It was late. Or early, rather; the knights would be waking up soon, and still Emrys hadn't slept. He hadn't dared to, because although he had enjoyed the blissful and pain-free night, he felt… transient. Not quite whole. It was hardly noticeable; in fact, it had taken him hours to even register that something had felt off—besides sprouting two wings and a tail, of course. But after Arthur had fallen asleep there were no distractions and all at once Emrys was distinctly aware of a strange feeling deep in his chest.
He had died on the banks of Avalon. There was a dull fear when he conjured the memory and he shoved it aside viciously, habitually, but the fact remained that he had died and come back and changed. In the space of a few days he had been killed and brought back to life as a dragon, and for the first time, Emrys began to wonder if some part of him hadn't gotten left behind. He felt tired—not in the way that he should have been, not fatigued, but strained. Like he was Atlas, holding the world on his shoulders. And yet the strain was less pronounced than it had been just after he changed. The burden felt lighter.
Merlin.
Emrys snorted in surprise, rearing back against an unbidden voice in his head. It wasn't Arthur's.
"Kilgharrah?" he breathed.
For a little while, the voice purred, and Emrys felt a surge of grief-muted happiness to hear his friend. Merlin, you must listen carefully.
"Kilgharrah, I'm so sorry you had to—"
No, it is I that should apologize. I have done you a necessary but terrible wrong, my friend. The life of the emμοναχικόs will be difficult even for you.
"Lonely," Emrys translated, his voice a murmur.
You will walk a line between dragonkind and the human race. A very thin line, for the rest of your life, and at times it will seem so easy to step one way or the other. This you can never do.
"I don't understand."
You will find that as time passes in your draconic form, it will become harder and harder to change back.
"I can… How do I… change?"
There are no spells or incantations for magic as ancient as this. Simply put, you must focus on shifting. It will be difficult at first, but it will get easier.
"And if I don't change in time? How do I know when—"
You can feel it now, can't you? That pull in your gut?
The dragon's words cut like ice.
I don't remember what my name used to be, or why I didn't change back, but I think… I think it was the aloneness.
"You were…"
Human. Yes… I'd forgotten... The voice was introspective, musing… and sad. If only I'd met you sooner, young warlock.
Emrys could feel the dragon leaving. "Wait! Kilgharrah, I need you. You can't—"
When you need me, I'll be here. A pause, loaded with a thousand questions Emrys didn't know how to pose and a thousand things Kilgharrah wanted to say and couldn't remember. That idiot king will need you, young warlock, both human and dragon. Camelot will need you. Albion will need you. But Merlin… Don't lose yourself. When the time comes… Let the dragons die. Aithusa will be the last.
"Kilgharrah…" Before he could say anything else, he felt the dragon's presence burn out in his mind. There was a slight echo, like the outline of a flame on his eyelids after he'd blown his candle out and been left in darkness. He looked down at his charges, sleeping soundly in his shadow. For a moment he did nothing, trying to capture how his wings felt as the rain hammered and ran off the membrane in rivulets.
He shut his eyes.
Kilgharrah had said that there were no magic words, but Emrys wished he had some anyways. He tried to focus on shifting, like the dragon had said. Talons to fingers, tail melting away, but the images felt flat. Lifeless.
I waited too long. Now I'm stuck, I'll be a dragon forever and I'll forget my name—
That idiot king will need you, Kilgharrah had said. Arthur and Camelot and Albion. And just then they needed a human.
There was a strange shiver which coursed from the tip of his nose to the final plate of his tail, and his scales lifted ever so slightly in protest against it. It looked like a bird shaking water clear of its feathers, which wasn't far from the truth; rainwater billowed into the air in misting, billowing clouds, and woke all but Leon. Emrys didn't notice. He felt like he was falling asleep, and the pressure in his chest was driving him down, down into himself and into the black.
Arthur jumped, startled as a spray of icy water soaked his clothes. He looked up.
"Merlin? Is everything—" he broke off. The dragon was staring straight ahead, its eyes wide. The pupils had disappeared entirely. As he watched, the dragon shook once—a weird tremor, and then the ebony scales began to lift as the other dragon's had on the beach. Arthur's heart thudded in his chest. Kilgharrah's scales had done that because he was dying. "Merlin! Say something, what happened, I—"
"What is it?" Gaius had been roused by Arthur's shouts and his eyes widened upon seeing his ward.
"Gaius, he's dying. I can't lose him now, you have to help him! Please!"
"He's not dying, sire." The physician stepped out from under the dragon's wing, impervious to the rain. His eyes were fixed overhead in an expression of awe. "He's changing."
As they watched the scales began to rise, swirling around Merlin in a lazy spiral and obscuring him from view. When they at last began to part, disintegrating and blowing away like leaves, a very human Merlin was left standing in the clearing.
Well, mostly human.