, he'd pick the most common OC ever made.

He already was everything he ever wanted to be. Now he was.... more than that.
Somehow, that didn't really sit well with him.

Especially after what he had just done to Leon. .... Subconsciously.

Merlin had explained to him how to order and unorder the knight, but George still didn't think he could ever get used to this new knowledge and talent of his.
In a way, he felt like he had betrayed Leon. Leon was the only knight he felt comfortable talking to. And now... It's not very comforting talking to people who should fear you, because you have power over them.
George didn't like that feeling. He didn't like it, when people couldn't be themselves around him.

He sighed.

Everything seemed kinda strange right now. Prince Arthur had immediately decided to support the traitorous actions of the serving staff. It had literally no consequences what they did, and that too made George anxious.
And then Arthur had gone to visit his father and lock Leon in, and not reappeared since.

Now, George knew these changes must be a lot to deal with. Both what they learned on the island and then the truth behind Uther's actions. But was it really logical of the prince to allow this rebellion?
Now, someone had to be in charge. It would only make sense for the prince to assume the throne and take care of things from now on. Get everything back in order.
Whether or not in favor of the people or Uther Pendragon was of Arthur's choosing.

But Arthur had, instead, taken the rest of the day off, so George decided HE had to handle things. Not that he wanted to.

Why of all people George had to do it, you ask? And why right now?

Simple. Because there was still this one dragon standing right there in the throne room, staring at George in wonder. And no one was doing anything about it.
George could see a few guards pointing at the dragon, but also George, in fear.
You see... with Merlin tending to Arthur and Leon being in the dungeons, George was now the person everyone considered in charge.
Since, ultimately, he had been the guy who started the rebellion.

He was also, as they now knew, the only person capable of defending the throne from the dragons.
Or rather... THE dragon. Who – again – was sitting right here in the throne room.
But George was also a dragon.

Not to mention the great dragon was outside as well. Not dead, as so many had believed, but riddling every knight who dared to approach him into madness.

Let's just say, everything was very confusing at the moment and George would love it, if someone else took charge right now. However, luck was rarely on his side.

"So .... erm.", George finally said and tapped the golden arm rests of the throne he was sitting on.
He had invited Gwen and Morgana to sit on another throne beside him. Because George wanted to clarify, that HIS rule was only temporary and the Pendragon blood line was still reigning over them. And also, someone needed to supervise him.
He was a servant, not a ruler. He fixed holes in socks and cleaned armor. He didn't do tax talk.

Morgana and Gwen WERE present. At all times, obviously. But they were more or less preoccupied with each other, somehow uncaring of the inevitable danger they were in.
Love birds. George rolled his eyes at them. They were absolutely useless and lost their intended function as soon as they opened their mouths.

"I'm George. And .... who are you?"

The dragon stared at him, looking deep into his soul. Then he bowed before George.
"My name is Ciril, my lord.", the dragon said, his voice shifting colorfully, until it settled on something dark and soothing again.
George blinked. "I'm not a lord.", he shook his head.

"In my world, you are.", Ciril's eyes flickered for a moment. "I can sense it."

"Well, in my world, I'm George. And I'm a servant.", George explained and tapped the arm rest again. He felt so out of place here, it was hard to believe.

"So... you chose to be human?", Ciril asked conversationally. There was no judgment in his tone.

"I don't recall ever being anything else.", George nodded courtly. "So I assume I did... kind of... choose it as a child."

Now Morgana and Gwen truly were watching and listening in on them.

"I would like to be human too.", Ciril smiled eagerly. "Just once. To try it."

"I'm sure you will. If everything goes according to plan.", George smiled slightly. And that too, was rare. George rarely had to be encouraging. But Ciril felt familiar. Otherwise he wouldn't feel the need to appear nice.
Maybe it was due to the fact that Ciril was bonded to Leon. And Leon was – in a way – bonded to George. Maybe that connected them too.

"You think so?"

"I'm fairly certain of it. After all, Prince Arthur seems very determined to free all the dragons."

