translation of dragontongue:

érkheo = (You) Come!
ouchí = no
ménō = (You) Stay/wait


Part of Arthur still believed he had to be dreaming.

If somebody had told him a week ago that he would find himself strapped onto the back of a dragon and enjoying it, he would have sent them straight to Gaius to have their heads checked. Yet, here he was, riding on Aithusa, a dragonlord all but pressed against his back and feeling little else besides exhilaration. He was flying!

They were far up in the sky, moon-lit trees and villages insignificant specks against the landscape. Aithusa's strong muscles shifted beneath him and he could feel the winds that passed underneath the broad wings to give them lift. It was both similar to and nothing like riding a horse.

Gwaine had tossed him a hooded, fur-lined cloak on their way to the meeting point, but the icy winds were mercilessly biting at Arthur's exposed skin all the same. Luckily, Aithusa was a warm contrast to the cold skies. Heat seemed to be rising from the dragon's scales and through the leather of the saddle, keeping their legs warm and their muscles from cramping in the cold.

"How much longer until we land?" Arthur found himself calling out. The wind seemed to strip the words right from his lips and blow them away, though Merlin understood him all the same.

"An hour, at most," he replied from behind.

Arthur turned his head to watch Leon ride with Gwaine on the sleek, black dragon. Arthur couldn't see his face too well in the dark, but his posture still looked rigid. The knight was most likely not enjoying himself. Elyan seemed equally uncomfortable, caught between Percival and Lancelot with little wiggle room.

Not for the first time since their ascend, Arthur found himself wondering what in the name of the gods Merlin thought he was doing. Arthur didn't have the full story, he knew that, but he had heard and seen enough to know that the young dragonlord had taken them along without his father's approval and against the advice of his men. His motivation? Protecting Arthur, yet again.

It all made sense now, of course, what with Merlin's talk of ending the war and hoping for peace. Balinor's son thought he had little to gain and everything to lose if Arthur was killed.

He glanced down at the landscape rushing past and started wondering. Was Merlin really so wrong?

Over twenty years of war haunted the lands below them. Though grand battles were seldomly fought these days, the ongoing raids and skirmishes at the front had not only depleted Camelot's coffers, but cost them a sizable part of two generations of men. Good knights died every month. Sons of farmers were taken away from the fields and forced to fight. Husbands and wives were ripped apart. Dead fathers left behind starving children who grew up knowing little else but sacrifice and violence.

Hells, they were down to so few knights these days, his father had finally caved to Arthur's insistent nagging and deigned to admit the likes of Elyan to their ranks!

On top of dealing with Balinor, Camelot found herself repeatedly under pressure from other kingdoms, seeking to exploit their perpetually weakened state. Uther would never admit it, but it was only a matter of time until they would eventually run out of resources. It was pure luck that the many kings of Albion distrusted each other about as much as they wanted Camelot. An alliance between the likes of Cenred and Bayard could easily bring them to their knees, especially if Balinor decided to pull out all the stops at the same time.

If they settled matters with the dragonlord and his people, they could focus on healing and rebuilding their strength, instead of pumping ever more gold into fire-proof equipment and harpoon launchers.

No, Merlin wasn't foolish for wanting peace. But it still was impossible. Uther would never agree to talks and summits. He would refuse to meet Balinor anywhere but a battlefield, a draconite sword in hand.

Things might be different if Arthur were king, but it was a thought he found himself immediately shying away from. His father was healthy and sound of mind. It would be years until Arthur would climb the throne, and he wouldn't want it any other way, even if he did not agree with every decision Uther had made in the past.

Uther was a strong leader, unrelenting in the face of the enemy. Arthur had never questioned his father's capability to rule. His unwavering conviction was what won them battles against dragons and held their other enemies at bay.

And yet… Arthur wondered sometimes if his father's reluctance to even consider another way might not also be detrimental, if not downright destructive. His mantra of "Never show an ounce of weakness!" came with a cost. Mercy was seldomly found at Camelot these days, and in the privacy of his thoughts, Arthur could admit that some of his father's past actions skirted the very edges of knightly honour.

A gust of wind shook Arthur from his thoughts. Aithusa had changed directions, flew a wide curve and then lower and lower to the ground.

Arthur squinted down and realised he recognised the landscape underneath, even in the darkness of night: the Valley of the Fallen Kings. If this was where this Crystal Cave was located, it was no wonder it was infested by wilddeoren and similar pests. This was no man's land, extremely dangerous territory. Technically controlled by Camelot, though Arthur wasn't foolish enough to think Leon, Elyan and he could flee and make it home on foot without weapons.

