A/N: The title is cheesy as fuck, don't judge me too hard for that, it's 1am and I'm loopy and tired, and the whole fic is just one giant fluffball anyway. Here's that oneshot of Raime's dragon ride. Everybody loves Raime so I thought I'd give a glimpse into his family (mostly because someone deserves to have a normal happy home life *glares at scriptwriters who make everyone's lives miserable for the sake of angst and drama*). They'll likely never show up again, but they're there. In case anyone was wondering. Okay, I'll shut up now.

Merlin made his way through the courtyard with a spring in his step. He might have to spend the whole afternoon with an unbearably smug Raime, but the sun was shining and Aithusa was whole, healthy, and happy; there was no downside to that. And Raime was a fun kid, really, so Merlin didn't mind spending time with him. Hopefully his gloating would stop when he got in the air.

Merlin had foregone his crown and formalwear for the day, opting instead for the comfort of the plainclothes he still preferred. Even so, the townspeople moved out of his way, smiling and bowing as he passed. A few of them even called greetings to him, and he waved back. He was getting better at recognizing faces and remembering names; he only had so much time he could devote to wandering the town and mingling with his people, but he made an effort to come out at least once a week to check on the newly settled refugees and see how they were faring.

For all his forays into the lower town, there were still a few people Merlin had yet to meet. He wove through the streets, leaving the busy marketplace behind in favor of the more residential areas, little houses leaning on each other for support. He counted in from the crossroad, four to the left, and stopped in front of a squat cottage with bright yellow hangings in the window. He knocked.

The woman who opened the door bore a striking resemblance to her son: the same round face, blonde hair that bordered on brown—most of which was wrapped up in a faded red headscarf, just as Raime had said—and wide hazel eyes. Her eyes widened further when she realized who it was that had stopped by for a visit. She dropped into a low curtsy so quickly that she almost lost her balance entirely.

"Your Majesty!" she said. "What an honor—"

Merlin reached out to steady her. "That's really not necessary, ma'am," he said. "Surely Raime's told you that."

"Oh yes, sire," she said, hastily straightening her skirts and setting herself to rights again. "Not one for formality, he says."

"Definitely not. And besides," Merlin added with a smile, "I assure you, the honor is all mine." He took her hand and kissed it.

She tittered, her cheeks red, and patted her head scarf as if to make sure that all her hair was still neatly in place.

"Oh my, yes, well—" She cleared her throat, finally rallying from her shock. "To what do we owe the pleasure, my lord?"

"I'm here to retrieve your son," Merlin said. "We have an outing planned."

"Oh yes!" she said. "The dragon ride, of course! He hasn't stopped going on about it for days!"

"I would have had him meet me at the stables," Merlin said, "but Raime's been in my employ for over four months now and I thought it was criminal that I hadn't yet had the privilege of being introduced to his family."

"The privilege, he says!" she laughed, pressing a hand to her chest. "I don't know about all that, but I'm Belinda just the same. My husband Rupert is out at market. He should be home shortly. Raime and Lizzie are in the back. Oh!" she said suddenly. "Come in, do come in, sire! My poor manners, forgive me."

Merlin let the plump little woman usher him inside. The cottage was warm and cozy, filled with well-worn furniture and fresh-cut flowers. Everything about it made Merlin smile.

"Raime, King Merlin is here for you!" Belinda called, bustling around and coming back with a plate of biscuits of a pitcher of ale.

There was a loud crashing noise and then Raime was skidding out of the back room, only halfway through pulling on his jacket. His hair was a mess but he was grinning broadly. "Merlin!"

"Lizzie, come meet the king!" Belinda said. She was answered by a long and very reluctant-sounding whine, to which Raime rolled his eyes. "Lizzie," Belinda repeated, brooking no argument this time.

A girl of maybe fourteen came trotting out behind Raime, her head down and her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Merlin could see why she was so against being seen at the moment: her curly hair had been chopped short, barely brushing her chin in a style very against the popular trend. Belinda ignored her daughter's sullenness and tugged her over to stand in front of him.

"Sire, this is Lizzie," she said. "Say hello to the king, Lizzie."

"It's Elizabeth," Lizzie muttered, but she curtsied anyway. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty."

"And you as well, Elizabeth," Merlin said.

