The golden sun shone gently into Prince Arthur's chambers and he blinked his heavy eyelids as his numbed brain awakened. Gradually, the hazy memories of last night drifted back to him, and he smiled contentedly. He let out a small, happy sigh, and stretched out his long limbs to get more comfortable, allowing himself to sink back into his thoughts.
He remembered meeting this girl; this wonderful, mysterious, unique girl with hair the colour of a flitting night and eyes the colour of a babbling brook in the morning light. He remembered her nearly knocking him over. He remembered being entranced by her, staring at her all evening. He remembered following her, talking to her, her calling him a prat. He remembered... he remembered kissing her, her mouth setting his whole body, his whole soul, alive and buzzing with a feeling that he had never experienced before. He remembered her running away, on some sort of strange quest, and he remembered the decision to go after her. And he remembered finding her, with the sorceress, and the way that she fought and the way that she behaved, and the way that she had saved his life, and his father's life, and had basically saved the day in heroic acts that he could never have imagined could have come from such an innocent, beautiful young lady.
He remembered spending the rest of the evening with her; talking and kissing and dancing and eating. And laughing. He had never laughed that much in his whole life. She was just so sweet and funny and perfect. Her being had a light to it that seemed to shine from her very aura, and it shone so brightly that every light paled in comparison. She could win over an entire room with a single twitch of the lips. She was simply so alive and alight that every person around her could not help but feel the same.
Because, of course, she was indeed truly beautiful, but it was not the shallow, empty beauty that Arthur was so used to experiencing with all the ladies and all the princesses and all the queens that he had ever met. Oh no. Instead, this simple, peasant girl had a full, honest, absolute beauty that came not from her physical form, but from her lithe spirit. He loved her not because of the way that she looked, but because of the way that she was. He loved her simply for her.
But then he remembered saying goodnight to her and setting her up in a bedroom down the corridor, and he remembered the sad look that she had given him as he shut the door after one final kiss. He remembered the way that he had said goodnight, and she had said goodbye.
She didn't believe that he would still want her in the morning. But he did. He truly did. And he would show it to her. He would go right now and tell her. Then she would have to believe him. He couldn't wait to see her again. He missed her, and they had only been apart for a few hours.
Carefully, he clambered out of bed, not used to having to get up before Merlin arrived, and pulled on some trousers under his night shirt. He headed out of his chambers, and walked down the empty corridor to the room that he had left her at last night.
Cautiously, he raised his hand to knock and realised it was shaking, although he didn't quite know whether that was from nerves, excitement, anticipation or desperation. Either way, he gently rapped upon the door and waited.
It dawned on him that she was probably still asleep and he had woken her up. This was a stupid idea. But it was too late now. And he really wanted to see her. He stood there for a few more minutes. He pressed his ear to the door. He couldn't hear anything. So he knocked again. And stood. And waited. And again. And again.
Eventually, he tried the handle. The door was open. Fear gripped Arthur's throat. Had something happened to her in the night? Had some opposing evil taken her from him when they realised his feelings for her in order to break him? Had some king so that he would marry their princess daughter instead? Had his own father?
Harshly, he shoved the door open and dashed inside.
The room was empty.
But there was no sign of a struggle. The bed was neatly made, as if it had never even been slept in, and the rest of the room was bare and untouched. A single piece of parchment lay on the table.
After taking once last crestfallen glance around the room, Arthur picked up the paper and read the scrawled note upon it.
'I'm sorry Arthur', it read. 'I'm sorry for the way that I acted last night; it was out of line for someone of my position. I'm sorry that I lead you on, and was not honest with you, and caused you to act in a way that you wouldn't have done if you had been thinking straight and I had told the truth. I'm sorry that I kissed you, and mistreated you, and put you in danger. I'm sorry that I did not stop and go when I should have done. I'm sorry that I mislead you and was improper with you. But most of all, I'm sorry that I had to leave you without your knowledge that it was a final goodbye, but it was the only way that I could possibly have the strength to do so. I'm sorry that you'll never see me again, and that you will never know who I really am. I'm sorry, Arthur. I really am. Love.' And here there was a smudge as though the writer had gone to write their name, but had stopped themselves and instead a single tear had fallen on the ink.
Merlin wiped his eyes to stop the rest of the tears falling as he lay the parchment on the table, took one last sweeping glance around the fancy room, gathered his skirts and his stupid heels, and hurried away down the corridor towards his crumby little chambers where his harsh, wooden bed awaited him. It was difficult to believe he had only left those chambers a few hours ago; it felt like a lifetime had changed since then. But back there he was now headed, to where he belonged, to where he would only ever belong, because Arthur was a prince, and Merlin was a man, and none of this was proper or allowed or even possible. And so Merlin dashed away during the night leaving a very distraught, and very confused, Arthur in the morning.
Dejectedly, the prince headed back to his room, clutching the note in both hands. He stumbled along, nearly tripping, as his whole body seemed to hold a heavier weight than before. He made it to his room and traipsed back to the bed. He sat upon it and stared at the message, reading it again and again, trying to get his head around it, trying to understand.
And somewhere in the background, he registered Merlin's far too cheery voice saying "Good morning, sire. I see you're already awake." It faltered for a second, before going. "Sire? Sire? Are you ok?"
But Arthur did not respond. He did not even look up. Which was probably a good thing, because if he had, he would have seen his own tear tracks reflected upon his manservant's face.
...
Notes: DO NOT WORRY! THIS IS NOT THE END! THERE WILL BE ONE LAST CHAPTER IN WHICH I PROMISE EVERYTHING WILL BE OK! I'm sorry for dragging this out but this chapter turned out so much longer than anticipated and I rather liked it and I just needed to get it out of my creative system so thank you for bearing with and we will get to the end very soon! I'm also sorry for the melancholy mood of this chapter but I felt it was necessary. Thank you so much for reading and I hope you are enjoying! Also thank you so so much for all the favourites and follows and the wonderful, encouraging comments and feedback!