George had been briefed shortly by Merlin and Arthur what this "plan" actually was.
They would get Camelot in order, before heading out to Drakonier the next day to make the deal with the lady of the lake.
Leon would be left in the dungeons, to conversationally get over his differences with Uther.
For that, George only had to order him to not kill the man.
That was as far as their plan went for now.

Which, in itself wasn't very surprising. Arthur was known for his calm head in critical situations. He was known to think fast. Fast did not mean well.

Furthermore, long term plans were not exactly his fortune. Those were more Merlin's thing.
Actually it wasn't. But it was more Merlin's thing than Arthur's. At least Merlin could keep a routine...
Okay, actually Merlin broke those on a daily occasion, but -

Ah to heck with it. They were both useless. (2)
As soon as there was a magical attack, Merlin was nowhere to be found and Arthur was sick with uncoordinated running around to a) solve the problem and b) searching for Merlin, who was actually solving the problem.

Truth be told, there was a reason why Leon had been ordered to take care of Arthur on the way to Drakonier. Even Uther knew how irritable Arthur could be.
And there was also a reason why George stayed behind, even though leaving his friend alone to deal with dragons had been the last thing he wanted to do.
Someone had to run the castle. And the people who gave the orders, were not capable of doing that.

Which means, George really needed to find someone who could take over for one day. The only person he trusted with the castle was currently fighting his own madness in the dungeons.
And Morgana and Gwen had proven themselves to be too stricken with each other to care.

For a moment George wondered if he could leave Ciril or Kilgharrah in charge of the castle. Then he remembered the state of panic Camelot was already in because of their mere presence and decided against it.

The most logical choice, would probably fall to one of the knights of Camelot. But only those knighted by Arthur, because only they could be thoroughly trusted.
All the knights, however, were currently stuck on an island (or going mad).
Which meant that George had to wait for the ship that was still sailing in Camelot's direction.

---------------------------------------------

Meanwhile, Gwaine, Lancelot and Elyan tried to help the citizens of Drakonier to distinguish the burning houses with loads of water. The peace between the Camelot knights and Drakonier was fragile. But since neither of them held personal grudges against each other- at least to none of the ones present - the fights were kept to a minimum.

The group effort to protect the other houses from the fire was lead by Lancelot. He was constantly busy telling the dragon kin where to send the dragons with the water buckets, while helping wherever he could. That's why he was too busy to gain any form of information. Other than his two mates, who were busy making conversation.

Elyan, for example had started chatting with the teenage boy who was apparently the blacksmith of the village.

"You use dragon scales as weapons, are they any worth?", Elyan asked at one point, while he helped the boy bringing filling buckets with water at the well.
"Yes. They are harder than steal, when worked on correctly. But light as a feather. Fun fact, they are made from the same material than the core of the island.", the boy seemed to hold no grudge at all against Elyan, despite him being a knight. And he seemed pretty eager to start just any kind of conversation.

In fact, he seemed quite desperate to have someone to converse his knowledge with.
And since Elyan was a learned black smith, he was the first person in a couple years who was genuinely interested in his work.

"Really?!", Elyan said in surprise and continued to pull on the rope, where the bucket with water was hanging from, to pull it up from the well. To give it to a tiny dragon with wide eyes and big teeth.

"Of course. You've come here through the caves, right? I bet you saw all the crystals and runes in the walls? That's the stuff I'm talking about. I have heard legends before that said the dragons were born from the caves. Now, I know stories are never 100% what they are told, but I always knew that something was off about the dragon scales! There just HAD to be some truth to it!
We should have known they too were made by the lady of the lake."

"The lady of the lake was the protector of your island, wasn't she?", Elyan muttered at that, trying to imagine how one may melt such a raw and difficult material.
Would the fire need to be hotter? Would the melting process be longer? Would it cool faster than normal metal?

"Yes, she is. She was said to be the one who created the island. Everything on here, the trees, the leafs, everything has been gifted to us from the gods of Avalon."

