Now nearly 4 months in, the time had come for Merlin to put away his girlish feelings and get comfortable with nakedness. However, it was very hard considering the location the were housed in. The holes in the stone were repaired with wood, however the air still leaked through the cracks, chilling him to the bone. A fireplace had been added among the large pieces of marble debris, wooden planks, art supplies, and papers. The wood crackled loudly as a fire was blazing lively. It's flames flickered against the tall ceilings and vine covered walls. In front of the makeshift fireplace, stood a privacy screen and a small red scarf looking thing hanging atop.

Merlin knew what it was for, and hurried along to go behind it and take his clothing off before covering himself with the velvet cloth.

" Are you all set?" Aetheria asked once Merlin had been behind it for a while.

" Yeah...Yeah I think so," Side stepping the screen, he shivered against the chilling January air. His pale skin looked as elegant as the cloud white marble did. It was like cream, just as beautiful as the sun kissed tan knights got by mid summer.

He was quickly ushered to the throne and sat down. On it, he sat down sideways, so that his head hung off one of the arm rests and legs the other. It hurt his neck a little bit, but he wouldn't protest. Here, she positioned his arms and legs so that they matched what she envisioned in her mind. It turned out to be quite the ordeal too. At first she couldn't decide where to put his right arm, as it was the one facing her. Next it was his legs, and how the position of them didn't work the way she wanted. It look several days for her to find the right combination of limb angles to arch ratio.

She drew this look several times from several different perspectives. Each served a unique purpose in her remarkable memory. Merlin became very familiar with this position as days, even weeks passed by. The more the stone was chiseled away, the more character went into it. He learned what her intentions were with the figure by now. Merlin honestly didn't know what to think about it. He was mainly concerned about what Uther and especially Arthur would say. It was hard predicting their opinions. Both father and son could have huge over reactions because of little problems.

Merlin sighed to himself, but remembered what Aetheria had said about not telling anyone about what was planned, and he had agreed to do so. He spoke no words of it to Arthur, pretending his after work activities didn't even exist.

The piece had really taken a good shape by march, 6 months since they had first started. Aetheria had crafted his legs, going as far as to incorporate the fine details of his leg hair. She scratched away the creases in his toes and under his feet. So much care went into her work, it was magical. Looking at himself in stone almost made himself emotional. It was just as she had said in the very beginning, the stone held a story. One late night in particular, she had said something that stuck with him.

" What resides in the soul, resides somewhere in stone. You just have to find it,"

Merlin pondered this for a while. The graphic nature of the context her project protruded would be controversial. Yet he had hardly any doubt that the end result would be too beautiful to argue much about.

Aetheria had recently starting on the many scars that marred his flesh. Because of this, there was a new tension between them. She didn't ask where he got them from, but she suspected that more than a few of them were there because of dangerous people. She was wary around the subject, and didn't pry. Once while she'd been sculpting a particularly long scar on his abdomen, her usual continuous movements ceased.

Merlin looked up over to her for the 12th time in 30 minutes to catch her looking at him.

" What is it?" He asked.

" It's nothing, just trying to get something just right is all,"

" What? Perhaps I could help,"

" No it's okay, I'll get it," Aetheria looked back down to where the marble that was left untouched.

" C'mon, tell me," Merlin insisted.

" It's just, the scar here. I'm not exactly sure what it looks like texture wise,"

" Oh.." Merlin quietly said and gave a sad smile to himself.

" Come take a look closer up," He suggested, giving her permission to discuss this marks.

" Only if you're sure,"

" I am,"

" Very well," she stood up from her crouched position and walked up to where Merlin laid upon the throne.

Aetheria got closer, and reached her hand forward just to pull it back before she could touch his skin.

" It's okay," Merlin nodded, and closed his eyes once her fingers made contact with the scar tissue. She traced it's edges, feeling the ragged textures that were embedded deep within him.

For several moments they stayed there in silence, before she finally removed her fingers and went back to her work. They didn't speak of it again.

By late June, Merlin and Aetheria stood several yards away from the technically finished masterpiece they had worked on for months. Well, Aetheria worked on, Merlin sat there and looked pretty. Somehow the news had spread of their nearly finished product. Arthur for one, was most eager to finally see what his servant had been playing model for for months; nearly a whole year. The woman had said that it wasn't quite finished yet? And she needed to add a finishing touch or two, but they'd be aloud to see soon. To him, nearly done meant completely done. This realization had found him making his way down the abandoned corridors he only ventured down as a child when he wanted to get away.

As he walked and weaved down the halls, he wondered how Merlin managed to do this everyday and not fall to his death, cracking his skull open. Water was dripping from the dampened ceilings. Plant life bloomed in the near pitch darkness. It was very slippery, slick from algae and other unknow substances.

Night had fallen a while ago. He knew that both Merlin and Aetheria would be asleep by now, the whole kingdom doing the same thing. While everyone slumbered, he was sneaking to get a peak of the stone project. He's been so patient, but he needed to see it for heavens sake! Guessing for months what that woman saw in his servant, one could only wander so much before they just had to know. Through the drowning darkness, flickering caught his attention. Dark orange light danced before a doorway coming from a room to his left. Peering inside, Arthur looked in to see multiple metal candle stands filled with flaming wax and wick. It barely lit up the space, only illuminating a white statue of sorts in the back of the room. The candle light made it appear more golden cream than white, however the colors hardly mattered.