Aithusa tipped forward and Arthur's stomach fluttered as gravity tried to pull him off the saddle. He would have been, were it not for the restraints digging into his flesh. Moments later, they had landed in a very large clearing, though with Mynur and the third dragon descending shortly after, it was still a tight fit.

"We should check the surroundings, then make camp. Let's rest until the morning before heading for the cave," Merlin said as he unbuckled both their straps.

Percival and Gwaine agreed to watch over Elyan and Leon gathering some firewood as they secured the area. Arthur stayed with Lancelot and Merlin. Wanting to feel useful, he helped with the tarps and bedrolls, then watched Merlin set up a circle of stones for the fire.

He was startled by a warm and curious nudge to the back. He turned and was not terribly surprised to see it was Aithusa sneaking up on him. The dragon seemed extremely curious. Arthur wondered if he should try and keep his distance, considering Merlin's last reaction. But after having been allowed to ride the drake, it seemed silly not to interact.

"Hello there," Arthur said, automatically falling into a soothing tone. He raised a careful hand and Aithusa immediately surged forward, pressing a warm, white snout against it.

"Arthur fly!" Though a bit rough, Aithusa's voice was that of a child. It seemed the dragon was still quite young, though no less fearsome if met in battle.

"I quite enjoyed it, thank you," Arthur replied. Part of him felt silly thanking a dragon, but Aithusa's eyes looked intelligent in a way that was so unlike an animal's and infinitely more like a human's.

He threw a glance at the other two dragons and realised they were watching, though they seemed relaxed enough, curled up on the forest floor to make room for the camp. The older dragons had talked like humans, too, their grasp on the language much better than Aithusa's. They could hold an entire conversation and didn't just utter a few learned phrases like Arthur had always imagined.

Aithusa had moved on from his hand and was now pressing a warm muzzle against Arthur's cheek, huffing hot air against his skin.

"Careful," Arthur warned, though his voice was light. "I'd rather my face remain free of blisters."

"Aithusa won't hurt you."

Merlin had finished with his work and come closer. His arms were crossed and his face was tense. He had definitely not warmed up to the idea of Arthur and Aithusa getting along, but neither did he look like he was about to lash out again.

"I think I know that," Arthur acknowledged. "It seems to like me."

"She," Merlin told him off at once. "Aithusa is a person as much as you and I."

"Fine," Arthur amended. "She likes me."

As if to prove his point, Aithusa chirped and Arthur nearly toppled over when she pushed firmly against him again, now pressing her head against his stomach. It was almost like she wanted to curl up on his lap like an enormously oversized dog.

"Aithusa, érkheo," Merlin rumbled.

Arthur still hadn't got used to that sudden drop in register and shivered at the unnatural sound of dragontongue. Aithusa stiffened at Merlin's words, then retreated and slowly slipped away until she was by her dragonlord's side. Merlin placed a hand on her head. Aithusa closed her eyes and made an unhappy little mewling sound.

"You can control her like that?" Arthur asked.

Merlin grimaced. "They have to obey a dragonlord's commands, yes. I don't like to use the voice on them, though. They are my siblings, not my pets. If I ask something of them, they are usually willing to help and if they don't, they tend to have a good reason for that. I try to use it in battle only, but Aithusa… she's still quite young, and in need of guidance."

Arthur nodded, then looked over at Lancelot. The man had approached Mynur to speak to him. "Do they have to obey your men, too?"

"Only dragonlords have the power to actually compel them," Merlin explained. "My father and I are the only ones left who have inherited that particular skill. People like Lancelot, they have a certain connection to dragons. They feel a fellowship, if you will. Less than kin, but more than friends. Dragons will favour them, but Lancelot can't make Mynur do his bidding like I can."

"But he can use magic," Arthur said, growing tense as he jerked his head at Lancelot. The man had placed a hand on Mynur's blue scales and waved the other at a make-shift torch he had rammed into the ground at the edge of the clearing. A rumble, and the torch lit up, illuminating their surroundings.

"With practice, they can wield some dragonfyre, yes," Merlin confirmed what Arthur had just witnessed. "Many of our people can. I'm sure some still live in Camelot, unaware they have the talent."

Arthur saw an opening to find an answer to the question that had been at the back of his mind for some days. He glanced at Merlin and ventured, "My father taught me that dragons need to be touched so their magic can be harnessed. Yet I've seen you use it freely."

