Arthur scowled when he was pushed into what could only be described as a metal cage, like he was some kind of rabid animal. It wasn't too small and clean enough, but the ceiling was too low to allow him to stand properly, forcing him to either bend over or sit. There was a bucket in the corner and a lumpy waterskin hanging off a hook at the side. Camelot's dungeons seemed a luxury in comparison.

The only redeeming feature of his cell was that another one had been placed right next to it. He gave a tired wave at Elyan and Leon as he settled down in the corner, resting his head against the bars. Just like Arthur, both knights had been stripped of their armour and shoes, though it did not look like they had been tortured or otherwise injured.

"Sire," Leon immediately called out and made his way to the side where their cages lined up. He looked at Arthur's face through the bars, taking in his injuries, and scowled. "They're mistreating you."

"I'm fine, Leon. Nothing I can't handle."

Next to Leon, Elyan frowned. "You shouldn't have agreed to this. It's undignified, you serving that boy."

"I couldn't very well let them kill you," Arthur replied firmly. "We already lost four good men to my foolishness." He tried not to think of the sight of Sirs Cador, Alynor and Vidor, scorched beyond recognition. At least Sir Edric had been spared the fire and died by the blade.

Leon grimaced. "It wasn't your fault, my lord," he said. "They don't usually send out three dragons for such small skirmishes."

"Don't coddle me, Leon. I should have at least brought some back-up."

"They clearly didn't expect the launcher," Elyan argued. "It was worth a try."

Arthur disagreed, but let it rest and looked around instead. They were at what seemed to be the edge of Ealdor. Three guards were sitting close by at a campfire, throwing them occasional looks. He studied the door of the cage for a moment. Heavy-duty chains and a big metal lock. No way they could break out of here without help.

"Any observations?" Arthur asked, lowering his voice.

Leon reported willingly, "Two shifts of guards, day and night. They're regular soldiers, not dragon warriors. Their blades look dragon-forged, though, and there's proper fighters nearby. There is no chance we're getting past them without weapons of our own."

Arthur nodded. "How have they been treating you?"

"We got food," Elyan said, then added with a grim smile, "They don't like me much, though."

Arthur chuckled darkly. "Take it as a compliment."

"How about you, sire?" Leon asked, pointing at Arthur's bruised face. "Is Balinor's son trying to prove something? He didn't look the type to beat someone up."

"It wasn't him," Arthur replied. "Some of Balinor's men tried to roughen me up as I was carrying out my new duties. He stopped them, actually."

Leon's eyebrows flew up. "Really?"

Arthur nodded and frowned. "It will take some time to fathom him out. And I underestimated him, too. I thought I might be able to overwhelm him if I got my hand on a blade, but his magic – it's strong! I never felt anything like it. He took me down with one look and a few words. He didn't need a dragon by his side to use magic, either."

Elyan let out a whistling breath, looking both impressed and slightly intimidated.

"What's your plan, sire?" Leon asked.

Arthur let his eyes wander over their surroundings again, thinking. "I don't know. Escape is our only option, but this far into enemy territory?"

Elyan nodded grimly. "We'd need horses, and even then, it's at least a day's ride to the front."

"King Uther might have sent search parties into enemy territory, if we're lucky," Leon mused, but Arthur shook his head.

"He won't do anything so foolish. For all he knows, we're still at the Gorge, and that's leagues away from Ealdor. Besides, Balinor's son told me there's to be an exchange. They want to trade me for an artifact my father took from them."

Elyan's face turned contemplative. "Artifact? What do you mean?"

"My father has got hold of an object that seems to be of some importance to them, though I couldn't get Balinor's son to tell me why."

"Your father must know," Leon said.

"If he does, he never told me." Arthur glanced at the bare floor of the cell. He was getting tired. "Well, there's nothing we can do at the moment. I will try and find us a way out as I play the servant. As for now, we better keep our strength up."


Arthur awoke with a crick in the neck and aches all over his body. He groaned and sat up, needing a moment to remember where he was and why he felt like somebody had beaten him up.