It was shocking, what he saw. Like a huge wave of water taking away his breath, Arthur looked mesmerizingly at the image of his best friend, strung upon a throne. His pale white head hung off the edge of the arm rest, leaving his neck open to the sky in the most submissive way possible. His neck bulge was eye grasping, torso taught within stretch. Unlike the Merlin he knew, this Merlin was hardly skinny, however because of the outstretched position, his rips slightly poked at the stone skin. He had lean but muscular legs, and his arms were hardly twigs. His face was lax, as though was was sleeping peacefully. Skipping to the rest of the body before him, Arthur stared at the details of Merlin's hair, which had begun to curl around his ears as it grew longer. The servant's legs hung off the edge, one slightly raised higher than the other. The stone gave detail of his nails, and lines within his skin. His thighs too had impeccable detail, up until the inner thigh where a cloth just barely covered his manhood, leaving his navel open. The silky cloth pooled against the edge of the detailed throne. Strangest of all, was the scarring that was carved into his body. A long raised up one stretched upon the contour of his leg muscle, another, larger one was plastered on his chest. Countless others appearing here and there. Nothing he had ever seen before...There was no way Merlin actually looked like this, right? Merlin hardly even did any real damage to himself, a bump here and there perhaps.

The most horrific, gut wrenching part about the entire display was the deep, gashes that gaped at the stone servants forearms. They were intended to appear as self mutilation, death inflicting wounds. In dark red, almost black paint, long and pooling lines of blood-like patterns ran down the arms and onto the throne and floor below. It was horrifying and oddly majestic in a sickening way. The way Merlin appeared to be sleeping, slipping into death before his very eyes took the breath from his lungs. It was the only color the entire statue had, and it transfixed his attention more than the scars did. For multiple, silent moments, he could only stand there and stare. The more he looked, the more detail unraveled within the darkness. The more it looked like Merlin.

Inscribed on the top of the throne, read a stanza in cursive writing.

"When a ruler dies his people will mourn, when a king dies his servant will die alongside him."

Simple yet nauseating words left Arthur falling to his knees next the image of his dead friend. Someone seemingly so innocent portrayed to be doing such a cowardly and frightening act left him weak. Merlin would never do such a thing, even if the king died. Surly, this was referring to Uther and not himself. Merlin, despite being called dumb on the regular, wouldn't-couldn't ever do such a thing.

Why this was what Aetheria had chosen to carve was beyond him. There was no way this was to ever go on display. Taking one's own life was seen as an act cowardice, yet as he looked at the lax face of Merlin's death, it was morbidly peaceful. Along the marble's texture, it looked as though there were tear tracts down the otherwise smooth face. There was so much pain written into the stonework, and the detail enraptured his emotions quicker than a strike of lightning produced from a storm. Arthur quickly found his face wet from this own leaking eyes. To see Merlin in stone like this, was to also see him in the flesh the same way. He could picture the same scenario panning out in real life. Merlin, left with nothing but pain and sorrow doing the only thing he think of to get rid of it.

It made him want to take away this fake Merlin's pain and give it to himself. He wanted to scrub away the red paint that had leaked off of the wrists and down the seat. He wanted to sob away the sudden wave of emotion. It caused a physical reaction, and made feel sick to his stomach.

" Beauteous, isn't it?" A voice from behind startled him. Arthur turned around quickly to see Aetheria leaning against the doorway, arms crossed. Her face looked just as cross, however she held her tongue once her eyes caught a look at his face. More specifically, his tears.

Arthur didn't answer, he just looked at her with an ashen expression.

" I haven't given permission for anyone to see my work as of yet. Why are you here Prince Arthur?" She asked, coming closer. Contradicting her works, her body language suggested that she was hardly upset.

" I-I wanted to see it...but-,"

" It's not what you expected?" She finished.

" You could say that," The prince said so quietly his words fell short of her ears.

" I understand, and I knew by starting this my work here would be not understood by everyone who saw,"

" I'm not sure I understand," Arthur said, eyes still fixed on the body before him.

" Merlin would die for you Arthur. He lives because you live..he-Merlin looks up to you, more than any servant has ever to a monarch like yourself. I don't think he could ever live with himself if you were to die and he were to live. You mean too much to him. You mean too much to each other,"

Finally looking down, Arthur reflected on what she was saying. Merlin was a goofball, a lunatic in the body of a young clumsy boy. He was also an incredibly loyal, wise man who broke through that crazy haze to give him better advice that any council could ever come up with. He followed Arthur into every battle, every sword fight, every council meeting, every dinner, every time he laughed, and yes even when he cried. He was always there and always true to his word. He was more than a servant at this point, he was his friend. What Aetheria said was true, and the realization however sweet, hurt just as much. Come a friendship, also comes the potential for great happiness alongside great hardship. He just hoped it would never come to this. Merlin was too good of a person to meet an end like this one.

Talking with the artist herself made him feel better. This was just a representation of a strong connection between a servant and a king. It was hardly predicting what could happen. In that light, the beauty of this piece overthrew the deep darkness. He respected it. That was all she asked for.

There will be 1 more chapter, but in the mean time feel free to review!!!