"I see.", Elyan nodded and his dark eyes settled on the stones around the well. They too had magical runes embedded into them. Like almost everything on the island.
"Say, do you engrave these runes onto everything? I've seen some on the houses, even trees. Are they some kind of protection charms?"

The boy grinned. "Right, you're from Camelot. These runes ward off evil spirits or so they say."

"Who is they?", Elyan asked finally, wiping off a little sweat from his forehead. The temperature on the island was higher than it had been on the sea.

The boy seemed pretty used to it, he had no problems with the weather. It was in this moment that Elyan noticed the boy had incredible gray eyes. It was the kind of gray that would look unnatural on anyone. It wasn't silver either. Just a simple gray.
For a moment, Elyan wondered if maybe the dragon kin genes under that skin were still hiding a dragon beneath.

Maybe, if Merlin and Arthur lifted the enchantment, the boy would spread wings he never knew he had.

"The dragon lords.", the boy halted, as he grabbed for another water bucket. Unaware of Elyan sudden realization that all the people here, once were supposed to be giant feathered monsters. Well... maybe not monsters. But you can imagine.

"Do you think that was another of their lies?", the boy asked, head tilted in wonder and confusion.

"It doesn't seem unlikely, at the very least.", Elyan sighed.

"Then... why else would they put runes on the entire island?"

"I had hoped, YOU would know.", Elyan whispered to himself.

After that, their conversation returned to the best ways of creating chain mail and other useful objects from the scales.

Somewhere on the other side of the group of unlikely acquaintances, Gwaine was chatting up with Rebecca.
And with chatting, I mean, Gwaine was unapologetically asking questions about all kinds of things.

"So, er... why do you hate Leon's dad so much?", Gwaine asked, shoulders raised, as he put up a stick from the ground and swiped it around experimentally. As though he was testing if he could fight someone with it.
He couldn't really do anything else at the moment. They couldn't need anymore people for the well, for the buckets and for whatever Lancelot was trying to do. So playing it was. Not that Gwaine would complain about that sort of thing.

Rebecca scoffed, but she seemed tired, rather than annoyed.
"Your friends family has caused my family lots of suffering.", she shortly replied, not wanting to go into detail.

"What kind of suffering? If you're this mad at him, it must be really bad.", Gwaine was asking, because he thought it could help. Leon, more than anyone else.
Leon had been very distressed earlier. He didn't need people blaming him for things he didn't do.
"But you cannot blame Leon for what his father did." He didn't think that she blamed him really. She had been rather calm earlier. But sometimes people hide their anger very deep.
This was more of a test to figure out what she was truly thinking.

"It runs in his genes.", Rebecca said instead, this time more exasperated as she turned to Gwaine.
"I've made this mistake once, when I believed, that when we had Hector's father imprisoned in his home, the horror would have an end. But his sons were just the same.
I cannot blame him for what his father did. But I am right to be wary of his kind.
Hector became... well you have learned of his story. And his brother Sentiell...", she stopped herself.

Gwaine stopped flicking the stick around. Suddenly frowning.
"What did he do?"

"Something unspeakable.", Rebecca closed her eyes.

"To who?", Gwaine spoke more softly now. Recognizing that he was breaching a story deep, deep inside her soul.
"My daughter.", Rebecca shuddered in a breath. "She couldn't live with herself after that. So she ended her life, instead of living an eternity with the shame."

Gwaine, who had just raised his hand to put it on her shoulder to calm her down, froze mid air.
"Shame?", he asked, eyes wide, the implication slowly growing on his mind.
Rebecca turned away. Not that she had looked at him at all. She shook him off.
"I regret ever letting that monster stay on Drakonier. We should have banned their entire family. It would have been for the best. For everyone."

Gwaine's eyes were wide. "You mean... this Sentiell, he -"
"He raped my daughter, yes damn it.", for the first time, she looked at him. And her eyes were turned to furious frustration that was enough to let Gwaine shrink away.
"And his brother Hector killed a majority of all dragon lords! I trusted him. With my daughters life! I let him into my house! I allowed him to walk in and out. I even pitied him! Because I knew what his father put him through.

