Fic: While Men Lie at Rest
Title: While Men Lie at Rest
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: PG
Warnings: Character death(s) (sort of)
Wordcount: 966
Summary: Everything he had done, everything he had tried and it had come to this...
Author's Notes: Many thanks to farosdaughter for her beta and thoughts on this.
While Men Lie at Rest
Staring at Arthur's body, broken and bloody, Merlin could no longer stand. He sank to his knees beside him. Everything he had done, everything he had tried and it had come to this - Arthur was dead at Mordred's hands. It wasn't supposed to end like this. The future had died with Arthur on the battlefield. Albion had lost her Once and Future King and there was nothing Merlin could do about it.
It was with a heavy heart he asked the knights to take Arthur's body and ferry it to the lake. Merlin knew Avalon lay beneath the otherwise simple lake. He had put a love to rest there a long time ago. Now he was sending another off into the safekeeping of the waters.
The knights left Merlin at the lakeside. He had asked to have a moment with Arthur, alone. There were many who would grieve for him but none would understand the pain Merlin felt. They had not lost the one person they loved, were born to protect through that love.
He wasn't sure how many tears he had shed before he heard her voice again; Freya's voice.
“Merlin?”
He looked up and saw her, still as young as she was when the curse that held her mortal form was broken by her death. Over the years he had seen her several times; she had been the one to gift Arthur the sword Merlin had cast into the lake. It had been her who had given Arthur the blessing of Avalon. Freya had also been the one to bless Merlin and Arthur in a union that could otherwise not have been.
“Emrys,” she spoke again, using the name that had long prophesied Merlin's birth. “Emrys, why are you crying?”
“Arthur is dead,” Merlin choked out. Saying the words made them seem real when all he wanted was for it all to remain a hazy nightmare. “I failed him. I failed Albion and I failed Arthur. This is my fault.”
“Emrys,” Freya spoke again, her form appearing to float upon the water. “Emrys, the half cannot truly die while the other lives.
“What? What do you mean?” Merlin wiped his eyes.
“Oh, Merlin, you still haven't realised have you?”
“Realised what?”
“You and Arthur are two halves of the same whole. And you Emrys are immortal. As you are so is Arthur.”
Merlin looked down at the broken body before him. “Arthur is dead!”
Freya shook her head. “No, search your heart, Merlin, you know.”
There was nothing to lose by listening to Freya, and doing as she asked, Merlin looked inside himself, looked into his heart. It was filled with his love for Arthur, Arthur smiling, Arthur laughing, Arthur determined, wise and just. Arthur was inside his heart and he could feel everything, feel every time they touched, every time they kissed. More than that he felt everything about Arthur, from Arthur; a swirl of emotion that made him giddy and dizzy.
Arthur's body was broken but Arthur wasn't dead, could never be dead.
“Of course I'm not, Merlin!”
Merlin was sure it was Arthur's voice he could hear and wondered if he was even sane any more. Yet he felt a peace inside himself, an understanding he had never had before.
“What do I need to do?” Merlin asked.
“Wait,” Freya said. “Wait and one day you will be reunited.”
“When?”
“That I cannot say,” Freya said. “Go to your rest, Merlin, you and Arthur will sleep now.”
By the time the knights arrived back at the side of the lake they found their king's body gone and Merlin too. There was no sign of either. Several knights searched for Arthur's famous sorcerer but no trace was ever found, just an old oak tree growing by the side of the lake.
1500 years later...
Generations of people were born and died. Some told stories of the lake and the tree but soon the truth was forgotten as hundreds of years went by. The lake was still isolated but people had built a town nearby and they often came to the lake to visit. In the winter children skated on it and in the summer they swam in it, with no idea of what lay beneath. They climbed the old oak and surveyed their world from its branches. Time passed by but the lake stood still, a witness to the passing of history.
Then one night what began as light rain turned into a great storm. Thunder sounded throughout the night whilst lightning flashed outside. The wind howled and was whipping up waves on the ordinarily tranquil lake. The ground seemed to tremble under the onslaught of heavy rain: it was as if the very earth itself was tearing itself apart.
The next morning was calm and sunny with not a cloud in the sky. A few ventured down to the lake to survey the damage. They saw the old oak split into as if it had been struck by lightning but the split was too neat and there was no sign of any burning. It was, they concluded, very odd.
No-one noticed two figures sitting on the other side of the lake, in what must have been an uncomfortable place for the bank would still be wet. If they had they might have heard two voices bickering, the odd word carrying across the breeze toward them.
“Prat...idiot...missed you...here...thought...lost...never.”
Eventually the people departed none the wiser. If they had opened their eyes they might have seen many things. They might have seen what had been the previous resting place of Arthur and Merlin. They might also have seen two men, walking away from the lake hand in hand, two halves making one whole.
