Hi! This is my first story! I have been debating whether or not to write anything and just keep on reading other people's stories instead…But the writing bug bit me, and it just would not leave me alone until I wrote it! Merlin feels are all over the place. Help!
PROMISES
A single lit candle casts an eerie glow across the room and a tear streaked face. Queen Guinevere grips the edges of her bedroom window like a vice as she stares down at the people of Camelot. They are stacking offerings in the middle of the courtyard; collecting firewood and flowers anyway they can, from street corners, houses, and the forest. She understands what they are doing; they are building a pyre, a pyre for him, a goodbye.
Merlin has not yet returned with Arthur. Everyone is growing restless, and hope is dwindling amongst the court of a safe return from neither the king nor his manservant. As they stack piece after piece, crying at the offerings made to their now lost king, Guinevere wants to shout at them and shake them until they understand that they should not give up hope.
"How dare they!" she thinks enraged, "How dare any of them give up. He is not dead! He promised me."
CRACK.
She glances down at her hands. She has gripped the stone windowsill so hard she has broken one of her fingers with the force. However, as pain shoots up and down her arm at the break, she stares at her now broken finger and smiles. She can barely feel it; the pain is nothing compared to the ache in her soul right now. So much emptiness, pain, rage, and helplessness is in turmoil inside her that she barely has any time to deal with the physical pain of a broken finger.
"I should probably go to Gaius", she muses as an afterthought, kissing the wedding ring on her left hand, on her broken finger. Oh. Wedding ring. Broken finger. Is it a sign of the news to come? Was Merlin too late? Was Arthur already dead and the break just confirms her now broken marriage and promises to the king of Camelot? Dark thoughts swirl around and around in her head.
She sighs and shakes her head, the dark curls shaking back and forth with the movement, wiping her sweaty hands on the skirt of her red velvet dress, a wedding gift from Arthur. This is why she should never be left alone to her thoughts at times like these. She had a knack and a tendency of overthinking even the simplest of thoughts. Thinking negatively was never her forte; always smiling and helpful to those around her. After becoming queen, her innate desire to help the people of Camelot had increased tenfold. As Arthur's queen, she could not afford to look discouraged in front of the court, and especially not in front of the people.
"HE. IS. NOT. DEAD" she whispers harshly. Nodding to herself, she lets go of the windowsill, turning towards the large wooden door, in mind to look for Gaius about her finger.
As she turns, a wail pierces the darkening sky outside. People are forgetting the growing pile in the courtyard and pointing to the lone figure walking through the castle gates. It is Merlin. His hair mussed, body covered in mud and soaked in blood, he walks straight ahead, head held up, looking towards the rooms on the upper levels of the castle, straight at her she realizes. She takes in his defeated and self-loathing expression, coupled with the bloody clothing.
"That is not his blood", she thinks, "The blood is his." Arthur Pendragon's blood covers Merlin, thick and dark as a memento of his failure as a servant to his king, of his failed destiny, the tragedy of the Once and Future King and Emrys clinging to his shaking body.
Oh, of course. Arthur is dead. Why else would Merlin come back alone? He would never leave Arthur by himself.
Arthur. Dead. Arthur is dead. He is lying cold and pale somewhere in Avalon now, waiting for her, Merlin, Gaius, Leon, Percival, and so many others to meet him. He is with Elyan, Lancelot, and Gwaine. His mother, Igraine, and his father, Uther, are now probably hugging his spirit, rejoicing and crying at finally seeing their son after so long.
But he-he-HE PROMISED. He looked at her with his beautifully clear blue eyes and promised her he would return, to Camelot, to her.
"He broke his promise", she whispers brokenly, as she sinks to the floor, nauseous, the room darkens and spins out from under her. She sees Merlin running up the steps towards the doors, as she sinks into oblivion, realizing her descent towards the cold, hard ground.
"He promised me." she repeats, as though repeating it will clear away the stench of death that now hangs over the kingdom.
Be quiet Gwen! Shut up! Shut up! QUIET! STOP IT!
Since when have promises ever been worth anything?
Hi I hoped you liked it. Sweet and short; good enough for a first timer! Read and Review please! Leave your comments and concerns. Anything you liked, or anything I should work on? Please feel free to criticize in an orderly and humane fashion, don't be mean...that can be quite rude Just kidding. Here have a cookie.