“Yes,” she replied. “– –it was a name chosen for me by my closest kin.”
[– – -Emrys. When Merlin had brought the young dragons egg to the Great Dragon Killgharrah, the dragonlord summoned her out of her shell, with the call of her name. Aithusa. A name meant for hope, laced with innocence, but the years since then had passed, and now that name held a different meaning. ]
“Peter,” she spoke his name slowly, with a calm smile on carmine lips. “– and are you a druid, Peter?”
[ Aithusa spoke in a soothing tone, almost a whisper. Though they sat in a druidic village, the threat of being overheard by magics enemies loomed over them. ]
“The last dragonlord, I presume?” He questioned. “Everyone here has been talking about it.”
[ There were stories that were told at fires at the small village; much of other kingdoms, mainly of the king of Camelot, but others of tales of the great sorcerer Emrys. He was destined to be at Arthur Pendragon’s side, help him to unite all of Albion. He was the last dragonlord, and frequently goes to the Great Dragon for guidance. The druids were his allies; they admired him much. ]
With hesitance, he replied quietly, “No, I left my home to escape my father, Sarrum.”
[ It was dangerous to speak of his father here, but it was worth taking a risk. ]