Soon, he was taken from the cell by a guard before Leon and Elyan were even properly awake. He was allowed a quick wash at the well, though Arthur was granted only a few splashes of icy water against his face before he was dragged off to Merlin's tent.

He was roughly pushed through the flap, only just managing not to collide with Merlin as he stumbled into the room. Merlin threw him a bewildered look. Arthur supposed he had to make quite a sight, with the fringe of his hair dripping wet, his feet still bare and his face undoubtedly showing even more evidence of last night's violent encounters now that it had time to swell.

"Good morning," he said drily.

"You look terrible," Merlin told him nonchalantly. "Were the lodgings not up to royal standards, Your Highness?"

"A bit draughty," Arthur deadpanned.

Merlin only raised an eyebrow at his attempt at wit. "I found your boots," he said and pointed at the floor.

Arthur was surprised, but wasn't about to complain about an act of kindness. He sat on the floor and quickly pulled them on. "Thank you," he said sincerely and stood up.

"Just try not to lose them again," Merlin replied dismissively, as if it had been Arthur's fault they had been taken from him in the first place.

Arthur watched him walk across the tent to get a tall vial from a table and slip it into a pocket. Merlin was wearing another non-descriptive, practical outfit. Aside from the dagger sheathed at his belt, there was nothing about him that made him look particularly important or threatening. Now that Arthur knew what powers lay beneath that façade, though, he wondered if Merlin was disguising himself on purpose.

"Did you have breakfast?" Merlin asked, startling Arthur from his thoughts.

"No," he replied and saw Merlin frown in response.

"Right. Follow me."

Merlin brushed past him and walked out of the tent, clearly assuming Arthur would do as he was told. Arthur sighed and followed. The guards stayed behind this time.

They made their way to the outdoor cooking area Arthur had discovered the night before. He stood aside this time and watched Merlin chat with the women and children cooking up breakfast. It was odd to see his captor so relaxed and smiling brightly, too. It made him look young and guileless.

Arthur distinctly remembered the way Merlin had been treated by the warriors the night before. They had been disrespectful and dismissive of him until Merlin had threatened them directly. Curious that Balinor's men would dare treat their liege's son like that. Was Merlin unpopular among his people? The kitchen staff seemed to like Merlin well enough, though. They were laughing at his jokes and an older woman ruffled his hair.

Some of the kids were throwing curious looks towards Arthur, but any adult that glanced over looked either openly hostile or at the very least vaguely disapproving.

Arthur was glad when Merlin finally called him over and tossed a pastry at him. Arthur eyed the turnover for a second, wondering just how undignified he would look eating this as he ran after Merlin, then decided to throw appearances to the wind. His stomach was empty and growling for food. He took a bite. It was delicious, not a prisoner's usual fare.

Merlin was walking quickly and Arthur had a hard time chewing and keeping up the pace. He was just starting to wonder where they were going when three men stepped into their path. Arthur hurriedly finished the last of his breakfast when he recognised one of the men and the two blades strapped to his hips. He definitely wanted his hands unoccupied for this particular confrontation.

Arthur stopped two steps behind Merlin and watched the scene carefully. Would these warriors confront Merlin, too?

"Merlin!" the man Arthur had recognised said with a wide grin. He slung an arm around Merlin's shoulder in a show of familiarity. "How is my favourite person?"

"What do you want, Gwaine?" Merlin replied, though he didn't look too annoyed. Not another challenge then.

"Just catching up with my friend," Gwaine said. But when he turned his head and focused his eyes on Arthur, it was clear this was not a regular social call. "So, I heard you're the kind of nobleman now that requires the services of a manservant. Does he dress you in the morning?"

"Shut up," Merlin said.

Arthur tried to size up the other two men. One was huge, muscular, bare-armed and made no effort to hide his hostility, the other looked calm and very serious.

"Won't you introduce us to the princess?" Gwaine asked with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

Arthur decided that he disliked being talked about. He took two steps forward until he stood next to Merlin and said coolly: "Arthur Pendragon. We've met, in a way. You have an unusual approach to swordsmanship."

