Series: Untitled
Chapter: Found out (for now, hoping to think of a better one later)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/s: maybe future Merlin/Arthur
Warning/s: Dark, Angst
Summary: Magic and Despair are not a good combination
Please read and review
It had been five days. Since Arthur had seen Merlin use his magic. Five days since he had slapped Merlin to the ground, rage on his face, and the words.
"Be thankful I won't give you to father."
That night Merlin stared blindly, at the small, murky puddle in the corner of his room
It had been four days since Merlin, his head held low, tried to talk to Arthur, to explain to him why. Four days, since Arthur had ignored his every attempt.
"You have nothing I want to hear."
The Puddle seemed larger tonight.
It had been three days since he had carried all of Arthur's armor into the armory, since an oddly familiar man had placed his foot in Merlin's Path. Three days, and Arthur had just looked on and ignored him.
Merlin had gotten a sprained wrist and a twisted ankle.
For a second, the puddles murky depths seemed to call to him.
It had been two days since Merlin had brought Arthur his breakfast, a meal of buttered toast, and sweet, hot tea. Two days since Arthur had pegged the just off boiling drink at his head, leaving him with second degree burns on his face and neck.
"How could I have ever trusted you?"
The puddle seemed almost black tonight.
Today Merlin just stayed in his bed, he couldn't take it anymore. He was too tired, and too broken, like a doll that had been played with too much. He knelt so, so still, glazed eyes staring through the cracks in the ceiling.
Behind him, the black sludge began to move on it's own.
TBC