Merlin was up at the crack of dawn. Weird as it was feeling himself join with sky just as the sun did, it didn't bring any joy to Merlin's heart. If he was honest, everything felt a bit cold, and he didn't even have anyone waking him up- he was just awake.
So he sat there, remembering how the curse was meant to affect him, and preparing himself in any way he thought possible- which, of course, wasn't much, but it was reassuring to him. Once he was as prepared as he could be, Merlin realised just how early it still was, and his mind told him to take a walk. Yeah, that's what he felt like doing and he had enough time, so why not?
He hadn't really gone far; just admiring the view, thoughts void of everything- there was just dull blankness. To Merlin, everything seemed to just drain away- the life, the colour, the world around him all got more depressing the more time went by. Heading back to camp, Merlin got a fire going and started on everyone's breakfast. Not much was there, but he didn't want any so he spilt the portions into their bowls and went to wash the pot.
Arthur's eyes were crusty and sore upon waking. It took quite a lot of blinking for them to wake up and show Arthur what he was meant to be seeing. But it was not his sight that hit him first, but his sense of smell- food, somebody was cooking food. But there was only one person who cooked breakfast, and there was no way he would already be… up. Arthur's suspicions were confirmed as he looked across to the bedroll in which Merlin was meant to be sleeping but found it bare, in fact, it didn't even look touched. THE CURSE! Oh crap- it was Merlin today, he completely missed that. With a series of struggled grunts, he flipped out of his bedroll and stood up in a very panicked way, only to find Merlin calmly wiping the washed pot dry.
"Merlin?"
"Yes" he answered somewhat distantly.
"You okay?"
"Mm" was the only response he got before a bowl of breakfast stew was shoved in his face.
Merlin hardly spoke to anyone that whole morning. Of course, Gwaine had gone out of his way just to see the man laugh, but he'd only caught a small ghost of a smile grace Merlin's face. As the party set out riding, now just two days from Camelot, Lance sauntered his horse next to Arthur's.
"It's as though something has sucked the happiness out of him" He commented.
Arthur nodded and replied "I agree, he hasn't been this bad since… well- I've never seen him like this."
It seemed nobody else had either, as throughout that first bit of riding he had everyone in the group come up to him at some point and tell him how strange it was, making them all realise how much of a big part Merlin played in their lives.
1…
2…
3…
4…
4.
That's the number of knights that he suspected was telling Arthur about him.
1,2,3,4…
Geez- he should stop counting knights.
It was only making him sleepier.
1, 2, 3, 4
His eyelids kept drooping, seeming to have more weight put on them each time he opened them again. It wasn't possible to keep this going for long, especially when it felt like a 10 ton of bricks were sitting on them. His head was fuzzy too. He was very dizzy and only vaguely aware of what was going on. Maybe he could just close his eyes for a second…
THUD
The sound of a body smashing on the ground had made everyone's head turn, only to see Merlin's horse empty and a particular manservant's crumpled form lying by the horse's feet.
"Merlin!" Gwaine yelled out before jumping off his horse and checking the pulse on the young boy.
"He's fine- probably a bit bruised, but other than that completely out cold." Gwaine diagnosed after a pause.
"Good" Arthur said and checked Merlin's pulse himself… just to be sure.
"Think he's okay to keep riding, if somebody sat with him?" Leon questioned.
"We should try it, otherwise we'll never reach Camelot" Percival said.
"I'll take him." Gwaine rushed forwards to say. Not really leaving time for arguments, he hoisted the man over his shoulders. Lance had helped position Merlin in front of Gwaine, and once Gwaine was safely on, the party continued their somewhat slow journey to Camelot.
Falling
Suspended
There he was, floating down towards the earth below. At the same time he wasn't really moving at all- it was a strange but freeing sensation, and although Merlin had no control as to where he was going, he enjoyed the feeling of weightlessness. However, the peace wasn't to last…
USELESS.
As the word echoed around Merlin he tilted his head in confusion.
EVIL
ARROGANT
WORTHLESS
More words started to form in the floating air around were mere whispers at first, until more and more voices seemed to be added to the hateful storm. All the voices had a hint of familiarity in them, but Merlin couldn't recognise where from. He was left feeling worse and worse after every word, as though it was a puncture to the heart, each one ripping open another healed spot.
USELESS, POINTLESS, STUPID, IDIOT, EVIL, SELF-OBSEESSED
More words flew into the air. They were shouting at him, screaming at him all at the same time, in random orders. They left deep mental scars upon Merlin. But even then they didn't stop- they only increased more and more in volume until anyone could go mad from the sheer intensity of the sound. Merlin didn't know where to look, head spinning, feelings and thoughts out of control; he was falling prey to this words.
They were true. Every single one was a realisation to him, and it was sinking down into him. His weightless feeling now wasn't so pleasant as invisible weights were placed upon his chest and shoulders, forcing him to carry the burden he believed he deserved.
A NOBODY. PEASANT SCUM. TWISTED
LIAR.
The last one rang clear and true and Merlin thought he would burst from the weight of it all when suddenly-
"MERLIN".
A pause.
"MERLIN".
Nothing harsh, nothing true, just his name.
The atmosphere jolted to a stop and the silence smashed into Merlin's skull.
His head stopped spinning, and he was thrown down to the ground. Rolling onto the rough but grassy terrain below Merlin held his head in utter shock and confusion. Those voices had all just stopped, just like that, all at once. He just been suspended, with that unbearable weight on his shoulders, but now all he could think about was the voice that called his name. Was this some kind of new suffering? He knew he should know that voice, he knew it. But from where?
He didn't have long to wait before finding out, as a shadow fell onto the ground around him. Staggering upwards, he took in the outline and came to the conclusion that the shape was one of a mighty dragon!
Should've known.
That reptile could not keep itself out of Merlin's brain.
"YOUNG WARLOCK"
The voice called out again, the tone one of searching, as though the voice was lost in the same mist that Merlin himself had been trapped in. Mustering up the strength in his throat Merlin called out a hoarse but questioning response
"Kilgharra?"