Mostly because dead people don't talk back

21: Consolidation

Every time that Merlin becomes Dragoon, he feels so, so, old. That is the point, yes? But, even afterward, he feels his joints ache and bones strain under his weight.

He thinks that it is worth it when he knows he cannot die in the first place, to be able to feel what that would be like– to grow up.

.oOo.

Back to The Hovel he goes, transforming into Dragoon along the way.

When Merlin is not able to remount his horse, near to tumbling down and breaking a hip, he wonders why did he do this off of the horse? He has to have trouble every day, doesn't he?

There are footsteps of the knights sauntering up to him. It is Elyan, Leon, Gwaine, and Percival, making Merlin very nervous. Two of them he knows he can trust– they trust him, but Elyan and Leon don't know him fully. They don't know.

He turns to face his doom. "Ah. Gentlemen. What a pleasant surprise."

Leon moves first, as first knight. "We could say the same thing." He gestures with a hand, "You tried to help the King but all attempts failed due to something beyond all of us."

Something in him snaps, and he calms.

Oh. He was... trusted? He should not say what stopped him, then. "I believe so, Sir Knight."

Gwaine shifts forward, giving an arm out. "Please, let me help you mount your steed."

As Dragoon the Great, Merlin continues to word his way through, sassily. "What lovely manners. I do admire a man who says please." And he's up, ready to take off. "Thank you, kind sirs."

There are some nods of thanks.

"I trust you will visit the king when you can? He wants to make good with you after what happened."

Merlin nearly falters, when Leon says this. Also, Gwaine is looking directly at him in a way that reads I-know-you-somehow-and-we-need-to-talk. Ugh. Time to be unpersonable. "There is no need , the reaction was understandable and I doubt he would want my kind in the kingdom."

"But–"

"Good day."

He rides away, slow enough that he does not feel like he is running from his problems.

.oOo.

It is just as dusty as he remembers.

There are pots and pans, the rope he was hung up with earlier, bookshelves, and a sad bed. But where, oh where, is the mother Fomorroh? He continues to rifle through her stuff.

Soon, Morgana returns, firewood in her arms, and is startled when Merlin snarls at her, fleeing the room.

He's surprised and thinks it over, but he shrugs it off and continues searching.

Morgana creeps back in slowly, fear in her bones, knees, and eyes. She knows that Emrys would be her doom and recognizes him from one of her prophetic dreams. "You're not real."

"Whatever you say!" Merlin plays along, knowing this would give him time to look for the snake. He plays along until he finds it, but now Morgana has connected what he is doing in her Hovel.

Morgana moves forward to stab him, and he blasts her back with unspoken magic.

"I'll just grab this and go." He finally leaves the hovel as fast as he can (when he is this old it is not that fast), and is knocked around by Morgana yelling in the tongue of the Old Religion.

"Ablinn ðu, forlæte ðu!"

The jar goes flying.

Morgana smiles and hurries forward, ready to stop her doom. "So, Emrys, it seems you'll not be my doom after all."