TW! MENTIONS SELF-HARM AND SUICIDAL THOUGHTS.
Be safe! ❤️

It was night. Merlin sat with his back against the door, listening to the sounds of Gaius bumping around in the room below, trying to be as quiet as possible. It had been a long day, a dark day. Another day of Merlin's miserable tangle with destiny. The kingdom was saved, Arthur was alive, and Merlin was left to lick his wounds in private.

It wasn't the lack of recognition that weighed on him, but the resentment that was steadily building against his own kind. Magic users. The people from whom he was born. The people he was now destined to destroy. He had a close position with the king, should he not have some influence? Should he not be able to encourage Arthur to seek peace? Why did it seem that with every passing day, a united Camelot became more and more a distant dream?

How could this be destiny? How could she be so cruel?

Merlin had thought about suicide before. Many times, though no one was ever to know. He had, instead, carved long cuts down his thighs. The feeling it gave him was a brief euphoria. The one thing he had control over. Perhaps he didn't own his life, but he owned the right to end it. And though he told himself he'd never go so far as to do it, the sting of the knife on his flesh made him feel so capable.

He sat then, back against the door, spinning the knife between his fingers. He felt for the tip. It was sharp and well-maintained. One of Arthur's, though Arthur would never miss it. A bead of blood blossomed on his fingertip, and Merlin stared at it.

His heart beat like a caged bird in his chest. It wouldn't take much, not really, and he'd never have to worry about destiny ever again. But Gaius… Would he be left to find Merlin's body? Would he be forced to carry that guilt for the rest of his life?

Merlin sighed and put the knife away.

There was a knock at his door. Gentle, but with authority. Merlin stirred at the sound. He was still sitting on the floor, the knife hidden in the mess in his room.

For a minute, Merlin was dazed. The windows were light now. The sunlight was streaming in, catching the dust floating around in the air. He could hear the castle had come to life.

The knock came again, and a familiar voice rang out from behind it.

"Mer-lin, get up, will you? We've got a big day ahead."

Arthur? Arthur was here?

Merlin scrambled up unsteadily and pulled the door open. Too fast. He stumbled and fell against Arthur's shoulder.

"Been at the tavern again, Merlin?" Arthur laughed, and he held on until Merlin had regained his balance.

"Something like that," Merlin muttered darkly.

Either Arthur didn't notice his tone, or he didn't care.

"Come on," said the king, "We're going on a hunt."

He slapped Merlin on the shoulder and walked from the room.

It was a miserable day for a hunt. Despite the early morning sunshine. A misty rain had come over Camelot. The sky was a bleak grey. The forest was full of wind and damp. Water trickled down through the canopy and crashed onto the leaf litter.

Arthur was stoked.

"The sound of rain falling will disguise our approach." He grinned at Merlin.

Huddled in his jacket, and bracing against the rain, Merlin only nodded in response.

The sound of falling rain… he mused.

They followed a herd of deer for at least an hour. Arthur lined up his shot. A buck in its prime. It almost seemed a waste. It looked around, almost right at them. Maybe it saw, maybe it didn't. Merlin found himself looking deep into its dark eyes. And then the crossbow fired. The bolt struck it through the heart.

A cheer went up from the hunting party. Arthur slapped Merlin on the shoulder. For a moment, everyone was distracted. Merlin felt sick like he was about to throw up. It felt like his soul had stepped back out of his body and he'd become an outside observer. The feeling was terrifying. Like the forest floor was shifting around. Like all the noise had become too loud. The dead buck was staring straight into his soul. Get away. Get away. Said a voice in his mind. Merlin took his chance. Somehow it made sense in the moment. He took his chance, knowing that by the time Arthur looked around, he would be gone. The sound of falling rain crashed all around him.

"Merlin!"

He heard his name called over and over through the growing dark. At first Arthur, then the others. Then more voices he didn't recognize.

Arthur sounded angry, then frustrated. And finally, he sounded scared.

Merlin waited till it all went silent. It got darker and colder. The rain came in heavier.

He didn't have a plan. It had been an instinct, an impulse. Get away.

But now, sitting out in the forest in the dark and the cold, Merlin couldn't bring himself to do it. He couldn't get the sound of Arthur's voice out of his head. He couldn't stop thinking about Gaius. He couldn't help but wonder who would look after everything if he wasn't around. And he felt guilty and sick. And angry at himself.

The lights of Camelot twinkled on the hill.

Merlin made his way back home.

Arthur was angry, and rightly so.

"Where did you go?"

Merlin stared at the floor in Arthur's chambers.

"We were calling for you. Was this some kind of joke? A trick?"

Still, Merlin said nothing.

"Do you think it was funny? Are you proud of yourself? Look at me!"

Merlin looked up finally. Arthur looked confused. It felt like a stab in the stomach. He was supposed to keep things running smoothly. They'd called off the hunt because of him. He'd ruined everything.

"I'm sorry, sire, it won't happen again." Merlin went back to looking at the floor.

"See that it doesn't."

Gaius was out when Merlin stumbled home. The physician's chambers were cold and empty, the fire was out. Ashes littered the floor. Merlin knew he should light the fire, and make things easier. He should tidy. But his head was aching. His body felt sick. Hot and cold. Everything just felt confusing. He didn't know what to do and he couldn't breathe. He stumbled into his room and fell onto the floor.

Everything was starting to spin.

"Are you proud of yourself?"

Arthur's voice was so loud. He didn't care! He doesn't care. If Merlin needed proof, he had it now. No one cares. No one cares. Gaius didn't even care enough to be here when he got back. No one cares.

He needed to calm down. Merlin scrabbled in the dark for the knife. It cut his fingers when he found it. He brought it to his wrists. He'd never cut his wrists before. Too obvious, too easy to see. But no one cares so why does it matter? He dug the knife in. Deeper and deeper. It was too dark to see the damage he'd done. The world was spinning anyway so what did it matter if it spun some more? He kept going until the air was thick with the iron smell of blood. He kept going until the dark closed in around him.