translation of dragontongue:
anaoígō = open up
"You want me to do what?"
Merlin was searching his father's face, looking for any indication that he had misunderstood. He had always known Balinor was more concerned about Merlin fulfilling his destiny than about Merlin himself. But this? It was beyond reason.
"There will be no argument," Balinor stated. "You will leave for the Crystal Cave tonight. Take Aithusa and go."
"It's the middle of the night and you're sending me to a deadly cave on a fool's errand?"
"It's not a fool's errand," Balinor insisted. "This quest will help you become the man you are destined to be."
"This quest will kill me!"
Balinor turned away and started to pace in his private tent. Merlin watched, his anger warring with disbelief. His father could not be serious.
"You have always been stubborn," Balinor finally said. "I took that to be a virtue, a stepping stone to becoming steadfast, like a warrior. But now I see it's the trait of an immature child." He turned to fix Merlin with that painfully familiar look of disappointment. "You shamed me tonight."
The words hit Merlin like a punch to the gut. For a moment, he could not breathe.
"I told you there can be no negotiation for peace, to finally let go of those foolish dreams," Balinor continued. "Yet you stood in front of our people and spoke like a coward."
"You— You weren't even there—" Merlin started, his voice choked, but Balinor cut him off, unrelenting.
"I heard enough from my men. You absolved the dragonslayer from his crimes and called yourself a traitor to your own kind! You cast aside the sacrifices of our people made in this war like they were nothing of consequence!"
Merlin forced himself to speak, to push past the hurt in his chest. "It wasn't like that. They were going to kill Arthur—"
"Enough about that worthless man!" Balinor snapped. "I never would have let him near you if I had known you would lose the last of your senses over him."
"Father, I—"
"Be quiet," Balinor intercepted him again. "I am done waiting for you to see reason. Does your mother's sacrifice mean so little to you? She died so you may live, and yet you shun the destiny she foretold!"
Merlin momentarily felt like he couldn't breathe. Tears prickled in his eyes at the cruel words and he hurriedly blinked them away. If he showed such weakness now, he would only prove his father right.
"You will prove yourself a man and a warrior, not only to myself but to your people," Balinor continued mercilessly. "You will go to the Crystal Cave and you will return with the sword! Leave at once!"
Finally, the tight feeling in Merlin's throat was dislodged and a potent mix of lingering shame, righteous indignation and fresh anger bubbled to the surface.
"This is insane!" Merlin exclaimed hotly. "For all we know, there isn't anything in that cave but certain death. You are sending me on a suicide mission! Excalibur is nothing but a legend!"
"The Great Dragon is a legend," Balinor replied, almost matter-of-factly. "You are destined to become a legend. You wield legendary dragonfyre and it is only fitting that you must wield a legendary sword!"
Merlin threw up his hands in disbelief. "You can't be serious, Father!"
"This is a way to prove yourself," Balinor insisted, and the evenness of his voice only angered Merlin all the more. "You have lost the respect of your people tonight, but it might yet be regained. If you return carrying Excalibur, people will see you for what you really are. You will redeem yourself for your past failures and there will be no doubt about you fulfilling your destiny!"
Once more, Balinor's words cut deep. Would his father really rather see him dead in a cave than alive and a failure in his eyes?
"Prove yourself," Balinor repeated. "Go and find Excalibur!"
There was something uncharacteristic in his father's face as he uttered those words. Merlin had seen glimpses of it before, but never had it been displayed so openly: desperation. Balinor was desperate for Merlin to prove himself. The irony was bittersweet.
Merlin deflated at the realisation. He knew there was no point arguing further. Balinor would never back down.
"Fine," Merlin conceded. "I will go to the cave. But I'm not going with Aithusa alone." Balinor started to protest, but Merlin insisted, "I'm taking some men. If I do find the sword, I promise I will retrieve it myself and have them stand witness for it, but I will not risk Aithusa's life by going into that cave and have her end up unprotected."
Balinor exhaled sharply, but gave a short nod of concession. Where a dragon's life was concerned, he was willing to give in.
"I'm leaving for the front with Kilgharrah within the hour," he said, his tone final and dismissive. "When I'm back, I expect you to have returned with the sword."
Merlin nodded, the barest hint of a bow, and left his father's tent without another word.
Outside, Ealdor was buzzing. Groups of foot soldiers were running past, getting ready to dispatch. A couple of dragons were already up in the sky, circling in the air and eager to depart, their riders barely noticeable from the ground.
Merlin made his way through the upheaval, his mind whirling.
The Crystal Cave. His father really wanted him to go to the Crystal Cave and face the monsters within in search of the fabled sword Excalibur. And Balinor had the nerve to call Merlin's goal of peace a child's folly?
He entered his own tent, his skin creeping with his father's accusations, his own anger and disbelief over the pointless quest burning in his chest. He grabbed a bag and started stuffing in some bandages. What should he bring? Which salves and tonics would aid him in this pointless mission?
