Camelot's main square was eerily silent, the crowd holding its breath beneath the iron gray sky. Thunder rumbled on the distant horizon, and the sorcerer was brought out in chains. The sorcerer. That's what he was now. He wasn't Merlin anymore, because how could the king sentence Merlin to death? How could he order his best friend to be burned alive? It was impossible. But a sorcerer- a sorcerer deserved to die. Arthur could send a sorcerer to his death with a clear conscience. Couldn't he?

Merlin was brought up to the platform and tied to the stake where he would burn. The air was cold, and he wasn't wearing a coat or shoes. But he didn't shiver. He didn't look particularly concerned about his impending doom. He stood calmly, waiting.

"Any last words, sorcerer?" One of the guards asked. Most prisoners turned him down. It was a mere formality, a holdover from the days when the right words might set you free.

"Yes, actually. I do have a few things to get off my chest," Merlin replied, smiling pleasantly at the guard. He knew the young man, had spoken to him a few occasions and snuck past him on a few more.

"Go on, then," the guard said, a little taken aback.

"Gaius," Merlin started, eyes picking out his uncle among the crowd. "You're more a father to me than anyone else, and I want to thank you for everything you've done for me." The old man smiled shakily and gave a brief nod of acknowledgement. "Lancelot, Gwaine, Percival, Leon, and Elyan, you are some of the best and bravest men I have ever had the good fortune to meet." He smiled at the knights, knowing that he was the cause of much conflict among them, tearing their loyalties between their king and their friend. Their failed attempt at a prison break the night before had proved to him which side they fell on. He also knew that his next words would make it even worse, but found himself unable to care. "Your king doesn't deserve you."

He shifted his gaze to another of his friends. "Morgana, I always wanted to spend more time with you and one of my biggest regrets is that I let a little thing like protocol get the way of that. It's too late now, of course, but I thought I may as well say it." She smiled even though he could see the tears in her eyes, held back by sheer force of will. "Gwen," Merlin continued, addressing the queen, standing beside her husband. He knew that she had fought Arthur over this decision every step of the way, pouring over dusty old law books in the library for days without interruption, searching for some loophole that would allow her to overrule her husband in the decision. It had all come to nothing. "You are a kind and lovely person, and I'm glad to have known you. I know what you tried to do for me, and I appreciate it. I wish you all the best." Gwen nodded, tears running freely down her cheeks. Then, finally, Merlin turned his attention to the king.

"Arthur," he said, staring into the impassive face of the man who had been his best friend. "I have done nothing but serve you, loyally and faithfully, for five years. I did everything you ever asked of me and saved your life more times than I can count. I would have died for you, because I had faith that you were a good man and would be a great king. I had faith that one day, you would fulfill the prophecy and unite this land, bringing about a peace that would last. A peace in which everyone is accepted: those without magic, and those with it. I believed in that future. I believed in you. But I was wrong about all of it. You are not a good man, Arthur. You are not a good king, and you never will be. You betrayed me in every way possible, and for that, there can be no forgiveness." Merlin leaned back against the stake, breathing hard. Silence fell heavily over the crowd, until the guards realized that Merlin was finished. They looked up at Arthur, who nodded, and they picked up their torches and lit the pyre.

Merlin looked down at the growing flames below his feet with some vague interest. He could feel the heat through the boards he stood on, and decided that this had gone on long enough. He turned his face to the sky.

"O drakon, e mala soi ftengometh tesd'hup anankes!" He shouted, watching in his peripheral vision as people began to panic, thinking that he was trying to curse them. He glanced toward Arthur, wondering what the king thought about this obvious display of magic. Arthur was giving orders to a group of guards with crossbows. Really, Arthur? Merlin thought. Burning me alive isn't fast enough for you? You have to have me shot, too? As the archers took position, Merlin muttered a spell that broke the ropes holding him to the stake. Just as the arrows took flight, he whipped his hand up in the air with his palm facing the missiles, stopping them dead in the air with a flash of gold in his eyes.

The flames had grown taller by now, licking at the platform Merlin stood on. He didn't know a spell to put out fires. He only knew how to start them, for all the good that did him now. Eyes and throat burning from the smoke, he scanned the sky again, wishing the dragon would hurry. Just as the thought crossed his mind, someone screamed. Soon, people all throughout the square were pointing up at the sky, shouting out in terror.

Kilgharrah swooped low, scattering the people who had come to watch the execution. He circled once, then landed on the cobblestones beside the fire. Merlin didn't hesitate. He leaped off the platform and grabbed hold of the dragon's neck, pulling himself up so he was sitting astride the dragon's enormous scaly neck. Just before Kilgharrah took off, Merlin made eye contact with Arthur. It was a frozen moment, when time stopped and everything else disappeared. When Merlin spoke, he did not raise his voice over the chaos around them, but Arthur heard every word.

"Áwierge ðú, æswican," Merlin said, and then the dragon took flight, carrying Merlin away.