Intensely lonely.
That's what he thought, as he sat in a corner of the armour room, polishing a pair of leather boots in his hands. He fixed his eyes absent-mindedly on the task, as grime and dirt came off with each brush of the rag. He was not really concentrating on the task, though he was doing it properly. He had been doing this too many times, such that it had become second nature, and his mind drifted off as usual into a long soliloquy.
I am going out of my mind now, with boredom. He thought. He felt like he was a bird in a cage. A peek of the blue sky, the wispy clouds, the warm summer air. He wanted to soar into the sky, to spread his wings. But his wings were not yet ready for flight, as they lie folded behind his back.
He always thought, as he sat in the balmy air of the room, about what his life was about. This destiny, what is it, really. So he had to protect the prince and the future king. He had to protect the kingdom and the people. But who decided this destiny, who gave him this power, who cast him in this role, who moved him in this great game of chess? A game of chess, he thought idly. When did it start and when will it end, and then what, what of victory and what of defeat, what of lost pawns and what of triumphant Queens?
But happiness is happiness, he thought.
He couldn't remember when, but he knew that he had felt this emotion before. This 'state' of being, where everything seems all right and even uncertainty is beautiful. Where it didn't matter if the moon was spiraling into the earth or there were weevils in the rice. It didn't matter if he fell into a puddle of dung or lost a whole night of sleep. Happiness makes everything seem all right, and that was magic. Magic that he couldn't do. He felt it once, he remembered now, with Freya.
More dirt and grime came off on the rag, and he continued to rub the edges of the boot.
Happiness is to have food to eat when you're hungry, he thought, with a faint smile on his face. It is to have each tiny wish come true. He read that in a book once, and it stuck with him. If he could truly remember this, he would be happy.
What I need now, he thought, was to have something to stimulate my brain so that I don't waste away and become a rusty skeleton. With skin.
"There you are! Where the hell have you been all morning? We have to set out this instant. There's a rumour of a magical creature appearing deep in the forest slaughtering travellers. My father sent me out to investigate."
They rode in a line, Arthur in front, as always. Behind them a group of six soldiers. As, they rode, his mind wandered again, even as he engaged in the usual banter and counter insults with Arthur.
To him, it wasn't acknowledgement of his own feelings that was the problem. He had already done so. One night, on his bed, in the deep darkness, he realized, and with a strange, warm, almost acidic feeling around the area where his nose meets his eyes, the sensation one has before tears start to fall, he acknowledged in his heart, and said it aloud too so that it felt much more consequential, that he accepts Arthur for what he was. He had his good and bad points. He was a strong knight, a good looking man with a decent heart and a strong sense of what was right. He was loyal and surprisingly understanding and friendly when it mattered. He was also arrogant, ignorant, completely ignorant of just how he was protecting him all the time, completely ignorant of anything outside his bubble. He was really hurt whenever Arthur failed to understand that the person who saved him and helped him through various dangers was him and not Gaius or some random knight or his luck or prowess. He knew he couldn't tell him, but still it hurt. He looked on with hurt as he fell in love with Gwen, but in his heart truly he wished for them to be happy. That's why he always helped. He truly wished for him to be happy. He acknowledged how he felt, but he knew he couldn't tell him. It wasn't about them being both men. Somehow, he felt that that was not the problem. Like he told Gwen once, love is love, warts and farts and all. Add balls to that. It was a much greater fear, of losing everything, him by his side. The state of affairs. Even though it was this state of affairs that was making him sink into a depression. It was all the hiding and the pretending that made him lonelier and fall deeper into a spiraling darkness.
He was good at putting up a front, he had done it since he could remember. Living with magic in a place where it was not accepted would make a fine actor out of anyone. He could smile and act like a doofus while his heart was falling into pieces. But just because he could do it well doesn't mean it was any easier, not when he was a natural storehouse of emotions.
What is this so-called 'love', he mused. He only wanted to be happy.
"Stop!" Arthur commanded, signaling with his hand. They came to a sudden halt. A distance away, in a shady clearing among the trees, something stood half hidden behind a pile of rocks.
A figure emerged, a majestic visage with the head of a woman and the body of a beast. The creature approached the group of men, its countenance as still as midnight and the deep pools of its eyes black and dark.
In a mysterious, ethereal voice, the creature fixed its gaze on Arthur and spoke:
"You saw him where he was and where he could not be.
And yet within that very place, his face you often see.
Who is he?"
The men looked at one another quizzically, not knowing how to respond or what indeed is this creature and whether they should just attack it. Arthur had an incredulous look on his face.
