Blood…
Tired…
Merlin fell on his knees and stared his hands.
Those hands, his hands, his magic, his destiny.
Tired…
He wanted to cry and scream.
He wanted…
He wanted to tell.
About him.
About his magic.
About everything.
The truth…
And those lies.
So many lies.
Too many.
Just too many.
Merlin leaned forward over his knees and buried his head on his hands.
He tried to breath, but his chest felt too heavy.
It felt like all what had happened over those years, everything was falling over his heart.
Each of which he had lost.
Each of which he was killed.
Anyone who had ever trusted him.
He was afraid of losing even more.
He was afraid…
Afraid that one day he would stand alone, fearing...
Fearing that no one would forgive him.
Tired.
So tired.
He wanted to sleep.
Sleep.
But those nightmares.
Those faces.
That blood everywhere.
That fire and destruction.
How much he afraid the next day.
More lies.
More blood in his hands.
More mistakes.
How he could handle anything?
How he could do anything?
And how he could trust anyone?
He couldn't trust even himself!
Tired…
He didn't hear the steps, how they slowed and finally stopped near of him.
"Merlin?"
Merlin startled and looked up.
Arthur.
Oh gods, it was Arthur.