THIS IS BASED ON MERLIN SEASON 6: KINGDOM COME SCRIPT BY A TEAM OF WRITERS WHO ARE BIG FANS OF MERLIN! YOU CAN READ THEIR SCRIPT OVER AT WWW. MERLIN6KINGDOMCOME. TUMBLR. COM. I USED THEIR PLOT AS MY BIASES BUT CHANGING A FEW THINGS UP SUCH AS ROMANTIC DEVELOPMENT, SOME CHARACTERS, AND SOME OTHER THINGS SO WON'T BE AN EXACT READ THROUGH OF THE SCRIPT. I DON'T OWN BBC OR MERLIN. THANKS FOR WRITING THIS SCRIPT AS IT GAVE ME TONS OF IDEAS! ENJOY!
Merlin tossed in turned in bed throwing his coverlet off into the floor in the process. Lights from modern day London flashed over his face drawing out shadows in an eerie way. Sweat gathered in his hair line making his pillow damp and tears, unbidden dropped from his eye lashes onto his nose running like a small brook. It was not the heat or the noise and brightness of the night life that kept merlin tossing and turned, but the solitude of a horrible dream that kept him captured.
Merlin kneels at the water's edge as he chokes on sobs. His arms tremble as he holds Arthur in his weakening grasp. Arthur's breath is no more then a gurgle with frothy pink blood. Arthur's eyes flutter between open and close as he looks at Merlin.
"Stay with me," Merlin whispers as he notices his tunic become wet and heavy with his king's blood. "Don't go."
Merlin looks to the water so close, but so far away. He knows, they both do, they would never had made it in time.
"Just hold me," Arthur whispers again," I need to say..."
Arthur coughs up blood and Merlin for all his worth tries to not to scream but lets out a whimper, "Not good bye. Don't you dare."
Arthur looks at Merlin and raises a hand and cups Merlin's face in his hand, "I'll be back..."
With that Arthur's hand falls a faint whisper of thank you fills the air and his gaze once filled with light looks on in dimness and grey. Merlin shakes Arthur. "No! No! Arthur!"
"Arthur!"
Merlin bolted up in bed as he felt the tell-tale sign of heat coursing through his body. Magic- his magic being used and dying down. Merlin's breath was coming out in deep sharp gasp to go along with his over fast heart rate as the traces of his dream tickled his mind. Hearing a distinctive whooshing sound, Merlin looked up to find his fan in his celling whirling about - no doubt from his magic. Merlin raised his hand, the spell to stop it on the tip of his tongue, when the fan snapped of it's axle and, much like something out of a Saturday morning cartoon, came hurling at him. Cursing, Merlin ducks and the fan crashes into the window behind him shattering the window in glass shards. Merlin peeks behind him the night life coming now unbidden into his small room. Crawling on all fours, Merlin looks down at the street below and at the fan broken on the ground.
Fresh tears spill from Merlin's eyes as he slunk from his bed and onto the floor. His hands barrowed into his raven locks that tickled his ears. "Just a dream. Just a dream."
His tongue is too think from his mouth and his lips dry, licking his lips Merlin lifts his head to look at the clock. 5 A.M. Well he wouldn't be getting back to sleep no matter the time. Breathing deep, Merlin picked himself off the floor and surveyed the rest of the damage. Besides the fan, nothing else seemed to be bothered. He would have to tell the Land Lord something though, but he could always figure that out latter.
Crossing over to his wardrobe, Merlin began his daily routine from morning. He threw on a heavy sweater, jeans, trainers, and a scarf. Padding over to the kitchen, he grabbed fresh bread from the cabinet and popped it in the toaster. Leaning against the counter, Merlin closed his eyes his fingers going to the choker hanging beneath his scarf. The pendent of a dragon in a field of gold. Rubbing it against his fingers bought a sense of calm almost like an illusion. If one was to look at him now they would see he looked the same as he did then. But gone was the vigor glow of happiness and aurora that was Merlin. He was a shadow of himself just like the shadow of the mere scuffle on his face was a shadow of his uncaringness for simple everyday habits. The toaster dinged, and Merlin opened his eyes only to come face to face with the calendar on his fridge. November 20th. It has been exactly fifteen hundred years since Arthur's death. Merlin flexed his fingers his mind wondering. "Just focus on breathing, living comes after that."