Gwaine's grin was all teeth. "Gwaine. Too bad Merlin here swept you off your feet before we two could have a proper fight."

Arthur looked him over, then said: "I'm open for a duel anytime."

Gwaine seemed intrigued by the idea, his hands reaching for his blades. Merlin immediately held out an arm.

"There'll be no duelling," he said firmly.

"Why not?" the tall, muscular man intercepted from the side. "I'd like to see him get cut down to size." He put a special emphasis on the word cut and narrowed his eyes at Arthur.

Arthur smirked back at him, which already seemed to be enough to provoke him. He promptly stepped forward and right into Arthur's personal space, bowing down to glower at him. Gods, but these dragon warriors were hot-headed!

"Percival!" Merlin barked, placing a hand against the man's broad chest. "Come on, back off!"

Percival sneered, but did as he was told.

"Where are you going?" the last of the three asked. He sounded suspicious.

Merlin hesitated, suddenly looking distinctly uncomfortable. "Oh. Um. Just up to the mountains."

"And you're bringing him?" Gwaine asked incredulously and pointed rudely at Arthur. "Lancelot, please talk some sense into him!"

Lancelot, now looking even more serious, seemed to agree, "Merlin, you can't take him up there. It's a terrible idea."

Merlin shot Arthur a look he couldn't quite interpret. "Mynur needs treatment."

"So?" Gwaine argued. "Lock him up or give him something to do in the meantime. Isn't he supposed to work as a servant? Have him shovel shit at the latrines!"

Arthur sent Merlin an alarmed look, but Merlin luckily didn't seem to take to the idea. He made a non-committal noise, then beckoned Arthur to follow him. The other men fell into step as well. None of them looked particularly happy with whatever Merlin was planning to do and seemed to have decided it required supervision.

"You can't be serious about taking him up there," Gwaine harped on. "He's going to get all of that information to his father after the exchange!"

"What information?" Merlin shot back. "That we got dragons? Big surprise there!"

"Wait," Arthur intercepted, "you're taking me to see the dragons?"

Percival sneered over his shoulder. "Scared?" he asked.

Arthur snorted derisively. "Of course not. Only sad I haven't got a draconite blade at the ready."

To his credit, he did see the punch coming, he simply didn't manage to get his arms up in time. A moment later, Arthur found himself sitting on the path, pressing a hand against a bleeding nose. Percival shook out his hand, a grim smile on his face.

"Percival!" Merlin exclaimed.

"Don't tell me he didn't deserve that," Percival growled.

"He's our prisoner!" Merlin shot back. "You're better than this!"

Percival spat on the floor in front of Arthur, but let himself be led a few paces away by a pinch-faced Lancelot. Arthur slowly got to his feet, sniffed against the blood and tenderly touched his nose. It didn't seem broken, but it sure hurt. That man could pack a punch!

"Are you actually this much of an idiot?" Merlin snapped at him. "Stop provoking people!"

Arthur wiped his nose and glared at Percival's retreating back. "What's his problem?"

"You, obviously," Merlin retorted. "Just – shut up and walk!"

They made their way out of Ealdor, across a meadow and towards the mountains that made up the Ridge of Ascetir. Arthur looked around, but didn't see anything. Was Merlin really leading him to the dragons? Why on Earth would he do that?

They finally arrived at a steep rock wall. Steps had been hewn directly into the stone. They made their way up until the stairs were replaced by ladders. Merlin motioned at Arthur to go climb up before him, perhaps afraid he would try and make a run for it otherwise.

"Hope the dragonslayer isn't afraid of heights," Gwaine, who was climbing at the front, called from up above.

It wouldn't have been unreasonable to be scared of the climb. It was a long, rather reckless ascend. The ladders were firmly anchored into place, but there was no safeguard against falling. If you slipped, you were dead.

Just when Arthur finally saw the edge of a ledge come into view, the sound of giant wings reached his ears. Immediately, goosebumps spread on his arms as every instinct in him told him to take cover. Dragon attack, he thought. But he was stuck at the side of a mountain and so, he desperately clawed his fingers into the rungs of the ladder as a big gust of wind rattled him. When he looked up, he saw the rear end of a dragon passing them by above.

