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merlin says, "let's end this." his mouth is bitten-red; his eyes are so sad, the death of children under uther's orders, the compliance of everyone here, weighing heavy on them. there are faint specks of gold in his irises.
morgana crosses her legs under her. "all right," she says. she's sick of the charade, anyway; has been since she dreamed merlin's power circling under his skin, sparking at every touch. "gwen gets out," she adds, because she's powerful, deadly, dangerous-- but not inhuman, and she loves.
he looks at her through his eyelashes, looking simultaneously young and terrifying. "it'll hurt worse, for her," he says.
"i know," she says, "i'm selfish."
--
when they let the dragon out, it squints at merlin for a long moment, and then shakes its head. "fuck destiny, anyway," it says, consideringly.
merlin grins, sort of; it's an awkward, mirthless expression that does not disturb the ice in his eyes. "he's mine," he says. "i know you've been waiting a long time, but this one is mine."
she squeezes his hand, in hers.
the dragon spreads its wings and breathes out a long stream of fire, which bends like a forked river around them.
merlin raises his hand. "i represent the old magic," he says. "i don't want to force you." the but i will is unspoken, but heavy.
it ducks its head in a sort-of bow. "i get to watch," it concedes, and then takes to the sky, a dark shape, almost blotting out the moon.
he leans towards her, breath tickling her ear. "can you deal with arthur, please?" he whispers. "i--"
"of course," she breathes. her heart would hurt, if there was enough left of it to crack again. "of course."
--
she's not holding the sword because she needs it; she can't take arthur in a swordfight, only lancelot could do that. she grips the hilt anyway, tightly.
arthur's hair is golden, sunrise flickering on his shoulders. "morgana," he says, shirtless, sitting up in bed, "what's going on?"
"me and merlin," she says, kind of choking, "we're burning this place down. i love you. get out."
"this isn't funny," he says.
"go," she says. "you have until the sun rises, or i guess, until the walls start falling down around you. get your people out." she pauses, breathes in sharply, though it hurts her lungs. "don't let merlin see you."
she doesn't look back; she doesn't know what he'll do. she doesn't know that she could do what it took.
--
merlin and the dragon are standing on the ramparts, the dragon's claws scoring deep grooves into the stone. the dragon's wings are shimmering, a thousand colours now that it's finally in the sun. merlin's eyes are completely gold, no pupil, and she can almost taste the magic that's all around him; it makes her feel so strange, so stupid for not noticing before. his hand is on the dragon's shoulder.
her heart catches in her throat, blood running unsteady in her veins. "hello," she says.
he doesn't turn to look at her. "it's done," he says.
down below them, people are flooding out of their homes, gathering in the courtyard to stare.
gwen's voice threads through the chaos down below, soft and entreating: "morgana? merlin?"
they look at each other, merlin's eyes quiet, resigned. "your king is dead," merlin says. "we have no quarrel with the people of camelot, but we are taking this castle apart. leave now, and we won't follow you; stay, and i promise you, you will die." his voice is low, intense. "never again can the policies of uther pendragon be allowed to live. never again."
gwen says, "merlin, stop--"
morgana says, "gwen, you have to get out." she makes her voice pleading, soft and worried. "you can't-- look, i'll talk to him, just."
merlin raises his hands. "i won't say it twice," he says. the sky cracks open, lightning pouring down.
the dragon's voice coils through all of their heads. leave, it says. you are not welcome here.
she knows it's not directed at her, knows she's not the one rejected; it freezes her inside anyway. "gwen," she finds the voice to say, "please."
gwen's eyes are wide open, terrified.
gaius takes her shoulder, leans in and whispers something morgana doesn't care enough to hear.
gwen's look is full of anguish, before she turns and goes.
morgana bites her lip, and then she steps forward, breathing in magic, and catches merlin's hand in hers.
the magic courses through them, and the walls start falling down.
--
"merlin," arthur says, "how could you do this?"
morgana smiles, ruefully. "i told you," she said, "to go. albion needs a king, and it will have to be you."
"i don't want your blessing," he spits, glaring at her, before his eyes turn soft and he looks back at merlin.
"don't do this," merlin says, voice cracking. "please."
she squeezes his hand, and then says, "leave," and her voice doesn't even tremble, as arthur crumbles like the walls around them. -- when it's done the dragon presses its nose to merlin's forehead and then morgana's, in kind of a blessing, and then it takes to the skies in great sweeps of wing, miniature storms following its wake.
morgana turns to merlin, surrounded by moss and old stone, overgrown with grass, and the faded-white of long dead bone, and she presses her hand to his heart and her forehead to his shoulder, and cries. he kisses her forehead and whispers, one day it will be all right.
this is not on you, she tells him, breathing in though it hurts. one day, they will rebuild.
just not here, he says.
no, she says. not here.
the sun sets, blood-red.