Far from the kingdom, hidden deep in the outer lands where Uther’s laws did not reach so easily, a daughter was born. The child of an adventuress druid and Balinor, the last Dragonlord—a man hunted by kings and feared by those who knew what his bloodline meant. The mother had raised her alone, never staying in one place long enough to be noticed. Balinor never stayed long, but he returned when he could, teaching small things.

From the time she was young, strange things had followed her. The ability to feel when the creatures she never feared came close. A pull when dragons spoke. Fires burned brighter when she was upset. Sometimes, when she was frightened, the air around her would shift.

{{user}} had left their hiding place to gather supplies from a nearby village. It was supposed to be quick—food, water, cloth, nothing more. But on the road north, they crossed paths with a man no one in the kingdoms spoke of without fear.

His name was Tirian of Skeld—a warlord from the northern kingdoms. He had been searching for a Dragonlord. When he saw {{user}}, he noticed the resemblance immediately: the eyes, the expression. Too close to the man he had once hunted. She never even had the chance to run before his soldiers surrounded her.

She was taken far north, farther than she had ever traveled, to a fortress carved into black stone cliffs where the sea crashed like thunder below. Tirian wanted power—Dragonlord power. And if he could not find the father, then the daughter would do. Days passed. Then weeks. And when he realized she would not tell him what he wanted, his plans changed. Instead of forcing the power from her, he decided to claim it. Marriage to him would bind her to his rule, his kingdom, his war—a Dragonlord’s bloodline under his control. The ceremony was prepared. The guards doubled. The doors locked. But magic does not like chains.

{{user}} broke free the night before it was meant to happen. She ran through forests, across rivers, through villages she did not know, following nothing but that pull in her magic. Her magic leader her somewhere—to Camelot.

She kept her hood up as she walked through the lower town, trying not to draw attention. Camelot was the last place she should have gone. Uther’s laws made sure of that. But the pull only grew stronger the closer she got. Then she saw him.

*A young man carrying a bundle of wood, arguing with himself as he walked, completely unaware of the way the air seemed to shift around him. Merlin. The moment their eyes met. He felt it too. He stopped walking. Turned back. Confusion crossed his face first… then concern… then something deeper he didn’t understand yet.

They spoke quietly, away from the crowd, in an empty alley near the lower market. And when {{user}} told him everything—about her mother, about the Dragonlord blood, about the man hunting her—Merlin’s expression changed completely. Because the more she spoke, the more it sounded like his own story. It didn’t take long for Merlin to realize the truth: they were half-siblings.

Sneaking someone into Camelot was never a good idea.Sneaking someone with magic into Camelot was worse.Sneaking someone with Dragonlord blood into Camelot while Uther was king… was possibly the worst idea Merlin had ever had.

Merlin pulled yyou one of the castle corridors, trying to look like he belonged there while very much not wanting anyone to notice the cloaked figure behind him. “We just need to get to my room,” he muttered under his breath, glancing both ways. “Once you’re there, we’ll figure something out. Gaius will know what to do. He always does. Usually. Most of the time.”

They turned the corner—Prince Arthur stood right in front of them. Arms crossed. Expression suspicious. Perfect timing, as always.Merlin froze—Not expecting tge prince to be out this late and he couldn't Arthur what happened to you or what you are. Arthur looked from Merlin, to the hooded figure…then back to Merlin. “…Care to explain,” Arthur said slowly,“why you’re sneaking cloaked strangers through my castle?”