Sunrise sunset
Author: archaeologist_d
Title: Sunrise, sunset
Rating: G
Pairing/s:
Character/s: Merlin, Percival
Summary: Merlin doesn’t want to leave the Lake, not before Arthur returns
Warnings: none
Word Count: 687
Camelot Drabble Prompt #573: Orange
Disclaimer: I do not own the BBC version of Merlin; They and Shine do. I am very respectfully borrowing them with no intent to profit. No money has changed hands. No copyright infringement is intended.
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Silence. Not the sound of birdsong nor the laps of waves against the shore. Nor the gentle whisper of leaves rustling in the trees. There was only one sound Merlin wanted to hear, and that voice, that laughter, that forgiveness, was floating away, Arthur’s bier a boat sailing off into the mist.
Merlin didn’t know how long he sat there. The sky turned to orange, then red, then the dusky purple before darkness fell. There was black night and the glow of a sunrise and still Merlin sat there, waiting for Arthur’s return.
He didn’t eat, grew thirsty then ignoring his own body, stared out into the distance.
Another day, perhaps. Merlin lost count. No longer paying attention to the world, only focused on one thing, when Arthur would tell him he was being an idiot and then Merlin would laugh and laugh for the sheer joy of it.
He didn’t hear the jingle of a horse drawing near or Percival’s gentle voice calling his name. He didn’t react when the man forced water down his throat and a softened piece of bread. He didn’t listen to Percival’s growing concern.
It was only when Percival slapped him that he blinked awake. “I failed him.”
“Merlin, you need to come back to Camelot. With Arthur… gone, the Queen will need you there. She’s been worried sick.”
Percival sounded frantic, as if he thought Merlin might die right before his eyes.
“I can’t leave. He might come back, and I won’t be here to take care of him. And he’ll yell at me and I can’t.” Merlin bent down, burying his face in his hands, no longer seeing the orange of coming night but the red of failure in everything he touched.
“Merlin, I can’t leave you here, like this. Gwen would never forgive me.” When Merlin looked up, he could see the worry there and the grief.
“Tell her, I’ll come back when he does. I’ll bring him to her, and we’ll have a feast and we’ll rejoice together. Tell her I will always be her friend. Tell her… I can’t.” Merlin turned away then, done with any talk of returning to Camelot.
Percival should have known better. Yanking Merlin up, almost cradling him in his arms as if he thought Merlin might fly away, Percival started up the slope, away from Arthur.
With a cry, Merlin punched him, then free, threw his hands out. Percival flew in the air, then groaned as he hit the ground.
Furious and frantic, Merlin shouted, “Go back to Camelot. And don’t send anyone else. I will come when Arthur returns and not until then.”
Percival stared at him a moment, then started toward Merlin again, but with a sweep of his hands, Percival ended up back on the ground.
With a cold shake of his head, Merlin said, “Don’t make me hurt you but I will. I will.”
“Merlin, you are not yourself. This isn’t you.” But when Merlin just glared at him, Percival sighed, nodding as he said, “I will tell her. I hope you find peace, Merlin.”
And Merlin was alone again.
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He thought he’d been clear enough. To leave him alone, to know that Arthur would return and he had to be there when he did.
Gwen, sweet foolish Gwen, was persistent, though, sending knight after knight to reason with him. She even tried subterfuge, using Hunith to beg for him to return home at least, to heal enough that he would be of use to Arthur when he came back.
But one look and his mum knew. Merlin would not be moved, not even for her.
He had failed his destiny and he’d be damned if he’d do it again.
So instead, Gwen had a cottage built by the side of the lake, the doorway facing out toward the tower and the water. She sent foodstuffs and furs for winter and once a year a letter begging him to return.
He never did.
Instead, ever faithful, watching the sun rise and the sun set as centuries flowed past, waiting, waiting for his king to come again.