Hello! So, this is my first fic after a series of horrible (incomplete) fics I've posted in the past… Basically, I was a shitty writer back then, and I'm hoping (fingers crossed!) that I'm somewhat better now… Hope you like it?
I don't own Merlin… (A girl can dream, though, right?)
Merlin thinks about death a lot.
He's obligated to, really. It's impossible to not think about death when every breath you breathe is technically violating the harshest law of Camelot.
Magic.
That's what it all comes back to in the end, doesn't it? When everything's gone, the only thing left in the world will probably be magic, Merlin thinks.
On good days, he thinks poison or a simple hanging would do. Well, it depends on the poison, but he would prefer that to anything else… like the pyre. And hanging is as painless as you get, I mean any more painless and it's not really death is it?
But then other days… he thinks he might prefer the pyre. The days when the self-loathing and grief is drowning him, when doubt seeps into the crevices of his mind and embeds itself there to stay forever.
He imagines the fire scorching his skin, the pain traveling up his legs and body and smothering him until he's dying, drowning, and he just can'tdothisandwhywon'titgoaway-
Some days he'd rather not think about it.
Then Lancelot dies. Sacrifices himself for Merlin of all people. Just like Will, Balinor, Freya.
Why would you do that?
I don't deserve it.
He pretends it's fine. Of course he does, it's what he always does. Lock yourself away until it passes, until the hurricane, the tornado, the earthquake all pass and everything is right again and the crushing weight on your chest will finally go away.
It never goes away.
He dreams about it sometimes. Well, all the time. Death. He thinks it's impossible to have faith in Arthur and still think he's going to be executed. Because he does.
And he does have faith in Arthur, and the knights, and Gaius, and Gwen…he loves them. And some faraway part of him says, knows, that they love him too.
But it's far away, and Merlin's never been very good at listening.
Well, maybe they don't totally not care. He feels their worried glances on his back all the time now. It's getting a bit irritating, actually.
"Merlin?" It's Gwaine.
"Yeah?"
"You… You okay, mate? I mean, you know, you've been down for a while now, and I know it's because of Lancelot and everything, but you're looking so pale…" He falters. Looks anywhere but at Merlin. Sighs. Starts again.
"You just don't look so good, Merlin."
"I'm fine, Gwaine. Like you said, I'm still processing Lancelot and… yeah."
Fine. Like he ever was fine.
"But it's more than that, Merlin… I don't know, but something else is wrong…" It's Arthur now.
"We all can see it, Merlin. We're your… friends. You know that right?" Now Gwen.
Where are they all coming from?
"Nothing's wrong, okay?! I'm just stressed, with L-Lancelot and all the work around the castle and helping Gaius, I'm fine!" Smooth, Merlin thinks sarcastically, now they should think I'm totally fine.
So he doesn't give them the chance to say anything. He just walks away.
But then that voice from far away in his mind shouts for a second.
Maybe they do care a little. Maybe they weren't as oblivious as he thought they were.
Maybe.
Abrupt ending, I know… *sigh* I've never been good with endings.
Thank you for reading? Review and tell me if you like it!