Merlin's eyes narrowed at once. "I'm surprised your father taught you anything of dragons except how best to kill them."

Arthur winced. Merlin actually wasn't that far off – the information had been given in form of a stern lecture how to best deal with dragon warriors and their beasts.

"Was he right?" Arthur prodded nonetheless.

Merlin studied him, his lips turned downwards. "Are you genuinely curious about all this or gathering intelligence for the war?"

Arthur shrugged. "Can it be both?"

Merlin let out a small huff. He stroked Aithusa's head, her earlier mewl now replaced by a happy little rumble. Just when Arthur was sure he wouldn't get a response, Merlin said hesitantly, "I'm… different. Special, if you will. Dragonfyre— well, using it comes freely to me, and I can harness it from many dragons at once."

"I see."

Merlin shook his head as if to say that Arthur didn't, not really, but they were interrupted by the return of Leon, Elyan and the others. Elyan expertly built up the firewood, then stepped aside when Merlin waved him away. A guttural sound, and the fire was burning merrily.

"I'll take first watch," Percival offered and sent the rest of them to sleep.

Arthur had a restless night. But who could sleep easily at the heart of a valley crawling with beasts and bandits alike, wearing not a scrap of armour and without so much as a dagger to defend himself?

When he woke for good, only the faintest glow of dawn was poking through the trees. Lancelot was keeping watch, resting by Mynur's tail, one hand on the hilt of his sword and another against the dragon's scales.

Arthur saw that Leon was also awake. He was sitting by the fire, his face taut.

"You look tense," Arthur greeted him quietly, settling down next to him to warm his travel-weary body by the flames. Riding a dragon had irked some muscles he hadn't been aware existed.

Leon gave him a serious look, his brow furrowed anxiously. "I don't like this."

Arthur nodded. "Neither do I. But I'd rather be here than dead."

Leon lowered his voice significantly. "If there is any chance of escape, sire, we must take it."

"I don't disagree," Arthur replied quietly, throwing a guarded look at Lancelot. "But no armour? No weapons? No horses? We won't even make it out of the Valley."

Leon inclined his head, but the look he threw Arthur seemed calculating rather than resigned.

"What?" Arthur asked.

"You looked quite comfortable on that dragon last night, my lord."

Arthur frowned. "The ride was fine. What's your point?"

Leon turned his head. Arthur followed his gaze and realised his knight was watching Merlin's sleeping form. The dragonlord had placed his bedroll next to Aithusa and his face was partly hidden behind one of her wings placed protectively around his body.

"I was surprised to see it, that's all. You told us that Balinor's son had reacted quite poorly to you approaching the dragons before. But he showed no qualms about letting you ride with him last night."

Arthur hummed thoughtfully. "He's trying to win me over," he admitted.

Leon's head snapped around. "Sire?" He sounded slightly alarmed.

"Merlin has got it in his head that we should make peace."

Leon's eyebrows shot up in a way that dearly reminded Arthur of Camelot's physician. "Peace? Between King Uther and Balinor?"

"That was my reaction, too. He wants to end the war through diplomatic means. Merlin seems to believe he can win me for his cause by showing me dragons aren't monsters. I interrogated him last night, about magic and being a dragonlord. He answered my questions willingly enough. He lets me get closer than he should, considering I'm the enemy. I think he is hoping I'll see the error of my ways, or some such thing."

Leon studied him for a few moments. "And do you believe him, sire?"

"About what? His desire for peace?"

"No. That dragons aren't dangerous after all."

Arthur snorted. "Please, Leon. I have seen them annihilate whole villages with their fire. They're killers, no doubt about it."

Leon nodded and fell quiet, but Arthur felt his eyes linger until the rest of the camp stirred.

They ate some dried meat and cheese, then packed up. When Merlin gathered his men near the dragons, Arthur strode over, unwilling to walk into danger without at least having a chance to hear the plan. To his surprise, Merlin stepped back to allow him into the circle. Elyan and Leon came to hover behind Arthur, but didn't join in.

"The cave's entrance is about a league east," Merlin started.

"I thought you said it's a mystical place," Arthur interrupted immediately. "The stuff of legends."

"We know where it is," Lancelot said curtly.

"Then why didn't we land there directly?"

"Why is he part of this conversation?" Percival complained with a glare for Arthur.

