Okay- the next part is pretty gruesome and you can skip it and still follow the story. Don't worry though, it's not too bad. No details of killing one's self.
Have you ever wanted to kill yourself? Lucy stared at the knife in her hand with mild interest.
Did she want to kill herself? She fingered the blade, her eyes widening at it's sharpness and her brain ignoring the crissum droplets of liquid spreading everywhere.
Yes, she did want to kill herself. Why? Ask her later. It didn't seem important at that second…
Briefly she wondered about her mother, and a sudden jolt issued from her chest as the knife clattered to the floor. She couldn't do that to her mother. Her father, her uncle- her friends, teachers, the kind lady at the scarf stall at the end of her street…
Tears prickled behind her eyes as she stared blankly at her hands, the red liquid running down her fingers, and a sob escaped her lips. She collapsed to the ground, this time tears falling.
But there was that feeling again- that terrible feeling- consuming her, eating at her, tugging at her, calling her. Still sobbing, she picked up the knife, her fingers moving of their own accord.
Silence.
.~*~. (You can stop skipping)
More silence. Arthur was beginning to hate the sound that was nothing. Silence seemed to magnify his thoughts- make them more real than they were- or maybe so real that they scared him.
However, when he was offered anything other than silence, he wouldn't take it. Conversations with his father, assurances with Gwen, bantering with Merlin- he found he'd much rather just sit in their company.
More than anything, Arthur was tired. So tired. He'd hardly slept; everything felt so draining and boring, though he forced himself through brutal training into the pretence of normalcy-
Merlin had requested the day off. Yes, that was the thought he'd been trying to ignore.
Well, his manservant had told Arthur he was having the day off. And this, Arthur thought, was disrupting his fading coat of normalcy. A coat he refused to admit was growing old and well-worn. And, when asked incredously what his manservant could possibly do when he wasn't with Arthur, Merlin had acted incredibly shifty. And this proved one thing- Merlin wasn't up to any good.
.~*~.
Moonlight was scattered among the mist, darkness and trees, weaving between the frosty air and silence of the forest. But, despite every bone in his body screaming at him to return the way he came, Merlin trudged on.
He needed no directions- instinct unfolded the path beneath his feet and his mind also followed his footsteps. What would the druids say once they saw him? They weren't on the best terms.
Were the druids behind all this? Every part of him told him it was impossible that they would cause so much death and sorrow.
He had no idea where he was- the trees around him bore no resemblance to any others he had seen, and there was no sun to tell him how long he'd been travelling.
But, the tent in distance told him it wouldn't be too long until he reached his destination…
.~*~.
Arthur watched as Merlin walked into the distance, hands shoved in pockets, from his bedroom window. Should he follow his manservant?
It didn't take that long for Arthur to decide.
He hurried out the room, ignoring the questioning glances from the people around him. He ran down the front steps, his eyes darting round to find the familiar sight of his manservant- but Merlin was quicker than Arthur gave him credit for… he was nowhere to be seen.
Cursing under his breath at his misfortune, Arthur began to turn back towards his castle and home. But, stuck at a 90 degree angle, the Prince heard the tune of a nursery rhyme whispered as all else was silenced. And into his ear the chanting whisper of a child made him shiver- and the lyrics made his blood run cold.
"Silence, silence, all around,
Your thoughts on uneven ground,
With scared eyes you look around,
Need your voice- it can't be found,
Darkness pulls and rips your clothes,
In the distance cries of crows,
Screams are sharp within the night,
The flap of bats within their flight,
You trip upon uneven ground,
Falling blindly in a mound,
Words are stuck within your throat,
Air bites your skin you wouldn't gloat,
Tears run around as you hear sobs,
Shadows move in murky blobs,
I'm so sorry, your future's set,
Prophecized what you've not met,
And as you scream and fight alone,
You future's set in blackened stone."
O.O what's gonna happen? Who whispered the nursery rhyme? What will the druids say?
I'm shocked by my own evilness… :)
I'm soooo sorry about the incredibly long wait for an update. Hopefully this made up for it. As you can see, this story is rated T for a reason… but nothing will be more graphic that what you've read here. And, if it is as bad as this I'll put a note saying you can skip it.
Until next time! (REVIEW? PLEASE?)
EDIT- Nursery rhyme by me and my best friend, a huge Belieber and fantastic encourager.