Merlin: Untitled
Untitled
Fandom: Merlin
Rating: pg
Spoilers: none
Warning: Seriously angtsy, and sad, and painful. dont expect any happy. I don't know what possesed me to write this depressing little fic, but the bunny wouldn't go away. There's death, I'd warn more specifically but it would spoil it, so don't read if you dont like death. Why do I write fluff for angsty shows, and angst for happy shows? ah well.
They had been hunting in the forest, laughing and joking with a sense of freedom neither of them got to feel very often. Arthur teased Merlin about his pathetic hunting skills, Merlin took great delight in 'accidentally' scaring away the animals just as Arthur was about to shoot. It was a good day.
They came from nowhere, at least twenty of them, armed to the teeth with death in their eyes. Arthur fought well, but was simply overwhelmed by their numbers. Merlin cast out with his magic, not caring that Arthur would see him. The warriors could not fight his magic, the battle was turning in their favour, it would have been okay.
One of the smaller, older warriors surged forward, screaming in an unknown tounge. Merlin found himself blinded and crippled with pain. Merlin's magic burst forth with an intensity driven by fear, killing every emeny in the clearing. It had taken him but a moment to fight off the older man's magic, but it was long enough.
Merlin cast his gaze across the bodies littering the clearing, searching for his prince. A familiar golden head was just visible under the body of one of the strange warriors. Merlin was by his side before he realised he was moving, hefting away the crushing weight of the warrior. Arthur's breathing was laboured, his face full of pain. It took a moment before Merlin saw the large, growing red stain across the front of his master's tunic.
"Arthur? Arthur, look at me."
Arthur's eyes fluttered open and focused on his manservant's concerned face.
"Merlin?" He sounded weak, confused.
"I'm here, I'm here. You're going to be okay, it's going to be fine."
A small, sad smile flittered across Arthur's face. "Always the optimist, arn't you, Merlin?"
Arthur clutched tightly to Merlin's hand as a bout of painful sounding coughs shook his body.
"I'm dying, Merlin."
"No," Merlin shook his head stubbornly. "No, I won't let you."
Before Arthur could speak again, Merlin placed his hands over the wound on Arthur's abdomen, chanting in the strange tounge that harnessed his magic. There was a bright flash of light beneath his palms, and Arthur groaned in pain. Merlin quickly checked the wound, but it was still bleeding as fast as ever. He tried again, and again, and again, but all he did was exhaust himself until he had no magic left to draw on.
"Merlin, Merlin stop. It's not working." Arthur's voice was quiet, but calm. "But you stopped it hurting, so your not compleatly useless. At least as a sorcerer, your still a terrible servant."
Merlin let out a slightly hysterical laugh, then tried to stand on shakey legs, the fatigue from the repeated spellwork showing on his face.
"Merlin?" Arthur clutched tighter to Merlin's hand, stopping him from standing.
"I'm...I'll run back to the castle, I'll get Gaius, he can help."
"Merlin, no."
"I can get there in under two hours, if I run, you just have to hold on."
Merlin went to stand, but Arthur pulled him down again, his grip strong, even wounded as he was.
"Please, Arthur. It's your only chance."
"I don't want to die alone."
Hearing the note of terror in Arthur's voice, Merlin stopped. Nodding, he gathered Arthur in his arms and stumbled a few feet towards the trees.
"What are you doing?" Arthur rasped out.
"I'm just... I don't want to sit next to those warriors."
Merlin carefully set Arthur down before he collapsed. He settled himself in the grass, leaning against a smooth boulder, before pulling Arthur up between his legs to lean against his chest.
"Is that alright?" He murmured into Arthur's ear.
"That's perfect." Arthur replied as he rested his head on Merlin's shoulder. "I love you, you know." He said solemnly.
"I know, I love you too." Merlin rested his cheek on his prince's soft hair, silent tears streaming down his face.
"Keep talking." Arthur mumbled tiredly.
"What about?"
"Anything."
So Merlin sat with his dying prince lying in his arms, and he spoke of good times past; of the jokes they'd shared, the things they'd done, the fights they'd had, even the occasional pranks they'd pulled, and when gurgling coughs wraked Arthur's body, he spoke soothing, quiet words, and stroked his hand through Arthur's hair. He lost track of how long he sat there, but the sun cast long shadows when Arthur began to shiver, and was beginning to set when he stopped. Even when Arthur stopped breathing, Merlin held him, stroked his hair, and it was long past dark before he accepted that his prince was dead.
He lay them both down on the ground, curling himself protectivly over Arthur's body. For most of that night Merlin's screams carried through the forest, the broken, pain-filled sound of someone who had lost his heart. By morning his throat was raw, and only pained whimpers escaped him as he burrowed his face into Arthur's neck. That's how Uther's men found them.
They say it took four men to wrest Merlin's kicking, screaming form away from Arthur's body. They say the man who shared his horse with him had to hold Merlin up to keep his limp charge from falling to the ground all the way to camelot. They say that though the whole kingdom grieved, none grieved like Merlin, not even the King. Merlin held Arthur's hand as they prepared him for burial, he walked beside as they took him to the crypt. He lay resting on the cold stone long after all the other mourner's had left, until Gaius got a man to carry his still form back their rooms. And not once did Merlin speak.
