Pain. That's all Merlin could feel. Blinding, paralysing, agonising pain coursing through his body and lancing through his limbs.
'How could I have been so stupid' Merlin thought. He should've guessed that Morgana was involved. A druid boy, needing help? He was a stickler for that one, with Mordred being the prime example. In light of events of the last few years, he had forgotten about Morgana's involvment in the boys rescue. It was so long ago now, back in a time when she ws the the kings ward and one of his best friends, not a sworn enemy of Camdlot, set out to destroy him.
Bright sunlight pierced the trees above him, shining straight into his eyes. He attempted to squirm away, but found he was too weak, either from the poison or the fall that had followed. Of course it's not like he was a complete stranger to being poisoned. Some time ago now, not long after he'd first arrived in Camelot, Nimeuh, a sorceress set out to destroy him, had tricked him into drinking poison. If not for Arthur, she would've suceeded. Arthur wasn't here this time. He was alone, having failed in his destiny and was almost certainly going to die lonely and afraid in this hollow. On so many previous occasions he had been willing to sacrafice himself for his friend, but if-when-he died here, it would be in vain. Morgana would reach the king and Merlin would be unable to stop her, for no other reason than his own stupidity. Tears welled in his eyes as he thought of his mother, who would never know what happened to him. He would have just disappeared, lost forvever.
Some hidden strength emerged inside him as he attempted to use his magic to save himself. He was scared now, scared of dying. He fought to produce a spell, but for the first time in his life, his magic failed him. Exhausted, he slumped back into the ground as the wave of darkness overtook him.
This time, he dreamed, if you could descibe it as such. Images flickered through his mind, some good, some he'd tried his hardest to forget. There was the moment he first walked through the gates of Camelot, straight into an execution. He looked up at Uther as he gave the signal, never hating anyone more in his life. There was his first meeting with Arthur. How rude he'd seemed. If anyone had told him then that years later he would be contemplating the impact of dying, but not for the arrogant prince, well he would've laughed. Only then did he realise that the dragon had been right all along. If Merlin hadn't been there, Arthur would have, at some point or another, died.
Then there was Lancelot, the bravest knight he'd ever known. Aside from Gaius, he was the only person in Camelot who had known the truth about Merlins magic. 3 years ago he'd proved his loyalty by walking straight into the veil to save both the warlock and Camelot, although he had lost his own life in the process, just as so many othrs had done. Will, his only friend in his village, Freya the girl he'd fallen in love with, Balinor, his father and the last dragonlord, all dead for him and Arthur. Of course, not everyone had died. Some he'd managed to save, like Mordred.
He had first set foot in Camelot a young child, injured by Uther's men. Merlin had saved him, with the help of Gwen and Arthur, but neither could compare with the compassion that Morgana had shown. She risked her life to save his, believing herself to be totally responsible. Morgana, Merlin thought. He should blame her entirely for his predicament. It was becoming clearer as his heartbeat weakened, that shd would be his end. He should have been furious, all of his anger directed at her. But instead he felt something different. Sympathy. Into his mind burst a flood of memories, laughing together, talking together, enjoying each others company as friends should. Then there were the darker times when she struggling to choose her path, to stay true to Camelot, not turn against it, all in fear of what the king would do to her when he discivered the truth.
Merlin had Gaius to support him, to teach him to use his gifts for good. Morgana had no one. She was alone and afraid, so turned on the man her persecuted her. When Arthur looked st to follow in his fathers footsteps, she turned against him too. And him, by supporting Arthur and by attempting to follow a destiny set out for him, he set it in stone. He should've listened to and helped Morgana, guiding her onto the right path, but his ignorance was his undoing. In failing to respond to what was really happening around him, Merlin had signed his own execution.
It might have been hours, it might have been mere minutes, but he eventually reached a somewhat difficult conclusion; Morgana had been the biggest victim of all. More than Arthur, more than Lancelot or Will or any of his other dead frisnds. Even more than himself, forced to hide who he is from almost everyone around him, now lying in a grave of his own making. All along, she'd just needed someome to be both kind and honest to her. And now it was too late.