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When the dragon rampages Camelot, Uther knows there is one person he must resort to. He knew who he must find the moment he saw the monstrous fire-breathing creature laying waste to his kingdom. But something in him refuses to acknowledge it, refuses to let him admit he needs help from that specific sorcerer.
In the end, it is Gaius who takes the first, cautious step. He leads the conversation as someone who is known to have dabbled in magic and who has ample reason to have known a Dragonlord. Belatedly, Uther realises it would have been strange for him to suggest such a person. The King of Camelot, knowing a sorcerer? It is unthinkable.
Uther watches as Arthur accepts the mission dutifully, feeling strangely nostalgic. Arthur has grown much, and he will be a fine ruler someday. Once he learns to put the kingdom above his own wants, he may create a legacy greater than Uther’s own. Already, he has battled many opponents of Camelot and solved problems caused by magic.
Uther’s eyes stray to the serving boy standing at the edges of the room. Merlin, he thinks his name is. Coal black hair and a skinny frame characteristic of peasants. But, for a moment, his image overlaps with someone else’s. A different boy with the same hair, obsidian eyes, and a fond smile. A young man with burning black eyes and an expression of betrayal and despair.
Uther blinks, and Arthur’s servant stands alone. His heart is beating fast, and his gaze is frozen on the boy’s figure. Blue orbs meet his own.
“Merlin!” Arthur’s annoyed voice calls, and the serving boy quickly follows him out the door. Uther faintly hears Arthur scold the boy for dawdling.
Uther dismisses the rest of the knights before heading to his chambers. He spends the walk there barely paying attention to what is going on around him and almost bumps into a maidservant carrying laundry. He shouts at her for her carelessness then orders her to fetch Gaius. Uther does not have to wait long in his chambers for him to arrive.
“Sire,” Gaius greets. “Why did you call for me?”
“Has Arthur departed?” Uther inquires.
“Yes, I believe he has.”
Uther stares at Gaius. Truthfully, he does not know why he sent for him. He may have been feeling off since the council meeting, but it is not a grave enough ailment to warrant a physician. He concludes it must have been some lingering shock due to his confusion with Arthur’s serving boy.
“With Merlin?” he asks.
Gaius stiffens, but it is so slight that Uther may have imagined it. “Yes, Sire. He is his manservant, after all.”
“Yes, of course,” Uther agrees. He does not know why he asked when the answer is obvious. “You were the one who proposed to find the Dragonlord.”
Gaius noticeably tenses this time. “I apologise if I overstepped.”
“No, he is the logical choice – the only choice we have.” Uther pauses. “I want you to answer me truthfully, Gaius. Have you been in contact with Balinor since the Purge?”
“No, Sire. I have not been in contact with Balinor.”
Uther scrutinises him. “Very well. You may leave now.”
“Yes, Sire,” Gaius says as he shuts the door behind him.
Uther sits at his desk full of documents and important matters of the kingdom and tries to distract himself from the strange haze he has been in. He wonders briefly if he was somehow enchanted but dismisses the thought. No sorcerer could have gotten to him without being noticed.
It is when he is going over the trade reports that it happens. Uther has started to get bored and has been frequently glancing at the window overlooking the training grounds. Then, he hears a familiar, body-chilling voice.
“Uther, you look as distasteful as the Lady Imelda when you scowl like that,” a boy teases, his voice faint as if carried by the wind.
The chair scrapes across the floor as Uther shoots to his feet. “Come out and face me, sorcerer!” he shouts.
Two guards barge in with their swords drawn. Upon seeing no immediate threat, one of them asks, “Sire, what happened?”
“Conduct a search for a sorcerer!” Uther orders.
“Yes, Sire!” they salute. They turn to the door, before suddenly freezing and exchanging glances.
“What is it?”
“Sire, the knights are currently handling the dragon,” one speaks up.
Impatient, Uther demands, “Tell everyone in the household to search for a sorcerer. You will oversee the search.”
“Yes, Sire!” the two guards repeat before rushing out.
Now alone again, Uther can hear his own loud breaths and feel the hammering of his heart. He surveys the room closely, finding nothing. He calls warily, “Balinor.”
When no answer comes, Uther sits back down and puts his head in his palms. Of course Balinor won’t just appear. They haven’t seen each other in over two decades, and the last time they met, they unanimously ended any ties they had to each other. Balinor would have no reason to face him now.
Uther returns to his paperwork. Some time later, a guard reports that no sorcerer has been found.
Two days after, Arthur arrives, bringing news of the Dragonlord’s death.
He explains that the Dragonlord had agreed to help with the dragon, but that their camp was ambushed by bandits. Balinor consequently died by a bandit’s sword. The Knights rally around Arthur as he calls for help to face the dragon. They volunteer despite certain death. Uther knows he should be proud for the loyalty his son has instilled in his subjects. However, all he can feel is an emptiness and the familiar haziness from before. Everything seems so far away, and he doesn’t feel like himself as he finally dismisses the council.
“Uther,” Gaius says, and he realises the physician stayed behind.
“Yes?” he asks.
“If you would permit me to speak freely.”
“Of course,” Uther agrees.
Gaius looks as if he is bracing himself. “Balinor was my friend too.”
Appallingly, Uther almost flinches. He casts his eyes to the side so Gaius won’t see his inner turmoil. “Gaius,” he warns. “I do not know what you are trying to say, but I hope you do not mean to imply I have emotional ties to a sorcerer.”
“It is understandable if you do,” Gaius states boldly. “Balinor, after all, was a significant figure in your childhood and in the early days of your adulthood. You may no longer care for what he represents as a Dragonlord, but the close bond you shared may not have disappeared so easily.”
“Friend or not, you are treading on dangerous ground, Gaius.” Uther’s voice is icy.
Gaius bows his head. “I apologise, Sire. I will take my leave now.”
Once left alone, Uther can’t get Gaius’ words out of his head. Him, King of Camelot, attached to a sorcerer? It is absurd. And yet…Uther stares at the dragon on Camelot’s crest and, for once, feels a slight bitterness.