Ghost love score

The first hint was the dorocha.

'No mortal can survive their touch.' Gaius said.

He remembered Merlin, jumping between him and the dorocha, hitting the ground with frost on his white face lifeless.

Then somehow Merlin recovered. His eyes burned when Merlin banged into his chamber balancing his breakfast tray. He pulled the cover over his face to hide his reddened eyes.

It should be impossible. But the gods were smiling over him and he couldn't be more grateful.

It was just a constant nudging at the back of his mind. A noisy bird that followed him around.

Then one day it just clicked together. He wasn't even pondering on the mystery. He was in the council chamber, nodding in practiced propriety at the lord speaking. Then the thought hit him, in the full force of a rampant stallion and he gasped, in the middle of a reply. What was he talking about? He had no idea. Everything, the pot, the chair, the faces all whispered the same name. Everyone had the same face – blue eyes and raven hair.

It was not that hard actually. The strange noises at night when he got lonely and wandered around the empty castle. His legs would always bring him to the physician chamber, where he heard – the clinging, scratching and water dripping. And occasional eerie flame –like glow…

The falling branches. Always falling at the perfect moment. Always on his enemy. A bandit, a sorcerer. A monster. Never hitting him. Lying at his feet afterwards like a dog with pleading eyes…

'Arthur. It is not laziness. Do you know it is physically impossible for Merlin to finish all his chores, even without sleep?' Guinevere said…

He cursed himself for his observance, for his mind for putting everything together.

Pain, likes he never felt. He was screaming, writhing, dying. He was burning, falling, dying.

His Merlin…why…

But the truth was a scar in his vision, like the time his six-year-old self saw his father making out with a maid – he cried, but he couldn't shred the image from his eyes. There was no way to unseen the truth.

He told himself to be brave. He committed every image to his memory…

Hair on the nap of his neck, tiny saplings growing wide and delicate on the scalp, pinkish like a blushing girl…Merlin holding a vase, that single gesture, that elegant curve of his wrist, that grace of porcelain skin...Perfection frozen in that arc against the fragile fabrics of his room, a blink, a breath too loud, and it would be dream… And when he dropped the vase, that adorable clumsiness that filled his heart with warmth…Glistering blue eyes that took all the weight from his soul.

His.

His love.

He untied the red handkerchief from his arm, almost grateful for the arrow to hit him. He inhaled. It was a new taste, completely foreign yet he knew intrinsically it was him. Meadow of daffodils, riverstones in brooks and an undertone of herbs. An uniqueness he recognized everywhere. No one tasted like his servant, none. He would keep it forever.

Every memory there was pain. The onslaught of emotions, rose and rising until he couldn't differentiate the fear and the pain, the hurt and the guilt, the anger and the love.

He couldn't bear this anymore.

'Merlin, I know.'

'Arthur?' His servant searched his face, worried at what he found, but still he grinned that beautiful cheekily smile of his and said. 'Okay! Arthur. Next time I won't steal from your breakfast.'

'No. Merlin.' He forced out the word, one by one, each like his fresh ripped out bleeding and rotting. 'I know. Since the dorocha.'

Then Merlin's face lost all color.

'Arthur…Please…I do it for you. Only for you…'

'I know.' There Merlin's face looked so hopeful that it hurt even more, more than Morgana's betrayal and Uther's death. 'But you don't belong here.' His face fell.

'Arthur… I belong by your side. Always.' His voice was breaking, a nightingale's wail to its dead companion. 'Arthur. I love you.'

'I know… love you too.' Arthur heard himself said. 'But that was before you…' After all those nights of lonely desire and uncertainty, those nail-chipping moments and blood throbbing tension…when he finally heard the confession from his love and himself… the time was wrong. It was all wrong. Too late… Merlin was crying now, tears fell like moon river and falling stars. His face felt wet too.

'Please… let me stay – I was born like this!' A desperate howl, Arthur collapsed in his chair.

'No… Merlin…It is impossible. It was the dorocha remember?' He laughed mirthlessly. 'Merlin. You… idiot. Only you can forget something like that.' The tease ripped new wounds. He shook his head, with each the world broke a little.

Merlin stood silent, head hung in defeat, face shadow-veiled with sparkles of loveless tears.

He could do it. He could end the pain for them, quickly. A mercy blow to a downed prey.

'Listen Merlin…It was for the better…for both of us.'

'I am sorry Arthur…I am sorry for not telling you earlier... I am afraid.'

'I know. I understand. I can never hate you Merlin.'

'Then…why…what changes?'

'Everything changes!' Arthur flung his tear-soaked hand away in a furious swipe. He reached forward to demonstrate his point, then frowned when he touched Merlin's skin. Warm skin.

'You're warm…warm…it's impossible.' He whispered, frantic chant of a mad man.

'Arthur?'

'I don't understand…the body should've gone cold…impossible...'

'Arthur?' Watery blue eyes twinkled in an odd way. A gasp. Merlin placed his question carefully. 'What do you think I am?'

Hope rose with his breath. Disbelief and dread thundered overhead. He couldn't take it.

'Arthur, what do you think I am?'

...

'A ghost?'

Then Merlin's magic reacted badly to his exasperation, and Arthur learned first-hand what it meant to be a ghost.

If you recognise the title and the song/band, then I love you! Happy Valentine Day everyone! May you be loved every day of the year!