This story is based on a couple of Evanescence songs (Missing & Even in Death) and has been in my mind for a while. I wandered on ffnet and found that someone had already written it (Ssatsuki – Missing), but decided to write it anyway since mine is a good bit different than hers. I hope you enjoy. No infringement is intended either of Merlin (BBC) or of the above mentioned story; certainly no profit is being made. LB

Ever in Dreams

The young warlock shook as the spell took hold, a panoply of dancing lights coalescing around him. In a burst of bright white they vanished, and Merlin fell gracelessly to the sodden earth. Across the sward the Priestess smiled without mirth and turned away. She had extracted her price; the curse was broken.

Merlin woke to soft falling rain and an almighty ache in his head. He levered himself off the ground and looked around, but the Priestess in her soft red robes had vanished. He could only hope his sacrifice was worth it. Turning, he ran back through the old ruins and clambered into the waiting boat. As Merlin sat, impatiently waiting for the magic-born vessel to make its steady way, he thought.

He thought about the curse that had laid waste to Camelot's young men; turning brave knights into bedridden weaklings. The curse that had threatened the great city's safety, opening the way for Morgana to attack without warning. And had finally brought low that strongest of Camelot's men: Arthur Pendragon. It was seeing him pale and exhausted from this unidentifiable malaise that had spurred Merlin on. When every magical means at his disposal had been tried, the young warlock had turned to the books and finally the Isle of the Blessed. It was here at last that he had found his answer.

But the price for breaking the curse was high. The Priestess, cloaked in mystery and anger, had demanded his life in exchange for all the lives of the men of Camelot. For only a second had he hesitated; for what use was he in the course of Albion if there was no Arthur to be king. Yet he lived, and as the boat neared the shore he reviewed her last words to him: 'life is memory and memory is life'. There, then, he would find his answers.

His horse was waiting patiently on the bank of the lake, exploring the leaves within reach. Merlin sprang from the boat and was shortly racing back to Camelot and his king. As he rode he passed through outlying villages and hamlets, and was pleased to see young men both in the fields and preparing to hunt again. He could only hope that the trend continued all the way home.

The lower town was bustling, with cries of joy intermingling with the shouts of the marketplace. Everywhere people were clapping each other on the back, shaking hands, and expressing their grateful thanks to what ever force had lifted the curse. Merlin grinned widely, knowing that while he would never receive direct thanks he had made this come to pass. For a moment the joy he felt blotted out his worries.

"Halt. What is your business in the castle?" said Cedram, guard and dice-fiend, crossing his pike with that of his fellow entrance-keeper to bar Merlin's way.

"You mean other than pretty much everything?" Merlin snorted, thinking of the long growing longer list that Arthur no doubt had waiting for him.

"No one enters the castle without permission from the king!" said the other guardsman enthusiastically, his helmet falling over his eyes as he looked up at the young man on horseback.

"Well that explains all the intruders," Merlin joked.

"Hey!" cried Mr Helmet.

"Now then, young man, just tell us your business or be on your way. There's no need for that," Cedram said in a less excitable tone than his partner.

Merlin's smile fell a little, and he said, "It's me, Merlin. The king's manservant."

"That's enough of that now. You've had your joke. I suggest you be on your way." Cedram's tone stiffened, clearly not impressed by Merlin's declaration.

"Just let me in, would you?" Merlin sighed.

"Not unless you want to visit the cells," Mr Helmet said gleefully.

"Is there a problem here?"

Merlin twisted round to see Elyan walk up, hand on his sword pommel. He breathed a sigh of relief; whatever silly games the guardsmen were playing Elyan would sort them out. "Elyan," he greeted, "Mind telling these guards who I am so I can get back to my job?"

Elyan looked up at Merlin with a slight frown growing between his eyes and said with all honesty, "I'm sorry but I don't think we've met."

"What? Elyan, it's me: Merlin."

"It's Sir Elyan, friend, and I don't know any Merlin's. Perhaps you should be about your business," the knight said, giving a look to the guards. Merlin knew that look, he'd been on the receiving end of that look. It was one that said: I'll hold them off, you go for help. He'd never followed it, but he wasn't a guard.

"You don't remember me?" he asked quietly, searching his friend's eyes for any sign of recognition.

"If you wish to be presented to the king, he will be receiving petitioners in three days," Elyan said, blankness oozing from every pore.

And suddenly Merlin knew what the Priestess had done. He'd bargained his life for Arthur's and she had taken it. Not the one that made his heart beat and breath sing, but the one made up of every memory of him. Without everyone's memories of him he had no life in Camelot. Somehow the Priestess had removed him from the collective minds of Camelot, and in doing so had killed him.

Beneath him his horse sensed Merlin's turmoil and shifted. He laid a hand on its neck and smiled weakly at the waiting knight. "Sorry, my mistake," he said and turned away. As he let the horse take a slow walk out of the city he reflected that at least an Arthur with no memory of him was better than a dead Arthur.

TBC