"What is the matter with this thing?"
As soon as the words left his mouth, the creature gave a sound that was something between a roar and a shrill cry, and the next instant saw the soldiers and the prince desperately fending off its attack. Its magic was far more powerful than the metal swords and they could not penetrate the creature's hide. Arthur, as usual, without thinking too much about odds, advanced toward the creature and tried to spear its most vulnerable point the eyes. The creature swiped with its claws and threw him to the ground. From the mouth of the human head came pointed fangs which tore into his chest leaving a gaping wound. Then, just as it was about to rip his head off, a boulder came crashing towards it and knocked it off sideways.
Merlin felt panic rising in his chest as he desperately tried to think. He had saved Arthur from being decapitated but it was only a matter of time. A stray beam of sunlight reflected off a soldier's armour and blinded him for a split second.
"Reflection! The answer is reflection in the mirror!" he shouted to the creature, now on its feet once more.
"Very good, young warlock. There is poison in my fangs, and it will kill him before the third day. Come back here tomorrow at sunset, and I will ask you a question. If you answer correctly, I will give you the antidote. If you give the wrong answer you will die."
With that, the creature disappeared into the darkness of the woods.
"Arthur, do you believe that people are born the way they are, and there is no way they can ever change themselves?"
"What on earth are you talking about?"
"I'm just saying, like an apple seed is always going to grow into an apple tree, and so on and so forth. They can like, give it fertilizer, kill off the pests, but it's not going to start producing oranges."
"Have you been on one of those herbs again Merlin?"
"All I'm saying is, I fear you are always going to be a dollop head."
I don't care about all of this. He thought, clenching his fists. All I wanted was to be happy. That's what I came here for, what I left my village for. What more is there to life? He started shaking, his clenched fists tightening and his nails dug into his palms. I want to feel the sun on my back without a worry on my mind, to love a girl and have a family, and so on and so forth like a normal run of the mill guy until I grow old and become a rusty rotting skeleton. Yes, that's what I want. I really don't care if you die, you know? There are plenty of supercilious arrogant and ignorant princes out there to take your place.
Tears ran down his face in two long streams. He shut his eyes, not shaking so much now but his face was red and warm.
I don't care about this kingdom! I don't care about destiny! What is this or that? I don't care about
He glanced at the figure on the bed, pale and feverish, looking like life was draining out of him with every second that passed.
"Here, you should have something to eat."
He took the plate from Gaius, glancing at the morsels of bread and cheese. He had no appetite. He hasn't eaten since they returned the day before, Arthur around his shoulders sick and dying, blood soaking through the makeshift bandage covering a long gash across his chest. He hasn't felt this way since a long time. His favourite meal of the day was breakfast. Lunch and dinner were nice too, but breakfast was amazing. He loved food, contrary to his skinny image. He loved eating. He was frequently reprimanded by Gaius for gobbling his food. If there was one indulgence in his life it was eating. Sometimes, he even thought he existed just to eat. Besides the destiny thing, of course.
He had no appetite. In his heart, weary and beaten, he thought, I must have been happy. How happy I must have been, wolfing down my breakfast every morning. What of it, what of the sky and the sun, they won't do me good now, would they. If he were to die, the summer air would be as the deep of winter. No food would ever taste good again.
He doesn't know anything. He wanted to be happy. He doesn't know any better. He was just a pawn in the chess game.
Where does the line go? He thought. Where does it run, where does it end, and who or what, or when
He couldn't think anymore because it was the end. He reached the four corners of his mind, circled round it once in each direction. It's a tiny mind I have, he thought.
It is full, my heart is breaking.
He left the castle at a gallop, riding deep into the forest, past the stream, into the dark. There the creature awaited, eyes gleaming softly like two jewels.
It didn't matter that he was an arrogant jerk. It didn't matter that he didn't see me the way I truly am. It didn't matter that each time I left him it left me feeling foolish. It didn't even matter that with every day that passed I felt more intensely lonely than the last. Even if my world was falling apart and I don't understand a single thing and am more and more confused and lost. At least, he was there, beside me, in front of me, saying stupid insolent things, trying to be funny, being an arrogant prat.
That was all.
If the Devil, who punishes things that are pure
Were to fix his gaze on the two of us
Without hesitation, I will say thus:
From you to me, from me to you
The love has died long ago.
With an air of calmness, acting like it is nothing
I will brush your gentle hands away
("Devil" by Domoto Tsuyoshi)