He stilled when his eyes fell on the dragon figurine at his bedside. His mother's, one of the few things he had of her. She died so you may live, and yet you shun the destiny she foretold. Merlin pressed the balls of his hand against his eyes as his father's voice echoed through his head, pushing until he saw stars.
He would not cry!
Merlin took another moment to collect himself, then grabbed riding gloves and a warm cloak from his wardrobe and turned to leave, making a detour for provisions, a bedroll, a dragon-forged sword and some leather armour before seeking out his friends. He wouldn't want anyone else by his side except Lancelot, Gwaine and Percival.
To his surprise, he found them not at their tents or with a commander ready to dispatch to the front, but at the prisoner cells. Their swords were unsheathed and they seemed to be carefully observing the nearer area.
"What is going on? What are you doing here?" Merlin asked apprehensively.
Gwaine gave him a grim smile as he playfully twirled one of his blades. "What does it look like? Protecting the prisoners."
Merlin looked around, confused and alarmed when he saw there were no guards stationed by the nearby fire.
"Threats were made," Percival explained before Merlin could voice his thoughts.
"What kind of threats?"
"There's talk of a bunch of men wanting to kill the prince once Lord Balinor has left for the front," Lancelot said. "They want to take revenge. Those reports of Uther's attacks – people are on edge, Merlin, and after what happened at the feast…"
He trailed off, but Merlin understood him well enough. "And you're here?" Merlin could hardly believe it.
"You would never forgive yourself if he was killed now, and we can't let that happen," Lancelot told him.
"Besides," Gwaine added roughly, "you were right. If Uther gets word his son was lynched by an angry horde, it will only lead to more bloodshed. Killing him isn't the way."
Even Percival did not openly disagree with Gwaine's words, though the memories of Howden had to fester so very painfully tonight. Merlin was momentarily overwhelmed, too touched and too proud to even speak.
Gwaine used the pause to take in Merlin's equipment. "What's with the pack? Where are you going? Is your father taking you to the front?"
Merlin couldn't help but let out a humourless laugh. "Gods, no, would he ever? He's given me a quest."
"A quest?" asked Percival sceptically. "What kind?"
"An impossible one. But I said I would go. I was hoping all of you would come."
"You know I am always up for an adventure, Merlin," Gwaine replied. "But if we're leaving, Camelot's finest here will most certainly end up dead tonight."
Merlin bit his lip as he considered this, then approached the cells. His friends stepped aside to let him cast a look inside. Arthur was looking back at him, his face grim and worried. His men looked little better. Of course they had listened to every word of their conversation and drawn their own conclusions.
Gwaine was right. If they left them here unprotected and Godric showed up with a mob, with neither Balinor nor Merlin to keep them in check, there was little chance Arthur and his men would survive. Should he postpone the quest? Hide the prisoners away from reach? Now there was a thought…
Merlin spoke before he knew he had made the decision. "Let's get them out," he said, "they're coming, too."
"You want to bring them on the quest?" Percival exclaimed incredulously.
"You're out of your mind!" Lancelot joined in the protest. "Your father will be furious!"
"My father is leaving for the front. They clearly can't stay here. This way, we can keep an eye on them," Merlin explained and crouched to clasp the lock at Arthur's cell in his left hand.
Arthur was throwing him a disbelieving look from inside the cage. "You're freeing us?"
"I'm temporarily relocating you," Merlin replied, then looked at the lock and growled, "Anaoígō!" It snapped open. He repeated the same for the other cage, then ordered, "Out!"
He turned back towards his friends. All three were staring at him.
"Well?" Merlin asked defiantly. "Are you coming or not?"
A wicked grin lit up Gwaine's whole face. This was exactly the kind of reckless stunt he would pull himself, so his "You bet!" came as no surprise.
Lancelot and Percival were a different story. Merlin threw them a long look. Lancelot caved first, simply sighing and nodding. Percival glared at Arthur for good measure, but just as Merlin was convinced Percival had reached his personal limit, he relented, "Your call, Merlin. I'll follow your lead."
His call. His lead. Merlin was suddenly vividly reminded of his first self-led patrol. These were his men and they were willing to follow him again. The thought had him square his shoulders.
"All right, then, listen up," Merlin said, aiming for an air of confidence. "Pick one prisoner each and meet me below the cave in half an hour! Try to lay low, avoid Godric and his friends at all cost. The darkness and general upheaval should work to our advantage. I'll see about the dragons. Bring a pack for three days, good weapons and see if you can find our prisoners some cloaks." Merlin glanced at Arthur's barefoot knights hovering in the back. "And we better get those two some boots, too." He fixed his friends with what he hoped was a firm look. "Understood?"
"Yes, my lord," Gwaine replied with a mock-salute, then grabbed Arthur by the arm. "Come on, royal boy. I've always wanted a servant. You can carry my stuff."
"I'm not getting on that."
Merlin wondered if it would go against his principles if he ended up personally throttling Arthur.
"You don't have a choice," he informed the prince. "Hop on."
Arthur stubbornly crossed his arms and glared at Aithusa. "Absolutely not," he replied. "I will not ride a dragon."
