Merlin lays in his small bed. Resting one arm across his eyes, he blinks into the morning light. Great, I'm late once again. Arthur would soon give up on him. Find a servant worth something. Slowly, Merlin rolled onto his stomach. Stifling a small groan, his body ached all over. Soreness from riding horses all day long, sore from sleeping in the dirt, sore from his never ending chores, sore from... well everything. How long had it been since he would great the morning and stiffness with a smile? How much time had passed to allow him to become so ambivalent about his existence?

His stomach made a small noise. Why should Merlin listen to that? The last thing someone as worthless as he deserved was food. Why should he give himself something as nice as food? Even the thought made him nauseous. When did he start denying himself the means for survival? Since when did he allow malicious thoughts into his mind that poisoned his body? How had he let himself drift so far from what he used to be?

"Merlin!" Gaius yelled. Shaking Merlin out of his pondering session. He's always yelling these days. What had Merlin done to get Gaius so upset with him? Merlin knew he deserved it. He had gotten sloppy… Or was Gaius just sick of trying to pretend to be okay with having Merlin around? He would definitely benefit from Merlin's absence. "Merlin!" now he'd done it. Quickly, ignoring the screams of his body, he got dressed for the day. He didn't care to look for something specific. Simply grabbed the first shirt he could find. Threw on the pants that were still in a pile on the floor, and tied his scarf around his neck. Dashing out of his room, he put on his best Merlin mask and smiled at Gaius.

"Sorry! Runnin' late, no time for breakfast!" Merlin said over his shoulder as he sloppily ran out the door, straightening his outfit so that Gaius wouldn't stop him. Gaius was left with a pot in one hand and a spoon in the other. He rolled his eye, and started cleaning up. When did Merlin start waking up so late? Maybe when he started coming in so late. Gaius couldn't remember the last meal they had shared. Truth be told he missed those special meals. Gaius gave up his pondering and started his long day of making potions and drafts for the different people he tended to every day.

The second Merlin rounded the corner he slowed his pace. Guilt wrapped around his thoughts like a snake its prey. He felt horrible lying to Gaius, he did after all accept him as his ward after his mother decided she couldn't handle him. Gaius didn't deserved to lied to. But Merlin couldn't pretend to be okay for very long. It's better this way. It is better that Gaius thinks he is too mindless or carefree rather than reveal what is really going on inside his head. Merlin began his long walk to the other side of the Castle. Trying to ignore the burning feeling in his arm. He knew he shouldn't scratch at it, but he did anyways. He was constantly scratching at his arm. Just a nervous tick he had. Nothing more. When was he going to start believing his own lies?

Merlin took a deep breath as he arrived at Arthur's door. He looked at the knobs as if he'd never seen them before. How many time had Merlin never paid attention to such things? Simply pushed open the door cheerfully, he used to just walk right through. But now, such insignificant things gain his attention. How long had he been standing there? Locked in a trance, staring at a door knob. Shaking his head slightly, he took a deep breath in and opened the door.

"Rise and shine, sire!" Merlin yelled cheerfully as he pushed open the curtains in Arthur's chambers. He quickly placed the food down on the table that he brought up for Arthur.

"Are you not capable of finding something else to say?" Arthur mumbled sleepily, rolling over, squinting into the unforgiving light. Merlin scrunched his brows together. What had he done this time? He thought he had sounded pleasant. Quickly thinking of something else to say Merlin's pulse began to quicken.

"Would you prefer-"

"Merlin," Arthur interrupted before Merlin got to go through his list of replacements. Merlin closed his mouth with a look a shame. He'd annoyed him, yet again. "Get. Out. Or I'll have you for breakfast!" Arthur yelled.

Merlin walked sideways through the room to the door, thinking of something to say that would brighten the mood. "Well, I can see that you are still in need of your beauty sleep." At this Arthur lifted himself up looking for something to throw. Grabbing his chalice he threw it at Merlin.

