So far the poll is telling me that everyone wants Merlin stories, so I thought I'd oblige. DDBK readers: IT IS NOT OVER. As I said, more is on the way (eventually). This is just a bit of a tease for a later multichapter fic. It will only be short (about 5-10 chapters) and won't be anything special.

In this chapter I haven't ever named the narrative character, for a reason. I have a character in mind and there is one MASSIVE clue as to who it is, but I'd love to hear your guesses.

The title is from a speech I wrote (It's part of the manuscript I'm writing) that said something along the lines of: '...and may all sickness and pain fall into the sea.' It seemed fitting. Without further ado:

SICKNESS FALLS

What he hated the most was the ever present numbness. It locked around his limbs like a vice and wrapped icy fingers around his heart, squeezing until he felt he would never be able to breathe again. He'd long since lost awareness of whether it was due to Gaius' potions or his... sickness.

He would have thought the nothingness would be preferable to the agony from before, but it wasn't. Pain at least let him know that he was still alive. The numb cold told him that his body was dying, that after all he had done, all he had been through, he was going to be finished by a sickness he was too weak to fight. The irony was laughable, only no one seemed to find it all that funny.

In the brief instances of lucidity Gaius' remedies afforded him, he was able to recognise figures lingering at his bedside; friends saying their last goodbyes. He was undecided on whether he thought it was a good thing: he was honoured to know he had such loyal companions, but he was horrified to realise the pain his death would cause them. He didn't want them to mourn for him, to throw flowers on his grave or have to smell the smoke from his pyre. God he hoped they wouldn't burn him, not now.

It was cold; he thought he might be shivering but he couldn't be sure. Good or bad? He'd taken to continually asking himself the question every time he felt or sensed a change. Mostly it was bad. By now he was really too numb to process it all, much less care. He was a dead man, he knew it and he was no longer afraid. Good or bad?

Good, he decided eventually. If he was to die he wanted to be able to smile at whatever was waiting for him.

'You may have won,' he would say, 'but you have not beaten me.'

He thought that might be brave. In life he hadn't been, not especially. Braver is overcoming fear and moving past it, which he had never been able to do. His 'brave' actions were simply down to a surprising and frankly unhealthy lack of fear. When he'd gone through all that he had, what was there left to be afraid of? His one terror was losing his friends, his family, his home. He'd never gotten past that and yet he had lost, time and time again. Maybe he was too trusting, too open hearted? But the years had hardened him, morphing the boy he once was into a man long before his age decreed it so.

His mind wandered aimlessly, trapped and caged like a wild beast.

'What a lonely way to die,' he mused to himself. Of all the ways it could have happened, this was not a favourite.

Was someone holding his hand? There was a strange pressure there that through all the haze he couldn't quite comprehend. It felt... warm. Maybe he wasn't as alone as he felt. It was a comforting thought.

Time passed in strange twisting lurches and lulls until he couldn't have told you what year it was. The numbness spread with chilling fingers snaking through him until he couldn't feel anything at all. He assumed that this meant his body was almost done trying to continue his life. Good or bad?

Now that, he couldn't answer, it was a hard question. Or at least to his disease addled brain it was. He didn't particularly want to die, even if he wasn't afraid of it but at the same time an end to the... nothingness of his current existence sounded good. Maybe his death would be just another bittersweet victory.

He wasn't really sure why he even still cared, why it still mattered. He would die. He had no doubts about that. His fate had been sealed as soon as he had become ill. But to drag it out like this? Was that not more cruel to the people around him? With a peak of idle frustration he cursed whatever powers of the universe there were for their complete disregard for his friends' mental well beings.

'I'm so sorry. I hope you can forgive me. I'm sorry to hurt you all so much. I'm sorry you'll never know how sorry I am. I'm sorry you'll never know how much I need you and how grateful I am for you being there. With all my heart I love you. I hope that you at least know that.'

..

Well, I hope that was a suitably depressing/intriguing teaser. I know it's short, do not fear, the chapters will be longer. I won't really be starting this story until DDBK is finished and probably until after my exams: probably in about a month and a half.

But remember, I'd love to you know who you think it is, and virtual cookies to whoever can spot the clue :D

Love y'all