Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, and you can thank any god you follow that I don't.
A/N: So this is very sad, probably a lot sadder than what I usually write. But this idea came into my head, and I had to try it. Please read and review.
It should never have come to this.
In the end, Merlin was to have a quiet, private execution. At his sentencing, Arthur hadn't even been able to look at him- instead, he spoke quickly and devoid of any emotion. Merlin would die at dawn for his treason. But he was allowed to make the final decision of how he would die.
It was a small mercy, almost cruel. The King gave it for the sake of the friendship they had once shared, before he had discovered the betrayal. Arthur couldn't ignore the painful stab in his gut when Merlin finally let a tear fall. He kneeled there, before his king, and swallowed hard. Then he looked up into eyes that would not meet his and said only,
"Not the pyre."
He gave no other request in response to the morbid choice, and so it became Arthur's choice to make. At long last he decided: poison.
The poison he chose was for a quick, painless, but certain death. There was no known antidote. But that's how he wanted it. That's how Arthur needed it to be.
Once Merlin drank poison to save his life. Had that been a trick too? Arthur felt a lump rise into his throat and fought back the urge to weep. He hated Merlin. Hated him. Because he was supposed to be his best friend. His first friend. He hated him because he had to make this so hard. Arthur wanted to hurt him, to punish him...but he didn't want him to die. But more than anything, he wanted things to go back to normal. And it was because they couldn't ever go back that Arthur could not let him live- a reminder of ever broken vow of loyalty and friendship.
Poison. Merlin would drink it once more, and once more because of Arthur.
The King allowed the sorcerer the night alone to say goodbye to his friends as he wished to. Arthur kept away. He buried himself in his study, pretending he was doing paperwork...pretending that every smudge of ink was not from his eyes but a drip of the wine goblet. At dawn he rose from his chair.
When Arthur had told him of the poison, Merlin had made one more request. It would take place where they had spent so many long hours, back when everything was right with the world. They were to end in Arthur's old chambers. And Arthur had to be there to watch.
Arthur stepped through the doors, the guards sealing them behind him. He saw Merlin sitting at the table, just sealing an envelope and laying it on the table. His will, perhaps? Merlin looked up at him, for a moment, his eyes clear as crystal, and seeming to penetrate into Arthur's soul. The King was almost wary, entering the room with only a sword when the sorcerer could attempt an escape. Suddenly, Merlin softened.
"It's alright, Arthur. I'm not going to try anything."
Arthur had to steel himself to go on.
"It's time." He said, quietly.
"I know." Merlin replied, in a gentle voice. He smiled in his customary grin. "Sit down, you prat."
Even now, Merlin was trying to comfort him. Every step felt like lead to Arthur. For a moment, he didn't think he would be able to do it. He sunk into the chair across the table from Merlin. The table where his servant had fed him rat-stew. Where he had served him so many times as a prince.
"It's quick?" The question broke Arthur from his thought. He nodded silently, and pulled the small vial from his robes. Very deliberately, he set it down on the table between them. Suddenly, he realized the irony of the situation, remembering when they sat the same way, arguing over who was to drink the poison to save Camelot.
For a few moments they sat there. Neither moved, both lost in thought and staring at the small vial of poison that would change both of their lives.
"Well." Merlin broke the silence. "It's a new day."
Arthur could hardly comprehend as Merlin reached out for the vial, undid the cork and lifted it up. He was shocked by the other man's words. They were...his own. Merlin had remembered. All this time.
Merlin locked eyes with his King. Very slowly, he raised the vial to Arthur, as if toasting him.
Years of memories flooded through Arthur in the few seconds of the action. He did not dare break their gaze. He had to look. He had to watch as he murdered his best friend.
Merlin raised it to his lips.
Arthur's mind raced. No. He had to stop this. He couldn't do this, he needed Merlin. He loved Merlin and he needed to speak now, damnit, he need to take it all back. He needed to dive forward before it was too late and drag the poison away from his best friend's lips. he needed to do it now!
But he couldn't move. He couldn't speak. Merlin gulped the enter vial down. He set it back on the table, and sat back in his chair.
Arthur broke. He sobbed uncontrollably. He rushed to Merlin's side as his friend fell forward, and caught him. Arthur couldn't see through his tears; he couldn't tell if Merlin was still living, or gone already.
Then he heard a whisper.
"Arthur..."
Arthur held him closer, pressing his head desperately into Merlin's chest.
He knew in that moment that his grief for Merlin would overwhelm him. In a single moment of clarity, amidst the maelstrom, he knew:
I chose wrong.