Raindrops plummeted on the battle worn earth, water logged dirt sticking to all it touched. My skin was wet through the rain sodden clothes, yet I felt blessed, as they were wet with water and not the stickiness of my own blood. My eyes intently scanned the battlefield, an all too familiar action, searching for that familiar mop of golden hair, and the skilful swing of a sword.
Those searching eyes became as wide as saucers, as they glanced an all too familiar scene, one that haunted me at night, tormented me in my dreams. Arthur, face dirtied from the wear of knighthood, facing none other than the druid himself, Mordred.
Time seemed to stand still, ears alert for every sound, eyes hooked on the inevitable scene before me. One swing, that's how it would go. One swing before his destiny would become his doom. Magic pulsed through my limbs, spreading my rain sodden skin with an incomparable warmth, from the tips of my fingers to the tiniest of my toes, pure, unadulterated magic. My body did the only thing it could. It screamed. I screamed. And the earth shook beneath our very feet.
Raising my hand, I threw Mordred aside, his body strewn across the muddy floor, life in his body, in his breath, and hatred restored.
Breathing shallow, intense, I kept my eyes at my feet, prolonging the agonising silence for just another second longer. As long as I didn't look up, I could ignorantly believe nothing had changed, that nothing would be different. I could live in my sugar coated world for just another minute more, and that would be alright. But as shame overran me, self-loathing eyes looked up to meet those of the King.
'Arthur… I'm s- '
"Run"
"What do yo-"
Arms reached around my waist, pulling me to the ground, out of the firing line of a well-aimed mace, to safety. Eyes wide, I could do nothing but look gratefully at Arthur, an unspoken thank you hanging in the air.
"RUN Merlin"
"Oh…"
And that's when it hit. Not run away from him, the big bad King of Camelot, run with him, to safety. And so we ran. For how long I couldn't say, minutes, hours… But it was nothing compared to the silence that followed.
"… How long?"
"Arthur, I don't - "
"How long Merlin? How long have you been practicing magic?"
"Since before I remember… Always, I guess…"
"Arthur, say something…"
The King's mouth formed a wry smile, eyes sparkling in a glint of understanding.
"I always knew there was something different about you Merlin, from the first day I met you… It seems I just didn't realise how right I was"