But I should have known their entire family is ROTTEN to the core!
Like father like sons.
The only reason why we let their father stay on Drakonier, was because we believed his sons deserved another chance. And to separate families is against everything dragon kin stands for!
THAT's why we had him entrapped inside his house.
We should have known better! We should have them hanged, all of them! And never let them down, no matter how long they screamed!
Now ONE last of their kind is running around with no one to stop him!

I would honestly be glad, if he killed king Uther. But he has killed for the same man without any remorse for years. Because that's what nights do. And now he just proves where his loyalties lay. This Sir Leon is just like Hector! Murderer by blood!"

Gwaine stared at her, mouth slowly opening. As finally, everything seemed to click into place.

"I see.", he stood still, while he stared at her. Not knowing what else to say.
She was about to storm off in a rage, when Gwaine decided to stop her.
"Wait."

Unwillingly she halted.

"What happens to dragon kin, when they kill themselves?"
With a huff and scoff, Rebecca turned back to him. But Gwaine just got a feeling that something in this story was still missing. (3)
"Nobody knows, really.", she said. "It's not like it happens everyday.", she added painfully.

"But you're dragon kin. Shouldn't you have... I don't know... figured out -"

"No. I've heard some people say, my daughter would be at a better place now. That her soul would be free now. Or that a curse would be broken. Others say that a curse would be unleashed on her.
Some stories say, the dead are frozen in time. Others say they just move on to a new life.", Rebecca rolled her eyes at those ridiculous explanations and ridiculous hopes. Then her face fell from anger to pain and she hugged herself quietly.

"After everything we learned, I don't know what to believe anymore. It doesn't matter. Why are you even asking me this?"

"Have you actually buried her corpse?", Gwaine asked, blinking rapidly.

"Of course we have.", Rebecca rolled her eyes, starting to get really really angry at this.

"Then where do those rumors come from?"

"It's just stories we tell our children. Doesn't your culture have those?"

"Of course we do. But all stories have their history. Everything can be explained.", Gwaine paused.
"What was her name?", Gwaine whispered the last part, getting the strange sense that he already knew the answer.

Rebecca sighed once again, before turning around and leaving.
"HEY!", Gwaine asked again, a little caught of guard to be ignored like this.

"Her name was Freya.", Rebecca yelled back and that had Gwaine stop for the last time. Rebecca disappeared in the distance. But Gwaine stared after her, the name hitting him harder than he had suspected it would.

--------------------------------------------------------

Night fell upon them sooner than they had wanted. The knights had made themselves a camp, as they didn't want to risk sleeping in one of those houses again.
It was warm enough outside to just sleep in the grass anyway.

Lancelot and Elyan were chatting, while only a few of the villagers dared to sit with them. They listened to stories and jokes, but Gwaine was awfully quiet.

"Gwaine?", Lancelot finally asked, when the silence became unsettling.

"Hmm?", Gwaine asked, while he stared into the fire. His cup with mead completely forgotten and or ignored. Neither of which they would have believed possible.
"You've spaced out for hours now. Are you alright?"

"Not really, no.", Gwaine admitted, not bothering to hide his emotions. After everything they went through the past couple of days, he found it rather unreasonable not to trust his friends. They didn't need even more riddles to solve.
Lancelot was about to open his mouth, when Gwaine spoke up by himself.

"Do you remember when Freya told us why she was cursed to be a basted, before she met Merlin? She told us in the cave, remember?"

"Yes, why?"

"She told us that some man was forcing himself on her and she killed him in self defense?"

"Yes..", Lancelot blinked and frowned at the random question, while he tried to feed Alantrope who had snuggled against him. "Why are you -"

"I think she got her memories twisted."

