This was originally a drabble(ish) I posted on tumblr that I decided to post here as well. It was from one of those writing memes, and the prompt was "Haunt Me."
Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.
In Death
Fic:
It was surreal; Arthur was… floating. He was standing right next to Merlin as he cried like the girl's petticoat he was, but he was floating. He had the vague suspicion that it was him Merlin was mourning, but until he tried to place a comforting hand onto his shoulder, he wasn't entirely sure.
He came to grips with everything slowly, with much difficulty.
He was dead, just when Merlin had shown him everything about himself, he had been killed. But he was still there—why couldn't Merlin see that? Gaius had said he was the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the earth, so why couldn't he see Arthur, why couldn't he tell he was there?
It was aggravating, listening to Merlin ramble on and cry for the longest of times, pining and whining and talking. It was informative, but aggravating at the same time. He just wanted to tell him to stop it, remind him that no man was worth his tears. He wanted to tell him to get up, go back to Camelot, and get shit done. He wanted to tell him he was sorry, that he didn't care about anything else anymore—he just wanted Merlin to get on with his life.
He told him all that and more, of course. But Merlin couldn't hear him, could never hear him, no matter what he said.
After a while, the tears stopped, the stories stopped, the talking stopped, and Merlin moved on. Camelot fell, everyone but Merlin died, and he was so lonely that it broke Arthur's phantom heart.
He went on with the years, perfecting his magic in a world that didn't want him anymore, keeping his distance, biding his time, breaking Arthur's heart a little more every day.
Merlin might never know he was there, but he was. Walking with him, talking with him, loving him, listening to him, yearning for him, watching him—always there for him, doing in death what Merlin had done for him in life.
Fin.