I wrote this a while ago but was too afraid to publish it because it's a little different than what I usually write. Be warned it is very angsty although it does have a happy(ish) ending.
Warning: Illusions to sensitive issues
Disclaimer: I don't own anything so don't sue me
These are Merlin's thoughts on life after Arthur's death so I guess it could be considered as a sort of tag for 5x13.
The thing about losing someone is that the pain never really leaves you. People say that time heals all wounds but that's a lie, sure, the stabbing, burning pain of loss, the horrible feeling of loneliness, it recedes after a while, fades off to a dull throbbing ache but it's still there, under the surface, ready to flare up at the smallest of reminders. The subtle inflections in someone's voice, the way the sun reflects off the window of a passing car, even the smell of a certain perfume.
These little details, these miniscule triggers that seem so innocuous alone can blossom into something so much bigger, all it takes is one little push and even the tiniest factor can act as a catalyst to the flood that follows. It doesn't take much to trigger the first domino but once you do, the collapse of the entire set is assured, the pieces keep falling, one right after the other in rapid succession and all you can do is sit and watch the inevitable destruction of everything you've tried to build, the front you've striven to maintain for those closest to you.
You watch, breathless as your entire world comes down around your ears, catapulting you back to that place of raw, untapped grief and threatening to drown you in sorrow and pain. It doesn't get easier, it never gets easier; you're always a single breath away from crippling, agonizing loss, endlessly struggling to stay one step ahead of the despair that snaps at your heels.
No, it never gets any easier; you just get more adept at lying, at pretending to be okay even though you're walking around with a bottomless hole in your soul, a pit of loss that will never be filled again for as long as you live. You try to act normal, try to act like nothing's wrong but no one understands. You make small talk and do your best to force a laugh past lips stretched so tight in their attempt at a smile that you're afraid they'll fall off, you pretend to be alright because that's what people expect, it's been a year, three years, ten years and you keep going, keep walking, keep talking, keep living, hoping and praying that people don't see the pain in your eyes, the loss and sorrow that lingers behind every smile.
You don't want them to ask, don't want them to know, afraid they'll think you're weak or, worse yet, that they'll bring everything crashing back with a single word. That this time you won't be able to stuff the guilt and heartache back into the little box you've banished them to, that this time they will break free and leave you so broken and anguished that you can't find a reason to live. You've been there before, many times, and it never gets any easier to handle, never solves anything, just makes the problem worse.
People tell you that you're strong, a survivor, a warrior, a role model but they wouldn't if they knew what you really felt like. If they could see inside your head they would know you for the weak, pitiful excuse of humanity that you are; they would see your daily struggle to find a reason to live, the countless arguments you've had with yourself that always end with the same questions, why should you live when he's gone, why should yours be the heart that's still beating, what have you done to deserve this Hell, this separation from the one thing you never thought you'd lose, your soul?
Why are you still here? Your heart is beating, your lungs are drawing in air, but you died a long time ago, you lost your spark, your will to live, and now you can't even do the one thing that you want more than anything else in the world, end this eternal monotony of living death and be with the one person you love more than anything, more than life itself, the one and only thing that has ever given your life purpose and meaning.
There is nothing you want more than the relief that death can provide but that's not an option, you're not really that surprised, since when have the cards ever fallen in your favor? You resigned yourself to immortality long ago, but the eternal separation from your heart has taken it's toll and you're simply a shell, the empty husk of the lively, vibrant boy you once were, back when life was simple and experience hadn't jaded you beyond all hope of redemption.
There is nothing left for you here in this world and no way to escape it so with that you walk into the forest, the trees, silent centennials, guardians of the wood, seem to watch your progress, the wind whispering through their branches as you walk but you fix your eyes straight ahead, narrowing your vision, blocking out the periphery until all that remains is your final goal, the object of your final action.
The tree is huge, the oldest in the existence of mankind, the first ever planted. It had once held the knowledge that had threatened the very existence of the human race, the lethal information that had banished Adam and Eve from the Garden of Eden, the knowledge of Good and Evil. It's taken decades, or maybe centuries, but you have finally located it, the origin of life and now you chant the well-rehearsed words, weaving a spell so powerful that clouds overcome the sun, filling the air with electricity as lightning crackles from their roiling depths and raises the hairs on the back of your neck.
You continue speaking for hours, days, years, you're not sure, but when you're done, you have infused your DNA into that of the tree, bound yourself so completely to the ancient plant that it is impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins. The wind settles and the clouds roll away, the animals come out of hiding and the birds begin to chirp again, and finally, finally for the first time in thousands of years, you are content.
Hope you liked it, reviews make my day!