"Three gold pieces says he falls." Leon whispered out of the side of his mouth.
"Make it six," Gwaine told him.
Merlin probably hadn’t noticed, but there was a crowd gathering around his tower, all necks bent back to watch him as he clambered out of his window and onto the slippery cone roof.
Finding another dragon egg had been a dream come true for Merlin, so he’d been over the moon for months, completely neglecting all better judgement that told him how high maintenance babies were, particularly babies with wings and who could breath fire. His ignorance shattered shortly after the dragon hatched. Baby dragons listened to no one, apparently, not even Merlin. So there he was, Merlin Emrys, Court Sorcerer of Camelot, Dragonlord and the most powerful warlock known to creation, climbing up on a roof to drag a moping baby dragon back into his pen.
"He’s a decent climber," Leon conceded, " and Gwaine nodded. "Probably magic."
"Or you’re just a sore loser," Gwaine said.
"Haven’t lost," Leon insisted.
Merlin looked a sight, dressed in his blue Watch robes, wind-puffed hair and all. He was bickering with the dragon at the top of the spire, the Dragon-speak sounding decidedly less noble that it normally did, shouted at a high pitch by an insolent hatchling. For however steady Merlin seemed on his current perch, progress was slow going.
It was around this time that Merlin’s apprentice, Ilenna, stuck her head out the window and began shouting abuse at her Teacher’s inability to “use his brain before breaking his neck” or something to that effect. It was difficult to tell with her brogue. Merlin yipped some excuse to her, and she growled. She ducked back inside, and returned shortly thereafter holding something in her hand. It was a broom. She straddled the windowsill and looked around, and set the broom outside to hover mid-air. Then, after tucking her hair behind her ears and folding her skirts beneath her, she sat on the broom handle like a bench, and floated it up gracefully to where the baby dragon was clinging to a weathervane. She spoke to it briefly and quietly, and it climbed up onto the broom next to her. She floated back down and into the window. Merlin looked furious.
The audience tried not to laugh. But once Merlin climbed back down and fell into the window, they finally allowed themselves to chuckle and wander away. Gwaine looked smugly up at Leon, one of the few who wasn’t laughing. “That’ll be six for me,” he smiled. Leon fished around in his pocket.