Taking a bite of the toast then discarding in in the rubbish, Merlin walked to the door and picked up his satchel. Closing his eyes, he chats, "Miht Dahgn, bebbecce me, adahisn doorgan"
In a blink of an eye, Merlin appearance changed from that of a middle twenty-year-old to an old man of sixty something. No more is his face smooth but now wrinkled around his eyes and his mouth drawn into a frown. His eyes glazed in sadness and despair- the true feelings of Merlin are etched upon this face.
Exiting the flat, Merlin begins the walk west, to a jumble of ruins of an old castle once named Camelot. Those he passes, early though it is, pays him, an old man, no glance. They are ignorant of his pain and the burden he still caries on his shoulders.
Exiting the tree line, Old Merlin stoped his trek and looks up at the castle he once, very long ago, called home. Gone is the white towers and the shinny brick. No more in the hustle and bustle of the village below. Instead of smoke and the smell of cooked food the air now there is only the skyline and smell of exhaust from cars on the freeway. Age had taken away the outside beauty and replaced it with mold and tumbled towers. The pockmark of war stained her. But it wasn't the outside that really concerned Merlin, not it was the inside, the heart of the castle, the chambers, the floors, that Merlin cared for and saw to every day without fail for was he not still the servant of the world's greatest king?
"Of course, I am not the only one here, am I?" He muttered to himself following the sweep of the flashlight from the security guards light as they patrolled the area. Letting his body follow the rhythm it knew, he easily swept past the lights and stole into the main square of the castle. Ghost of memories threaten to pester him. He seems himself, Arthur, the knights, Gwen as ghost dancing away. Merlin turns his back to them, knowing if he let the memories come he could fall and he did not know if he could stand once more.
Letting his guard down he did not notice a guard coming up behind him until the beam of the light washed over him.
"Can I help you?"
Merlin rolls his eyes recognizing the voice. It was a guard named Lewis, if he recalled correctly. Almost every time this man caught Merlin some how some way and how it bugged Merlin not because Lewis caught him, it was the face Merlin let his memories, his weakness, get him caught.
Old Merlin turned around, "It's may I to tell you the truth of it, sonny."
"This is private property, sir."
Merlin turned to look at the guard. Lewis was as plain as they came. An over weight middle aged man with too much of a delusion of what his job really meant. The guard of course recognized Merlin right away and shook his head, " Abrosia! My, My how many times do I have to tell you Old timer you can't be here. There are plenty of homeless shelters out there for you and this ain't one of them. This is Miss Plunkeets' property and-"
"King Arthur's," Merlin said frowning, "This is King Arthur's castle."
Lewis sighed looking at both irate and sorry as you could get in one expression, "Not this again," he muttered as he walked over and took Merlin's arm in his hand and began to pull him along, " I have had enough of putting up with your fancies old chap. This time I am going to take you to the station on trespassing. Now-" But before they could get out the door Lewis slumped to the ground with a snore.
Merlin pulled his arm out of Lewis' grip and placed the man on the wall. With a nod at the man he turned, picked up a bucket at the foot of the stairs and made his way up to the king's chamber.
He had not wanted to put the man out, but Merlin had no choice. He had to clean the castle. It was his duty. It had to be ready from Arthur's return. A king would need a castle to rule from. Merlin let his faced dissolve once he pushed open the door to Arthur's old chamber and closed the doors behind him. Walking to the window, Merlin drew back the heavy bug eaten curtains, "Rise and Shine, Sire," he exclaimed. Turning around though, the only thing to hear his words were ghost of memories long past and dust.
Loneliness settles on him and the room like a death shroud.
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