His feet slogged through the dew-soaked grass as Merlin made his way to a clearing in the woods. It was the dead of night, and high time he found some answers. Waves of telepathic energy cascaded across the landscape, reaching out like a voice that called for help. He heard the sound of wings behind him, and a heavy landing of dragon feet.
"What troubles you, young warlock?" Kilgarrah's voice reverberated through Merlin's mind. "Is it Arthur?"
"Not this time, at least directly," the young man spoke into the night. "It's Braith, King Beowulf's daughter. She's... there's something she's hiding. And it might have to do with a recurring dream I've been having since she arrived here."
"It's only natural for a person to have secrets," came the riddled response.
"But is she dangerous? To Camelot, I mean."
"No man or woman, no matter how great can know their destiny, Merlin. That is for her to decide."
"You've said that before," he said, impatiently crossing his arms in the cold.
"I will say this now, Merlin, and heed these words - she is a threat to your destiny. To the future of Albion. Stay away from that girl, you'll be better off," spoke the gruff tone in his head.
"But she's hiding something, I know it!"
"And you'll have to ask her yourself to find out! I do not know her mind and her thoughts. Only she does. Let this be your last conversation on good terms. Take my advice." The great dragon left, without another mental word, and after a moment, so did the warlock. Braith, he realized, had a promise to keep.
---
The young lady of Dane was up early that morning, sitting at the table and pouring over a volume whose foreign alphabet she could not yet understand. She hadn't been sleeping well - the thought of all her Northern freedom lost to the ring of an English Prince, and her gods torn from her by law. It was no kind fate for a Viking child. A knock came at the door, and she opened it without much thought.
"Gwen, come in, please," she invited warmly. The servant girl still felt a bit strange in Braith's presence. It was a lot to ask of her - that Arthur's attentions were not with his soon-to-be-wife, but a lowly maid. Somehow, the Dane was not disturbed by this. Gwen suspected that was because Braith had some similar feelings in mind. This made her snicker when she remembered her reason for coming.
"I've got a message for you, my lady," she said quietly.
"Again with the titles..."
"Sorry, Braith. Merlin said something rather odd to me when I saw him downstairs, and I thought you might like to know."
"Really? What did he say?" the princess asked, plopping down on the end of her bed in relaxed curiosity.
"He said that you were going to get a terrible headache this afternoon, and that you'd need something to dull it. Does that make much sense to you?"
Braith smirked.
Gwen knew she'd been right.
"So much sense it hurts."
---
It was about suppertime when a knock came at the physician's door. Gaius himself was out treating a patient, which Merlin had luckily been aware of. In fact, it was the young servant who answered the door, not his mentor.
"You're certainly a cheeky one."
"So Gwen got you my message?" he said to break the awkward tension.
"Oh, the headache's a one like you wouldn't believe," she moaned in jest, dramatically putting a hand across her forehead before taking a seat. Merlin laughed. "So why did you ask me here?"
"I need that promise you owe me," his voice dropped, surprised by her bluntness - before remembering that perhaps she knew less of the language than he thought.
"I will keep my word."
"Right, I'll get to the point. There's something going on here."
"Oh?"
"That steward appears out of nowhere, claims you're dead, before shouting some cryptic message about Arthur being sorry for laying eyes on you - I think I've got evidence of something."
"What exactly is it you want to know?" she sighed as he sat down next to her in a chair.
"What is it you're hiding?"
Her face became slack and pensive, as she leaned back from the table. She took in a long breath, watching him, as if choosing her words.
"If I told you that, you would give me to the king's men. I would be killed."
The warlock paused. "Are you saying you've committed treason?"
"Having more than one god is no treason," she spat. "And knowing their way is no crime either."
"I know, I know," he backtracked quickly. This seemed a subject close to her heart - and it was lodged dearly in his own.
Growing up, he had been taught to pay his respects to all gods, for that was the practice of a wise man. Who knew how quickly favors could turn. His mother had been raised in a Christian family, but his father - one to practice the old ways - had further loosened her already open mind. And as for "knowing their way" as the Dane spoke of it... could that be... some sort of sight? Or even...
Merlin was in a rather unique position then, to understand how this wayward Northerner felt.
"I think..." he began, wet his lips, and started over. His words were tentative, fraught with fear and intrigue. "I think that you and I... might be alike."
A pause. The young woman's eyes narrowed, and her head turned to the side. "We are alike...how?"
The warlock panicked for the space of a few breaths, wondering if he'd gone too far. Now he would have to explain himself - expose his secret.
But she didn't seem to be looking for an answer. Without her irises changing in color, darting away from his gaze for only a moment, a stack of papers was blown from the table, though there was no wind. A tense and pregnant silence followed her demonstration.
So he had been right - she had magic. Was she a threat to his destiny, as Kilgharrah had said?
The girl's eyes were downcast now, away from his. "Mine is not as strong as others'. I was shown by one of the women who raised me. She taught only small things - commoner magics. Blessings, charms. No one would kill another for possessing this knowledge - not in my homeland. But here," her face changed into one of contempt and disgust, "I've been told Uther has slaughtered all the pagans."
"Yes. He did."
Both of them were silent for a long time. Old doubts about her marriage to Arthur returned to her mind. She would be forced to renounce the traditions of her people, and take up those of her new husband. What a wound that would make.
"You worship old gods, do you not?" came her voice, surprisingly soft.
He nodded, shifting his attention from the flame of the candle to the intricacies of her face. Thick, barbarian lips, strong straight brows, a thin white scar near the corner of her mouth and another above her opposite eye. As rough as she appeared, there was a down-to-earth honesty about her that struck him - maybe too the enthralling air of her low, hoarse voice - all of which he found rather attractive.
"You are a strange one, Merlin. It feels different to speak with you than it does any others," she reached over and clasped his hands in her own. "We are equal in our secrets, both told and heard. I trust this will be kept between us?"
"Of course."
She smiled in relief. "I am glad to know that there is someone else in this land as divided as I."
Merlin didn't know what to do. The dragon had told him to stay away from her, but here was a kindred soul, just as lost and lonely as he was. A seldom-acknowledged part of him wanted to lunge across the table and kiss her. Another long pause came when they broke eye contact, and Braith exhaled a shuddery sigh. The Dane girl wasn't about to stop now.
They conversed into the hour past nightfall. She told him the story of her birth - one that turned out quite similar to Arthur's - a mother-queen who could bear no more children, a prayer to the gods, a life for a life. He learned too more of King Beowulf's legacy, and that her family had inherited the throne of Danes by accident - a gap in the succession, and that her ancestors were from Götaland, not the Mark.
She looked at him in the candlelight. A new light, more like, and an intrusive thought dashed through her mind. Arthur's in love with your servant, why shouldn't you want his? It'll give life great ironic symmetry, argued her mind.
Why not?
A war hung in the balance.
Eh. War could wait.
They stared each other in the eye for a long while, learning things about the other that talk could not reveal. So close yet so terribly far...
A knock came at the door, startling both enough to jump back into their seats, as well as back into reality. Any romantic thoughts were scattered abruptly from their minds. Braith was royalty, and already betrothed. Merlin had been warned away, for she threatened his destiny.
"Anyone in there?" said Arthur's voice from the other side of the door, accompanied by more pounding. Merlin got up to let him in, silently scolding himself for what he'd thought about doing. Arthur had come because of a broken arm he'd earned himself during yesterday's tournament. "Braith! It's a surprise to see you here."
"I've got a splitting headache..."
____________________________________________________
A/N: In this version, the dragon uses a form of short-range telepathy, like Saphira from the book Eragon. I just found it strange that his mouth moved in the TV show.