Merlin's patience was already stretched to its limits. It was the middle of the night. He had just unwisely freed three valuable prisoners of war. He was tired, on edge and about to embark on a quest that would likely end in his death or complete disgrace. The last thing he needed right now was the Prince of Camelot making a scene.
"Listen up, you insufferable, ungrateful prat," Merlin snapped. "I am trying to save your life! You will either climb onto that saddle now, or I will have Percival here tie you up and throw you over Aithusa's back like a slain hog. Your choice!" He underscored his point with a flash of dragonfyre and could have sworn he heard Arthur gulp.
"Fine," the prince retorted and approached Aithusa with a grim face.
The dragon looked absolutely thrilled at the idea of Arthur climbing on. "Arthur," she said excitedly as he came to stand next to her. "Arthur fly!"
Merlin tried his best to ignore the bitter taste in his mouth. Wordlessly, he watched Arthur climb onto Aithusa. In spite of his initial protests, he looked confident as he swung his legs over the saddle, undoubtedly an experienced horse rider. His bravado faltered when Merlin stepped close and started strapping him into place.
"What was the point of your little speech if you're tying me up anyway?" Arthur said indignantly.
"Do you want to slip off when we dive?" Merlin replied. "It's not a pretty death, falling from the clouds and splattering your innards all over the landscape."
Arthur grunted when Merlin pulled just a bit too harshly at the straps and snapped the buckles into place, but didn't argue further. Merlin finished up, then glanced at the others.
Mynur had insisted he was well enough to come. He was big and strong and could easily carry three men, though it wouldn't be a comfortable ride for Percival and Lancelot with a third rider sandwiched between them on the saddle.
Merlin had been surprised to see Vethoas still at the cave. She would have been an asset at the front for his father, but dragons tended to have their own minds more often than not and she had stayed behind. Gwaine would be riding with Arthur's other knight.
As he watched his own men secure Arthur's, Merlin felt himself swaying. This was insanity, wasn't it? Bringing the knights of Camelot, the Prince of Camelot on a quest to prove himself the Great Dragon? But he knew he simply couldn't let them stay and die. Even if he left his friends behind to protect them and went alone after all, three men would have a hard time fighting off an angry lynch mob. And with his father already gone, off to the front with Kilgharrah, there was nobody to keep Godric and his group of insurgents in check.
There was nothing to be done about it now, anyway. Merlin had made his decision and he would have to live with it.
Merlin climbed onto Aithusa, settled behind Arthur and strapped himself into place.
"You and your men need to behave," he said. "If you act out, try to flee, or if any of you attack my men, I will no longer feel obligated to protect you."
"Understood," Arthur replied.
"Can I trust your men to obey my orders?"
"They will obey my orders," Arthur stressed. "If I tell them to stand down and follow your lead, they will."
It was clear this was the only reassurance Merlin would get.
"Oi, Merlin!" Merlin turned his head to look at Gwaine. "You never told us where we were going!"
Merlin reckoned there was no sense in beating about the bush. "My father wants me to retrieve Excalibur from the Crystal Cave."
Stunned silence followed his announcement. Lancelot and Percival were outright gaping at him, whereas Arthur and his men merely looked confused. Even the dragons raised their heads in anticipation.
Then Gwaine began to laugh. "This is amazing," he wheezed. "Life is never boring around you, Merlin, is it?"
"What's the Crystal Cave?" Arthur asked suspiciously.
"Oh, just a big, mystical dragon cave filled with wyverns, wilddeoren and other deadly beasts," Gwaine explained, still sounding like this was all one big joke to him.
"I want a sword," Arthur said immediately.
Merlin snorted. "As if."
"I mean it," Arthur said. "I will not enter a wilddeoren-infested cave without a weapon!"
"You're in no place to make demands, dragonslayer," Percival told him off.
"What's the point in rescuing us now, only for us to end up as wyvern food?" Arthur argued angrily.
Merlin decided to shut him up by giving Aithusa the go signal.
She happily unfolded her wings, got into position and took off, unbothered by the added weight of a second rider in spite of her small size. Merlin could feel Arthur tense up in front of him, though the prince didn't make a sound. Merlin wished he could see his face just now. Part of him hoped he was scared to death, as that would serve the arrogant man just right. But another, kinder side of him wanted Arthur to enjoy the ride.
Flying a dragon was thrilling, reckless and exquisitely heady. Merlin vividly remembered the first time his father had taken him for a ride on Kilgharrah. How the initial squeeze of fright in his stomach had slowly made way for nothing but excitement as he watched the world from up above, stretched out beautifully below.
Merlin could tell the exact moment when Arthur got to that point. After minutes of stiffness, ragged breathing and white knuckles pressed against the saddle, the prince slowly began to relax. He ended up almost slumping against Merlin as Aithusa reached the right altitude and started to cruise leisurely, using the winds to her advantage.
Merlin found himself asking, "Well? How are you liking it?"
Arthur's voice was filled with nothing but genuine awe. "It's… it's amazing," he called out.
Merlin grinned.