Merlin shot his men an annoyed look, then explained, "The location of the cave isn't a secret. It's a sacred place, if you will. It's considered the birthplace of the first dragons. Before the war, our kind used to visit it often, to pray or celebrate. But it's also reported to be dangerous. Nobody ventures more than a few steps in there."

"Except for us," Arthur said drily.

"Except for us," Merlin agreed. "There are stories of it having become a wyvern nest."

"There's wilddeoren, too," Gwaine added with a grin that looked way too excited, given the topic. "And there's sure to be more nasty buggers crawling about that place once we get to the deeper levels."

"Aren't wyvern basically dragons?" Arthur asked.

To his surprise, it was the black dragon who answered his question, "They are but very distant cousins. Fireless vermin. They can neither speak nor touch minds. Wyvern are dim-witted, bothersome creatures." She sounded rather miffed, like Arthur's comparison had gravely offended her.

"Vethoas is right," Lancelot said. "But they're vicious creatures, too, and a large enough group can take out a dragon. There's little we could do to help when the fighting happens up in the air."

"Can't Merlin command them?" Arthur asked. "Tell the wyverns to go away?"

Merlin shook his head. "Like Vethoas said, they don't understand dragontongue. I can't control them like I can a dragon." He looked at the drakes. "Lancelot has a point. I don't want any of you near that cave until we have checked that it's safe enough for you to land there."

"You worry too much, Merlin," Mynur spoke up. "We can hold our own against a few wyverns."

"I won't risk it," Merlin argued. "I don't want you to get injured. Not here, so far from home."

"Let us fight," Vethoas insisted.

Merlin's face grew utterly determined. "Ouchí," he growled. "Ménō!"

Mynur let out a noise that sounded like a sigh, but bowed his head along with Vethoas and Aithusa. Clearly, Merlin had given them an order they could not refuse. For a moment, Arthur found himself baffled that such powerful beasts would literally bow to a scrawny man like Merlin. But he also couldn't deny that Merlin, ever since the start of this quest, had been displaying a confidence of leadership Arthur himself had only grown into in recent years himself.

As if to prove Arthur's point, Merlin addressed them in a voice that did not leave much room for argument. "We're leaving on foot. Arthur, you and your men walk in the middle. That's your best protection. I'll take the lead with Gwaine. Lancelot and Percival will guard our backs."

Arthur tried arguing anyway.

"You're really not granting us any sort of weapon?" he asked incredulously. "A hunting knife? A club? Anything at all?"

"No."

"How do you expect us to defend ourselves? There's more danger out here than wyverns, you understand. The Valley is crawling with bandits and other outlaws!"

"Just go hide in the bushes like the cowards you are," Percival said snidely.

Arthur glared at him. "How dare you—"

"Enough!" Merlin barked. "Arthur, you're our prisoners. You're not getting a weapon and that's final. Be grateful we didn't leave you in Ealdor to get lynched. Now let's go!"

He stroked Aithusa's head one last time, then adjusted his pack and marched off. Arthur jerked his head at Leon and Elyan and they fell into step next to him, clearly as unhappy as Arthur about walking through the forest without even a stick in their hands.

They made quick progress. Merlin happened upon a small, winded path leading east, which eased their travels, and to Arthur's surprise, they didn't encounter any bandits or even so much as an angry boar on their way. Soon, he could make out the entrance to a large cave in the distance. The morning light caught against some of the stalactites hanging along the edge, making them glare and glitter. Crystals, Arthur realised, which only made sense, given the name of the place.

They had hardly stepped past the edge of the forest when a screeching sound made Arthur's blood run cold. He knew that sound. He had heard it once before, when his father had sent him on a dangerous quest of his own to prove himself a man in the Perilous Lands.

"Here they come!" Gwaine shouted, two blades at the ready.

Not a second later, wyverns descended on them. Arthur had just enough time to look up and see that there were at least four of them before he was grabbed by the arm and pulled back into the cover of the trees.

"Let me go, Elyan," Arthur snapped, but the knight pushed him into some bushes without so much as an apologetic look, then crouched down next to him.

"We can't do anything to help, sire," he said tightly. It was clear he liked hiding away about as much as Arthur.

"We could make a run for it," Leon urged as he joined them. "They've got their hands full. It's now or never, my lord!"

"There's every chance one of the wyverns will follow and kill us," Arthur argued and held up an impatient hand when Leon tried to argue further.

Another ear-piercing screech filled the air and Arthur peaked through the bushes to watch the fight.

