When Arthur was born, a hot, dry wind blew through the room's window.
"A dragon wind," Nimueh said. "Your son will be strong."
Ygraine smiled weakly and died.
Arthur wailed. Not for his mother - he didn't even realize she was gone - but because the wind had died and left only the frantic flutterings of the servants to replace it.
When he was very, very young, there were dragons. He had a dim memory of deep, huffing breaths that stirred his clothes. There were deep, rumbling voices too, voices that he felt in his very bones.
Then, of course, the dragons were gone.
His whole life, Arthur had been watched constantly. The presence of another watcher barely registered until he was five years old and managed to slip away from Gaius and up onto the top of the garden wall.
Careful, young prince. You have no wings to catch you if you fall.
Arthur froze. There was no one there but himself. "Who are you? Where are you?"
I am Emrys. And I am in a terribly cramped cave, as I have been for the past year.
That wasn't reassuring. "Why are you in a cave? How can you see me? How can you talk to me?"
I am in a cave because your father is a prat. As for the rest, well, dragons can do many things.
Dragons. Arthur's breath caught. He remembered dragons. He slithered down the wall. "Can I see you?"
That depends on how good you are at sneaking past guards.
"Very good," Arthur assured him.
A brisk dragon wind began to blow.
Arthur crept into the cavern at the end of the tunnel. The wall torches sputtered as the dragon flew down to the ledge.
The dragon was immense. Glittering gold scales like the Pendragon crest covered the vast form. The torchlight made them seem molten and lit up the huge eyes that sparkled with the light of stars.
Emrys landed and lowered his head. "You'll catch flies like that."
Arthur snapped his mouth shut. Curiosity had it open again. "Why were you watching me?"
Emrys' eyes glazed with remembered visions.
Arthur cutting loose his chains, and Emrys flying to freedom.
Arthur on his back, whooping with exhilaration as the wind picked up as they dived.
The force of his wingbeats pushing down the grass as he flew low toward where Arthur fought at Camlann.
Emrys shook his thoughts clear. "Destiny," he intoned.
Arthur's face screwed up in confusion.
Emrys sighed. "Also," he admitted, "I'm very, very bored."
