Merlin's heart was in his throat as Arthur called the charge and urged his horse forward. Merlin kicked his own horse's flanks and galloped down beside him along the right side of the column of fire that had separated Morgana from the rest of her troops. He saw her throw her arm forward and try to blast them into the air, as she had done so many times before, and nearly flinched. But nothing happened, and with a grim smile, he saw her face turn white.

Arthur continued to ride straight down on her—but a large number of Horsa's Saxons had passed her in the charge and were in the way. Arthur raised his sword—

—and five Saxons were thrown backward through the air like rag dolls. Arthur was so startled that he almost checked his horse mid-charge. But out of the corner of his eye he saw Merlin, his face set and his eyes glowing golden. Merlin wasn't even bothering to raise his arm—he just looked and the men fell like ninepins.

Arthur grinned and turned to attack the men on his right as Merlin blasted away the men before them. They cut a swath down the side of Badon Hill.

Someone shouted something in Saxon, and a moment later, Arthur's horse screamed in pain and fell with an arrow in its flank. "ARTHUR!" Merlin shouted, wheeling his horse around. There were similar shouts from Arthur's men, but in a moment Arthur appeared on his feet again, apparently unhurt by his fall. Camelot's forces gave a cheer.

Merlin dismounted and handed off his horse to one of Essetir's knights, whose own horse had been killed by the archers. He ran to join Arthur and they continued the fight on foot, Arthur swinging his sword and Merlin throwing men backward at every step. From the perfect choreography of their movements, you would have thought they'd been fighting side-by-side like this for years.

The Saxons gave a triumphant shout, and they looked to the air. A while form was soaring high over the battlefield.

Morgana's voice rose above the din. "AITHUSA!" she called. The white dragon dove toward her, and the troops of Camelot and Essetir cringed in fear.

"O DRAKON!" Merlin shouted, though he knew it was useless. Aithusa didn't know how to speak, so he couldn't have complete control over her: the best he could do would be to scare her off. "E MALE SO FTENGOMETTA TESD'HUP'ANAKES!"

Aithusa stopped mid-dive and hovered in place, flapping her great wings. Merlin stared at her—had she understood him?

There was only one way to find out. "O DRAKON, FTHENGOMAI AU SE KALON; SU KATERKHEO DEURO!" he commanded. Aithusa turned, and swooping over the battlefield, she released a great fireball on the Saxon troops. The Saxons' shouts of triumph turned into screams. Merlin gave a laugh of pure surprise. Aithusa could speak! But no one but himself had the ability to teach her—no one, that is, except Kilgarrah.

Even in the midst of battle, Merlin felt tears sting his eyes. Despite their last conversation, Kilgarrah had forgiven him after all. He had taught Aithusa to speak, and had sent her to help.

The Saxon archers turned their bows toward Aithusa, and she did a barrel roll, one of the shafts narrowly missing her delicate wings. This battle was no place for her, Merlin realized: she was too young, and she was the last dragon. He had to protect her. And besides—he couldn't ask her to attack Morgana. "S'ENTHEND' APOKHOREIN NUN EPITELLO-O-O!" he commanded. Aithusa shot back up into the sky, out of the range of the arrows, and flew off in the direction of Camelot.

Morgana's joy at the sight of her beloved pet had turned into dismay when she saw Aithusa suddenly turn on the Saxons. "ARCHERS!" Horsa had shouted.

"NO!" she screamed as they fired at Aithusa, but the dragon had dodged. Morgana heard a powerful shout from Camelot's line, and the hair on the back of her neck prickled in response: someone was using powerful magic.

She turned and saw Merlin, his eyes glowing golden, shouting up at Aithusa in words Morgana couldn't understand. And Aithusa clearly obeyed, flying away at what was obviously a command to leave.

Merlin was a Dragonlord. Merlin was Emrys.

Rage filled her heart like a leaping fire. Merlin! The clumsy servant boy who almost didn't know which end of the sword to hold. Whom she had failed to poison, had failed to recognize, had failed to kill. Merlin, who had refused to tell her of his own magic when she was in distress, who had poisoned her, who had all but killed her sister, and who had now stolen Aithusa's love from her. He had taken from her everything she had ever loved. And he would pay.

Morgana brandished her sword and charged.

Merlin, looking up from the fight, looked up to find Morgana almost on top of him. He threw his arm out with a shout and Morgana's saddle cinch broke, throwing her to the ground. She was up again in a moment, her sword swinging. He attempted to throw her backward, and she threw up her hand to shield herself, though she knew it was futile—her magic was no good here.

