Characters: The dragon
Summary: Kilgharrah sits and waits
Prompt:Whispers in the night
Author's Notes:Wanted to write something like this in forever. This prompt was the perfect reason to finally do it. And please read this with a huge grin on your face, it helps ;)
Thanks to the sweet mods (I don’t even know who to thank!!!) for the beta and the suggestions and simply for dealing with Bunish
For twenty long and arduous years, Kilgharrah sat and waited.
The king had betrayed him, had betrayed magic, had betrayed the very earth itself. And the dragon wanted revenge: Uther Pendragon had to pay for his actions.
As time passed, Kilgharrah sat in his cell and eavesdropped on the people of the kingdom, feeling for any possible ripple in magic. He kept track of where the key players in his little game were--what they did, what they said.
After awhile, listening to the chat of the kitchen maids and the bragging of the knights had grown quite boring, and it seemed that the king was more stubborn and strict in his views about magic than ever. The young Pendragon grew up to be his father’s son, but Kilgharrah felt that not all hope was lost with him.
Two decades after the Great Purge and his imprisonment, the dragon had yet to find a way to get back at the traitor.
Until that one day, where he had felt the first ripple in magic. His head shot up when that powerful source came closer, and when he was sure that it was in the castle, he called out to it, to him. What a surprise, to find a meager human radiating such strength suddenly standing before him! And there it was, the plan to finally bring Uther Pendragon to his knees.
So he told the fragile-looking creature great stories about destiny and mentioned the “two sides of the same coin” so often he almost began to believe it himself. The simple and naive peasant in front of him soaked up every word.
From that day forth, Kilgharrah had renewed interest in following the conversations around the castle. The way the king insisted on his son getting married and eventually producing an heir made the dragon smirk knowingly. The way the young warlock tossed and turned at night, moaning the prince’s name led to a full grin on his scaly face. And while he knew he shouldn’t listen in on the young Pendragon as he pulled at his sex, the sounds that poured from the mouth of the boy born of magic were just too amusing. As were all the secret sentiments exchanged between the prince and the young warlock.
The night he heard Arthur whisper, “I love you, Merlin,” Kilgharrah threw his head back and roared with laughter.
His day had come.