Dragonlord.

Merlin frowned at the title that had become meaningless centuries before. "I don't know what you've heard, but I'm no longer a dragonlord."

"Ah, but I beg to differ. Just because the dragons died out doesn't mean that your powers have. If dragons were to return, you would still be their kin."

"That could never happen, so if you don't mind, we're going to go, and we're going to take these people with us."

"Oh, I'm afraid I can't let you do that." His eyes glowed with magic and the sound of the doors locking echoed through the room. "You see, Emrys, you're wrong. Dragons can come back. And they will, with your help."

"I don't understand."

"Then allow me to enlighten you." His magic pushed back the curtain to reveal two large tanks, each containing, suspended in clear liquid, a dragon.

They were strange, beaked things with odd, elongated scales the likes of which Merlin had never seen before, one mottled red and purple, the other sporting shades of green and gold. A sense of wrongness emanated from them like a miasma.

Merlin got to his feet, still holding Branwen close. "What have you done?"

The man barked out an incredulous laugh. "Why, I've only married ancient magic to modern technology in order to bring back creatures that should never have died out to begin with."

"And who are you to make that judgment?"

The man inclined his head. "You may call me Draconis."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Well that's original." Arthur snorted behind him.

Anger flashed across Draconis' face before he schooled his expression back into a bland smile. "I need your help."

"No."

"You don't understand. Without you the dragons will never be fully alive."

"No."

His face fell, and he looked genuinely confused. "Whyever not?"

Merlin shook his head, remembering back to when the world was newer, and dragons had had a place in it. He tried to picture them in the context of modern times, and found that he couldn't. "This world is no longer suitable for dragons."

Draconis regarded him sourly. "I didn't expect you, of all people, to be so… short-sighted."

Merlin breathed out what might've been a laugh, but for the lack of humor behind it. "Oh, I lost the ability to be short-sighted about a thousand years ago."

"So you won't help me…"

"No."

"… willingly."

Merlin's arm tightened around Branwen and he threw up a shield against the implied threat, only to gape in horror as the dragons twitched.

Draconis smiled. "You see, Emrys? I've made accommodations for any… reluctance on your part."

"But," Merlin's thoughts spun as the creatures continued to spasm, "a dragon needs a name to hatch."

Draconis' eyebrows rose. "Do they, now? How interesting. I shall have to add that information to my research notes. However, I do not need my dragons to be hatched, merely," he seemed to search for the word he wanted, "quickened, if you will. And for that, any dragonlord magic will suffice."

Merlin thought quickly, trying to find a way out of the conundrum. His shield was feeding the dragons, which were becoming more and more active the longer he held it. But if he let it fall, Branwen, Arthur, and the twins would all be in danger.

Branwen's voice drifted into his thoughts. 'Let me handle the shield.'

'No,' he told her, noting that she was already starting to tremble simply from standing. 'You're too weak.'

'I don't see that we have much of a choice.'

Reluctantly, he nodded and allowed her to put up her shield before lowering his own.

Draconis stared at her. "That's not possible. Her magic -" he was cut off by a resounding CRACK from one of the tanks.

Rather than quieting the dragons, the shift from Merlin's magic to Branwen's seemed to have the opposite effect – both dragons were now thrashing in their tanks, awake and twisting and trying to orient themselves. One of the tanks was leaking liquid from an enormous crack in the side.

Branwen let the shield drop. There seemed little point to it now that Draconis had what he wanted and was focused solely on the creatures. Merlin frowned as the man crooned encouragingly at the writhing dragons, his face rapturous. Something was definitely wrong.

Branwen gasped as the purple-and-red managed to hook a claw on the edge of the tank and pull itself up. "Merlin," she looked up at him, eyes wide, "they're part griffin."

Merlin watched as the dragon shook its head, drenching Draconis in a shower of liquid. The scales on its neck fluffed into a mane of feathers.

"Draconis! Get away from them!"

He laughed. "Whyever would I do that? Look at them! They're magnificent!"

The creature was staring intently at him, cocking its head to one side, and then the other as he spoke. Encouraged, Draconis cooed, "Come on, then. Out you come, my beauty."

Amazingly, the creature seemed to understand what was wanted of him and began scrabbling at the lip of the tank, finally falling onto the floor in a rather undignified heap.

