Camelot drabble Prompt 529: fantasy
Disclaimer: I do not own the BBC version of Merlin; They and Shine do. I am very respectfully borrowing them with no intent to profit. No money has changed hands. No copyright infringement is intended.
There were days when Merlin could hardly breathe for the stunning beauty that was Arthur in action, the sweep of his sword, the way he took charge of the battle, his face flushing as he led his knights to victory, his golden hair gleaming in the light.
There were other days when he wanted to strangle the prat, the stupid chores, the fact that Merlin was covered in bruises from 'horse-play', the obliviousness to the dangers he faced from friends and family. He wouldn't listen, he wouldn't see beyond his limited viewpoint as Uther's exploited son, he wouldn't accept that he might be wrong.
In his core, Arthur was a sensible, honourable man but his flaws could destroy him, and it seemed that nothing would change that.
No matter how much Merlin pushed, every time he looked at Arthur, he could see the world spinning faster and faster, bringing the ending of all things closer with every breath.
And as Merlin watched helpless, his king fighting harder and harder for his Camelot, the hope that no matter how much magic Merlin possessed he would save Arthur in the end, seemed to vanish into the mist.
Still, he tried, every time, using his powers to try and thwart fate, try and get past the stories and the predictions, past Camlann and into a brighter future, to a golden age of magic and mystery where Arthur would accept Merlin for who he was.
But it was truly a fantasy.
In the end, Arthur was his own doom and Merlin doomed with him.