Belinda tutted when Lizzie didn't respond in any way. "Don't mind her," she said in a conspiratorial whisper, as if Lizzie wasn't right there to hear her. "One of the boys down the way put pine sap in her hair and we could not get it out for love nor money. Had to cut it in the end. She's barely said a word since, too caught up in the 'woe is me' stage of grieving for her luscious mane."

"I think it looks quite nice as it is," Merlin said to Lizzie. "It suits you. And it would look even better—" Merlin conjured a ribbon out of thin air, blue to match her skirt, and held it out to her. "—with one of these."

Lizzie looked up at him then and her frown gave way to a wide grin. She took the ribbon from him and immediately wrapped it under her hair, tying it in a neat bow on top of her head. Her mother brought out a small mirror and Lizzie all but squealed in delight.

"Thank you, sire!" she said. "It's lovely!"

"It wouldn't look half as lovely on anyone else," Merlin said and was pleased to see Lizzie straighten her stance, head held high as she glowed under his praise.

Raime let out an exaggerated groan. "Now she'll never shut up about you," he cried. "I'll have to listen to her gush and fawn over you for weeks!"

"Will not!" Lizzie said.

A rag collided with the side of Raime's head and he yelped in surprise.

"Be nice to your sister," Belinda said sternly, tucking the rag back into the string of her apron while Raime rubbed his head and looked indignant.

Merlin snorted. When Belinda raised an eyebrow at him, he put up his hands. "Sorry," he chuckled. "Just...my mum used to do the same thing to me."

"She still does," Raime reminded him. "She whacked you good just last week. You, a grown man!"

"And I deserved it," Merlin said with no shame. "A life lesson from someone much older and wiser than you: you are never too old to listen to your mother."

"That's right," Belinda said.

She licked her fingers and began smoothing down Raime's hair, somehow managing to keep him in her grasp even as he tried to wriggle himself free with a noise caught halfway between disgust and utter humiliation. He finally managed to get away just in time for his escape to be foiled by the front door opening to admit a very tall man with a sack over his shoulder. The man paused in the doorway, looking baffled at the scene before him.

"What's all this then?" he asked.

"Da, look what the king gave me!" Lizzie cried, rushing forward and bowing her head to show off her new bow.

"That's lovely, kitten," he said, giving one of her curls a tug. "The king, you say?"

"Oh yes! My lord, this is my husband, Rupert," Belinda said. She kissed her husband's cheek and told him, "King Merlin's here to take Raime out on that ride he promised."

"The dragon one?"

"Yes, sir," Merlin said, holding out a hand. "I'm pleased to finally meet you." Rupert shook it firmly. Then he gave Merlin a long, hard look through narrowed eyes and Merlin had the distinct impression that he was being tested.

"Is it dangerous, this dragon ride?" Rupert asked. Raime groaned and his mother shushed him.

"No, sir," Merlin assured him. "Safer than riding a horse. Aithusa won't let him fall. And even if he did, I certainly wouldn't let him hit the ground. Your son will be completely safe with me. I give you my word on that."

There was a lengthy pause as Rupert evaluated his sincerity. Then he smiled. "Good," he said, clapping Merlin on the shoulder. "Because if my boy gets hurt, I'll break your arm, king or no."

"Da!" Raime cried, mortified, but Merlin had to laugh.

"Understood, sir," he said.

Then Raime was pushing Merlin toward the door and saying, "Goodbye now, we're leaving, I hate you all."

"Have fun, son," Rupert called after him, completely unconcerned by Raime's dramatics.

Merlin tactfully waited until they reached the crossroad before laughing aloud. Raime tried to shove him over but he was a skinny thing and it wasn't very effective, which just made Merlin laugh more. He got himself under control just as Raime started showing signs of going into a proper teenage sulk.

"Sorry," Merlin said, making an effort to sound sincere.

Raime humphed.

"Your family's nice."

"They're embarrassing."

"All families are," Merlin said sagely. "But they love you, and that's worth a thousand embarrassing moments."

"I guess. Sorry if mum came on a bit strong," he said. "She's excitable, that one is."

"So are you. Like mother, like son."

Raime all but gasped and immediately shouted, "You take that back!" When Merlin just laughed, he tried push him again but Merlin pulled him in and ruffled his hair, ignoring the whines of protest and the number of funny looks they were getting from the surrounding townspeople.

Raime fought his way free and said, "My mum would have your head for messing up my hair. She just fixed it!"

"It'll be a mess after the flight anyway," Merlin said with a shrug. "It's windy up there."

"Is it really?" Raime asked, eager now. "It is cold too?"

