Morgana descended the stairs into the dungeon, the white dragon on her heels. She heard Emrys shifting in the darkness.

"Morgana?" he called out, his voice hoarse with disuse. She might have imagined a hint of desperation in his voice.

"Lēoht."

Magic gathered in her palm, illuminating the cell in ghostly-pale light. Emrys hid his eyes in his hands with a hiss of displeasure. "Not so bright, highness," he complained testily, squinting out at her from behind his fingers. He always used the wrong title. He was curled up against the wall, clinging to his cloak for warmth. His beard was scraggly and unkempt, and his hair tumbled in tangles over his shoulders. He looked distinctly exhausted, to Morgana's great pleasure.

"Greetings, Emrys. You're looking worse for wear," she hummed.

"You're not exactly glowing yourself," Emrys grumbled in return, still blinking his eyes against the light yet somehow able to tell. His eyes widened as the dragon stepped out of her shadow and approached the bars curiously.

"H—How?" he spluttered, truly thrown off guard. The dragon pressed its nose through the bars, studying the old man within. Its ears flicked and then perked up. Its tail began to thrash. It looked back at Morgana with wide, excited eyes, producing a series of happy chirps. Emrys crawled toward the bars, reaching out to stroke the dragon from its crown to the tip of its snout. He grinned, eyes sparkling. "Good girl," he murmured so quietly that Morgana could barely make it out. He continued to whisper to the dragon as if conspiring with an old friend. It almost sounded to her as if he were speaking a different language. Morgana, bemused, beckoned for the dragon to return to her side. It flicked out its tongue to lap at the old man's cheek, before hopping back and flopping down, stretching itself out and letting out a pleased snort.

"They like you," Morgana realized in amazement.

"She," Emrys corrected immediately. "And of course she likes me, she's a great judge of character," he boasted, crossing his arms in offense.

"That's debatable," Morgana grumbled. Not only had the dragon liked Gaius, but she also seemed to have imprinted on Emrys immediately. "How do you know the dragon is female?" she asked curiously, forgetting her earlier hostility.

"I could tell just by looking at her," Emrys claimed with a sniff. Personally, Morgana thought he was full of shit—but didn't call him on it. "How'd you two meet, then? Hmm?"

Morgana laughed darkly. "It's not a pretty story, old man."

"Oh my." He glanced at her sideways. "Does it have anything to do with those injuries of yours?"

"Everything." Morgana found herself telling the story of their meeting in the forest without any further prompting. It shouldn't be so easy to talk to her greatest enemy.

"She attacked you? I don't believe it," he interjected angrily. "Not Aithusa, she's as sweet as a baby lamb." The dragon whimpered, big, blue eyes glistening with guilt.

"Aithusa?" Morgana paused, stiffening. The name rolled off his tongue so naturally. And it was nice. "What do you mean, 'Aithusa?'"

"Nice name for a white dragon, don't you think?" Emrys replied carefully.

"Why's that?" Morgana hesitated.

"In… In the tongue of the dragons, it is said to mean 'light of the sun.'" he said quietly. Morgana considered.

"I suppose you're right," she muttered in agreement, smiling softly at the white dragon. At Aithusa. She seemed to smile back. "She was cursed, in immense pain. I don't know who or what did that to her, but she wasn't in her right mind. After I banished it she seemed to calm down. She's been following me around ever since."

"You did a good thing, Morgana," Emrys told her solemnly.

Morgana glared at him, fury rising in her chest. "Don't talk to me like you know me!" she snapped. "You know nothing. You're just Arthur's pet warlock."

"I'll have you know that Arthur is my pet king," Emrys claimed loftily. "He just doesn't know it yet."

Morgana studied him carefully. "Did you meet with the former king before coming here? That foul man would be only too quick to sacrifice a magic user for his cause—and you've proven yourself to be disgustingly loyal to him." Morgana began to sneer at the thought of Arthur, hidden away somewhere. She imagined Emrys dedicating himself to the fallen king's service. Arthur would spare no time in condemning the man to death. That could explain why Emrys had surrendered to her. Why it had all been so easy.

Emrys's chuckles sounded like breathy old wheezes. "The king is foolhardy, he would not accept my help so easily," he said ruthlessly. Morgana nodded in agreement.

"He is too obsessed with pride to accept help from even a powerful ally," she growled.

"Soon, now. He will make his choice," Emrys said solemnly, but not without a flicker of fondness in his eyes. "I hope it will be the right one. Before it's too late."

"See where idealism gets you as you waste away. Arthur will never change, he is his father's son." Morgana sneered. Emrys began to pick at his cuticles boredly. "Eventually I'll flush him out and murder him like I did his tyrant father," Morgana hissed.

"And I can do nothing to stop you," Emrys replied unenthusiastically. "What a mess I've gotten myself into."

Morgana shook her head in disbelief. "You don't seem to comprehend your situation, do you?"

"Enlighten me."

"I can do whatever I want with you," Morgana whispered in a low, threatening hiss. "For now, I'll admit, the idea of watching you wither away down here—slowly starving, dying—it pleases me. A suiting death for a meddling old fool."

Emrys fixed her with a crooked smile, knowing eyes flickering with mirth. "If you say so, highness." That old unease rushed through her again. Her brow furrowed slightly, lips downturned In a tight frown.

"Worthless bravado," Morgana said, forcing herself to scoff. "Oh and, it's 'majesty,' you common idiot."

"Charming."

She didn't venture another taunt, turning and storming out of the cells, heels clicking against the stone floor, tattered gown fluttering in the draft. Aithusa slank unhappily after her, casting an uncertain glance behind her and emitting a little whimper.

"Be good, Aithusa," Merlin said in the tongue of dragons, smiling encouragingly. "Watch over her."