Sorry it's been so long, I was doing NaNoWriMo. I apologise for this story. I don't even know what this is. Help me.
Warnings for: Character deaths, slash, mentions of sex, mentions of violence.
Silencium
It's raining, Merlin thinks slowly.
It wasn't raining the first day they met. Then the sun was shining and it was almost too hot. They had fought; he remembered that, just. Arthur had won of course. Arthur always won when they fought physically. Of course when it came to a mental battle of quips Merlin was the best.
It's quiet. Even the rain is falling quietly, a gentle pitter patter like a spider bouncing gently on a drum. Everything's dark and wet and Merlin doesn't care. Without the rain there's only silence.
Merlin remembers the magic word for silence. Silencium.
It had been raining the first time they kissed. He remembers that better. Arthur had been fighting again, grubby, streaked with dirt and the blood of the sister he finally defeated. Merlin had helped of course, although Arthur hadn't known it. He never knew.
He'd been standing there, looking around the forest in a daze, crying. And it had rained. How it had rained, thundering down in buckets and soaking them, causing steam to rise a little and release the world of Morgana. It was cleansing.
Merlin had thought how Arthur had needed cleansing too, on the inside. All his knights dead and his sister killed by his own hand. Merlin knew he blamed himself for what had happened, knew he was sad. So he'd given Arthur something to be happy for.
That kiss had been good, the rain seeming sweeter on Arthur's skin, a tiny pearl of gleaming sugar to be scooped up and savoured and tasted. When Merlin had first put his lips over Arthur's there'd been a squeak of protest then silence.
Silencium.
It had been raining the first time they slept together too, only that time beating on the windows as they kissed and slowly raked their hands over each others clothes. Arthur had been soft and gentle, afraid of hurting him. Merlin had laughed at that. Arthur had replied that Merlin was far too delicate, and the whole thing had escalated into a pillow fight which had again escalated into something a lot more fun. Afterwards they had curled up in each others arms and listened to the rain knocking on the window, whispering a story they slowly lost track of as they fell into a contented sleep.
Silencium.
Rain splashes around Merlin's outstretched hand washes away the blood in a little crimson river. He stares at it dully, the light seeming to fade. He doesn't know whether the blood is his or Arthur's.
He remembers the storm on the night they were discovered. The clouds, deep swelling purple, should have been some kind of warning. Foreshadowing.
Gaius knew by then where Merlin went every night, but he had been the only one. Only they'd had a long night and overslept; the maid entering the room had screamed and run before either of them could catch up with her.
Arthur had been very quiet for a moment or two, whilst Merlin stood scared and shivering, waiting for the blow to fall. But the prince had taken the situation entirely in hand, bullied his way into stealing a horse and fled with Merlin's arms around his waist.
Merlin suspects Uther found out when the lightning exploded over them in silver stars, but that was just silly. Uther hated magic; he wanted to crush it, silence the people who could do it.
Silencium.
Merlin had never got round to telling Arthur about his magic, not even when it poured down and they were cold and wet, living an exiled life. It had taken time for Arthur to adjust, but that was what Merlin was there for. To cheer him up. To make smile when he didn't want to and to comfort him when he wanted to cry and wouldn't admit it.
Merlin likes the rain, usually. It's cool and refreshing and he can prance about and laugh in it whilst Arthur stumps up to the cave they had taken shelter in looking grumpy. Merlin would have liked to see him adjust completely to living in the beautiful forest, but it's not going to happen now.
That's the problem with living alone in the forest. You let your guard down, and then it happens.
Silencium.
Arthur had been laughing, Merlin remembers. Laughing at something Merlin had done, one of the many hundreds of things Merlin deliberately or inadvertently did. He can't remember which it was this time.
And then they had been there, robbers, bandits, murderers, it didn't matter. Arthur had fought of course, because he remembered it all, and Merlin had used as much magic as necessary, but even he couldn't do it against so many. They had a sorcerer in their rank, and a good one.
Now Merlin wonders if the sorcerer is on their way to Camelot. The thought doesn't trouble him as much as it once had, because Arthur had pushed him out of the way and taken the blast himself.
The rain falls on their hands, Merlin's right entwined with Arthur's left. Arthur had stopped gasping a little while ago now.
Silencium.
The world is dull and empty apart from the rain. Arthur needn't have bothered pushing Merlin out of the way, because something had stabbed him less than a second later. He'd felt it, but not felt it. Now there's just some kind of throbbing in his stomach. Ice cold hands grip at his and Arthur's, but he's not letting go just yet.
They're gone now, the men, whoever they were. Merlin's happy about that. He and Arthur can be alone together for just a little longer, even though Arthur can't hear the rain and Merlin can.
He licks the rain from his lips, but it doesn't taste the same as when he takes it from Arthur's mouth. There's a small white light buzzing above his head, and it's getting closer, or maybe just bigger. He can't bring himself to care, just yet, not whilst he can listen to the story the rain's trying to tell him and he still has Arthur's hand.
Soon though it's so close he can't ignore it. He knows what it is and it doesn't matter. It's so easy, moving forwards and up, the light feeling taking over and drawing him in. the light gets bigger, brighter, and he's aware he's still holding Arthur's hand, only they're walking now, together, and they're in a long green field.
Wildflowers, Merlin wonders. They're not wet, but he can still feel the rain as if from a very long distance, thudding off his forehead. Arthur's hand is warmer now, and neither of them speaks, only waits.
Merlin waits until he can't feel the rain. He can't feel any of it, but he can still hear. Just.
The field bursts into a sort of brighter clarity. The rain's fading away. One pitter patter, and another, as the spider dancing on the drum grows tired. Merlin's a little tired too, but Arthur squeezes his hand and then he's not.
It's very nearly gone now, and there's a sense of hope. Merlin doesn't know where that's coming from, but he holds Arthur's hand as the rain fades completely.
Silencium.
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