Slow, laboured footsteps echo in the silence, through empty stone halls and cold stone passageways. And then a staircase-
-laughter-
-a tower-
-whispered words of comfort and love shared, brief moments snatched in each other's presence, before life intervened-
-and a room, once a refuge, a sanctuary. Once a safe haven where both suffering spirits crushed under the weight of impossibly heavy burdens could find solace and peace. Now a bare, desolate place where the ghosts of memories hang heavy in the air. He walks to the window, gazing without seeing at the sunrise.
They would watch the sunrise whenever they could. And it was so beautiful that day, the sky flushed pink, streaked with gold, barely a cloud in the sky, with the flickering orange glow of burning buildings banishing the last cobwebs of night.
He can see the burnt-out husks, empty shells that people used to call homes. Until the armies came-
-legions upon legions of soldiers, their voices raised in one single roar, the sunlight flashing off their weapons, hate and rage burning in their eyes.
They had wanted Camelot for so long, but King Uther refused to ally himself with them and their leader. And so the soldiers had come, their leader a huge ox of a man, his brute strength matched only by his ruthlessness, cunning and determination.
They had chanted his name in undying chorus as they marched, a great symphony that rang true with adoration, and it was beautiful and it was terrible.
People scurry like ants far below him, resuming some semblance of normal life, trying to forget the bloodshed and carnage whilst being reminded, every minute of every day of the loved ones they lost that day. He envies them, wished he had the strength, the courage that keeps them living through the days. His strength, his spirit, his love – they all died that day. Now he is alone.
Flames climbed high into the night as peasants from beyond Camelot fled to seek safety inside the city walls, leaving their homes and their possessions burning behind them.
He casts his gaze beyond the walls of Camelot. He can see everything from the tower room. He can see the charred and blackened land where grass once grew, the stumps where the trees of the forests were cut down to make great machines of war and death.
Laughter rang out as the two walked hand in hand through the forest, sharing in the happiness that their being together brought, drinking in the beauty around them that seemed all the more precious for the time they spent apart.
Unnoticed, tears spill from his lashes, roll down his face, splash against the stone of the windowsill. The forest is gone. His love is dead. All that remains are bitter memories that rise unbidden from the darkest corners of his mind-
-men screamed as they died, calling out for their mothers, their wives, their children, for mercy that they never received. Blood flowed, soaking the ground as the two forces battled, the fight moving closer to Camelot, then further from it, the two sides locked in a brutal stalemate. Corpses littered the battlefield until the soldiers climbed over their former comrades to reach the enemy. Shrieks of terror rose from those on both sides as they saw giant boulders launched by the monstrous trebuchets hurtling towards them but were prevented from fleeing by the press of bodies all around them.
He looks down at the courtyard. Etched on the pillars and the walls far below him are the names of those who died fighting, or those who were slaughtered before they could reach safety. But one name is missing. He wakes with that name on his lips each morning, goes to bed with it running through his mind at night. That name is written on his heart, and will forever remain there until the day he dies.
"Arthur! Arthur, look! They're surrendered! We've won!"
The fighting had dragged on for months. The attackers threw their soldiers at Camelot but its walls stood strong, like they had for many years. A warm summer turned to cold autumn, then bitter winter. The defenders were safe inside their fortress, whilst the attacking army starved and froze. Eventually, with so many of his men dying or deserting, their leader had no choice but to accept the surrender that King Uther had offered.
He looks down to the spot where they had last stood together, were the last words they had spoken to each other were said. On the battlements, atop the walls of the castle. That was where his life had ended.
"Arthur! Arthur, look! They've surrendered! We've won!"
"I know, Merlin. My eyes work just as well as yours"
The warlock knew the Prince's words were spoken without any malice behind them and smiled happily. Now the constant battle was over, a great weight was lifted from his heart. Arthur was Crown Prince, and therefore a prime target for enemy soldiers. Every day, they would go out and he could barely breathe for the fear that the Prince would be taken from him. But now their lives could resume as normal. He heard a strangled gasp come from Arthur standing besides him. Down below, the soldiers of Camelot were collecting up the weapons from the surrendered enemy soldiers. But one archer had let loose an arrow, flying straight and true from his bow, moments before one of King Uther's soldiers had lopped off his head. Merlin turned to see Arthur staggering backwards, looking down – almost in surprise – at the crimson stain spreading from the very tip of the arrow shaft protruding from his chest. Merlin lunged to grab Arthur but was a fraction of a second too late. His fingers just brushed the cloth of Arthur's shirt before the Prince toppled limply from the battlements, landing spread-eagled with a thud on the hard, unyielding ground below.
"Arthur!" Merlin screamed and flung himself from the wall, his eyes glowing golden as he alighted as light as a feather next to the body of his love.
"Arthur, you can't leave me, please don't leave me here" he begged as he fell to his knees, cradling Arthur in his arms. Blood ran from the Prince's mouth as he tried to speak but then, with a final rattling exhalation was still. With one shaking hand, Merlin brushed his fingers over Arthur's eyelids, closing his beautiful blue eyes for the last time.
He sinks to his knees and breaks down completely, sobbing into his hands. He had tried, he had tried so hard but he had failed. There is no way he can live for the rest of his pitiful life alone. And there can be no other. Not now Merlin is dead.
Arthur climbs to his feet, having finally made up his mind. He stands at the window then, in one fluid motion, climbs into a crouch on the sill. He is still reminded so much of that day, his memories haunting him constantly. The Prince smiles through his tears. He will be with Merlin soon.
Merlin clambered to his feet, tears running from under closed lids. He seemed to be readying himself for something, some great ordeal and the crowd that had gathered around him watched in fearful anticipation. He whispered something and they all leaned in to hear his words.
"A life for a life" he said. With that, every inch of his skin lit up with a pure golden light, his arms spread wide and his head thrown back to the heavens. The crowd gasped as he was lifted into the air, blazing brighter than the sun. The golden light illuminating him seemed to coalesce into a flickering stream that poured into the broken body of the Prince, until both were joined together by that light. Then the light flickered and grew dimmer. Merlin crumpled to the floor, limp and unmoving whilst at the same moment, Arthur coughed and sat up, clutching his aching head.
"Merlin?" he asked.
Arthur clambers to his feet on the narrow ledge. He takes one last deep breath, readying himself and then whispers a few words.
"Merlin" he says. "I'll see you soon"
The End
