Title: Ghosts
Word Count : 254
Prompt: "A glimpse of Merlin through the ages"
It was years, countless, ageless years before he realized.
When the Great Dragon (Kilgarrah his mind whispered, that piece of him still young and too soft-hearted for his own good) told him that destined day that Arthur (his King, his Friend, His Brother) would rise again. The Once and Future King.
And so, he had waited. He had waited, quiet and powerful at Gwen's side as the Court Sorcerer, watching her herald in the age of peace with Magic (he could hardly be expected to smile, of course, when while Gwen was his friend Arthur was his King and it should be him with his eyes glowing with pride for Camelots silent saviour) and even on through the years as all he knew before were constantly replaced with dying faces.
The world had become full of ghosts to him.
And he had waited, so very patiently, because Dragons didn't lie.
No Merlin, Emrys, the Warlock of prophecies long forgotten, scoffed silently to himself as the world ended around him, all but destroyed save for His lake. Dragon's don't lie, but they twist the truth in riddles
He should have known. Arthur had risen again all right, but this time in legend and song as a timeless pinnacle of hope and courage. Albion had yet again become an ideal, with Arthur her constant leader.
And so, as the world fell to dust and ash around him, Merlin closed his weary eyes and fell into his Lake.
Looked like he'd have to go to the Prat.
Yeah I had way too much fun writing this one.
My heart still breaks for the finale but I have to admit it leaves great opportunities for fiction.
Send me a prompt for a oneshot or drabble!