When the black dragon opened its jaws Morgana saw fire building up in the back of its throat and a wave of crippling panic overtook her. She tossed the scale onto the bedspread, her breath coming in ragged gasps. For a moment she was unable to even move, petrified by the memory of the searing heat and the agony. It was Aithusa that prompted her to move again. The dragon was ordinarily calm, almost demure, but now she was radiating a flurry of emotions and all of them were negative. There was betrayal, and anger, and confusion, and sadness, and pain. Although the dragon could not speak, Morgana knew exactly what she was asking.

Why?

"I didn't mean to let it go that far," Morgana began to sob, but Aithusa could sense that this was only partially true. Yes, the sorceress had not wanted Aithusa hurt, but all the same she had been emanating a burning sense of focus during the attack—a need. Morgana hadn't felt complete since before the fire, and controlling the dragon had made her feel strong again. "You understand better than anyone. Merlin must pay for what he's done."

Aithusa could feel her mistress's sorrows as her own. The death of Morgause was like a stab to the heart, and the death of Mordred was equally difficult to bear. She could remember a time before her own birth, when Merlin's name sounded warm, like home. But then he'd hurt the sorceress and the bitterness had begun to form. The hole he'd left ached doubly when Morgana discovered his powers, and not necessarily because he'd been her faceless nemesis for so long. No, it hurt because when Morgana was discovering her powers, Merlin had let her believe she was alone. A freak. He'd chosen the son of Uther over his own people, and Morgana could never forgive him for that. He was a liar and a murderer.

These things Aithusa knew from Morgana, things which had been formed and cemented in the pit. But Aithusa knew other things, too, and they muddled her brain. Merlin was bad. He was evil, Morgana said so herself, and Morgana had never lied to her. And yet the sorcerer's aura was familiar. Aithusa knew him from before she entered the world. He had been in her dreams as she slept for a hundred years, and in those dreams, he was good. He protected her as an egg and brought her into the world and named her after the light of the sun. His face was the first face Aithusa ever saw.

Aithusa decided not to fly home just yet. She angled away from the sorceress's hut and away from Camelot, wandering slowly and aimlessly and watching the light of the afternoon deepen. Her mind drifted towards Kilgharrah.

Arthur thought Merlin to be uncharacteristically quiet on the ride back to Camelot, and it dawned on him that it wasn't about his own outburst in the forest. There was something else on the warlock's mind.

"Are you going to tell me this time?" he asked. His voice was low so the other knights wouldn't hear, and he stared down the path ahead. There was a grim set to his face and Merlin sighed.

"I don't know what you—"

"Don't you dare." The king did look at his ex-servant now and his eyes bore into Merlin's. "I'm done with that bullshit."

"Something's wrong," he said simply, offering a smile which was meant to be reassuring. It came off as sad. "Back there… I had no idea who I was."

"Sorry?"

"I didn't know you or any of the knights," Merlin's voice trembled slightly and he cleared his throat. "I didn't even know my own name. I only recognized you as someone important to me, someone to protect. And if Kilgharrah hadn't said anything I don't think I ever would have—"

"I thought Kilgharrah was dead?" Arthur asked sharply.

"I still hear him, sometimes. A piece of him stayed with me." Merlin took a deep breath. "Arthur, this isn't supposed to happen. I'm not supposed to forget things, not like that, and it's only going to get worse. He says someone's making this happen to me."

"Morgana?"

"I don't think so. This is too advanced for her." Merlin paused. "Arthur, I need you to promise me something."

"Anything." The king frowned. Something in his friend's voice worried him.

"The more I change, the more likely it is that I can't… that I won't come back. But I trust you, Arthur, I always trust you, and I need you to promise me never to let that happen."

"Merlin, what do you—"

"I'm human, Arthur. I don't want to be anything else. I need you to swear that—"

"That I'll kill you?" His voice rose and Merlin looked around hurriedly, but Arthur was beyond quieting. "How could you even ask me that? I don't—"

"Please," it was soft, almost a whisper. "I can't ask anyone else. I want… I need… you."

"Merlin…"

"Do you have any idea how terrifying it was? I had no idea what I'd done or who I'd hurt, only that I could smell blood, and I didn't know where I'd been or how long. It was like dying, Arthur."

"Don't ask this of me," the king murmured. "I'm not strong enough."

Merlin's shoulders fell but he nodded, and as Arthur watched he forced another wry smile. "It was a long shot."

They rode on in silence, neither man looking at the other.

I'm not strong enough, Arthur thought to himself. Oh, gods, never make me have to be strong enough.