alright-y, another weird angsty one-shot, courtesy of yours truly. 's sorta weird, at first i was writing a hardy, but fluffy mergana one-shot (it's called "traditions and priorities", if you're interested), and then, after a little break, my gut said "angsty done merlin fic angsty done merlin fic" and it sorta spewed out of my fingers in thirty minutes or so. hee.
warnings: SUICIDE, SELF HATE, that complete feeling of USELESSNESS we all feel at one point in our lives. also a heap of CURSING because dammit merlin's far too angsty god i love merlin's angst because it's nOT BLATANT IN THE SHOW /huffs
don't mind me i'll be professional from this point onward.
word count: 704 words
disclaimer: i do not own merlin.
canon setting: between season four and season five
Falling
She Doesn't Know Best
He wants to fall off of this wall.
He wants to spread his arms out like an eagle and end it all, just end it all. He wants his body to land on the stones below with a sickening thud just as the first of the citizens are rising from their straw beds. He wants them to gape at his broken body and show some fucking sadness, because he's gotten none of that, none of that for what he's done.
No sense of thanks, no sense of sadness for what he's given up for their damn lives. No sense of gratefulness for their humble hero who can't stand to be humble for another second. He wants some damn respect and thanks for once. He's tried to be humble, to stay behind Arthur like a shadow, but even his patience wears thin over time. Arthur's grown distant, but still expects him to be at his every beck and call. Gwen's grown swamped with work, no time left for useless, peasant friends. He's only a minor matter. He's a servant, they're nobility, pure royalty.
Everybody he cares about is of noble blood, and he feels like he should get some damn credit for putting up with their royal asses. Whether they're genetically noble or not, he still gets to call them that in his head. They think he's so busy being a servant, but he's got too much time on his hands at night thinking to himself, and he's turned to resentment and hate and has been questioning everything he's done for the sake of Camelot.
Life isn't fair. It's a fact of the world. Not everybody's going to be happy or fed or damn well credited, and that's how the world works. He knows that.
But what he doesn't know is why after everything he'd given up, after every life he's taken, after every burden he fucking nails into his curdling heart, why the gods still don't see it fit.
Gaius notices, tells him he's got to push through, but Merlin wonders if it's even worth it. He feels like a Catholic practicing Lent every day. Give this up for forty days (or your whole life; some things, like Freya's touch or Balinor's embrace just can't be given up then taken again), and take on saving Arthur's life and dealing with his snarky remarks in order for salvation. He feels broken, withered, tired, well beyond his twenty-some years. He's done with destiny, he's been done with destiny; it just took him time to realize it.
His feet are tipping slightly over the edge of the stone wall; his eyes are gazing at the peeking sun just opposite of him. He dares a glance down at the few who've started to scram from bed. His hands are shoved deep into his jacket pockets and he wonders if he can do this one – hopefully last – act to teach them.
Yes, yes, he can. He'll show them some fucking humility. He'll show them what negligence can lead to. He doesn't care if it costs him his life or a few broken bones. If it takes his life to teach them to care, so be it. He's sick of it all. His tongue is sick of spewing lies for all these years. His hands are sick of killing for someone who just threw him away. His whole being's sick and done. He's done with caring. Fuck caring. When you care too much nobody notices; it's ironic, nobody cares.
It's selfish, wishing like this. But he doesn't care. Since when have they cared? He certainly has. Look where that's got him. Wanting to commit suicide because maybe when he's dead, people will finally start to take notice of the king's caring manservant.
Merlin laughs.
And now he's falling because nobody cares. Falling because nobody thought to give a damn about him. Falling because the knights found comfort in each other. Falling because Arthur found comfort in Gwen. Falling because no one spends time with him anymore. Falling because his mother's long gone with his father to tell him that he is destined for so much more than he could imagine.
Turns out she was wrong.