"Shouldn't be too cold now in the season, but colder than it is on the ground."

"How fast can he go?"

"I don't really know," Merlin admitted. "Aithusa hasn't been flying on healthy wings up until now, and Kilgharrah's so much bigger."

Raime skipped ahead, then turned back, then ran forward again, too full of energy to walk at Merlin's sedate pace. "This is gonna be so great!"

"Remember," Merlin called after him. "I can't guarantee that Aithusa will take you up. The only times Kilgharrah gave me rides were when I ordered him to, and I won't do that to Aithusa just so you can have a jaunt."

"No, I know that," Raime said, falling back in at Merlin's side. "I do, but still. He'll probably let me. And even if he doesn't, I haven't gotten to see him since he was healed so that'll be nice. Does he look good?"

"He looks magnificent," Merlin said, a flash of white scales and ephemeral wings playing out in his memories. "Pure white, twice the size he was before, and smart enough to put Kilgharrah to shame."

Raime whooped in triumph; he had long since adopted Merlin's own disdain for Kilgharrah's particular brand of cryptic pretentiousness, even though he had never encountered the old dragon himself. In his little celebration, he nearly managed to punch an old woman going about her shopping, and Merlin quickly dragged him away before he could hurt somebody.

The guards nodded to them as they passed through the city gates, weaving between townsfolk and travellers with their carts full of wares for the market. They made it through the traffic and out the other side with minimal jostling—Merlin reveled in the moment of anonymity, even if it did result in a bruise or two—and then they were free, taking off into the woods and following the path that was slowly but surely being worn through the underbrush by Merlin's repeated trips to this particular clearing.

Merlin couldn't help but stop at a patch of clover and pick a few, aware that a physician could never have too much and sure that Atticus would appreciate the addition to his supply. Raime's curious look prompted an explanation of clover's medicinal properties, followed by thistle's and comfrey root's and willow bark's. Hardly ten minutes later, they both had an armful of herbs.

"Should've thought to bring a gathering sack," Merlin laughed, watching as Raime juggled roots in an attempt to keep everything from spilling out of his hold.

"You could conjure one, you know," Raime said. "If you wanted to be helpful instead of laugh at me."

"You know, it hadn't even occurred to me," Merlin admitted, feeling very silly indeed. "I'm still getting used to the idea that I can use magic for whatever I want. I forget sometimes."

Ignoring the squawk of protest, Merlin dumped his load of herbs on top of Raime's and conjured up a burlap sack, which he then held out for Raime to dump everything into. Rime tried to hand it back but Merlin hummed in contemplation and then shook his head.

"What, I have to carry it?" Raime asked, affronted. "Why should I have to carry all of it?"

"Well, you are the servant," Merlin pointed out, strolling on with a shrug. "That's sort of what servants are for. I should know."

"What happened to you not needing servants? To sharing our burdens and all that rot? To being equals?"

"We are equals, Raime," Merlin said. "However, I spent years and years carrying bags three times that size for hours on end. I have paid my dues, and I deserve to never have to carry heavy things ever again. Now it's your turn. Besides, it's not even that heavy! It's mostly leaves!"

"And roots!" Raime cried indignantly. "Do you know how many comfrey roots are in here?"

"You're a scrawny little thing, you know that?" Merlin asked musingly. "How'd you end up so small when your dad's so tall?"

"Excuse you," Raime snapped. "I'll have you know, I'm in the middle of a growth spurt. Pretty soon I'll be taller than all of you!"

"I'll believe it when I see it."

Merlin ignored Raime's dark muttering for a long, satisfying moment before he caved. With an exaggerated roll of his eyes, he plucked the bag—really not that heavy at all—from his manservant's hands and slung it over his own shoulder; they were nearly there anyway.

The clearing was devoid of dragons when they reached it and Raime ran out into the center, spinning around and looking up to the sky as if he expected them to be hovering there awaiting his command. Merlin dropped the herbs at the forest's edge and hid an anticipatory smile. He waited until Raime was facing the other way, completely distracted, before throwing his head back and roaring out the dragon's call.

Raime nearly fell off his feet in surprise. He whirled around to stare at Merlin with wide eyes and his mouth hanging open, speechless in his awe. Merlin waited patiently for him to gather himself.

