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Heavy is The Crown (Harry Potter) Chapter 74: Lore Drop (2)
🕑 Added 2025-07-18 16:36:20 +0000 UTC[Third person POV]
“Wait… what? Explain. How do I have the blood of a True Dragon running through my veins?” Arthur asked, completely taken aback by the sheer weight of the revelation.
Merlin’s expression grew somber. “The events that led to this go back centuries—farther than most records even dare to whisper about. Back before even the time when the original Arthur was born. As you already know, before I became the personal tutor to Arthur Pendragon, I served as the grand mage to King Uther himself.”
She paused, her gaze drifting off as if the memories pained her. “During my service under King Uther… I did many things I’m not proud of. Most of them at his command. Some out of loyalty. Others… But that doesn’t excuse what happened.”
Arthur leaned in slightly, his curiosity piqued even as his instincts told him he might not like the answers.
“That said,” Merlin continued, her voice heavy, “I can’t place all the blame on Uther alone. I had a hand in it too. I’m just as guilty. And as much as I hate to admit it, Morgana’s hatred for the Pendragon bloodline wasn’t without justification. In fact… her resentment was rooted in something very real, something very personal.”
Arthur’s brow furrowed but let her continue keeping Cosmo close to him.
“You see, Morgana’s father was ambushed and killed—an ambush orchestrated by King Uther himself. Using my magic, he disguised himself as Morgana’s father and… used that identity to violate Morgana’s mother. Repeatedly. Under that false guise, Uther conceived a child—Arthur.”
Arthur felt his eyebrows twitch for a moment but said nothing.
“However I didn't place the magic on Uther for the fun of it. I asked for compensation. King Uther quite literally made a deal with the devil. In return for placing the disguise I would take the child conceived in their union, the boy who would become the future king.
And when word of Duke Cornwall’s death spread, Duchess Igraine—Morgana’s mother—had little choice but to marry King Uther. And thus began Morgana’s deep and festering resentment toward the Pendragons.”
Arthur’s face was unreadable—caught between a grimace and exasperation. After a moment of silence, he sighed heavily. “I don’t… I don’t even know how to respond to all that. I can’t begin to untangle that web of trauma and madness. Let’s… please, just move on. I want to know how the bloodline itself came to be. How did dragons become part of this?”
Merlin nodded gently. “Very well. The first of the Pendragon line, as we know it, was King Uther. His ideology was simple, yet brutal: to rule a kingdom, one must possess power—real power. And in those days, there was no power greater than that of a True Dragon. Not the lesser drakes or wyverns, but the primal, godlike beings that roamed the skies in an age long gone.”
Her voice grew distant, as if she were reliving the events. “Back then, dragons still visited our realm. They came not only out of curiosity but sometimes out of conquest. And Uther… he didn't want to slay just any dragon—he wanted the dragon, a True Dragon, one whose essence could be harnessed.”
Arthur’s eyes widened. “So… what did he do?”
“He formed a massive expedition—an army, really—and I was among them. We traveled for months, perhaps years, seeking a creature powerful enough to match Uther’s ambitions. Eventually, we found one.”
She closed her eyes. “The battle was unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Entire battalions turned to ash. The skies themselves wept fire. By the time it ended, few of us still stood. And by sheer fortune I was the one to land the final blow.”
Arthur swallowed hard. “And then?”
“Then came the most twisted part,” she said mysteriously. “Uther ordered his men to bathe him in the dragon’s blood every day for an entire month. He consumed nothing but the dragon’s flesh, drank only from its melted fat. Madness consumed him during that time, but when he emerged… he was no longer just a man.”
Merlin looked Arthur dead in the eyes. “He became the first of the Pendragons. The magic, the strength, the resilience—it wasn’t symbolic. It was real. His body was infused with remnants of the dragon’s power, and that strength passed down through his bloodline.”
Arthur stared at her, stunned. “Did he… even know that would happen? That his bloodline would become something… more?”