Merlin was actually taking Arthur to the dragons' lair. He hadn't truly believed it until now.

With his heart beating quickly in his chest, Arthur made his way up the rest of the ladder and climbed over the edge. He tried not to gape when he was confronted with the view of a giant cave. It was a deep cavern, its back wall illuminated by torches. Through its large mouth, he could see a small pond of crystal-clear water near the centre, surrounded by flat-topped rocks.

On those rocks, there were the dragons.

There were about ten of them, in different sizes, some more brightly coloured than others. Most were curled up and dozing, though one seemed to be devouring what looked like a goat and a smaller, white-scaled dragon was flying about, circling some stalactites. Was this the beast Merlin had ridden during the ambush?

"Move it," Merlin said in that moment and pushed him towards the cave.

Every experience Arthur had ever had regarding dragons came crushing down on him at once. His body was telling him to turn around and run away as fast as he could. These were dragons! Beasts that could raze whole villages with their fiery breath, monsters that had no qualms about gorging themselves on human flesh!

But Arthur wasn't a coward, never that. So he fought that urge to flee, braced himself and did what every fibre of his being told him not to do: He stepped into the dragon den.

A particularly big drake was sitting on a rock close to the entrance and raised its head when it saw their group come closer. Merlin approached it readily, calling the creature brother as he greeted it.

"Merlin," it rumbled, then nodded at his companions. Arthur realised in that moment that he had never heard a dragon talk. He knew they could, theoretically, though he had only ever heard them roar or yowl in battle. Arthur found himself staring at the creature with wide eyes. The dragon sounded eerily human. It had the voice of an old man. "I see you brought the prince."

The dragon turned its head and looked right at Arthur, who couldn't help but freeze to the spot, acutely aware he had no armour, no weapon, not even a fire-resistant tarp to protect himself. For one terrifying moment, Arthur was completely convinced he would be roasted by fire and die a very painful death.

But the dragon tilted its head in a strange way, then addressed him directly: "Arthur Pendragon. We meet at last."

Its words jolted Arthur right out of his stupor. Unsure of the protocol, Arthur inclined his head in a vague greeting, but said nothing. Apparently, he had a knack for provoking people and he really did not want to test that skill on a giant, fire-breathing beast.

"I'm here to treat Mynur," Merlin told the dragon, drawing its attention away from Arthur. "Could you call him over?"

The dragon didn't seem to be doing anything but looking into the cave, but a few moments later, a blue dragon had flown to the cave's entrance. Arthur recognised it as the beast they had managed to shoot with the harpoon. It had survived the ambush and looked healthy enough.

Arthur found himself balling a fist, once more cursing his own foolishness. They had not managed to take down even a single dragon at the Gorge and sacrificed good men and valuable equipment for his folly.

"Mynur," Merlin said. "I brought you something for your injury."

The dragon unfurled its tail. Arthur could see a long gash where the harpoon had grazed the beast. It did not look too deep, but Arthur did not have to be an expert on dragons to see it looked painful. The wound was oozing and the edges were curled outwards, as if refusing to grow closed again.

Merlin knelt down, his fingers ghosting over the gash as he inspected the damage. He paused, then turned his head to look at Arthur. There was raw anger on his face and his voice was a bark when he said: "Get over here!"

Arthur seldomly found himself following orders unless his father was issuing them, but something in Merlin's tone reminded him of the day before, when magic had brought him to his knees. Besides, he really didn't want Merlin to set a dragon on him in retaliation for refusing him.

As he passed the other warriors, Gwaine put a warning hand on the hilt of one blade and Percival seemed prepared to knock him out if he so much as breathed wrong. Even Lancelot's serious face had morphed into the beginnings of a scowl. Clearly, none of them wanted Arthur anywhere near a dragon.

"What?" Arthur managed as he came to stand right next to the beast. Part of him desperately wanted to cringe away from the creature, but he suppressed the instinct.