Merlin knew it was coming, of course he did. But he refused to duck, pretending to just be slow, as always. So, bracing himself slightly for the blow, it crashed against his head with a clang. Pushed against the wall with the force of the throw, Merlin laughed it off and gave Arthur his best Merlin mask. "Well, I can see you aim is still mastered even when you are asleep." Holding his jaw, Merlin pushed open the doors and hopped out of the room. Closing the doors, Merlin leaned against them for just a second. Took a few deep breaths, but to no avail. His pulse was quickly raising. He started to get lightheaded as he pushed off the doors and started walking a familiar path.

He kept walking until he found himself in a forgotten part of the castle. A stairwell that no one used anymore. Merlin found it his first week in Camelot. Now he revisits as a place to get away. He goes half way up and sits on the fourth stair, a habit of his. It's always the fourth step. He allows himself these small habits now and then.

Merlin ran his fingers through his hair. Trying to force his lungs to hold more air. He took deep breaths to try to calm his nerves. When did he get so antsy? Merlin winced his eyes shut at the pain in his head which was getting worse than the pain in his body. Most of which is sure to be because of the blow Arthur just dealt him. Then again, he knew that wasn't the only reason. It seems like his head was always hurting. He gave up trying to find a remedy for it a long time ago. Merlin dropped his hands to his lap feeling completely defeated. Merlin's shoulders fell. He looked around at the familiar stone. Breathing fast, he tried to hurry his shaking fingers. Finally, he found the one that could be removed easily. Merlin gave a sigh of relief.

Removing the stone from its hiding place, Merlin reached in to find the one things that calms him whenever he's upset. Simply wrapping his fingers around it brings his heart rate down. As he pull it into view, he relishes in its veiled beauty. The severe point of the dagger shined in the sunlight. His eye shown gold as he let go of the blade and it floated in the air. Held by invisible forces. He stared at the blade as he scratched his arm.

Merlin slowly removed his worn brown jacket. Curled up his dirty sleeves, and stared down at his marks. His lowest moments were all there. Out in the open. All were scars. Most were small and flat. Whitened over time from lack of exposure. Others still came up to a pink peak. Moments that were so long ago, the memories still blazed in his mind like they were formed last night. These were formed, what feels like, lifetimes ago. His teenage years were not the nicest to him. If it weren't for his friend, he's not sure he would have made it through. He always kept the blade though. As proof that he could always get lower. A reminder of how far he'd come.

But now, all he felt was defeat. His teenage years were almost laughable compared to what he was going through now. And the burning in his arm. He scratched and scratched, but could never calm the itch. All he wanted was relief. Cocking his head to the side, he spun the blade in the air, studying its markings and designs. The silver shined in streaks every time the sunlight hit it just right. His eyes glazed at the thought of allowing himself just one more scar to the collection. It had been so ling since he experienced it. Once again his heartrate quickened, but not in fear or anxiety this time. In excitement. Since when was he ready to see himself bleed?

Merlin squeezed his eyes shut, tears threatening to spill out of the blue pool of his eyes. While the blade still spun slowly, Merlin's internal battle continued. Merlin ran his hands through his hair, grabbing on to the locks and pulling. The pressure helped. Why is he doing this to himself? Who would care anyway? What's one more scar added to all the others? IT would stop the burning and inching in his arm. He knew it would. He never used to question it, until his friend convinced him to stop. But he's gone now. So that promise is irrelevant. Merlin pulled his hair and squeezed his eyes shut. His head felt like it was going to explode.

Tears were now freely pouring down his face. Slipping sideways, he moved his hand to prevent himself from falling over while his other hand flew to his chest. His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. Everything hurt. He allowed himself one loud scream of anger, fear, and sadness. Everything stopped. Merlin, breathing heavy, sat up. The only thing that seemed to move in all the kingdom was the blade. Still spinning slightly. Merlin looked at it with bewildered curiosity. What else can I do?

Leaning back, he pushed his sleeve up once more, exposing the scared flesh. His eyes barely opened, hey felt so heavy. He had made up his mind, the battle was over.