A.N./ I don't know what I was thinking when I wrote this. Dark!Merlin is dark. Poor baby.

A monster, he thought with a pleasant sort of horror. I've turned into a monster.

Merlin stood above the prone form of Morgana as she cowered before the raw power emanating from his body. Her eyes were wide as she looked up at him in shock and terror.

"You are Emrys," she breathed, fear laced in the fiber of her voice. "You have always been Emrys."

"Yes," he said simply. He could feel the magic; the rage burning in his veins and begging to be released, to destroy her. It began to crackle at his joints, impatient to be at it's work.

"But you are loyal to Arthur," she cried, confusion taking hold and forcing her to ask. "Why? He hates our kind, he would kill you if he knew—"

"Silence, Morgana! You could not hope to understand." Something inside him whispered that maybe she could, but he pushed it down. No, she had lost that years ago, there was no hope for her now. "All either of us need to know is that I stand with him, and you do not." The magic sparked at the ends of his fingers. "And for your crimes, you must pay."

Her eyes widened—they were so large and dark when she was scared—and she raised her hands in a gesture of supplication. "No, please, Merlin—"

He cut her off with a string of magic that he wrapped around her. It squeezed and choked, and her powers fled from her eyes and her mouth and her nose, any way at all it could get out. She writhed with pain as the last essences of her magic scrabbled away from her. With one final glance at him, she collapsed in the dirt at his feet.

Yes, a monster, he thought as the gold faded from his eyes and he looked down at her chilling body. I've turned into a monster.

He smiled sadly at her before he turned away.