The Warlock and the Dragonlord

Merlin couldn't breathe. The smoke rose in the air, swirling. Blocking out the stars and moonlight. The flames were the only light in the night as Merlin grasped his Uncle's hand, tears rolling down his face as they ran for the trees. Uncle Gaius had warned him to be quiet, and though Merlin ached at leaving his mother behind, he knew there was no choice in the matter. Hunith had been killed, there was no saving her, and the fire that engulfed their home told Merlin that they would never be coming back.

He stumbled a few steps in trying to keep up with his Uncle, but kept running, Gaius' hand helping him keep from falling to the ground as he practically lifted him up every time he started to go down.

They just had to get out of there. Just had to get to the forest, and maybe they would be safe there.

Merlin knew shock. Uncle Gaius was a healer and had taught Merlin some basics, and he knew himself to be in a state of shock. Not only losing his mother, but because of those that had come to attack the town. They weren't normal people. Their masks were the first indicator that something was clearly wrong, one having landed right in front of him. He remembered the words muttered under breath as he pointed some stick at Merlin, and could feel the magic that had shaped itself to follow the man's command.

Even more than that, though, Merlin remembered his own magic jumping in front of him in defense as some sort of shield. The other magic broke against the shield and redirected. With that as a distraction, Gaius had grabbed his hand, and they had run for it before Merlin could see the man's retaliation or response to Merlin's magic, the fear that Merlin had used magic in front of someone else dampened by the fear of the men invading their town.

Why weren't they following?

Merlin wanted to ask his Uncle, but he knew he couldn't. They had to stay quiet.

Maybe they had all been distracted by other people. He hated the idea of anyone else getting killed. Merlin wished he could fight — protect the others; it was very tempting — but he knew that despite his ability to use magic, he still had no sense of control over it. Not enough to be able to use it in that way. It was more instinctive than purposeful.

Merlin was convinced that they only survived the next few days in the forest because his family had packed up emergency kits that Gaius had been smart to grab before they left. They had a few bottles of water that they were able to ration, quite a few bars and crackers, a few packets of tuna. All things that wouldn't stretch much further. He hoped that Gaius knew where he was going, and that they would get somewhere safer and more populated soon.

"Do you think Will made it out?" Merlin asked one day, voice quiet and despondent.

"Will was leaving with his grandfather to visit family that night. I hope they headed out before they came." Was his Uncle's answer. Merlin felt an inkling of hope. He prayed his friend was okay, even if he never saw him again.

It seemed as though his Uncle aged years in just days. Merlin felt he himself had as well. Grief of losing his mom weighed heavily on both of them, but Gaius was good at bringing Merlin out of his head. It helped that his Uncle was honestly more like a father to him, having been there his whole life, helping Hunith raise him.

When they finally reached the next city, they found the nearest cafe, and Gaius settled in to read the headlines of the newest paper he could get his hands on. Merlin grabbed his own as well, noticing that his town was not the only thing that had seemingly been attacked or broken otherwise recently. A bridge had collapsed, and other towns decimated. He wondered how many of those had to do with those masked men, and why most of the incidents didn't say anything about these magical beings. Even the one about the town only spoke of people coming in, mass shooting, causing fires. No hint of magic or even the creepy masks.

In the days following, Merlin and Gaius found themselves without a home. Gaius got them situated as well as he could in any homeless shelter or safe enough alleyway. Not too long later, Gaius got himself a job at a nearby clinic. Merlin was allowed to wander the halls of the hospital and the park outside the side doors. He found himself borrowing any book he could from the library, anything at all he could on magic, whether fiction or supposedly real. Anything he could to try and learn what this secret of his could do. The librarians thought he was just a kid obsessed with the idea of magic, some nearly cooing at him, others offering good recommendations. Merlin just smiled at them, chatting them up.

In reality, he never wanted to be so helpless again.

Arthur waited all summer, a bounce in his step, checking the mail each day — waiting by the window whenever his father wasn't paying attention. Uther knew Arthur's been the one to get the mail each day, but his dad didn't seem to mind.

And that's why, as summer stretched on and he still hadn't received his acceptance letter to Hogwarts, he felt something settle hard further and further down in his stomach.

As Morgana returned to school that year, sympathy in her eyes for him, yet excitement for herself, Arthur swallowed down his bitterness and smiled at his sister. He wanted her happy, of course. Even if he couldn't feel the same happiness.

"Go learn lots this year, sis," he told her cheerily. "But write me letters, please? I wanna hear all about it."

"Of course." She smiled at him, pulling him into a hug. "I'm sorry that you're not joining me this year. Though, after everything last year, I've heard that it's been…" She eyed him. "Well, this year will probably have a lot more restrictions. You've seen the news."

Arthur nodded, though he wasn't sure exactly what she was talking about. There had been quite a lot of catastrophes recently, but what did that have to do with Hogwarts? Maybe the school was just trying to be more prepared for any emergency. Arthur knew that his own school would probably have new rules and practices in place in case of whatever emergency arose.

"Anyway." She ruffled his hair, smiling pleasantly at him again. "I will see you for the holidays."

"Of course," Arthur replied, keeping the smile on his face as she walked to meet her friends on the platform. He kept his smile on his face so that if she turned around she wouldn't see him cry. But he had to fight back the tears. As soon as he was standing alone, the train having pulled away, this time on the platform instead of outside of it, Arthur wrapped his arms around himself and bit his lip.

"No tears," he muttered to himself, looking around to find that he truly was one of the only ones left on the platform. He needed to leave.

He didn't right away, staring at the tracks, and wishing he could have slipped onto the train before it left. How fast would he have been caught? Maybe it was a magical train and would have booted him right back off.

He snorted at the thought, dropping his arms, and quickly walking to the pillar to walk back out.

What a dull life he was destined to live. Since he didn't have magic, his father was determined he'd be the heir of his company. He told Arthur he had to take all his classes seriously so that he could get into a good law school. He was also expected to be in sports, probably football or rugby. As those were his father's preference. He'd be busy with school, extra curriculars, sport practices, and studying.

Well… what else would Arthur do, if not what his father wanted anyway? His hope had been to join his sister in Hogwarts, and obviously that hadn't succeeded. He just wasn't special enough. So maybe it was time to do it his dad's way.

He signed up for football that night. The tryouts would be in a week when school started. He signed up for debate club, his father sitting with him and going through the list of all the classes and clubs he wanted Arthur to take. Arthur just nodded and added as many of the things as he said, hoping to see that proud smile on his face, the one he gave Morgana. He didn't see it yet, but maybe, as he got good at these things, he would.

That year he stayed busy. His only friends were those on the football team, but he rarely had time to hang out with them, even if he'd wanted to. The clubs took his evenings, so he ate late. His homework had to be finished even later.

He was stretched thin, but he didn't care. He was too hollow to care.