I Cannot Be
She had thought herself to be as hurt as one could be. She had thought – so silly of her – that there were no more betrayals to meet, that it was her turn to pay them in kind.
So silly of her indeed.
For it was nothing but betrayal the way Arthur looked at Gwen, his eyes soft and caring; it was nothing but betrayal the way she blushed and moved away. Certainly there was nothing but betrayal in the way Merlin watched it with contentment (who did he think he was fooling? Himself, maybe, such a silly boy he was).
She had thought her armor was thick, that nothing would penetrate it, not anymore; she thought she knew who she could trust, where she would go – but no. There was nothing in it but lies, herself forgotten and abandoned, unmissed and unfelt, cold and apart from them as they turned towards each other with love in their eyes.
She had thought nothing could hurt her anymore.
She had thought she had something to come back for, someone to stand by her side.
She had lost them.
She had no one.
She had her hate.
(And broken bitter tears of heartbreak).