"You know, it's still not too late for you to turn back," the sorcerer called over his shoulder conversationally, and the king sidled up next to him.
"Give it a rest, Merlin," Leon called from the back of the group. His sentiment was echoed by several of the other knights.
"You may be a sorcerer, but I'm the king." Arthur smirked. "Like I would let you face a dragon alone."
"I have before. More than once. I can handle myself."
"Dragonlord or no, I find that a little hard to believe." Arthur paused. "Besides, it's my throne Morgana's after." The warlock sobered instantly at the sorceress's name, and the king shot him a look. "It was an accident, Merlin. We all know that."
"She doesn't," Merlin said quietly, and rode on ahead.
It had been only hours since Sir Blaise had returned to Camelot, and a party had been assembled to track the dragon and her mistress. The group consisted of Arthur, Merlin, and several veteran knights—including Percival, who had hardly left the sorcerer's side since the night he had told him about Gwaine's death. It was well-intentioned, but Merlin had nonetheless grown a little irritated by the man's constant presence; he had even taken to following the warlock on herb-gathering trips into the woods, standing a few feet back with his sword drawn.
All at once, any chatter amongst the riders died away as a scent reached their noses. Merlin in particular seemed struck by it, whether on account of his heightened senses or due to his experience with Morgana. It was the smell of burnt flesh.
"It's just a little farther," Sir Blaise had joined Merlin and Arthur at the head of the group, his voice dreamy. "You can see them through the trees."
The knights lay scattered between broken branches and dead horses, their tunics red as blood where they hadn't been burned away. Several swords lay glimmering in the dirt. Sir Blaise was crying.
"Oh drakon, anale tendai gard amasen fulakson," Merlin called out the summons and he could sense a couple of the men looking at him almost fearfully. They fanned out to the edges of the clearing. "Erkheo!"
A minute passed.
"Are you sure you did it right?" Arthur began. "Maybe—"
"Aithusa! E male so ftengometta tesd'hup'anankes!"
"What are you saying?" Arthur whispered.
"I'm summoning her," Merlin said, and his voice was grim.
His words were punctuated by the sound of wings, and there was a slight clanking as the knights which had not already been holding their swords aloft drew.
Aithusa was lying morosely in front of her mistress's hut when she heard a voice in her head, one she hadn't heard in a very long time.
Dragon, I command your presence. Alight to me.
The man was Emrys, the man Morgana hated so much. She wanted to ignore the call, but he spoke again.
Aithusa! You must obey me.
Casting a final look towards where her mistress slept, Aithusa took to the air. It was a short flight to the sorcerer, and the dragon recognized it as the place where the men had burned.
What have you done? He asked, and she lowered her head.
It wasn't me, she wanted to say, but she knew no words. There was a shifting in the recesses of her mind and she realized her mistress had awoken.
Emrys, Morgana spoke in Aithusa's head, and the dragon flinched against the sound, so full of hatred. She knew she should hate this man also, and yet she couldn't. Not completely.
I command you to leave these lands, Emrys was saying. Stop this violence.
Every scale on Aithusa's body vibrated with the desire to leave. The need to listen. He had commanded her to go and she had to obey, and she tensed, her wings flaring as she prepared to fly—
No.
The desperate need to follow the man's orders increased but Aithusa felt Morgana taking control. She was powerless.
Did you miss me, Emrys?
Merlin hesitated a moment before speaking when the dragon landed in front of him. Since Morgana and Aithusa had been connected, the dragon had changed. She was no longer shrunken, or twisted into painful shapes. She was massive, nearing Kilgharrah's size, and strong; powerful muscles rippled beneath the shimmering white scales, and elegant spines arched from both sides of her face.
"Drakon, te ékanes?" He murmured, stepping forward. The dragon seemed unable to meet his gaze, her head lowered in shame or sadness. "Non didlkai. Kar krissas."
For a minute it looked as though Aithusa was listening, her eyes wide and searching. She shifted, ready to leave, and in a split second something changed.
No. The word echoed through Merlin's head and the voice belonged not to a dragon but to a sorceress. Did you miss me, Emrys?
"Ithi!" He shouted, his eyes flashing gold, but the dragon only tilted its head with a malevolent curiosity. The edges of its mouth twisted into a ghoulish imitation of a smile, far too wide and fanged. The eyes burned red.
"Get out of here!" Merlin turned back to the knights, who simply stared at him, confusion written across their features.
"Why isn't it working? I thought—"
"It's Morgana!" The sorcerer spun, his eyes glowing as his body seemed to rise into the air under a wave of black. The scales twisted over his legs, his torso, his arms, and in a matter of seconds the two dragons faced each other, white and black, red and gold. There was silence in the clearing, but as the moment passed, the silence broke.