But to her amazement, it held. She had not been able to throw or freeze her enemies, but her magic still worked. With a diabolical grin, she threw her sword toward Merlin's heart.

With a sweep of his arms and a flash of his eyes he deflected it. Spell after spell they threw at one another: fire, rock, excruciating pain. But they seemed evenly matched. They had worked their way over to one side of the battlefield, and everyone else had given them a wide berth—those who hadn't had found themselves showered with flame and ash. Out of the corner of his eye Merlin could see Arthur and Elyan, but they didn't dare come close enough to interfere.

Finally, distracted by a Camelot arrow that whizzed by her head, Morgana tripped, letting her guard down for a moment.

"Gestedigaþ!" Merlin commanded, and Morgana froze in place.

Lying on the ground, propped up on her elbows, Morgana struggled to move, to undo the spell—anything. But it was no use. She glared up at Merlin as he walked toward her. "Using my own spells against me?" she snarled.

"You'll notice I left you the ability to speak," he said dryly.

"What, so you can hear me scream as you kill me?" she spat. "That's why you've pinned me here, isn't it? To finally have your revenge?"

"No. …to apologize." She stared up at him in confusion. "I poisoned you," he admitted. "When the Fires of Idirsholas burned. It was one of the hardest things I've ever done. But I knew that you were the vessel, the person Morgause was using to put everyone to sleep, to destroy Camelot." He gave a thin smile. "I was glad to tell Morgause how to cure you. But my betrayal of you set you on the wrong path. My lack of support for you—not telling you about my magic when you needed sympathy and a friend—drove you into Morgause's arms. I blame myself for that, I am terribly sorry." She continued to stare at him, confused and furious. "But what you have done since, Morgana—that is on your own head."

"What I have done?" she answered in indignation. "I only tried to take back what was rightfully mine!"

Now Merlin was angry. "What was yours? You took the lives of good men—of your own father! Look around you," he said, gesturing to the battlefield. Bodies of Saxons, men of Camelot and of Essetir, littered the ground, their blood mixed with the dirt. "Is this what you wanted?"

For the first time Morgana's expression changed to one of fear. It was the very words—the words Emrys had said to her in her dreams, the question she dreaded to be asked.

"Do you even know what you want?" Merlin pressed on. "Once you wanted magic to be accepted—to be accepted yourself by those you loved. Then you wanted revenge on Uther for the Purge. Then you wanted revenge on Uther for being your father, for loving you but being too weak to give you the crown. Then you wanted the throne itself." He shook his head. "That's your tragedy, Morgana—you've never known what you wanted. You are a brilliant woman. You could easily have created a plan so foolproof that even I couldn't have found a way to spoil it. But your plans failed over and over again. And it wasn't even me that sabotaged them—it was you. Every plan had a hole—a chance of failure. Because deep down inside, you didn't want Arthur to die."

"I hated him!" she exclaimed breathlessly.

Merlin's expression was sad. 'You would not have hated him so much if you didn't still love him. He was your brother, your last family, your last friend. If he died, you had no one left to love—no one left even to hate. You would have had nothing. Because what you really want, Morgana, is to be loved. It is what you have always wanted—from the days you showed off in beautiful gown in the Great Hall and flirted with courtiers, to the days you spent with Morgause—you just wanted them to love you. But now you are so filled with hatred that you cannot love anyone—so they cannot love you back."

Morgana swallowed hard. "If I am so lost to all goodness," she said harshly, "why don't you kill me already?"

"Yes!" Elyan exclaimed. Merlin jumped—he had forgotten Elyan and Arthur were even there. "This is your chance, Arthur! Kill her!"

Arthur looked down at the sword in his hand. When he looked up at Morgana again, there were tears in his eyes.

"I can't," he said quietly.

"Then I'll do it," Elyan said, stepping forward and raising his sword.

"No!" Arthur grabbed his brother's arm and held him back. "Leave her be."

"Arthur," Elyan said in exasperation, "this is the commander of the enemy army! This is the usurper who wants your throne! The murderer of your people! Responsible for your father's death! Doesn't she deserve to die?"

"Yes." Arthur kept his eyes locked on Morgana's. "Her crimes deserve death. But I will not kill her. I have to believe there's some good in her yet. If she couldn't kill me, if deep down there is still the slightest bit of love in her—I have to believe she can still change." He thrust his sword into the ground. "Let her up,' he said to Merlin.

Elyan was incredulous. "Arthur, this is madness! She will kill you the moment she has the use of her powers!"

"I have to believe she won't," Arthur said simply. "I have to give her the chance." He locked eyes with Merlin and silent communication passed between them. Finally Merlin nodded and lowered his hand.

TBC