Lancelot and Elyan shared a glance. "Gwaine?", Elyan asked, sounding worried all of a sudden.
"What did you figure out?" There was no question of how he knew. They trusted Gwaine. And Gwaine trusted them. And honestly, they had heard so much in the past 24 hours, they believed there was nothing that could shock them anymore.

"That man was Leon's uncle.", he looked up sternly.
Lancelot opened his mouth in irritation. "What?"

"Rebecca just told me. She said, her daughter, "Freya",", he made air serious air quotes, so they knew he wasn't guessing, but actually quoting her, "killed herself for what he did to her."

It was silent now.
"I think now you're getting paranoid! Freya is far too young to have known either of Leon's parents."

"Well... I think it's rather foolish to think that dragon kin can just kill themselves, when they're supposed to be immortal. And that immortality doesn't mean a prolonged youth or something."

"Leon's father -"
"It happened before he lost his immortality and made everyone share the same fate.", Gwaine shook his head. He knew they meant that the girl could have lost her immortality due to the same means that Hector had. But it was unlikely, since the knowledge still wasn't widely known among the dragon kin.

It was silent once again. "Gwaine, are you sure about this?"

"Yeah.", Gwaine stared into the fire still. "Look. Let's think about this. If the poison of dragons makes dragon lords mortal, because the attempt on the life of dragon kin counts as betrayal... what does killing oneself do to dragon kin?"

Lancelot and Elyan waited for Gwaine's conclusion.

"Rebecca said, that there are tales that when people kill themselves, they are frozen in time. Or a curse was lifted. Or that one was put upon them. That they move on to another life.
I've thought about this and so far, every legend we heard proved to be true. At least partly.
What if all of those tales are right? What if they were meant in a literal way?"

(A.N.:// Warning: The following paragraphs contain author notes about me loosing my marbles. I am sorry in advance.)

At this point, Gwaine was starting to gather all the information they had gathered and connected them to the final piece of Drakonier's history.
Finally, the last piece. (A.N.// I beg of you. Be the last.)
Everything was connected. Because everything always is. (A.N.:// *exhausted groaning *)
Everything! (A.N.: *exhales slowly*)

Every stone, every stick, every word has meaning. The smallest, tiniest piece of history can be the key to unlock thousands of secrets. (A.N.:// god, no please. Why.)
Thousands of stories that have yet to be heard. (A.N.// NOOOOO)

(A.N.:// The author's innermost despair was brought to you by me. The author. With the star guest: Rai. Which is also me. The amount of layers this story has is driving me insane. I'm sorry I interrupted your reading experience with whatever this is. Let's now return to less insane insanity.)

You just needed to listen. When you think about it, everything in life we encounter has this energy. You get a feeling, if it fits with your life, somehow.
Maybe it's a flower you like. Maybe a color you don't. But everything makes sense, once you give sense to it. You feel that it's right for you. Or that it's wrong.
And maybe that's what real magic is.

"What if, when Freya tried to kill herself, she was frozen in time, even while time moved on? What if, for her action, she was cursed to become a beast. But the curse on their transformation abilities was lifted? What if, in the time she was stuck in this circle, she messed up her memories, so she could finally forget what happened to her?
Or explain it to herself better? What if THIS is what really happened, and she just forgot? Maybe she forgot their faces and their names, while she ran from the pyre. Maybe she was stuck in that circle and never got out, until Arthur truly killed her? And THAT's why she became the guardian of Avalon and therefore Drakonier? Because she is from here? That's what gave her the right to become the lady of the lake?"

"This is a wild theory, Gwaine.", Lancelot muttered and Elyan nodded. The villagers however, were listening with wide open eyes, as if Gwaine's words made sense somehow.

"Unfortunately for you, Lance, my wildest theories usually turn out right.", Gwaine muttered.(3)

Lancelot blinked, sinking back into his seat. Elyan now also stared into the fire.
"Gwaine, if you're right..."

"Then what?", Gwaine muttered.

"I... I don't know.", Elyan admitted and looked away.

"I don't think it changes anything. I just thought... it would explain something.", Gwaine said and finally took a sip from his mead.

