Merlin was feeling what he always felt. Empty.
He felt like he had a giant gaping hole right through his centre, and the breeze was blowing through it, making howling, whistling noises like the wind on a stormy night. The hole was less noticeable as time went on since Arthur's death, especially as he encountered new adventures and experiences through exploring times and places that only he, an immortal soul, could have the time to explore. But it was never completely unnoticeable, and never healed.
Time. So irrelevant to someone like him. Time was something he had plenty of, so much so that it had almost become tedious for him. He watched men grow old and wither and die having lived a full life and leaving loved ones behind that cherished the memory of their existence, possibly the longest memory living on in Merlin himself, and he watched lives lost too early, and although it made him feel sick with himself, he envied them and their everlasting youth, never knowing the true pain of life, and never living on with it. He was Merlin Ambrosius, MyrddinEmrys, Emrys meaning 'immortal', the legendary figure of Camelot, not only living long in the minds of men as Kilgarrah had promised, but on earth as well; a curse he was bound to till Arthur's return.
It wasn't like him to feel so bitter and cynical, but he had recently lost yet another friend whom he had known for most of their life. It always had a negative impact on him, and he always told himself afterwards that he would not get so attached to another being again, and he always failed because Merlin had always been the type to befriend others no matter how much he tried to shoo them off. Everyone loves Merlin, whether he's an adorable, sparkly-eyed youth with cute larger-than-normal ears, or he takes the form of an old, eccentric but wise wizard, because Merlin was born and shall always remain that way. Lovable.
He was in the form of his usual youthful self as he looked out across the glittering waters of the Lake of Avalon to the Isle of the Blessed, now known as Bardsey Island as he sat on Mynydd Mawr, the great mountain that had enveloped the great city of Camelot all those ages ago. He always came here when he had suffered a loss, which was rather inappropriate seeing as though the greatest loss he had ever undergone lay beneath the deep waters before him. Maybe he just needed to be close to his dear companion, but as he squinted up at the sun glaring down on him, it was evident that this was different than any other time he had incurred a loss.
He had lost too much in his life. Shadows of friends, lives of men, reflections of sorrow in the waters he looked upon flashed before him. He felt more insane than he had ever felt in his life. He was on the brink of complete lunacy from grief; he was lost and scared and hated himself. He hated Arthur for dying. He hated everyone in the world for dying, a luxury he was never destined to have, but then, he was dying wasn't he? His soul was dying, his spirit was smouldering with loneliness until nothing but ash remained, settling at the pit of his stomach. He cried a great amount, hoping the tears would wash away all the unpleasantness, but the feelings remained, and so he cried more and more until he was shaking with sobs. Truly, Merlin was broken.
He looked out once more, longingly, at the waters and through his teary, blurred vision he glimpsed a bright light moving towards him slowly and surely, until the light was unmistakably close in shallow waters. He wiped vigorously at his beautiful, blue eyes and stared out at what he knew was a familiar figure of a man. At first he just stared, not believing his eyes, but the disbelief melted away when the bright light faded, replaced by the warm glow of the sun. A beautifully familiar smile broke across the face of the Once and Future King, and before a single thought crossed his mind, Merlin found himself running as fast as possible through the water, splashing and spraying until he flung his arms around the King and held him so close he could feel both their hearts beating erratically. He buried his head into the King's shoulder and cried gloriously. Arthur wrapped his arm around Merlin, holding him closer and surprisingly cried too.
"Idiot," Arthur said lovingly, "I told you didn't I? Don't you remember?"
"What?" Merlin's voice was thick and he didn't dare move his head.
"The darkest hour," Arthur looked up to the skies and smiled, "Is just before the dawn."