Chapter Text
Kilgharrah has never had visitors before.
He had expected visitors, of course - one lanky, idiot of a warlock, many years down the road - and yet, even this visitor was a surprise.
He was deep in slumber when something prickled at his conciousness - a familiar warmth that brought on nothing but death to his kind. He opened one scaly eye and gazed upon the frightened face of a small child, no bigger that the horns above his eyes. He uncurled his long body from where he had curled up and rose to his full height, watching with satisfaction as the boy began to shake.
Belatedly, Kilgharrah noticed the small sword the boy held menacingly; as much as a child can look menacing with a small, clearly blunted sword. He couldn't help but laugh - a full, throaty laugh that has not escaped him in years.
The boy turned red in the face and tears brimmed on his eyes out of embarrassment; a picture of a toddler about to throw a tantrum, and it made Kilgharrah laugh that much harder.
"Stop that!" The boy yelled, stomping his foot in anger.
"Ah, ha ha ha," Kilgharrah laughs," so, the brave, young prince has come to slay the dragon at long last,"
Kilgharrah moves his massive head closer, swinging over the chasm that separated him and the ledge where the fuming boy stood. Up close, Kilgharrah must have looked more threatening, as the anger faded from the boy's eyes, and Kilgharrah noticed the boy gritting his teeth in an effort to remain calm.
"Yes," the boy said, raising his chin at Kilgharrah before brandishing his sword in a good, but off-balance immitation of his father.
"Hmm," Kilgharrah hummed, " good stance, but a poor appropriation of what you knights do, but very good for a whelp - your father must be proud!"
That gave the boy pause.
"How do you know my father?"
"The same way I know you, little prince. How does Uther-" Kilgharrah hissed out the name as if it turned into acid in his jaws-" fare, little Pendragon?"
The boy dropped his stance in surprise, his face scrunching up in confusion.
"How-"
"I am magic, Prince Arthur, how else?"
Prince Arthur's mouth moved much like a fish, Kilgharrah mused, but no words came forth.
"I may be old, but my vision is sharp as ever. These ancient eyes have seen all, be it yesterday, today, tomorrow - you may try, but you cannot hide anything from me,"
Prince Arthur's eyes widened at his words, " You see everything?"
"If destiny dictates it, it shall not escape my eyes,"
"Destiny..."
Prince Arthur lowered his sword to the ground and dropped it with a clang. He raised his hands awkwardly, as if to show him unarmed - or to shield himself from harm. He stepped forward, closer to the ledge.
In a low voice, just above a whisper, as he were embarrassed to say," Can I ask you a question, then?"
Kilgharrah let out a curious rumble - do his senses deceive him?
The son of Uther Pendragon, butcher of all things magic, is asking him, the Great Dragon, a question?
"Curious," Kilgharrah says, crossing his front legs together to give an air of pondering," are you about to consort with a magical creature, litttle prince? What would your father say?"
"No! That's not-"
Kilgharrah couldn't help but laugh again, ignoring Prince Arthur's distress.
"Ah, calm down, young prince. Ask away, and perhaps I shall answer, hm?"
"But you said - and I won't - I won't break my father's law!"
"Ah, a little fun goes a long way in these trying times, little prince. Ask away, or not, it's your choice; it will also be your loss, should you choose not to,"
Arthur's face scrunched up, torn between his father's law, and the need to ask and receive an answer. Kilgharrah watched his face twist as he grappled with himself, amused at the certainty that whatever question wished to have answered, it held importance in the prince's heart.
It left him wondering what question would leave such a young boy torn?
One can only imagine Kilgharrah's surprise when Arthur lifted his head to meet his eyes to ask : "Will anyone love me?"
Kilgharrah was taken aback at such a naive question.
Will anyone love me, he asks with such seriousness, it was laughable. Kilgharrah would have laughed, too, had it not been for a deep seated sadness behind the boy's eyes.
