The Lost Dragon blood (Patreon)

"You know your mother and I love you very much," Ector began, warmth filling every word, "and we consider you our son, even if we're not the same blood."

"I know, dad," Arthur beamed. The boy sat perched up on the leather chair across from him, looking so small as he dangled his feet off the edge. Arthur was only five summers old - and yet old enough for him to be told what Merlin deemed a necessary lie.

"He has powers, Lord Ector, and there's no way around that."

Ector remembered the talk with Merlin, that night all those years ago, in this very same study. But in a stark contrast to the comforting, warm sunshine bathing the chamber now, a thunderous storm had been raging that fateful night, heavy rain battering against the windows. Casting long, deep shadows over the sorcerer as he explained to Ector the great responsibility that was placed on his shoulders.

"Some lies are necessary to protect, surely you can see that. His Majesty King Uther has faith in you."

Ector understood, and was happy to take on the child. He knew he had been given a rough start in life - a father who only needed an heir, not a child, and a mother who was forced to conceive him - and wanted to offer the boy the comfort and happiness of a loving family.

"Arthur cannot know he's a Pendragon."

Merlin had a soothing way about himself. A calm, smooth voice that slid over you like a knife through warm butter. Soothing, yes, but also sharp. In the way a predator may pacify prey. After all, these matters they discussed in the darkness of Ector's study were no trifle things.

"Arthur," Ector talked slowly, fiddling with the walking cane resting against his armrest. He'd carved the head himself, fashioned in the shape of a bird. "There's something important I have to tell you, now that you're older and you may better understand."

The boy's eyes widened and he scooted closer to the edge of the seat.

"It's about those powers of yours, Arthur. Your...ability to speak to dragons, and the others."

Arthur perked up, his face lightning up. "My fire?" He held out his hand, making a little spark dance in his palm.

"Yes," Ector chuckled, shaking his head. "Now put that out, please." He'd had to teach Arthur that he should only use his fire when he was around his adopted family. And so the boy took that as invitation to summon the flames whenever the opportunity arose.

Arthur obliged, closing his hand thus extinguishing the fire.

Ector went on, carefully choosing each word. "As I was saying, these powers of yours are not unlike King Uther's. But they're not unique to the Pendragons, either. There used to be more families like them, with these abilities. More dragon bloods. But over the years, they've...disappeared."

It's true. Years of wars, disagreements and dragon hunters had taken a disastrous toll on the people bestowed with the power of dragons. Three bloodlines perished - yet the Pendragon line went on. Uther himself helped to this end, his hands stained with the blood of his own kind.

And here's where the lie came.

"A harmless lie, to protect the boy."

"That's what people think, at least. But they haven't all disappeared."

Arthur listened intently, brow furrowed. 

"You're one of those people, Arthur. A survivor."

"Uther has many enemies. It's of utmost importance that the boy knows as little about his connection to Uther as possible. It's to keep him safe. You do understand, don't you, Sir Ector?"

Lightning struck at that moment, showering the study in bright, blinding white light. Illuminating the sorcerer's grave expression. The thunder that followed seemed to impress upon Ector the gravity of the situation, and when its rumbling had subsided, the man answered, equally somber, "I do."

Merlin smiled, a chilling smile. "Good."

Arthur gnawed on his lower lip, eyes wide with wonder.

"It's very important that no one finds out, Arthur. Only Kay, your mother and I must know. And when you become squire, you'll share it with your dragon companion. But no one else must know." He spoke gently, yet emphasized every word, holding Arthur's gaze steadfast. "It's for your own safety. Do you understand?"

Arthur nodded earnestly. "Of course!" It was endearing, how he tried to school his expression into a serious one, fighting back his eager smile.

Ector smiled too. But his smile was sad, strained.

For heavy is the head that wears the crown.