A/N: I'm sorry.
It might have even worked.
Aithusa was still frozen, indecisive, but as Merlin approached he saw something change in the set of her face. There was a determination in her eyes that he had never seen before; he doubted even she ever knew that it existed. For her entire life, Aithusa had been under the care of someone else. Under the control of someone else. But now Morgana was silent, her face a paroxysm of confusion and fear.
"I have loved you long, Morgana Pendragon," the sorceress spoke suddenly, and her voice was distant. Alien. "I will love you always. But you are misguided. You have been inside of my mind, using me for destruction, but I am inside of your mind, too. I do not want death, Morgana. I never did. What we are doing... It is wrong."
Morgana's voice grew higher, more emotional.
"How can you say that to me? You saw-"
"I saw that you loved him once, Morgana." The sorceress, now a mouthpiece for the dragon, seemed to interrupt herself. "You loved him dearly, and you were hurt. I do not pretend to know the ways of men. The wounds he has dealt- both physical and emotional- are severe. But they do not warrant this."
"I loved him." Morgana was speaking now- a mewl, quiet and pitiful. "I loved you, Merlin."
I loved you too, once. Not so long ago. The person you used to be.
"She died," Morgana whispered, but there was no fury anymore. Only a terrible sadness. "She died alone, and...frightened."
Help me stop this, Morgana, and I swear you won't be alone anymore.
There was silence and Merlin watched tears building in the sorceress's eyes. Suddenly she began to smile. Slowly, tentatively, but Aithusa was radiating pleasure, too, and Merlin knew what her answer was going to be.
And then there was blackness.
It took only a moment after Likmus's incantation, and Merlin was simply extinguished. What was left in his place was not even Emrys, not anymore. It was a drone: just another shade for Nimueh to control.
Nimueh had never left the Isle of the Blessed. She had waited, safe, comfortable, patient. There was no reason for her to go to battle. Her soldiers would destroy Camelot, and now her dragon would replace Morgana and Aithusa, whose weakness made them unnecessary.
It was almost sad. Aithusa had not been expecting an attack; and really, she had had no reason to. They had been having a nice little chat and suddenly Emrys had lunged forwards, his jaws nearly unhinging as he grasped at her throat. His first blow was almost the killing one. Aithusa's life was saved by instinct; she had twisted away, just slightly, and the largest of his fangs missed her weak spot by a breath.
Leaning over her fount, Nimueh twitched her fingers idly. Emrys moved in response like a marionette.
He struck again, this time with fire. The flames unfurled from deep in his chest and although Aithusa herself was invulnerable to their eager kisses, her rider was not. She was forced to fly upwards, which Emrys (or rather, Nimueh) had anticipated, and he struck at her belly as she rose. His talons left deep gashes in the softer scale there, and blood welled up almost immediately.
Forgive me, sister, but there is no love in war.
"It's done!" A Druid emerged from the depths of the temple, shouting for all to hear even in spite of the shades, a wild grin on his face. "It's finished! We're saved!"
"There must be a first sacrifice," one of the other builders said, and a race began to find the nearest horse.
The dragons were dancing through the air, light and shadow and fire and blood. Emrys appeared worse off; there were jagged tears through his wings, and blood dripped from his jaws, where Aithusa's claws had raked down his face. Even so, Nimueh would not let him stop. Aithusa was exhausted but Emrys kept attacking, a whirlwind of tooth and claw and fire.
"Merlin, stop!" Morgana was pleading.
So pitiful, my pet. I expected nothing less. It was Nimueh's voice. Begging for your life. If only I were merciful.
"I don't understand!" Morgana was clutching Aithusa's neck, her face sooty and terrified. "I was on your side!"
But I don't need you, dear. You were weak. And why should I share my crown?
"You'll fail," Morgana said, and her expression was clearing into a dark smile. "I dreamed this. I dreamed of this fight, of this sunset, and Merlin loses."
Do you think it's fate? Nimueh laughed sweetly. Like Arthur's death was fate? Like my death was fate?
