DISCLAIMER: I do not own Merlin
Word Count: 1,789
beta-ed by: a friend (xoxo)
Arthur longed.
He longed for the man he'd never touch, the face that would never smile at him again, the wondrous magic he would never truly discover. The larger (traitorous) part of him knows that he would never see Merlin again, however viciously he tried to convince himself otherwise.
He scrubbed himself off the acrid smell of flesh burning. His movements are automatic, his mind wandering elsewhere.
'Morgana, where's Merlin?'
'Worry not, Arthur, he's just collecting some herbs for Gaius.'
'Feels like he's long gone,' Arthur mutters in a childlike fashion. 'I miss him.'
Morgana will just kiss his forehead, saying that Merlin will be back soon, before Arthur sinks back into slumber, like she always did.
Everything happened so fast.
One minute they were celebrating the anniversary of his birth, the next an arrow whizzed towards him, and he was struck with surprise, unable to move.
Out of nowhere, the arrow broke and fell.
He looked around, his gaze searching.
Merlin stood, hands outstretched, the gold flecks in his iris bleeding into blue.
In that moment, Arthur knew that Merlin had always been his saviour, and made an oath to himself to give the acknowledgment Merlin deserves sometime later, when he's king.
But his father wasn't on the same train of thought.
'Arrest him!'
Arthur's world crumbled beneath his feet.
Their son is perfect.
He inherits Morgana's hair, her amazing bone structure and her pale skin. The boy also has Arthur's eyes and his pouty lips.
He's very stubborn and arrogant at times, so much like Arthur's younger self, he's also skilled with sword but he possesses the magical powers, although not as strong as Morgana's.
His resemblance to Merlin is uncanny.
Arthur stood by the balcony, his fingers clenching the railing so hard his knuckles were white. His shoulder was squared, jaw set and his face was impassive as the guards brought Merlin into the courtyard. Merlin didn't even thrash against his bonds, not trying to resist the guards' hold, let alone escape. He just walked obediently, accepting his fate.
He didn't look away at the flame licked at Merlin's feet, setting his trousers on fire. His eyes sought Merlin's the entire time, before the ghost of a smile touched Merlin's lips as he closed his eyes. He didn't look away, he just stared at Merlin's burning body with growing horrors. He watched as his skin blackened, his sinews curling, burning brighter. He knew that Merlin was already gone.
Arthur continued doing his princely duties mechanically. He started regressing into himself, leaving behind a shell of the man he used to be. The man who was destined to unite Albion had died with Merlin.
Every morning, he would wake up, hoping that everything was merely a terribly vivid, terribly real nightmare. That Merlin would barge into his bedchamber, his breakfast tray balancing precariously on Merlin's incompetent hand. And he would stumble over things, wake him up in the worst way possible and snatch away his blanket.
Yet every morning, a servant would knock tentatively on his door, and the image he had constructed carefully would shatter. And Arthur would feel numb, more lifeless than ever before.
The first week passed without any grand event. The next month, though, something did happen.
Late at night, as the castle's occupant slept, Arthur strode through the silent hallways, heading to the stables. He prepared his mount in a hasty fashion, the urge to leave suddenly overwhelming.
He climbed, and rode.
He kept riding until he found that clearing he knew Merlin liked so much, (judging by the way he would complain and whine the loudest when they hunt to rest there) before stopping. He leaned against a tree, before dropping to his knees and putting his face in his hand. He screamed his rage, grief, loss, hurt, pain, because how dare They took the one he loved the most? They told him of his Destiny, and took away the one he was supposed to fulfill it with?
Away from everyone, Arthur Pendragon cried, in the end, for the loss of his (beloved) friend.
On the next feast the King held for another anniversary of his birth, Arthur tried to forget. Exactly this time the previous year, Merlin was outed as a sorcerer and the very next day, executed.
He downed so many tankards of wine he lost count, until Morgana took him back to his chambers with the aid of her maidservant.
After she dismissed Guinevere, Arthur began losing it. Every feeling he had suppressed deep inside him just flowed freely out of him along with his tears. He slurred about Merlin, it has always been Merlin.
He was so broken, drunken confessions falling out of those lips. How he truly loves Merlin, how he misses him horribly. He remembers the little things Merlin did, his absolute insolence and his insubordination, his fierce loyalty and selfless humility.
Morgana held Arthur as he sobbed his declaration of undying love for Merlin. It was obvious that the loss had morphed Arthur into a broken man with a lover that never was.
Arthur cried his pains, the burden that he had to carry, the emotional guilt always weighing down his chest. He cried over his sorrows and regrets, the pain of knowing how he had never truly said these things to Merlin. He cursed his cowardice, because why had he never muster up enough courage to say it all? Now everything's too late, his apologies will remain unheard and his love unrequited.
