Arthur, like his knights, had long ago learned to ignore his own fear during battle. There was only that moment, only that adversary, only the sweep of his torch and the glint of his blade.

Slash, burn. Slash, burn.

This close, the shades were just a crowd of depthless eyes, staring, oh, gods, horrifying-

Slash. Burn.

Merlin was fighting nearby. He hadn't turned into a dragon, not yet, but he was already nearly unrecognizable. He wore gauntlets of scale; in fact, there was iridescent darkness covering him from his toes to his chin, and were it not for the bright paleness of his face, he might have been confused for a shade in the heat of the moment. Fire danced around him, trailing the fluidlike motion of his hands, illuminating the harsh angles of his face. Only his eyes still seemed human.

It felt to Arthur like he and his men were swimming, barely keeping their heads above water. If he stood still tendrils of fallen shades would begin to wrap themselves weakly around his feet. The ground was black with them, unable to strike but groaning in a chorus. The air was red with hundreds of individual flames, and there was a burnt scent in the air as fireballs, shot by Druid soldiers, accidentally singed the hair and clothes of their companions. Arthur didn't know how long it had been. He was desperately weary, but the stars were fading, and he felt a surge of hope. Surely, they could beat the army if only they could hold on until morning.

Out of the corner of his eye Arthur saw Merlin freeze, his gaze trained on something in the sky. His entire body was tense, almost thrumming in the light of the fire, and Arthur made a step towards him. Merlin looked back at him for a moment- a single moment, but it stretched on for a lifetime. Sound drained away. The torch in Arthur's own hand moved slowly, like a blade of grass held underwater. The shades were somewhere distant from him, another world maybe, and it was just the two of them alone.

It was goodbye.

Arthur was fighting, surging against that moment, dropping his torch as he reached out, trying to run in a world where everything had been rendered still. It was swimming against a current and the water was icy; it felt like the lake at Avalon, and Merlin was rippling, scales blooming on his cheeks, on his forehead. It reminded Arthur of the death of Kilgarrah. And suddenly the moment shattered and sound was sucked back in in a roar, screams and the crackling of fire and steel whistling through the air. Merlin was gone. Emrys had taken his place.

The dragon stared at Arthur for another second, two, and then it leapt from the ground, its wings unfurling as it rose to meet the white dragon approaching from above the treeline.

Likmus had been waiting for this moment, sitting in his chambers, forgotten. He was watching Merlin through the window, wanting him to change, willing him to change, and then Aithusa had risen like a dream from the west.

As the little black dragon flew out to meet the white one, Likmus turned to the mortar filled with ground bone. He pulled a little black vial from his pocket and poured it in, smiling to himself as he did so.

Wait.

Likmus jumped, the incantation fading from his lips. "Mistress? I thought you wanted-"

Not yet, love. I know the sorceress's mind. She cares only to destroy Merlin, and I have found her heart to be weak and treacherous.

"I don't understand, Nimueh."

Merlin will be working for me even without your spell, Likmus. Wait a while. Let him kill the dragoness and her master, and then it will be time. I only need one dragon, after all.

"You are wise as ever, mistress." Likmus looked out the window resignedly. He had waited this long for his spell. It wouldn't kill him to wait a little longer.

The dragoness was far larger than Emrys remembered, and he felt a flicker of unease which he abandoned quickly. The man was on the ground below him, fighting for his life, and he would be killed if the dragoness and her rider were not stopped. Emrys could not let that happen. He would not let it happen.

The two dragons were flying as fast as they could towards each other, but Emrys realized he was too small and at the last second he twisted in midair, diving under Aithusa. He swiped at her underbelly as he passed, feeling the scales give beneath his talons, but her hind leg caught his wing in a blind defensive kick and he spiraled downwards for a hundred feet before righting himself.

His head was a madhouse of sound. The strange black creatures below were crying, wailing in misery. The woman on the dragon was there, too, saying things he couldn't understand, and so was the man with the golden light. There were two more voices and Emrys couldn't pinpoint the source; one felt like it was a part of him, emanating from somewhere deep in his heart, and the other felt cold and alien. They were distracting. Aithusa was approaching and he surged upwards to meet her but the voices were loud, so loud, and when the dragoness dove in he didn't block her completely and her teeth tore through his shoulder. The agony was sudden, sharp, and the voices became more clear. And aside from the creatures below, every voice was saying the same word.

Merlin.