((hey guys short first chapter of the new story that i am writing, i hope you guys like it, many of you have asked me to write a suicidal fic and that is what i am doing, sorry that i haven't updated in a while, didn't have much inspiration. anyways please as i usually ask, please please please review and tell me what you think, i always love to read your comments, whether there giving me praise or telling me how i should write it, please give me some tips also, it's much appreciated, thank you to all my readers, i love you all.))
Doubt, worry, loss, depression all these things graced his mind.
Merlin never used to feel this way, in the past few years the young Warlock had seen things that tore at his heart strings, his best friends death. Maybe he would have felt better about it If he had been allowed to mourn him, but it still stung his heart even though it was years ago now.
His fathers death, his first love and now Lancelot. His heart was broken, it had never really mended itself.
He closed his eyes from where he stood atop of the roof to the castle. No one ever came up so nobody would no he was there. It was his little spot looking out at the kingdom where he could come to cry. He hadn't told anyone about this spot not even Lancelot.
He felt tears form in his eyes as he thought about his dead friend. It was his fault and nobody blamed him. His mind was reeling, his friends death had been almost a year ago now. Arthur was king and had finally made Gwen his Queen. The knights had each other. Sure Merlin had Gwaine but his friend was mostly in the tavern and when he wasn't there he was talking about it.
Merlin shook his head as he realised how unneeded he truly was, everybody had someone but he had no one. His eyes opened onto the view and realised that his feet had moved, he was looking like he was about to jump.
Sure it would solve his problems but it wasn't the best way to go out, with his guts splattered on the stone ground, there were better ways to go and he could think of many, to many bad things had happened to him, he couldn't bare another one.
He wasn't going to let himself be given bad news anymore, he couldn't bare the idea of his mother dieing or someone else dieing, his heart would truly die then. His mind was made up almost, the one thing that was giving him an ounce to live was the dragon.
Kilgarrah would try and remind him about his destiny. In his eyes destiny could go pick on someone else.
He was done caring about himself and other people, but he couldn't leave just yet, he needed to make sure it was safe when he left. He began walking back, down from the roof and into the castle.
People needed food to live and he had gone quite a while without food before. Yes it had been slow and painful but it still let him stay. That would be his way out, a slow and painful death that would keep others alive.
His mind seemed to wander as he made his way back to his quarters. Where had the innocent, joking and a little bit daring Merlin gone, who was this person replacing him? One part of him wanted to starve and the other wanted to plow through.
Though would that even work? Could his heart ever be mended? His mind didn't think so and neither did his torn heart.
The door opened to show the young Warlock's quarter and he gave a small smile to his mentor that fortunately didn't look up at him, if the old man had looked up he probably would have seen a scary sight. A young Warlock that looked like he had aged to be young again but had eyes that were far to old, his face unusually pale and at the back of his eyes death lingered, the boy seemed to be a dead man walking.
Said boy gave a small sigh as he closed the door to his room and lay on the small bed in his room, the red petaled flower which he had made to remember Freya sat in his hand from where he had just picked it up, the spell that he had once put on it still there. Keeping it alive and it's beauty never changing, just like the way he remembered her, alive and laughing at how he wasn't able to make a strawberry appear.
These were the times that he wished Freya was still alive, the days were he would lay awake in bed or sit on the windowsill looking out at the countryside beyond, dreaming of the life that they could of had. Again the word could or had was implied.
So many times had he wanted to blame Arthur but he still couldn't. His friend had only been doing what he thought was right, how could he hate someone for that?
He closed his eyes as his hand closed around the flower and he tried to fall asleep, hopefully his dreams would bring happier times, he loved to dream but recently it had all be about his friends and families deaths, it seemed that there was just no escaping them, the dark shadows under his eyes didn't lie.
His plan would soon be put into motion, he couldn't stay, he needed to go, he needed to be with the people that he loved and missed, he needed to tell them that he was sorry for getting them killed. After all it was because of him that none of them were alive.
He had been stupid and let his heart rule his head, this time though both his heart and his head were in agreement.
He was going to leave.