By this time the green-and-gold had pulled her head over the top of her tank as well, and was watching with interest as the man slowly approached her sibling. The purple-and-red, having picked himself up, noticed Draconis' approach and drew back in alarm. The man froze and drew breath to speak, but whatever reassurances he was about to make were drowned out as the creature shrieked at him, the sound an odd combination of guttural roar and high-pitched keening.

The creature's attention was pulled abruptly away by Merlin's answering roar, and Draconis, eyes wide with terror, took full advantage of his dragon's momentary confusion to magic himself away. The green-and-gold, clambering out of her tank, startled at the sudden absence and fell to the floor with an angry hiss. Her sibling, apparently interpreting the sound as a threat, turned toward her with such speed that his tail shattered the tank he'd been in. His sister shrieked in alarm before he was on her, the pair of them a roiling tangle of mottled colors, destroying everything around them.

Merlin's second roar fell on deaf ears and he scowled. "Right. Time to end this." He threw a fireball at them and then watched, horrified, as the flames dissipated into a glittering cloud before being absorbed into the scales. The creatures visibly grew.

"Branwen! You said that they're part griffin. Can you communicate with them?"

"I'll try."

She concentrated, brows furrowed, for several heartbeats before she shook her head. "No go."

"Well then," Arthur hefted his sword as he spoke, "it looks like I'll need to dispatch them." He started toward the brawl, but was stopped by Merlin's hand on his arm.

"I agree, but we need to calm or restrain them somehow, or you'll never get close enough to do any real damage."

"I can try."

"No, Arthur. Please. I just got you back. I can't lose you again so soon."

"What's the alternative?"

Jaxson stepped up. "Let me have a go. I can throw daggers from here."

Merlin shook his head. "Only blades forged in a dragon's breath can harm a dragon."

"There's something else I can try." They turned to look at Branwen and she continued, "It might calm them down or," she cast a wary eye at the creatures, "it might make them angrier."

Merlin, following her train of thought, nodded. "Right." He turned and pointed at the twins. "You two! I'm going to send you and those containers to the first floor. Get the people out and do what you can to help them." He waited for their acknowledgement, then his eyes went gold. All of the locks popped open, but the containers stayed stubbornly where they were.

Merlin swore. "Okay, plan B, then. It looks like Draconis sealed this room against any magic but his own, so you're staying here. Defend them the best you can. Arthur?"

"Let me guess. You've got a bad feeling?"

"Just… be ready for anything."

Arthur grinned and twirled his sword. "Now you're talking."

Merlin smiled a little at Arthur's bravado before turning back to Branwen.

"Go for it."

She nodded, closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and shrieked.

Merlin slammed his hands over his ears, the sound louder than he'd anticipated in the enclosed space. He saw that the others, too, were trying to cover their ears, and even the dragons had stopped fighting and were pawing at the air around their heads.

The sound finally faded and Branwen, bent nearly double, drew a gasping breath, coughed, and drew another. Merlin put an arm around her and she leaned into him, but her eyes were on the dragons. They shook their heads a few times, then fixed her with identical stares. Merlin was just beginning to hope that it had worked when they both let out their strange keening roars and charged.

Arthur and Jazmine dodged one direction and Jaxson and Merlin, dragging Branwen with him, dodged another. The dragons split up, the green-and-gold following the first two, her brother intent on the other three.

"Now what?!" Arthur shouted as he ran.

"I don't know!" Merlin called back. "I'm thinking!"

"Well, think faster!"

"Oh, yes," Merlin ducked with Branwen and Jaxson behind a long table, barely avoiding the snapping jaws that tried to follow. "Very constructive, Sire!"

"Just shut up and figure something out!"

Merlin was about to retort when Branwen suddenly changed direction, nearly pulling him off balance. He stumbled after her and then saw where she was heading – another set of metal stairs against the far wall. They appeared to be too narrow to allow the creature to follow them but he wanted to be sure.

"Jaxson! Duck!"

Jaxson barely dodged the blast of magic as it sailed past and scrambled up the stairs after them, letting out a huff of relief when the dragon was too wide to squeeze between the handrail and the wall. They left him below, screeching in frustration.

"Dude."

"Yeah, sorry about the short notice."

"Nah, dude. That was awesome!"