The night continued in silence. Nobody knew which question had just been answered.

---------------------------------------------------------------

"Leon?", it was dark inside the dungeons, when George arrived. The guards had already fallen asleep, which a disgruntled ex king was muttering curses upon curses about.
To be fair, George couldn't blame him for that.

There was a soft snoring coming from inside the cell. George couldn't remember ever having seen Leon sleep so soundly. While smiling. It was almost creepy. Almost.

"YOU!", Uther growled out and stepped forward to the bars and grabbed them tight. As if he was determined to curse George for his actions.
Ironically enough. Since Uther wasn't exactly known for his fondness of magic. But curses were okay. What a hypocrite.

"Yes, me. How long has he been asleep?", George asked, voice monotone and eyes cold.

"I don't have to answer to you!"

"Noted.", George turned his head, no longer interested in Uther's input. If he didn't want to answer, he was of no use to him. George went to grab the handle of Leon's cell.

"The door is locked, you can't -", Uther scoffed.
The door gave way without hesitation. It shut him up effectively.

"Leon?", George asked again and kicked Leon in the side. Leon only rolled on the other side, completely ignorant of George's behavior.
"Leon!", George said and kicked him again. Finally, Leon opened his eyes slightly.
"George?", he muttered in his sleep, as he registered his friend's voice.

"I wanted to tell you about tomorrow."

"Don't care.", Leon muttered and closed his eyes again.

"Leon, it's important!"

"Ask someone else.", Leon said and curled deeper into himself.

"Leon, tomorrow the curse on the dragons will be lifted. You will be left here, in the cells. You have to promise me not to kill Uther, even when my order on you lost it's effect!"

At that, Uther stepped back from the bars, letting himself fall back into the hay. Finally realizing the full extend of all the information he was missing. Because none of what George just said made any sense to him at all. Neither in context nor anything else, really.

"Yeah yeah.", Leon waved it off, completely content.
"Seriously, what's going on with you?", George asked and frowned, before he crouched down and stabbed Leon in the side with his finger.
Leon only muffled something to himself, which George could not hear at all.
"Leon!"

"I said, I'm no knight anymore. Camelot no longer concerns me!", Leon was still grinning happily.

"Leon, are you nuts?"

"I'm free George. Go and do whatever. I'll stay here and sleep. Bye." He had not opened his eyes during his dreamy state of mind.

George blinked and tilted his head.
"What are you even talking about?"

"I've denounced my knighthood. I will die for the crown no longer. I won't have to suffer anymore! Hey, George, do you think, I could be a dragon? That would be so cool!", Leon finally opened his eyes and grinned so wide, it made George physically flinch away.
"Oh god, it's happening. You're actually loosing your mind!"

Leon laughed, but shook his head, before finally sitting up a little.
"George, I'm serious! I thought about it. It would be awesome to be a dragon."

"Leon, you're a knight! You can't just break your vows!"

"You're a servant and overthrew the king!", Leon rose both his eyebrows.
"Touchè.", George admitted with a slight huff.

Leon sighed and sat up.
"Look, I know this sounds strange and all. But I really believe this is the right decision.
I've always devoted my life, my suffering to Camelot.
Now, I don't have to do that anymore. I will take a break. From all of this.", Leon waved his arms around in the cell.
"From stories and legends and wars and battles and all. I could travel the world!", Leon muttered to himself.

"Leon -"

" I could visit every place in this world and do absolutely nothing there!", Leon smiled again at the prospect of absolute freedom.

"Leon!"

"Yes, yes, I get it. Work is great and all. But I finally have the chance to do something for myself. I would be an idiot, if I didn't -"

"LEON!", George finally managed to stop him. "I get it.", he calmed down and sighed as he placed a hand on Leon's shoulder.
"Don't forget to write."

"Thank you, George.", Leon nodded. They clasped arms.
"It was a pleasure working with you.", Leon added.
"Likewise.", George agreed.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Of course, now that we have more knowledge on what had happened in between, Percival's arrival the next morning may now look differently than what you previously assumed.
George may be looking down on the knight from his throne, unimpressed.

