Not really a story so much as a vague idea, poorly executed.
In other words - it happened again. When I really should be focusing on Universtiy applications - voila. Merlin overload. At least it's shorter this time.
Either way. Here we are.
The old man paced the room with practiced steps, repeating the motion as he had so many times in the past. Keeping in habit of the past, he turns instinctively to his advisor. His oldest friend.
"I've lost everything, haven't I." It's a statement, not a question. The king knows the battle is lost, his great kingdom fallen, history changed forever. And like all the times in the past, one of them won't give up just yet.
"Not everything, I think." Merlin had aged better than the king; not turning into the daft, bearded old man he had seemingly expected - instead, the warlock's dark hair had turned grey at the ends, to silver. He never lost the straight of his back, nor did his dark eyes ever fade. They remained as sharp and keen as the day he arrived in Camelot.
All those years of prosperity; of happiness and luck; of Camelot's fortune as top of the kingdoms - gone. In a single battle. A battle that had lasted years, truth be told - fights without swords, poison in the night, the type of backhanded politics that Camelot's noble king had never excelled at. And had eventually led to his downfall.
But through it all, Merlin remained by his side. Long since revealed his hidden magic, Arthur had, with some minor difficulty, accepted his friend for who he was. The only hesitance the king had felt had stemmed from a faint feeling of betrayal; that the warlock simply hadn't told him sooner.
They had been fair. Just. In truth, they had ruled Camelot together, even from that very first day. And in all the stories, weren't the heros supposed to win? Good, always, over evil?
But of course, the king sighs, this isn't a story. They weren't going to be remembered.
Though with all the nonsense of destiny and prophecy Merlin was always going on about, Arthur had thought for a while that they might be.
The king turns to him now. Their eyes meet, and the weight of what they're saying falls over them.
"You're all I have left."
Merlin slowly smiles, and it's the most heartbreaking thing the king has ever seen. Sorrow laces every word, and the beg for forgiveness goes unanswered as the low voice murmurs,"You'll always have me, Arthur."
The young man awoke not in screams, nor in shock or pain, as had been his habit.
Arthur awoke in silence, his leaden eyes opening slowly, unwilling and unwanting to see the reality laid before him.
The reality in which he had everything he thought he wanted, and nothing that he needed. In which Merlin was gone.
Given the choice between the future he dreamed; of Camelot, his father, his reign; all lost - and the reality of this life, without Merlin; there wouldn't even be a choice.
Merlin would win, the way he always does. The way he always did.
He didn't bother to dry the tears on his cheeks.
Because now, they were all he had left.