Arthur came to her the next morning, asking her to forget his outburst.
'No.'
'I beg your pardon?'
'You need to let it all out, Arthur. I hate to see you wasting away like this. He wouldn't want this to happen.'
Little did they know that Uther had been listening the entire time, guilty for remotely destroying his only son.
Arthur dreams.
His dreams are always of Merlin.
Merlin, standing so close to him, but when he reaches out to touch Merlin's face, but he fades swiftly into thin air, and his fingers were tingling.
But sometimes, he dreams of himself and Merlin, acting out scenes he only dared to imagine in reality. He sees, in his mind's eye, Merlin and Arthur, making love, his fantasy acted out in various ways.
He knows that it's wrong, pursuing something that would never be, living in the past, but he can't seem to move on, and it seems like having Merlin in his dreams is better than no Merlin at all.
He knows that these dreams are consuming him from deep within, twisting his mind and breaking him, but it's not as if he is given any choice.
And when Arthur wakes up, his face is wet, and he swallows down a scream that threatens to escape.
The signs were there, and Morgana isn't oblivious.
She saw Arthur in her dreams, cradling his bolster as he would a body. Arthur buried his face on it, as if burying his face on someone's hair, trying to memorise someone's scent. Arthur's body shook with repressed sobs, his unbidden tears absorbed wholly by his bolster. His arms tightened on the bolster, and she could make out the muffled words; 'I'm sorry, Merlin, I'm so sorry, don't leave me, you promised you'd always be wherever I need you to be.'
Arthur's hair was ruffled and when he lifted his face, his eyes were bloodshot and puffy. He didn't look a bit like a regal king; he looked broken, face twisting in anguish.
He lifted his chin to tuck the bolster beneath it, arms not loosening a fraction, and drifted off into slumber.
Morgana woke and sighed sadly. She knew that Arthur wouldn't want Merlin to be replaced, (it would taint his memory) but it didn't mean like she's not going to try. Anything would be nicer than letting Arthur sway on the border of his sanity.
Arthur was laughing, the happy sound reverberating throughout his chambers. He was smiling, his eyes were alight with childish joy and his face splitting in a grin.
'You are an idiot,' he said fondly, 'I'm not entirely helpless without you to order around, you know.'
'Yeah, you would just hire another manservant in my place.'
'Not permanently, though. No one can replace your place.'
'Maybe you should,'
'I will not, and that's the end to this, Merlin. We've had this conversations multiple times, but I'm not going to be deterred by you.'
Merlin sighed sadly.
'What's wrong?' Arthur's smile slipped off his face.
'Arthur, you can't continue slipping away like this. Let them help you.'
'I'm the king here, Merlin, so apparently I can.'
'I know I've never properly bid goodbye, and maybe it's better that way. Please, Arthur, you must listen to me. You're a great king, and you must fulfill the Destiny. I know I am not there really to help you build Albion, but you should start trusting yourself as much as I do. And I'm sorry. For not being there, physically.'
'I understand. It's not your fault.'
'I shouldn't interfere more now, though. I'll be waiting for you, you know. In Avalon.'
'I know. I'm glad you're here, old friend. Even if this – meeting – is very brief.'
Morgana has Seen everything. She rushed into Arthur's chambers, graceful as always. She woke their son, William, and together they enter the King's quarters.
She sits on Arthur's bedside, her hands covering Arthur's frail, bony hand.
'Mother,' William inquires slowly, 'who is that man?'
Morgana turns to see Merlin, young, healthy and in his prime, beaming with his idiotic grin of his. He wears the same outfit as ever-a blue shirt, red neckerchief, brown jacket, trousers and even the same old boots. She smiles at William softly.
Merlin strides towards Arthur, his steps light and confident. On a closer look, Morgana notices how translucent Merlin really is.
At the same time, Arthur rises from his body, also translucent but seemingly happier than the last twenty five years. He looks healthier than ever, his hair much more stronger and shinier and his skin no longer sunken, cheeks no longer hollow. He stands before Merlin, hand reaching out wonderingly.
Arthur touches Merlin's face, his fingertips ghosting over Merlin's cheek, his lips, his cheekbones. And this time, Merlin doesn't fade.
Merlin reaches out for Arthur, and Arthur takes his hand. They go hand-in-hand, departing this world in as lovers at last.
Just before they leave, though, Merlin turns around, and he smiles at Morgana, mouthing a sincere 'thank you'.
Morgana turns at William. 'That,' she says, 'is Merlin.'
And when she looks at Arthur's body, he is smiling.