He woke to cold.
Not like the chill of winter, not the bite of morning air. But a bone-deep, inescapable cold that made the stone beneath him feel warm. His eyes fluttered open. Nothing familiar. Only rough walls, a low ceiling blackened with smoke, torches flickering somewhere far above, and a body… not his own.
Small. Thin. Arms too short. Legs uncertain. Yet a strange strength hummed beneath the skin a strength that seemed older, older than it should be, like fire sleeping in his veins.
"Where… am I?"
The voice was high, youthful unfamiliar. Panic rose. He swung his legs over the edge of the cot and almost fell, catching himself against the wall. His hands, small and pale, flexed instinctively.
How had he…?
Memories surged flashes of another life: lectures, traffic lights, phones, skyscrapers, wars he knew but hadn't fought, names he didn't understand. And beneath it all… a faint, distant roar, like the echo of fire, of power, calling from somewhere deep inside him.
He shook his head violently. "No… this isn't real."
But the feeling of being watched pressed at the edges of his awareness. A gentle, impossible weight, and beneath that, something ancient, untamed, simmering…
Hours passed in confused wandering. He tried to stand properly, only to trip over his own short legs. He tugged at his tunic and sleeves, realizing his hands could not reach as far as he expected. The smallest tasks lifting a basin of water, opening a door, even walking across the room felt like exercises in frustration.
Every failure stoked panic, but also curiosity. He explored the rough stone walls, peered out tiny windows, and tried to make sense of the strange smells: smoke, wet earth, wood polish.
And then came the sound of footsteps rapid, sure, commanding, He froze.
"Arthur!" a sharp voice called.
Arthur's heart thudded. His chest felt tight. He peeked through a narrow slit in the wall and saw a taller boy running across the courtyard, laughing as he dodged a smaller, stumbling figure.
Is that… me?
(A/N: Merlin casted an illusion to fool Kay so he can talk to Arthur).
Arthur's mouth went dry. The boy tripped over a bucket, arms flailing. Every movement looked impossibly clumsy and yet, he felt… familiar.
A sudden laugh drew his gaze upward.
"Such a pitiful display! Must I do everything myself?"
Arthur's heart jumped. A figure leaned from the roof: tall, impossibly beautiful, hair like white snow, eyes bright with mischief. A staff rested casually in his hand. His smile was teasing, confident, playful.
"You …who are you" Arthur muttered uneasy.
"Who, me?" the figure said, voice smooth and dripping amusement. "I just like to watch the small, fragile humans squirm. Fascinating, really."
Arthur's chest tightened. Fragile? I'm… a boy again… but something inside me… feels… stronger…
The figure leapt lightly into the courtyard. "You look lost. Do you always frown when you wake up in strange bodies?"
Arthur stared. "I… I don't know where I am…"
"Ah, excellent," the figure said, clapping slowly. "Lost and confused. My favorite combination. Very promising."
Arthur's mind spun. This was impossible. Yet the figure's presence felt important… and fun. And beneath his normal fear, a spark of something else something powerful stirred.
---
Minutes, or maybe hours, passed before Arthur managed to clumsily descend the stairs. He stumbled repeatedly, nearly knocking over a water bucket and earning a sharp scolding from an older servant.
From above, Merlin's white hair glinted as he laughed. "Pathetic, yes," he called, "but entertaining! I do love a little struggle. So… human. Keep trying, little one. That is the first lesson."
Arthur scowled. Why is he always here?
Merlin floated down with effortless grace, landing just a few feet away. "And yet… something about you… hm, fiery, restless… promising. You remind me of something ancient. Something… red."
Arthur froze. "Red…?"
Merlin's grin widened, enjoying the reaction. "Oh, don't worry about that now. Just know… there is more to you than meets the eye. More than any boy should have."
Arthur clenched his fists, frustrated, irritated, and unsettled. "I don't need lessons from you!"
Merlin leaned closer, voice soft but teasing. "Oh, but you do. Everyone does, eventually. You'll understand… when the time is right."
Arthur groaned, dragging his small feet through the courtyard. And yet… even as he scowled, a quiet heat began to pool inside him, a subtle fire that felt… right.
The morning was spent in repeated failures: carrying water, balancing on narrow steps, even attempting to join the running children without falling.
Each stumble reminded him that he was no longer the adult he once was, and each small victory a bucket carried, a dodge not failed sparked a strange thrill in his chest,
Kay's teasing cut through the air again.
"Move it, slowpoke! You're so stiff it's pathetic!"
Arthur clenched his teeth. I am not a
slowpoke! But his legs betrayed him, wobbling as he tried to match the older boy.
Merlin hovered above, arms crossed. "Ah, that hesitation… fascinating. Every falter tells a story. Keep it up, little one."
Arthur's frustration boiled over. "I don't need your advice!"
Merlin chuckled softly. "Oh, but you do. You will learn to survive, even if you don't like it. And perhaps… you'll even enjoy it."
Arthur growled, annoyed beyond reason. But slowly, with small, careful steps, he began to feel the rhythm of this body, the subtle strength hiding in his short, small frame. The Red Dragon inside stirred faintly, pulsing under his skin, a whisper of the future and power yet to be realized.
---
By afternoon, Arthur had begun to manage simple tasks with minimal mishap. He carried a small bucket of water, dodged Kay's jabs, and even helped a younger boy lift a bundle of straw. Each small achievement was a spark of confidence, though Merlin's laughter and constant teasing never ceased.
"Pathetic… but promising," Merlin said, circling above like a hawk. "That fire… that restlessness… yes. One day, it will roar. But not yet, little one."
Arthur pressed his hands to his chest, frustrated, exhausted, and still irritated beyond words. And yet… deep inside, something stirred: curiosity, excitement, and an ember of determination.
Maybe… I can learn. Maybe… I can survive. Maybe… this fire inside me… can be controlled.
Somewhere deep in his memory, a whisper lingered:
You will become someone important. You will remember. You will change everything.
Arthur shivered, annoyed, frustrated, and… somehow thrilled.
For now, he was just a boy.
But even a boy with the Red Dragon inside could notice when the world and especially the bastard Merlin was watching.