Ashes Can't Break Chains
A Sort of Dramatic Fanfic by Kitty O
It's over.
Somehow, he knew that morning when he woke up. Something in the air, like the stale, lingering smell of fire, made him stop and sniff, made him think.
The magic of the Earth was almost alive, always glowing and ever-present in the back of his mind, and that was what let him know. A huge hunk of it was torn out, quenched, gone dark. The Old Religion had suffered a blow, a hard one, and that's what it was that informed him.
Panicked, gold eyes wide, he searched with his mind and his magic, plunging his consciousness deep into the castle and searching desperately for the presence that had always been there before. But it was gone, burned out, extirpated.
Destroyed.
He kept looking in every corner, then outside of the castle. He thought maybe... Perhaps the presence wasn't gone, just absent, out of town...? But no, it was gone, shattered...
...Extinquished...
Then came the shock and the horror. This couldn't be happening, he thought, even though he knew it was. The prophecies, the Old Religion itself, said that this could not happen. Yet his senses did not lie to him.
His senses said it was over, finished, that he had lost.
He would be stuck in this pit, this cavern, forever. Never again would he feel the freedom, the fresh air and wind pushing up his wings and aiding his flight, able to look down and see scholars and sorcerers and children alike learning and understanding magic. That's what the prophecy had declared, but it was a lie. The promise of that day had kept him going throughout his imprisonment, but now it was ruined, just ashes of a should-have-been dream in the wind.
Kilgharrah would never be free; he'd rot here. The Old Religion was dying, being crushed, and burning like its followers. It was all over. He'd been here, alone, forever.
Forever is a very long time, even to the immortal.
Something seemed to explode in his scaly chest, and he threw back his head, sinewy muscles stretching painfully. Wings up and pulled back, he roared. He howled, voice layered with his own draconic magic, as though that could bring back to this world what had passed on.
"MERLIN! NO!"
But Merlin could not come. Merlin could never come and hold up his small torch, his face twisted into an expression of worry, of anger, or barely suppressed amusement.
The warlock was as his destiny, just so many ashes in the wind. Kilgharrah could deny it, could wish it wasn't true. But it was. The Old Religion itself, embedded in the Earth, knew that a huge part of it had suddenly been wiped out.
The cavern shook with the violence of his bellow, shivered and trembled until the castle above quaked too, and people everywhere looked up to see what was happening. But none of them knew the truth…
The truth that the Dragon could not escape from, which fettered him as steadfastly as his chains. This was a truth that would rock the very foundations of all that was and is and will be, and would be felt until the end of everything…
The idiotic boy had failed.
Merlin.
Was dead.
And so the Dragon was doomed to loneliness, to chains, forever.
Forever is so very long to wait for liberation, and ashes can't break enforced bonds. Even if it was destiny.
~Over~
A/N: Just popped into my mind. I've seen everyone's POV when Merlin dies in all those sad fanfictions, but never have I read one from the Dragon's POV. And I imagine he would care most of all, because he knows that destiny is all a lie now, right? And he knows exactly what they lost, even when no one else knows. So there you go. Do you like it? And though I know you get the title, I'll say anyway that it can work for both the destiny and Merlin himself, as the body may have been burned. (Or he could have been burned to death; however you want to look at it.) The bonds can be metaphorical, no-magic bonds!
And for those of you who care, this is the 4th time I've killed Merlin. Awful; I guess I just think that character death is so very probable if the show were realistic.