"That," Raime said slowly, "was...amazing!" He let out a bark of laughter, looking to the sky again, turning around fast enough to make Merlin dizzy just watching. "Was that the real call? Are they on their way? Did you call them both or just Aithusa? How long does it take for them to get here? Can they hear it from anywhere in the world? Is it always that loud? How does it feel? Does it feel weird to do that? It sounds like it would feel weird."

Dazed by the onslaught, Merlin took a moment to try and sift through all the noise to find a question he could actually answer, but the sound of wingbeats forestalled him. Aithusa's wings shone a pale yellow as they eclipsed the sun and the downdraft from every beat rustled the treetops. Raime stumbled back to Merlin's side as Aithusa circled the clearing. He landed gracefully in the middle of it and gave a full-body shiver like a cat before settling his wings primly along his sides.

"You called for me?" he asked.

"I did," Merlin said. "Raime here has got a question for you."

A sharp elbow collided with Merlin's ribs and he yelped in pain.

"Okay, fine," he amended, rubbing his tender side and shooting Raime a very disgruntled look. "I have a question for you on Raime's behalf."

Aithusa tilted his head to the side, somehow both regal and curious.

"We were wondering if you might take Raime up flying with you," Merlin said. "As a boon granted for services rendered to the kingdom. Obviously you don't have to, but I would consider it a personal favor if you did."

Aithusa perked up, his tail whipping around his feet and his wings extending eagerly. He lowered his long neck so he could be on a level with Raime and leaned in close enough that Raime almost overbalanced backward, intimidated by the dragon's newly-acquired size.

"You wish to fly, little one?" Aithusa asked.

"I'm not little!" Raime repeated for the hundredth time, too offended to be wary anymore.

Aithusa let out the churring noise that was his form of laughter, a holdover from the years in which he'd had no real way to give voice to his amusement. "It's not a bad thing, being little. It just means you still have room to grow. I'm still little too."

"You're huge."

"Maybe compared to you humans. But when you put us in perspective, really I'm even smaller than you are."

"You're still big enough to fly, and big enough to take me with you!" Raime said. "Will you? Take me up, I mean. Would you please?"

"For services rendered, you say?" Aithusa said to Merlin.

"He spotted the danger before anyone else," Merlin said. "He tried to warn me about Kara and I didn't listen."

"More fool you."

"I know. That's why he deserves a reward. Are you up for it?"

Aithusa lowered himself to the ground and swept his wings back out of the way. "Climb on," he told Raime.

Raime was frozen for a moment, apparently surprised that his wish had actually been granted, and it took a nudge from Merlin to get him moving. Then he scrambled forward, trying to figure out how to actually mount without the saddlehorn and stirrups he had to help him when he rode horses. With a boost from Merlin, he finally managed to get settled on Aithusa's back, nearly vibrating with excitement.

"Now hold on tight with your knees," Merlin called up to him. "There isn't much to grab onto so that's about all you've got to steady you. It's nothing like riding a horse, trust me. Be careful of sliding too near the wing joints; you're liable to get slapped if you get too close in mid-flight, and the up-and-down of it might throw you off."

Raime looked stricken.

"Not actually throw you off the dragon entirely," Merlin backtracked. "More like knock you off balance. Don't worry, nobody is going to let you fall off."

"I won't do any fancy flying," Aithusa assured him. "I'll keep it simple."

"You'll go fast though, right?" Raime asked.

"Of course I will! That's the best part!"

"Don't go too far, Aithusa," Merlin said sternly. "Stay nearby so I can keep an eye on you both."

"Yes, sire."

Before Merlin could think of any more warnings to give, Aithusa launched himself into the sky. He disappeared in a streak of white, Raime's shriek echoing after him—Merlin made a mental note to tease Raime about that later.

The shrieking soon turned into whoops of joy as Aithusa hurtled through the air, flying low enough to skim the treetops and then pointing his nose skyward, climbing to dizzying heights before swooping back down again. From Merlin's vantage point on the ground, Raime was just a small blob of color against Aithusa's pale scales, clinging on for dear life and obviously loving every second of it.

Aithusa slowed down a bit, taking a leisurely spin across the forest, wings outstretched to coast on the breeze. Merlin saw Raime raise his arms and spread them wide, and he smiled. He knew that feeling, that piercing joy, that lightheaded sort of freedom. And knowing that, he wasn't entirely sure he'd be able to get Raime back down to earth again.

He settled onto the grass, sprawling out on his back to watch dragon and rider circle above him. It was a nice day and there was nothing pressing to attend to. Just for today, Raime could take all the time he wanted. He'd earned it, after all.