Chapter 4
Their grand destiny?
Their grand destiny had all been a cruel trick of a faceless and uncaring fate.
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Merlin's tenuous hold weakened. His sticky grip slacking.
Arthur.
Arthur's voice returned to him, rushing out like a frightened bark. "NO! No…Merlin!" The prince took a fervent breath, blinking back the burning behind his eyes. He would not allow himself the weakness. "Merlin. Just…" What was there to say? "…just look at me. Just keep looking."
As he always had, Merlin put every drop of himself into Arthur. Into what his friend, his master, his destiny seemed to need so very desperately. Every ounce of effort, every spark of magic went into that one thing. Just look at Arthur. Just keep looking.
Mouth agape, pain written in the creases of his face, Merlin's breath came in gasps. Breath in, in, in, in, then after a painful pause, it shuddered out. Another silence. Ugly silence. Then, the little gasps began again.
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Merlin looked.
Merlin looked at Arthur, looked into the prince's eyes with pain and fear, but there was also acceptance. Resolve. Exhaustion.
Merlin looked at Arthur as the pain faded.
Merlin looked as his hand slid out of Arthur's.
Merlin looked as Arthur cursed, eyes spilling over, head shaking roughly. Denying the undeniable.
Merlin looked as the prince yelled out. Yelled out wordless, formless emotion.
Merlin looked as his body sagged. Sagged like an empty sack over Arthur's grasping arm and shaking legs. Each tendon and muscle shutting down.
Limp and defeated, Merlin looked because that is what Arthur had asked and it was all he could give.
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It wasn't long.
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Not more than a moment or two.
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The woods stood in a silent pause. Arthur's shouts had frightened the settling birds off, a flurry of wing beats into the night. In the hush, Merlin realized his panting breaths were no longer grating out. No longer loud. No longer desperate.
He wasn't breathing.
Merlin realized he wasn't breathing! A hot new spark of fear bloomed in this boy, so far from home, so far from his family.
And his heart…Gods! Gods no!
Merlin realized with clarity and horror, his heart—it wasn't beating. It lay still as death, in his unmoving body.
Two thoughts churned and collided behind Merlin's gaze …
He was still looking. Looking up at Arthur from unblinking, unmoving eyes.
And, he was dead. Merlin was dead.
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Now, Arthur's realization wasn't far behind that of his favoured manservant.
By sheer will-power the prince had stopped his screams. Screaming to what end? He wasn't sure.
For help?
For Merlin to hold on?
For some blasted divine intervention?
He didn't know.
But as a last whimper escaped the prince—anguish getting in the last word—Arthur pulled himself into the moment. A horrible moment, truth be told.
As Arthur had begged of him, Merlin's eyes were open. His mouth hung lax as though ready to speak, but Merlin's body was heavy. Limp. Utterly still.
No. No no NO!
Arthur's fear was so intense his heart ached within his chest, breath held; his vision throbbed in and out. His gaze fluttered from Merlin's face, to his chest, to Arthur's own bloody hands, and back.
NO! Please…
With quaking arms, the prince hurriedly placed Merlin on the ground, pulling himself back onto his knees. Arthur kept one frightened hand pressed uselessly to Merlin's still side. With his other hand, Arthur righted Merlin's sagging head.
That the end had come—had come and gone—was clear.
"Merlin! Damn it…damn it Merlin! You are not allowed…"
The prince's throat worked to swallow. Arthur's clothes grabbed and pulled, covered by sticky, cooling blood.
Merlin's blood.
"You can not be…"
His golden head shook of its own accord. No.
"You're not…"
Arthur choked off a sob that would have been embarrassing under any other circumstances.
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With one bloody hand still planted on Merlin's side, the other beside Merlin's narrow body, Arthur slowly lowered his ear to that thin chest.
He waited. Listening…as two thoughts swirled together…
Nothing.
There was nothing.
And Merlin.
Merlin was gone.
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to be continued…
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