Merlin was lying on the ground, cradled in Arthur's arms as his life's blood seeped out of him. The only tears I have ever seen the prince shed rolled down his face freely. For a horrible moment I thought Merlin was dead. Then his eyes fluttered open. Using all of his strength, he moved his hand to cover Arthur's.
"Not your fault."
It was barely a whisper, like his voice was already a ghost, a fading memory. But Merlin will never fade, will never be forgotten.
"No, please Merlin. Please live. I order you, don't die!" Arthur begged, "Don't you dare leave me!"
And Merlin tried. Each breath he took was a painful attempt to follow orders. He lasted four days before he could no longer take it and he slipped away from us forever. Uther left his son to his grief, though it is clear that he didn't understand it. Everyone gave the prince space, but I couldn't. Every night I snuck into his chambers and we spent the night crying and remembering.
The first time after his death that I hear Arthur laugh, Merlin is the cause. No one but the goofy servant could make Arthur laugh like that. When I heard the laughter, I managed a smile. I could almost hear Merlin laughing along with us. A memory; but one that will never fade.