Meanwhile, the other dragon had driven Arthur and Jazmine back toward their entry point. Arthur had Jazmine behind him and his sword appeared to be doing enough damage to keep the creature at bay, but he couldn't get close enough to land a killing blow.

"Arthur!"

There was a grunt as Arthur blocked a claw-swipe. "Little busy here, Merlin!"

"Yeah, I can see that! Get up the stairs, turniphead!"

Arthur feinted, then scrambled with Jazmine for the staircase. "When we get out of here, we're going to have a very long, very overdue discussion about your lack of respect!"

"I seem to recall that you've tried that before, on several different occasions!"

"Well, maybe this time it'll finally penetrate that thick skull!"

"That's no way to speak to your elders!"

"Elder doesn't necessarily mean better!"

"BOYS!" Branwen watched with satisfaction as their mouths clamped shut in unison. "This really isn't the time!" Their eyes followed her pointing finger to the red-and-purple, who was contemplating the stairs. As they watched, he bit down on the handrail and tugged. The entire staircase shook alarmingly. Merlin spun and tried the door that the stairs let to, but it wouldn't budge, by force or by magic.

"Okay, that's not good."

"You think?"

Merlin scowled at his wife. "Don't you start."

"Can if I want," she answered absently, watching as Arthur struggled to open his own door, to no avail. "That was some spell Draconis cast."

"Can you counter it?"

The staircase shuddered again, harder. "I don't think we have that kind of time."

The green-and-gold, who had been watching her brother intently, gave Arthur's staircase an experimental bite.

"Oh, no you don't," he told her, descending far enough to swing at her with his sword. She hissed, then ducked under the stairs, biting at the steps while Arthur tried to stab at her from above.

Merlin could only watch in growing frustration. He was Emrys, the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the earth, and the last dragonlord, and he was helpless against these strange hybrids. There was a very good chance that they, as well as everyone else, were going to die because his magic was useless.

"Hey, Grandpa!"

The new nickname drew his attention to Arthur, who was busily harassing the dragon with his sword.

"I was thinking," he swiped at a wing that came into range, allowing Merlin to interrupt.

"Well, maybe you should not, right now?"

"Nah, I've got this. Do you remember," sidestep, "when the two of you fought Lilith?"

"Lilith?"

"Yes, Merlin," block, "Demon Queen? Lived in a bowl? Do keep up."

"Of course I remember, prat! What about it?"

"As I recall, the two of you worked rather brilliantly together."

"We always work brilliantly together!"

"Really, Merlin? I figured that since wisdom comes with age that you'd be positively brimming with it, but I see that you're still an idiot."

Branwen grabbed at the handrail as the stairs shook again. "Do you have a point, Sire?"

Arthur grinned, pleased that he'd gotten a rise out of her, too, and gestured at the hybrids. "These things are part dragon and part griffin, right? Maybe you need to speak to them as such."

Merlin's mind raced. Speak to them in some sort of hybrid language? Was that even possible? He turned to Branwen who, apparently anticipating his question, was holding up a finger to stave it off. She had on what he affectionately thought of as her "thinking face" and hope swelled in him.

She nodded and turned wide eyes to him. "I think it might work."

He nodded back at her. "Tell me what to do."

She shrugged. "Talk to them again."

He took a breath and allowed the dragonspeak to bubble up in him once more, only half paying attention to what he was saying as he listened to Branwen's griffin-cry beside him.

The creatures ignored them.

Branwen shook her head and stopped, and Merlin followed suit. "That's no good. We're both still just speaking the individual languages. They're layering rather than blending."

"So how do we blend them?"

"I'm not sure, but I think I can figure it out." She twined her fingers with his. "Try again."

He did, but this time, instead of hearing her voice, he felt her magic press against his dragonlord gift. It felt strange and he was sure that his magic would've lashed out had it been anyone but her.

But it didn't. Rather, it shifted and stretched oddly to accommodate her. Then she opened her gift within his and it was as if a flower had bloomed inside of him. He wished he could take the time to examine the sensation more fully, to explore this part of her that he had known about but had never, in all their long years together, experienced directly.

Then he heard her voice – a high, sweet counterpoint to his, resonating in both his ears and his magic. And then the note changed, surprising him. And changed again, and he realized that it was a melody set against his dragonspeak, which had taken on a rhythmic, chanting quality.

They were singing to the dragons.