At that moment, a horse was killed somewhere down below. Blood washed over the altar of the black temple, and the shades suddenly froze, their faces upturned. And without a sound, they seeped into the earth.
The Triple Goddess is dead. She has no power over fate, sister. I don't need her guidance anymore.
And suddenly Emrys lunged forwards again, and again out of instinct, Aithusa bent her neck away, protecting the break in her scales. Only Emrys wasn't aiming for her neck.
Twisting, his jaws closed around Morgana's waist. She had no time to scream, no time to even take the breath. There was a schick and a snap and both halves of her fell to the ground even as a cheer erupted, for the shades were finally vanquished.
Aithusa roared in grief and dove after her mistress's remains, as if hoping by some miracle to resurrect her again. Emrys dove, too, but for an altogether different purpose.
Nimueh had a brief glimpse of the dumb surprise on the first man's face as he looked up, confused by the sudden shadow descending down upon him. Emrys landed a few feet away and watched him for a moment, amused, like a cat discovering a baby mouse. His head tilted, and the man could see that the slits had disappeared from his eyes; they were a pure gold, tinged now with red, but he did not understand the gravity of his observation even as a set of talons raked across his chest, piercing his lungs and then his heart.
Of course, Nimueh took her time with the first man, but as she began to enjoy herself, her kills grew quicker. A sweep of Emrys's tail might not kill every bystander but some of them were flung a dozen feet away, and their cries were divine. It was just as nice to snap men up in Emrys's jaws, too, but Nimueh's favorite was fire.
Distracted by her bloodlust, she did not see the lone woman fighting through the crowds, her voice lost amid the screams. Arthur, however, did.
"Hunith, no!" Arthur sprinted after her and grabbed hold of her shoulders, fighting to pull her back, but she would not be moved.
"That's my son! That's my son," she was screaming, and the dragon turned to face them, its eyes blank and lidless, its fangs bloody. Arthur stepped in front of her, his heart in his throat. Adrenaline was coursing through his veins and there was only one thought in his mind. He could not let Merlin kill his own mother. There would be no coming back from that. Not ever. But suddenly, an unexpected sound rose behind him, and he turned in spite of himself.
Hunith was singing.
Arthur recognized the tune as the lullaby he had heard Merlin singing to Gaius, only now, he could understand the words- through Merlin's mind, Merlin, not Emrys, not Nimueh.
"I know not why
you leave home,
but I'll be here.
I will stay.
Your plate will be w-warm,
and y-your room the s-same.
Fear not... Fear-" She broke off, wiping tears from her cheeks. The dragon was watching, enraptured, almost hypnotized, and Arthur nodded at Hunith to continue. Sniffling, she started again.
'"Fear not th... the dark
in the strange places,
for there are no nights
in the warmth of your light."
Hunith's song had long since lapsed into sobs, but the Druids had joined her, and their voices were strong and clear in the dusk.
The dragon didn't transform but now Arthur could see Merlin, the ghost of a boy enshrined in the ruins of a monster. The king's sword fell from his hand. He stepped forward and as he neared he could see the eyes of the wraith that was once his best friend. There was horror there. Sadness. And above all, there was a violent hatred- Merlin's hatred of himself and what he had done.
"It wasn't your fault, Merlin," Arthur said softly, but now the dragon was crying. It was a low, keening sound and he edged back from Arthur's hand, his eyes now roving the battlefield wildly. "Look at me. Merlin. We can fix this. Look at me." But Merlin's anguish rolled off of him in waves and for the first time in a long, long time, Arthur panicked. There was pain- physical pain, a bolt of shock blooming in his chest like a poison, because he had glimpsed the inevitable. In that exact moment, he was losing Merlin.
"Merlin, please, please, I love you, please, damn it, look at me!"
But the dragon's wings were flaring and the pain in Arthur's chest was getting worse and he felt certain in that moment that he would die. He was screaming but the dragon shot into the air, leaving only scattered puddles of blood and a gust of wind so powerful that several men were blown off their feet.