"Have you ever seen the damage your weapons do?" Merlin asked, gesturing at the gash. "Do you know how much it pains them?"

Arthur took another glance at the wound, then met Merlin's accusatory eyes head-on. "We're at war. We would be foolish not to use any weapon at our disposal to win it."

Merlin glowered at him. "It's torture," he replied. "It doesn't just kill them. It sucks the life force right out of them! Draconite is pure poison. It attacks their very essence, shrivels their core until they rot from the inside!"

Arthur swallowed, but held Merlin's gaze steadily. "It's the only way to reliably take them down."

Merlin averted his face, but not before Arthur could see the disgust there. It struck Arthur in that moment that Merlin genuinely cared for these creatures. He had called them his brothers.

Merlin retrieved the bottle of what looked like green salve from his pocket. He uncorked it and started gently spreading its contents onto the wound. The dragon made a short, pained sound and Arthur looked up. He found himself meeting the eyes of the creature – Mynur, Merlin had called it. It was watching him.

"Arthur Pendragon," it said and inclined its head. Again, Arthur found himself returning the gesture. "It was only a matter of time."

Arthur thought the words odd, but Merlin finished his treatment and addressed the dragon, breaking the moment.

"I will make you another batch tomorrow. Please don't go out on patrol until you are fully healed."

"You worry too much, little brother," Mynur rumbled.

"It was my fault you were hurt," Merlin stated, his voice laced with clear guilt. It seemed Arthur wasn't the only one who harboured regrets about what happened at the Gorge of Gedref.

"You are so young, Merlin," Mynur said. "Too young to carry such burdens. Let go of your guilt. I will heal and live another few centuries, when you are long gone, your ashes spread into the everlasting winds."

Merlin nodded stiffly, but it was clear the dragon's words had done little to alleviate his remorse.

Arthur, feeling uncomfortable, decided to ask the question that had been bothering him for the better part of the last hour: "Why bring me here? If you're trying to make me feel sorry for your dragons, it's not working. They burn our fields, kill our cattle, feed on our children—"

"Dragons don't eat human flesh," Merlin spat at him.

"You can't blame us for wanting to protect our people and our lands!" Arthur continued, unfazed by Merlin's interruption.

"They are our lands, too!" Merlin retorted hotly. "We were your people. Our kind lived peacefully in Camelot and loyally served the Crown until your father, in an act of tyranny, decided we were no longer welcome there!"

"Because your people betrayed him!" Arthur shot back.

"What?" Merlin gaped at him. "Uther killed three of the four dragonlords at his court, along with ten dragons! He ambushed them at night and slaughtered them in their sleep! Only my father managed to escape and rally the rest of our kind here!"

Arthur stared at him. Merlin's outrage sounded genuine, but what in the name of the gods was he talking about?

"You're wrong," he retorted. "Your people attacked us! It was the dragonlords and their warriors who turned on my father! Balinor wanted the throne for himself and killed my mother in his bid for power!"

Merlin let out a noise half-way between a snort and a snarl. "Is that what Uther the Tyrant taught you?" he scoffed. "If you believe that story, you're a fool."

"You're a fool to think that this changes anything," Arthur said, gesturing at the dragon cave. "We're at war and it will only end when the last of these monsters have fallen from the skies!"

"I see only one monster here, and it isn't Mynur or any of my kin!" Merlin had shouted those last words. For a moment, Arthur was convinced he would use his magic again. But Merlin only let out a sharp gust of breath and stomped off, Lancelot hot on his heels.

Warily, Arthur eyed the other two warriors. Gwaine was baring his teeth, one blade half-unsheathed, whereas Percival seemed to be considering whether or not to punch Arthur in the face again. Mynur, he realised with a glance for the dragon, had listened to the whole conversation as well and was looking at him intently. Perhaps Arthur shouldn't have talked about eradicating all of dragonkind in front of an actual dragon.

He hurriedly retreated, leaving the cave to stand closer to the ledge. He definitely needed to stop provoking people.