I do not own Merlin... :(
Hunith's eyes fluttered open to the room she had been imprisoned in for several weeks. The seats of the wooden stools had been worn down from use. Scorch marks, quills, ink splatters, and parchment littered some tables. Others were covered in jars and vials of all shapes and sizes; their contents varying from simple rosemary to a gunky, teal substance that only Gaius could know. Light streamed in from the window and Hunith could hear Camelot awakening. Horses' hooves clopped against the pavement and dirt. Voices in the market were already alerting the public about new merchandise and bargains.
A light snore tickled Hunith's left ear. She turned with a smile as she saw her son, Merlin, slumbering at her side. Hunith enjoyed his peaceful countenance. But worry and despair gnawed at the mother's mind as she saw the dark circles under Merlin's eyes. His clothes were extremely wrinkled and stained, as if he had forgotten completely about them. Even his ridiculous scarf was missing. Merlin's mop of raven hair was ruffled and messy, as if he had been clawing at it with a sort of desperation and despair.
Hunith winced in pain as she let out a deep sigh that burned her lungs. She had told Merlin since the beginning of this accursed illness that he could do nothing about it. But the loving, stubborn boy just wouldn't give up.
The wooden door creaked open. "How are you doing Hunith?" the low, gruff voice of a wise, old man asked.
Hunith attempted to sit up to voice her well-being but instead had to restrain a moan of pain.
"Not well, I see," Gaius mumbled with concern. His stormy eyes took a worried glance at the still-sleeping boy he considered his son. "Neither is Merlin."
Hunith gave a small, but passionate, nod.
"He has been scouring both the real world and the magical realm for a cure. But he has not found anything yet…" Gaius trailed off, deep in thought.
Hunith wished she could scream. Scream that Merlin was being a dunderhead; a sweet and loyal one, but a dunderhead nevertheless. He would never find a cure. No one could find it, for one cannot cure the curse of Death. Death takes all in the end; he just takes some earlier than others.
"You have one special child, Hunith. In power, heart, and soul. A very special child, indeed…" Gaius once again trailed off, allowing Hunith to think, to remember.
One thought stuck in her mind: she had always known Merlin was a special child.
