Disclaimer: I do not own anything of Merlin it all belongs to the BBC all I own is the twisted plot XD
A/N: AU that came out of nowhere.......just don't ask
A/N2: ANGST GALORE! May become more sappy but not for a long time.
A/N3: Only a short chap but i will continue and they will (hopefully) get longer
A/N4: Did I mention its not beta'ed
Warnings: Slash! Don't like don't read. Angst, lots, and lots of beautiful angst. Oh! And time travel.
Nothing Out Of The Ordinary
Arthur stood looking over the battlements. The people of Camelot were wondering around as if nothing had happened, nothing out of the ordinary, but to them it had not. They had not just watched as their life was taken from them, so harshly, so brutally, and so painfully. Blue eyes closed trying to stem the flow of salty water from the sad orbs but it did no good. As the tears streamed against his will, his body jerked with repressed sobs. They were gone, burned, never coming back.
The people of Camelot all stopped as an inhuman scream of pain and grief ripped though the slightly mournful atmosphere. There was a moment of silence sellers hands out waiting for payment, gossiping guards and servants all looking to the top of the castle, Knight's swords dropping slightly from their offensive and defensive positions. The king's hand stopped in its movement over a map, the physician stopped his packing, and the king's ward closed her eyes.
Arthur ran back to his chambers ignoring the clothes pushed under his bed, the unmade bed, the imprint of a smaller, second body, the dark hairs on the pillow and the silver ring on the bedside table. He ignored all of it and tore it apart. Draws flew into the wall showering the room with clothes, wood splintered as the wardrobe followed the draws, china, clay and tin shattered, cracked and dented with the force the hit the wall at. Glass sprinkled the floor as the mirror frame broke into four bits of wood. Sheets ripped as they were violently seized from the bed, pillows split when they hit the wall with such force sending feathers everywhere. No hanging, piece of furniture or material was left untouched by the time Arthur fell to his knees in the middle of the destruction. Arthur looked at the chaos he had caused and sobbed again, he did not want to cry, did not want to show weakness, but they were gone and never coming back.
Arthur Pendragon, Crowned Prince of Camelot, in that very second, swore he would never forgive Uther Pendragon. His father was a tyrant and he would never forgive the man for anything not even spilling a drink on him.
Emotionally and physically exhausted he crawled to his bed ignoring the glass and splinters that entered his hands and knees. He curled up on the bed, on the left, hugging the only thing that seemed to have survived his rage.
When the guards looked in on the young prince, they saw the picture of sorrow and in some way innocents. In the middle of the destruction, curled up on the bed was a curled up ball of a person, blond hair sticking out at all angles, dry tear track and puffy eyes, and his hands gripping a red scarf. They shared a look and closed the doors standing directly in front of the doors allowing no one entrance.
Should I Continue?