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: PG
Warnings: Character death(s) (sort of)
Wordcount: 966
Summary: Everything he had done, everything he had tried and it had come to this...
Author's Notes: Many thanks to farosdaughter for her beta and thoughts on this.
While Men Lie at Rest
Staring at Arthur's body, broken and bloody, Merlin could no longer stand. He sank to his knees beside him. Everything he had done, everything he had tried and it had come to this - Arthur was dead at Mordred's hands. It wasn't supposed to end like this. The future had died with Arthur on the battlefield. Albion had lost her Once and Future King and there was nothing Merlin could do about it.
It was with a heavy heart he asked the knights to take Arthur's body and ferry it to the lake. Merlin knew Avalon lay beneath the otherwise simple lake. He had put a love to rest there a long time ago. Now he was sending another off into the safekeeping of the waters.
The knights left Merlin at the lakeside. He had asked to have a moment with Arthur, alone. There were many who would grieve for him but none would understand the pain Merlin felt. They had not lost the one person they loved, were born to protect through that love.
He wasn't sure how many tears he had shed before he heard her voice again; Freya's voice.
“Merlin?”
He looked up and saw her, still as young as she was when the curse that held her mortal form was broken by her death. Over the years he had seen her several times; she had been the one to gift Arthur the sword Merlin had cast into the lake. It had been her who had given Arthur the blessing of Avalon. Freya had also been the one to bless Merlin and Arthur in a union that could otherwise not have been.
“Emrys,” she spoke again, using the name that had long prophesied Merlin's birth. “Emrys, why are you crying?”
“Arthur is dead,” Merlin choked out. Saying the words made them seem real when all he wanted was for it all to remain a hazy nightmare. “I failed him. I failed Albion and I failed Arthur. This is my fault.”
“Emrys,” Freya spoke again, her form appearing to float upon the water. “Emrys, the half cannot truly die while the other lives.
“What? What do you mean?” Merlin wiped his eyes.
“Oh, Merlin, you still haven't realised have you?”
“Realised what?”
“You and Arthur are two halves of the same whole. And you Emrys are immortal. As you are so is Arthur.”
Merlin looked down at the broken body before him. “Arthur is dead!”
Freya shook her head. “No, search your heart, Merlin, you know.”
There was nothing to lose by listening to Freya, and doing as she asked, Merlin looked inside himself, looked into his heart. It was filled with his love for Arthur, Arthur smiling, Arthur laughing, Arthur determined, wise and just. Arthur was inside his heart and he could feel everything, feel every time they touched, every time they kissed. More than that he felt everything about Arthur, from Arthur; a swirl of emotion that made him giddy and dizzy.
Arthur's body was broken but Arthur wasn't dead, could never be dead.
“Of course I'm not, Merlin!”
Merlin was sure it was Arthur's voice he could hear and wondered if he was even sane any more. Yet he felt a peace inside himself, an understanding he had never had before.
“What do I need to do?” Merlin asked.
“Wait,” Freya said. “Wait and one day you will be reunited.”
“When?”
“That I cannot say,” Freya said. “Go to your rest, Merlin, you and Arthur will sleep now.”
By the time the knights arrived back at the side of the lake they found their king's body gone and Merlin too. There was no sign of either. Several knights searched for Arthur's famous sorcerer but no trace was ever found, just an old oak tree growing by the side of the lake.
1500 years later...
Generations of people were born and died. Some told stories of the lake and the tree but soon the truth was forgotten as hundreds of years went by. The lake was still isolated but people had built a town nearby and they often came to the lake to visit. In the winter children skated on it and in the summer they swam in it, with no idea of what lay beneath. They climbed the old oak and surveyed their world from its branches. Time passed by but the lake stood still, a witness to the passing of history.
Then one night what began as light rain turned into a great storm. Thunder sounded throughout the night whilst lightning flashed outside. The wind howled and was whipping up waves on the ordinarily tranquil lake. The ground seemed to tremble under the onslaught of heavy rain: it was as if the very earth itself was tearing itself apart.
The next morning was calm and sunny with not a cloud in the sky. A few ventured down to the lake to survey the damage. They saw the old oak split into as if it had been struck by lightning but the split was too neat and there was no sign of any burning. It was, they concluded, very odd.
No-one noticed two figures sitting on the other side of the lake, in what must have been an uncomfortable place for the bank would still be wet. If they had they might have heard two voices bickering, the odd word carrying across the breeze toward them.
“Prat...idiot...missed you...here...thought...lost...never.”
Eventually the people departed none the wiser. If they had opened their eyes they might have seen many things. They might have seen what had been the previous resting place of Arthur and Merlin. They might also have seen two men, walking away from the lake hand in hand, two halves making one whole.