If this was death, it wasn't half as peaceful as Merlin had hoped it would be.
He was vaguely aware of what was happening around him. It was not in the sense that he could hear Arthur screaming, or feel the lapping pull of the lake tide, or anything similar; he simply knew of them. They were distant, meaningless. But then there was something that wasn't distant. It was close, too close, and familiar, and it tore him out from where he hid, deep in himself.
Kilgharrah.
"Go," he cried. "I command you, Kil…"
"Not this time," Kilgharrah's voice broke through the dark.
"No, please, I don't want…" The dragon had to understand. He wanted to sleep. He didn't want to be saved, not at such a cost. "Go, you must… Kilgharrah, please…"
"It will be my pleasure."
Dragon, you must go. I command you, go. Kilgharrah, go.
Kilgharrah had never been able to disobey before, not even when he desperately wanted to, but now Merlin's words were powerless and it was agony.
"Please," he said again, the dragontongue forgotten, and a feeling of warmth emanated from Kilgharrah. It was comforting, content, but it grew and it was hot. It was fire. It felt like the magic that had always lingered, just behind Merlin's eyes and fingers and heart, only it was too strong and it was burning. He felt like he had melted, awash in the heat, without form or figure. The aura that was Kilgharrah was drifting away and leaving him to burn. He tried to scream but he had no lips, no voice, and—
Just as suddenly as it started, it stopped. The flames had been smothered by an inky blackness and it was engulfing him, dragging him down into its depths, and he was too tired to fight against it and—
There was a new aura, shining a pale yellow amidst the shadows. It was light and it was familiar and Merlin struggled towards it and –
He awoke.
Arthur was hugging him, speaking, and it sounded… right. Familiar.
"Does this mean you're not going to banish me?" He asked.
"No," Arthur said. And for a moment, nothing else mattered. Merlin smiled, but then his brow furrowed, and a wave of pain overtook him. Arthur was talking, and it was loud, too loud, and the sun burned his eyes.
"I need to get to Gaius," Merlin tried to keep the panic out of his voice. He knew vaguely what Kilgharrah had done, but only just—and he had no idea if it was supposed to hurt this bad. They began walking towards Camelot but it was slow, too slow. The pressure in his head was getting worse, coupling with a pressure under his skin. It felt like his bones were trying to force themselves free and he was becoming stretched, paper thin and about to break. Every sound was an agony, even Arthur's voice.
"Merlin," the king said, and Merlin realized he had been speaking.
"What." He didn't mean to be short but he couldn't help it.
"When you said… when you told me you were tired—"
"I was delirious, Arthur. It didn't mean anything." Merlin cut in before Arthur could say much else. He felt ashamed for the things he'd been thinking, especially now that Kilgharrah had given his life to allow him to keep his own. The last of the great dragons, dead, because of a sorcerer who didn't want to live anyways.
"I don't want to hear that ever again," Arthur said decisively, and Merlin paused, wondering if he should speak. But the pain in his head was too great and he couldn't stop himself.
"Do you have any idea how alone I felt? Every day. Can you imagine realizing that your best friend could never know who you were, because if he did, he would hate you?"
"I don't hate you, Merlin. I could never hate you."
"You hate magic," Merlin plunged on. "Magic is a part of me. And when we get back to Camelot…"
You'll have to banish me, he thought. Or execute me.
"We're a while away from Camelot yet."
Things felt okay for a few miles after that. The pain had become almost manageable; it was incessant, but tolerable. For a few minutes, he actually thought it was going away.
Suddenly, his legs fell out from under him and he collapsed under the weight of his own bones, which swelled against his skin. He couldn't stop himself; he screamed. The fire from the dragon's magic was back, stabbing at his entire body, and he could feel his muscles tightening and loosening as they seized against it.
There was a voice somewhere, panicked, muffled, and Merlin tried to call out when he realized his teeth were clamped together so hard he thought they would break.
"Gaius," he choked out, and someone screamed. It sounded animalistic, a terrible howl of agony. "Get Gaius."
Arthur wasn't moving and he was going to die right there in the clearing and there was no time-
"GO!" he yelled, and something welled up from deep in his chest, a surge of power he'd never felt before. Arthur was blown backwards and as he ran away, Merlin glimpsed a look of fear on his face.
"Please," he sobbed, and there was quiet.