Lancelot, Percival and Gwaine had their backs to each other and were surrounded by four wyverns. They had their blades raised and were taking confident swings at them. The wyverns retreated only briefly, then snapped at the swords. Arthur doubted Merlin's men could fend them off for long. Where was Merlin, anyway?

He leaned forward to get a better look and spotted the dragonlord closer to the cave's entrance. Three more wyverns were circling above him in the air, hissing down at him. Arthur realized that the idiot hadn't even unsheathed his sword. He was looking up at the wyverns with moving lips, as if glaring and muttering at them would do anything. What in the name of all gods was he doing? Hadn't he said he could not command them?

Suddenly, a stiff breeze swept through the area, ruffling Arthur's hair and the thicket around them. A strong whirlwind had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Of course! Merlin must have used dragonfyre to summon it. The wyverns screeched, but couldn't escape the winds. They were drawn into the vortex where their wings were twisted and cracked by the fierce gale. When the whirlwind had dissolved again, their bodies lay on the ground, broken and unmoving.

In the meantime, Gwaine had managed to kill one smaller wyvern with his swords, but was clearly in need of assistance as another one immediately attacked him. Lancelot and Percival hadn't had any success killing the other two creatures. They looked to be desperately defending themselves against their vicious attacks as they were driven out of their formation. As Arthur watched, they didn't manage even one offensive stab.

Observing all this from the side lines was torture! Arthur's fingers itched for a sword. Merlin wasn't even using his, for crying out loud!

The dragonlord had now turned towards his friends and raised his hand. Arthur could just make out the rumble of dragontongue. Rings of fire lit up on the ground, creating a barrier between the wyverns and warriors and trapping the beasts into place. The men welcomed the reprieve and regrouped, while the wyverns snarled, then took flight to escape the flames.

They circled in the air for a few seconds, then dove, determined to kill their prey with an attack from above.

Merlin spoke again, and a strong gust of wind forced the wyvern to the side, then their bodies were slammed into the ground and seemed to be held into place. Arthur was instantly reminded of Merlin magically forcing him to his knees. Merlin's men knew to use the chance presented to them and swiftly beheaded the wyverns with a strike each. The bodies twisted and writhed for a second more before they stilled.

It was done.

In spite of himself, Arthur found himself impressed. Four men against seven wyverns, and not a single human life lost. He stood and quickly left the bushes to approach the group.

"Impressive fight," he told Merlin, without a hint of snideness. It was only the truth. Merlin's magic especially had proven an asset.

To his surprise, Merlin flashed him a completely unguarded, proud sort of grin that lit up his whole face, before addressing his men, "Injuries?"

"A scratch, here and there," Gwaine replied. "Nothing that'll kill us."

"Let me see," Merlin replied, making a grab for his pack.

"We're fine, Merlin," Lancelot stopped him. "Save your supplies. I'm sure we'll have more serious need of them soon."

Everyone turned towards the cave at his words. The first few yards into the cavern were illuminated by daylight, but the back looked pitch-black and decidedly uninviting.

"Why are we going in there again?" Arthur asked warily.

"To find a sword," Merlin replied, and it sounded like a sigh.

"Must be some sword," Arthur quipped.

"Oh, but it is," said Gwaine, his voice laced with enough amusement that Arthur wasn't sure if he was teasing. "Excalibur isn't just any sword! It was forged in the breath of a hundred dragons from ore infused with their dragonfyre. Only its true master can wield it. Whoever owns it will be granted special powers."

"It kills monsters with one blow," Lancelot added, and he seemed quite serious about the tale. "It combines the strength of combat with the power of dragonfyre. Whoever wields it is undefeatable. Or so they say."

"Well," Arthur said lamely, "if it's such a mighty weapon, why haven't you retrieved it earlier?"

Merlin sighed, "Nobody has ever actually seen the sword. It's a myth, for all we know."

Before Arthur could ask why on Earth they were risking their lives for nothing but a myth, Merlin had raised his head to the sky and started shouting guttural words. Not a minute later, the dragons descended from the clouds. Aithusa landed first and immediately started sniffing curiously at the dead wyverns.

Vethoas didn't bother hiding her disapproval. "Only seven of them? You should have let us help, Merlin. We would've burnt them to nothing but ashes."

"There could have been dozens of them. I couldn't risk it. I'm sorry if you feel I overstepped, but I've got a duty to protect you from harm if I can."

Vethoas huffed, but didn't push the point.

"Well, here goes nothing," Gwaine announced and marched confidently towards the Crystal Cave. "Are you people coming, or what?"