Fire. That was all he could see. It was the only thing that danced in his vision, like it was happy, alive. But Merlin didn't see it that way, no. He would never look at fire the same way again actually, it would hurt too much if he did.
He blinked and blinked, but it didn't disappear, didn't fade or die down. It was mocking him Merlin decided. Mocking him because he was too late. Only seconds but it hadn't made a difference. The flames were higher now and black smoke was bellowing into the sky. Merlin wanted to look away but he couldn't, his eyes wouldn't let him. they were glued to the one spot, right in the center of the heat.
Merlin wished this was a nightmare, a horrible, horrible nightmare but a voice at the back of his head told him it was all too real. And that voice just had to sound like the man he was mourning. Of course it did. Why wouldn't it?
Eyes still on the flame, he began to notice his other senses again, mostly sound, because he could hear the scuffle of many feet moving away. But he payed them no heed. He wouldn't, couldn't look away, not until he saw something, anything, that made this a dream. But nothing came, no movement, no groans of pain, nothing. He faintly felt something cold and wet trace it's way down his face but he ignored it. He tried to take a step towards the flames but his knees buckled from under him, and he collapsed onto his hands and knees. His eyes were still burning into the fire that seemed to engulf his very soul
He heard the sounds of sobs, shouts, cries of anger but they were far away. More and more tears fell from his wet eyes and onto the ground. He managed, finally, to tear his eyes away and place them on the face of another. Someone who too was sad, but he didn't seem to show it. Merlin knew though, he knew that he was partly to blame for the grief that almost consumed him.
I'm sorry mouthed the man he was staring at, but he didn't believe his words. If he was sorry he would have stopped it from happening in the first place. But he didn't, he let it happen.
Merlin began to shake, he closed his eyes and brought his hands to his face. He buried his head in his now wet hand and rocked back and forth, trying to sooth himself but he knew it wouldn't work. Nothing would sooth him now. The only one who could is... well, he is the reason he needs soothing in the first place.
But he wouldn't recieve comfort from him, or hear him or see him ever again, because he was gone. For in the centre of the fire was a great man, a father figure- to many, his mentor. The one who excepted him, took him as his ward, loved him like a son, and saved his life. It was Merlin's fault. All Merlin's fault, because he took the blame for something he didn't do. He sacrificed his life for Merlin's so he could keep his secret, his 'destiny'. But it should have been him, in the middle of the courtyard, tied to a pyre, engulfed in flames, for he was the true perpetrator. He conjured the horse in the smoke, he was the reason the Witch Finder was called, he was the reason that...that Gaius was dead. Merlin felt a soft hand on his shoulder but he shoved it away, wanting to be alone. The person clearly understood and left him by himself. When Merlin opened his eyes again, he saw the flames were going down, they were not as high as they once were.
He breathed slowly, in and out, in and out. He wiped his tears and got to his feet, a bit unsteadily at first. He nodded in the direction of the flames, spun on his heels and walked away, for as the flames died down, so did his sorrow. Well, that's what he wanted to believe anyway. He sighed to himself, he didn't think things could possible get worse.