Merlin laughed softly, the sound filled with weary irony. “From what I remember? Not at all. He was just that insane. He did it out of obsession. Out of desperation. He never planned to start a bloodline of dragonkin. He was chasing strength… and stumbled into legacy.”
Arthur shook his head, clearly overwhelmed. “Unbelievable…”
“Oh, it gets better,” Merlin added with a sly grin.
Arthur blinked. “Better?”
She nodded. “The only reason we were able to defeat the True Dragon in the first place… was because it wasn’t fighting just for itself. It was protecting something—an egg. When the opportunity came, I pretended to target the egg to draw its attention. That moment of hesitation was all I needed to strike the final blow.”
Arthur’s eyes widened.
“As Uther claimed the body of the dragon,” she continued, “I quietly took the egg. I kept it hidden. Nurtured it. And years later, I gave it to Arthur—your namesake—as a gift. That egg eventually hatched and became the dragon known as Seraphenex, the mighty beast bonded to Arthur in legend and that now guards the Pendragon Vault”
Arthur stood frozen, his mouth slightly agape, eyes wide with disbelief. “That… honestly explains so much,” he murmured. “Now I understand why I started crying the moment I saw Seraphenex. My bloodline must have been reacting to her presence…”
‘No, the bloodline had absolutely nothing to do with that, but sure…’ Merlin thought with a sigh, though she managed to suppress her amusement behind a calm, knowing smile. “Fate is twisted, isn’t it?” she said gently, allowing him to draw his own conclusions.
She let the silence hang for a moment before continuing. “Now, when I say bonded, I mean that in a very literal, magical sense. You see that mark on your hand? That’s not just a scar or some symbolic brand—it’s the manifestation of the bond you’ve now formed with Sylvia. The two of you are no longer separate.
You’re connected—one life, one heart, shared between two bodies. If she were to die, your soul would collapse from the void she leaves behind, and your body would follow shortly after. And should you fall… well, while Sylvia may not die instantly, the psychological and spiritual trauma from the severed bond would be so devastating that it often leads to madness or suicide. That’s the price of a True Bond.”
Arthur stared down at his hand, his expression somber. “So it’s a life-and-death connection… Were there others like this in the past? People who were bonded with dragons, or was that only ever a privilege granted to the Pendragons?”
Merlin folded her arms and looked thoughtful. “That’s a bit more complicated, but I’ll try to explain it as clearly as I can. Yes, there were others outside of the Pendragon line who formed bonds with True Dragons. The practice—what we now call ‘Bondcraft’—was in fact created by the True dragons themselves. They chose who they wished to bond with, regardless of lineage or bloodline. The dragons were the arbiters, the ones with the final say. That said, it was extremely rare for them to bond with humans unless there was trust, respect, and a deeply rooted sense of purpose between them.
“But during the height of King Arthur’s reign, something extraordinary happened. With Seraphenex at his side and the blood of a True dragon flowing through his veins, Arthur was able to extend the gift of bonding beyond himself. He and Seraphenex developed a ritual that allowed other noble and worthy individuals to form sacred bonds with magical beasts, provided both parties were willing. It was a divine act, not just a magical one.”
Arthur’s eyes widened with curiosity. “So members of the Round Table had bonds too?”
Merlin nodded with a fond smile. “Indeed. Sir Percival was bonded with a Phoenix, a majestic creature born of flame and rebirth. Sir Gawain’s partner was a mighty Griffin—noble, proud, and fierce. Sir Kay, ever tempestuous, was bonded with a Thunderbird, whose storms could level entire mountainsides. Each bond was as unique as the knight who held it, and it enhanced their abilities in ways that made them legendary.
“The reason the Pendragons were unique, however, was because of the blood of a True Dragon flowing in their veins. That blood granted them the ability to create and maintain bonds on a level others could only dream of. It was called the Art of the True Dragon—a sacred, inherited magic. But over time, as the generations passed and the blood thinned, the potency of those bonds diminished. Pendragons could still bond, but the strength of those connections grew weaker. Eventually, they could only bond with lesser dragons or magical beasts—not the ancient, powerful beings of old.”
