Title: Men Don't Cry
Summary: Merlin commits a magical act in from of Uther to save Arthur and is sentenced to death. This leaves Arthur, grieving at the loss of his friend.
A/N: I wrote this in a really bad mood, so I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry.
Hell is what you make of it.
Hell is how low you sink.
This goes to show how I can sink no lower.
There is no stench, quite unlike the burnings that I have witnessed, as if the world itself is not willing to solidify the occurrence. They do not want to acknowledge the loss because it is the thing that we will miss and stay in mourning, together.
I've watched him carefully and studied his carelessly beautiful profile.
We'd been together so long now; I can't remember a time when his profile was not seen in the shadow of mine.
His chin was always high in disgust at the affairs of the royal court, and his sharp tongue ready to defend against the soft insinuating words of the men who call themselves noble. There had never been any question of his worth, despite my constant grumbling on exactly the opposite. His worth would have been better spent in the court by a King's side, than at said royal's side holding his wine and standing still and silent as statues are want to do.
I was selfish, though. I wanted to keep his wise words private and to close to my chest, because if they were mine, than I could pretend his heart was as well. I will never possibly know what it is I had done to garner his respect and pride, but whatever act it was, it had been enough.
It couldn't possibly be anymore. The fire that had run so carefully in his veins was a fire that I had failed to spot.
How can you spend so long with someone, and get to know them so well and so completely, yet know not a thing about them?
I knew the important things, and I wish that had been enough. I knew he cared, about too many and so much. He was the only one who spoke his mind when he saw fit, despite what others expected, despite his undeserved rank, despite the danger that he knew was there when he did just that.
Yet, it's all gone now:
The fire,
The fierce expectation,
The piercing and careful gaze.
The terrors of his night have finally caught up.
I think he hoped, that in the end that he knew was nigh, he would fall to an enemy's hands protecting the one he loved; regardless, that was not to be. He was instead to drift in the depths of a well. He was instead to float lazily upon the surface. He was instead to flee amongst the stars, humiliated and still out of place in amongst the gods.
He was instead to leave me adrift and alone in the eyes of so little who knew the truth. I was no longer proud, no longer strong. I was merely the profile in the shadow now.
That is exactly what I had always been. An ordinary Prince, loved by few and needed by the many, protected and loved by the only one who saw a possibility that was never to come.
Without him, what was I? A good fighter is no fighter if he does not possess the strength to oppose those who hold their hand.
I let him die.
I watched him die.
The only human to truly see beneath the surface of my faults and flaws and act, and
I
Let
Him
Sink
So far and so fast.
I left him lost in the water, too far for the oxygen to reach with eyes far gone.
What kind of a man does that leave me to be? Am I a man at all?
Men don't cry.
Men don't let the only person who holds their heart in their hands to fall away from them.
Men don't cry.
Men don't love another man.
I am not a man.
There is a resounding feeling deep within my chest; it aches and writhes in a rhythm unknown.
I cannot let it go.
Perhaps it is there as penance for my sins.
Perhaps it is there to clench my heart in its deadly claws and never release it from its encaged prison.
He saved my life, and now, I cannot even have the decency to speak his name for fear of letting the monster underneath my façade out, and leave me bare for all to see.
I may not be a man, but because of my father's – the murderous, delusional father he is – training, I will continue to do what I have to. I will bide my time until he is gone and at last amongst the Devil's kind, and I will rule with a more just hand than he could have possibly ever had.
In spite of the fact that I am wasting away without his loving and guiding hand and only waiting for the day when I can see his face before my eyes once more.
I was always sure I would spend the rest of my life with him.
He is lucky.
He got to spend the rest of his with me.