But truth be told, he was just a little annoyed, because Arthur and Merlin were late. Also, Arthur's advisors stood guard next to him, as if George would burn them to a crisp in a matter of seconds. Eyes upwards, ready to deny ever serving Uther, if it would save their life from the dragon on the throne.

Arthur was supposed to sit there this morning instead. But the future king didn't seem to be in a hurry.
Well... why would he be? It wasn't like there was an impending war before them. No seriously, there wasn't. There was literally nothing to hurry for. No ships attacking, no rampaging knights on the loose. Everything was fine. The chaos was literally all in their minds.

"What on earth has...."

"Welcome back to Camelot.", George tried to smile, but his facial features just weren't made for such a display of emotions right now.

Percival slowly pulled out his sword, he shifted back into a fighting stance. His fellow knights blinked a couple of times, before nodding to each other and following Percival's example.
George bit his lip.
Of course this would happen. To them he must look like he had overthrown the king....
Which he had.
But not the way they assumed.

Thankfully, George was excused from the explanation, when Arthur and Merlin walked into the room. Both were panting, as if they had just realized how late they were. Or they had raced each other. With those two, it was always hard to tell.

George immediately rose from his seat and bowed. "My king, finally.", he muttered, causing Percival and the knights to startle and almost let their swords drop.
Poor knights. They had no clue what was going on.

"Your majesty?", Percival asked confused.
"You're here? But how?", then a darker look settled on him. "No, you can't be the prince! We have lost trace of him and Merlin -"

"Oh right, you don't know.", Arthur and Merlin exchanged a glance.

"Well. George, we'll leave it to Morgana and Gwen to explain. We should hurry back to the island, before Gwaine finds out where they hide their mead."

In truth, Arthur, or rather ME, was just too lazy to explain everything that's happened for the xth time.

"So, where is Ciril? Are you ready?", Arthur asked, hands stemmed into his side.

"Who is Ciril?", Percival muttered, while still considering whether or not to drop his sword.
That was, when Ciril entered.
Ciril were dressed in completely silver scales today. Their eyes a vibrant violet.
"I'm here my lord."

Let's just say, Percival did let his sword drop at that, but out of shock, rather than active decision.
The dragon looked battle ready, truth be told.
Their scales were practically breathing with their determination. No wonder. Ciril was ready to be freed.

"Good. Then let's hurry.", Merlin finally nodded.
"Yes, my lord.", Ciril said again, this time to Merlin. Which confused the arrived knights even further. It was like they had been thrown into cold water (5) to process this information which they could not decipher at all.

Notes:

(1) this part was actually written after (3), because I thought .... why not add ANOTHER flashback * eye twitched *

(2) The funniest part of this is, that for a moment I was actually convinced I was dealing with functional characters. Then I remembered who I was writing about.

(3) Not gonna lie, I just came up with this plot twist. The entire story is full of holes by now. I don't care. It's still fun to write :D
Though, admittedly, all stories write themselves. It's not like I have any control over anything. At least, not really. *sweats*

(4) To those of you who can't tell, this is a subtle reference to "connecting the dots", which is based on a buzzfeed unsolved meme and by far the craziest thing I've ever written. In the story Gwaine keeps guessing everything Merlin has ever done, while brainstorming theories with the knights. It turns out he's not a prophet, but a literal god. His theories aren't correct, moreover, reality is based on his theories instead.
I must say, Dragon island is getting dangerously close to craziness level though D:

(5) this is actually a German saying. Throwing someone into cold water means leaving someone alone with a task they have no idea how to do or don't feel ready to do unsupervised yet. It's done so the person figures out how to do stuff by themselves. It is, however, a cruel thing to do to every student, trainee, etc. etc..
Actually the direct translation would be "slammed into cold water", but that sounds weird in English. (German: Ins kalte Wasser schmeißen.)