Chess went fine that day and Merlin was relieved. He tried not to think about the game and he got through it fine enough. Later that day he sent Anir off to bed and retired to his chambers.
This night was a special night. Some nights there were no distractions, no chores, no deeds that needed to be done. Some nights he had to himself. This was one of those nights. He dreaded this night. When there was nothing to be done, there were no distractions. Distractions were what kept his mind off of things; things like Arthur and riddles and answers; things like hope and death and despair. These were the nights that he would get angry. That is why, on nights like these, Merlin would sit down and write. He would write letters to Arthur, conveying his concerns, confessing his doubts, and disclosing his dreams.
On this particular night, Merlin was happy. Not the kind of happy that he would feign in front of others to hide how broken he really felt. No, this was true joy. He didn't understand why, of all nights, he felt it now. Maybe it was because today was one of the few days since it happened that he didn't feel mad at the world. Today was a good day.
Then he remembered something. Something that put an end to his joyful mood. Something that terrified him. Tomorrow was the tenth anniversary. Ten years ago tomorrow, he failed to save the king of Camelot, and on that same day, he lost the best and only friend he'd ever had.
He couldn't believe what he'd done. How could he forget? How could he have let himself go by happy on a day like this? The day he had left Arthur to go reacquire magic. And at that moment he hated magic. Why did he leave Arthur's side? How could he have messed up so badly? How could he have done so much wrong in less than two days. He should have stayed with Arthur. Should have gone with him to battle despite his lack of magic. On that day, he was a coward, and because of that, Arthur was dead. Gone. He remembered Arthur's words that day.
"All those times I made fun of you. Called you a coward. I never meant it. I thought you were the bravest man I'd ever met. Guess I was wrong."
And he was wrong. Magic was the only reason Merlin was brave. Magic made him strong. He relied on magic. Of all the crooked, sick cowards on the earth, none were so pitiful as Merlin. Without magic, Merlin had nothing. And he hated himself for it.
In a pit of rage, he threw his chair over, and his bed (newly recovered from the last incident) soon followed it. He screamed. He cursed the shadowy night. He pounded on the wall and screamed some more. And when that was over, he sat down on the overturned bed, wrapped his arms around his knees, and wept. Occasionally stopping to catch his breath, he lay there crying for a long time. Periodically he would bang his head against the board of the lay there in despair for an undetermined amount of time. Finally, he calmed down. Using magic, he put everything back in its place (including the bed which was, from several past incidents, now broken in a considerable number of places. Merlin sat down at his desk and began to write:
"Arthur,
Tomorrow – well, I guess it is probably today judging by the moon's position – is your tenth anniversary. Not only yours, but that of your sister's and Gawain's. I can hardly say that I mourn Morgana's death, but Gawain was a good man and did not deserve to die. But you, you were a great man, and I couldn't save you. Not even with my magic. My stupid, worthless magic. I was mad at you, you know, for a very long time. I was mad that you would leave me like that. Mad that you would go into battle and risk your life. But then I realized. It wasn't your fault. It was never your fault. It was mine, and mine alone. I left you. You said it yourself, I was a coward. Weak. I couldn't live without my magic, and because of that, it cost me your life. I was selfish and arrogant and young. And you saw that. You saw my stupidity, but you didn't warn me of it. Why didn't you warn me? Were you too busy being king that you couldn't take the time to teach the one person that stayed faithful to you through the whole thing? Were you that self-centered of a clot-head that you couldn't see that? And what's with the whole 'Once and Future King' thing? I've waited ten whole years for you, and still you haven't come. Will you ever come back? Or have you just deserted me on this God-forsaken planet? Don't you see? I need you. Camelot needs you. Gwen needs you. How can you just let us suffer and bleed as you rest peacefully in your grave? I'm starting to think that this 'Once and Future' is just gonna be left a 'Once' and nothing more. There is no more to the story. That's it. Arthur lived. Arthur died. Arthur's gone. I can live. I can run from the truth. But somehow I just can't forget what I cannot forgive. You left me. You left all of us. You left Camelot undefended. Sure, we've made made allies, but we've also made enemies. Do you know why those enemies stay away? Do you know why they avoid Camelot at all risks? It's because of me. I protect Camelot. I am The Defender of the city. I use my magic to guard it. The same magic that you so violently rejected. I still haven't forgiven you for that. The way you looked at me when I told you I was a sorcerer. It was a look of disgust. Don't deny it. You looked at me like the one person you trusted the greatest was the one that betrayed you the most. It isn't true. I fought for you. Everyday I fought for you. I've lost track of how many times I've saved you life. But I haven't forgotten the time that I couldn't. The time that you looked at me as though I were a monster. I hate you for that. So...leave me. Stay out of my memories and thoughts. Stop haunting me every waking hour. It is the last thing that I need."