He chuckles instead, not mockingly, but from a place of understanding - he didn't lie when he said he saw everything; although even the blind can see that, although Uther loved the boy, he was only loved for he is the heir and the last remnant of Queen Ygraine on this earth.
"Will anyone love you?" Kilgharrah mused," yes, for many reasons,"
The boys eyes lit up, but his face remained blank, a picture perfect noble holding court.
"For your titles, your power, and your wealth, many will love you. For your bravery, and power, for your looks and your body, many more will love you,"
The boy looked so hopeful that it almost hurt ehen Kilgharrah says the next part.
"But for you? None truly will. Many will love the prince, and many more will love the knight. But Arthur? None shall love Arthur,"
"Not one?" Arthur asked ," but you said they will love the prince! I'm the prince; how could they not love me? Say it plainly!"
Kilgharrah waited until Arthur had finished speaking before he spoke," You are Arthur; the boy. You cry, and hurt, and love and show mercy because you're a boy,"
"I don't cry! A prince doesn't cry! And all those other things - "
"And yet, you do, when the squires hit too hard. You cry when your father is disappointed with your training, when he says it's not good enough," Kilgharrah drew close," your heart bleeds for mercy and sorrow when sorcerers burn for their crimes," he whispers into Arthur's face.
"No, that's different! And no one saw that, no one, it doesn't count!"
"Ah, but it does, Arthur. They will love the perfect prince, a mask worn over your true self in public, never shedding a tear for criminals. They will love the knight who fights for them in wars, they will love the prince who waves and smiles prettily when he patrols the town,"
"But they won't love Arthur who loves to draw. They won't love Arthur who weeps when he aches, who yearns for a mother's love. They won't love Arthur who wishes for a friend to hold him when he is in pain; no citizen of Camelot will,"
Arthur seemed to shrink in on himself, crushed beneath the weight of what he had learned. From where Kilgharrah sat, he could see tears forming around Arthur's eyes, threatening to spill. Arthur was shaking, desperately reigning in his emotions.
But he was only one boy - eventually the tears fall. Arthur cries, but Kilgharrah is surprised at how he doesn't sob - he thinks of a child who had cried too many times and is too tired to sob, only letting the tears fall as they wished.
"No one..." Arthur murmured.
"Take heart, young prince. There may yet be one that will," Kilgharrah says, a sudden sound in the quiet of the cavern.
"But you said -"
"There is one who shall love Arthur, the boy who shall become man, and care not for the prince. He is a stranger, not yet here, but will be. He will love Arthur as he is, and he will let everything else fall to the wayside,"
"He shall hold your heart, and guard it with his life. And you? You shall hold his in return -" Arthur perked up in interest - "only to break it,"
Arthur flinched.
"What?"
"You shall break his heart many times over, and he shall piece it back together, just for you to hold it and break it again. He shall burn himself for you again and again, but his love for you shall never waver. So long as you hold his heart, it shall be a cycle that will never break,"
"That's not fair!" Arthur yelled, crying again," how can I hurt the one person to love me, and have no choice in it? That my destiny is to hurt this person because of their love for me?"
"Yes,"
"No, there has to be - I refuse to accept that!"
Kilgharrah paused to think. Maybe...
"If you wish to keep them from harm, then be the prince they see you as. Be noble, be kind. Do not lose yourself to the paltry tricks your court is very fond of,"
Kilgharrah looks to the ceiling of the cavern, and chuckles.
"And if you wish to escape punishment, might I suggest you run back to your chambers - one of your maids is about to wake you for your studies,"
Arthur jerks backwards, and without saying a word, turns to run up back the way he came. He darts back for a second to grab his discarded sword, and throws a thoughtless thank you at Kilgharrah before disappearing from view again.
As Arthur's footsteps faded, Kilgharrah chuckles.
"Ah, he will grow to be a prat, that one," he mises as he settles back on his rock, already feeling sleep wrapping around him like a shroud ,"he shall be a handful for you, young warlock,"
"This will be fun," Kilgharrah murmurs to himself before slipping into peaceful slumber once again.