Ayyyyo. I'm in a terrible mood right now, so I'm writing this fic. It's terribly depressing just so you know. If you're happy right now, I envy you. And for the sake of your happiness, go away. Well, here you go.
Arthur
Arthur's hand rested on the wooden table next to a sharp dagger. A tear slipped from his eye and landed on the smooth blade. The tear ran down it like a kid riding down a slide at a playground, and it slipped onto the table where in dried.
But it was not the only tear, for many more came from Arthur's eyes. The tears kept coming, never ceasing, falling like a water fall. The prince's face was soon soaked with tears, and his nose was runny. His hair was damp from sweat, and his eyes were bloodshot. The prince didn't care how weak he looked, for in fact he wasn't a prince anymore. He was a nobody that would've been a somebody.
Arthur had watched the cruelty in Morgana's-his half sisters- face. She had been planning this all along, ever since they had found her. The broken man couldn't help but wish that when he had seen her come out of the woods he had run her through with his sword. But he hadn't, because he had loved her like a sister. She is his sister. His evil sister.
She had stumbled out of the woods with a look of terror. Her dress had been torn, and her hair had looked terrible. Everyone pitied her. But it was all just an act. The whole time it was her plan to take what was rightfully Arthur's, and to tear it down to nothing.
Camelot. So many people had died, because of her. So many people are scared, because of her. So many people are going to die, because of her! And there was nothing Arthur could to do stop it. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
The ex-prince raised his head and looked out on a once thriving city. Now it stunk of the blood, burned flesh, and corpses. Camelot was littered with collapsed buildings, bodies, turned over items, and worst of all- knights. To Arthur's knowledge every single knight has been killed. Arthur had worked so hard to train them all, and befriended each and every one of them. Where were they now? Dead. At Morgana's hands.
And his father. Arthur didn't want to even think of what torture was going to become his father. Drawn, quartered, and hanged? Perhaps a burning at the stake? Or even worse, what if Morgause used her magic to torture him little by little? His poor father. But Arthur cannot save him; he cannot save anybody. Not even himself.
They were looking for Arthur now. They're going to torture him just like they're going to torture his father. As if the view out his window wasn't torture enough. Arthur had failed everybody. His people, his knights, and Merlin.
Poor Merlin. He's always had such faith in Arthur. Faith Arthur did not deserve. The ache in Arthur's chest hurt even more as he pictured his servants face. No, not servant, friend.
The warning bells are sounded. Arthur's half crazy blood shot eyes look up. They know he's here, and they're after him. They want to torture him. Fools. They have no idea that they have done the worst already. Nothing more can hurt Arthur. He has fallen as far as anyone can.
But Arthur refuses to give the witches the satisfaction of watching him die. Oh no, they may have taken everything from him, but they will not take away his right to die his own way. They cannot steal that from him, and they will not.
Making his decision, Arthur picks up the dagger. He holds it above him, and almost smiles. Relief washes through him, and he knows he will not be here to see the end of Camelot. With that, he plunges the dagger deep into his chest. All images of a smirking Morgana, the ruins of Camelot, and his fallen father flash away. Instead, he thinks of Gwen and Merlin. The only true friends he has ever had.
The fallen prince of Camelot falls to the floor with the dagger sticking straight out of his chest. As Arthur's heart stops pumping he can no longer breathe. Blood gushes out of him, staining his shirt. He stares up at the ceiling and slowly closes his eyes. His brain begins to shut down, and he can no longer feel the pain in his chest.
Before Arthur Pendragon ceases to exist; he has one final thought.
I'm sorry Merlin, I have failed you.
…
Merlin
Merlin's heart was beating wildly. He had no idea where Arthur was, and tried to ignore the thought that Morgana and Morgause have gotten a hold of his friend. He keeps opening doors looking desperately for Arthur, also running from the guards.
He opens another door and sees Arthur lying on the ground. His first thought was annoyance. How could Arthur be sleeping at a time like this? Merlin gave Arthur a second glance. His heart went out of rhythm.
Arthur, prince of Camelot, was lying in a puddle of his own blood. His chest did not rise, nor did the sound of breathing come from him. Tears appeared at the rim of Merlin's eyes.
The guards were quickly nearing, so Merlin muttered a spell to send them backward. It wouldn't hold them for long, but Merlin was willing to take any time he could get.
The servant kneels beside his master's body, and the blood seeps into Merlin's clothes. The young warlock lifts Arthur's wrist and feels for a pulse. He received none.
No.
No. No. No. How could this happen? Arthur had a destiny! He was supposed to bring peace and prosperity to Abilion! He wasn't supposed to die! Merlin was supposed to help him become the great king that was prophesized, not the fallen prince that never got to rule because of his evil half sister.
The tears that had been threatening to spill finally fell, and dropped onto Arthur's lifeless body. Merlin began to shake, and his chest heaved with sorrow for his best friend.
Arthur. Merlin and Arthur were best friends, even if they could not admit it. They had such great times and worked so well together. Merlin's back stiffened. He owed it to Arthur so save Camelot, and that was exactly what young Emry's was planning to do.
He would save Camelot for Arthur, his best friend.
But before Merlin could get up he felt a terrible pain through his back. A sharp sword from one of the guards went right through his spine into his stomach. It went all the way through his body, and the tip lightly poked the fallen prince in the side. Black dots began to appear everywhere, and the last thing Merlin ever saw was Arthur's peaceful face.
His last thought was this:
I'm sorry Arthur, I have failed you.
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