Merlin lay silently on his bed for days before Gaius became truly worried. He would drink water when it was put in his hands, but he would not eat. He barely moved, and any attempt at conversation was met with Merlin simply turning his face into the pillow. Gaius tried begging, he tried threats, he tried cold water, but nothing would make Merlin move. It had been over a week since Arthur's death when Gaius changed tacts.
"Do you think this is what Arthur would have wanted? Do you think he wished you to waste your life away grieving for him?"
Then Merlin turned his head, met his old tutor's eyes, and spoke his first words since Arthur's death.
"Arthur was my destiny, without him, I have no life."
For another month, nothing changed. Merlin lay, listless, living off nothing but the potions Gaius forced him to drink and the magic inside himself, sustaining his life whether he wished it or not. Gaius stopped trying to talk to him, instead, every night he would read to Merlin from a book of Greek myths he had loved to read as a child. He read him the story of Persephone and the pomegrante seeds, the story of Narcissus and his vanity, Arachne and her web. As he read, Merlin would turn his head to listen, so Gaius continued to read every night.
Zeus, Apollo, Hera and Eros. He told stories of them all. He read the stories of Perseus beheading the Medusa, of Aphrodite setting in motion the great war of Troy. He read of Orpheus failing to rescue his love from the underworld, and the great adventures of the Argonauts. Then one day he entered Merlin's room to find him standing, he almost cried out in shock.
"Can I have some breakfast? Or dinner, whatever." Merlin's voice was raspy from disuse, but it was the sweetest sound Gaius had ever heard.
After that, life went back to normal. Merlin rarley spoke, and never laughed, but he would eat, and perform his duties, and do other things Gaius requested of him. Every time he had free though, Merlin wandered out into the city. When Gaius asked him about it, he merely replied he was walking, so Gaius left him be. He would speak to Gwen sometimes, about the pain of loosing Arthur, and sometimes, just sometimes, he would smile. So Gaius stopped worrying, they thought he was getting better.
It was Gaius who found Merlin's body. He went in to wake the sleeping boy, and found him lying still and cold. There were strange books scattered about the room, books on magic and myth, science and theology. Gaius didn't know what to make of any of them, save for one book of Greek myths, lying open at the story of Orpheus, who followed his love into the underworld.
Merlin was buried in the cemetery behind the castle, surrounded by his friends. Many people attended the funeral, for Merlin's quick wit and easy smile had engendered a fondness for him in many of the castle staff. Gwen wept on Morgana's shoulder, even Uther was seen watching from a high window. As the small crowd dispersed, returning to their lives, Gauis put his hand on the fresh grave and said fairwell to the only son he had ever know.
******************************************************************
Merlin drifted through the darkness, he was blind, deaf and mute, and had no idea where he was. He was terrified, but he pushed on. The Dragon had said they were two halves of a whole, and Merlin trusted that to guide him. He was coming back with Arthur, even if it took him a century. He was coming back with Arthur, or he wasn't coming back at all.
Fandom: Merlin
Rating: pg
Spoilers: none
Warning: Seriously angtsy, and sad, and painful. dont expect any happy. I don't know what possesed me to write this depressing little fic, but the bunny wouldn't go away. There's death, I'd warn more specifically but it would spoil it, so don't read if you dont like death. Why do I write fluff for angsty shows, and angst for happy shows? ah well.
They had been hunting in the forest, laughing and joking with a sense of freedom neither of them got to feel very often. Arthur teased Merlin about his pathetic hunting skills, Merlin took great delight in 'accidentally' scaring away the animals just as Arthur was about to shoot. It was a good day.
They came from nowhere, at least twenty of them, armed to the teeth with death in their eyes. Arthur fought well, but was simply overwhelmed by their numbers. Merlin cast out with his magic, not caring that Arthur would see him. The warriors could not fight his magic, the battle was turning in their favour, it would have been okay.
One of the smaller, older warriors surged forward, screaming in an unknown tounge. Merlin found himself blinded and crippled with pain. Merlin's magic burst forth with an intensity driven by fear, killing every emeny in the clearing. It had taken him but a moment to fight off the older man's magic, but it was long enough.
Merlin cast his gaze across the bodies littering the clearing, searching for his prince. A familiar golden head was just visible under the body of one of the strange warriors. Merlin was by his side before he realised he was moving, hefting away the crushing weight of the warrior. Arthur's breathing was laboured, his face full of pain. It took a moment before Merlin saw the large, growing red stain across the front of his master's tunic.
"Arthur? Arthur, look at me."
Arthur's eyes fluttered open and focused on his manservant's concerned face.
"Merlin?" He sounded weak, confused.
"I'm here, I'm here. You're going to be okay, it's going to be fine."
A small, sad smile flittered across Arthur's face. "Always the optimist, arn't you, Merlin?"
Arthur clutched tightly to Merlin's hand as a bout of painful sounding coughs shook his body.
"I'm dying, Merlin."
"No," Merlin shook his head stubbornly. "No, I won't let you."
Before Arthur could speak again, Merlin placed his hands over the wound on Arthur's abdomen, chanting in the strange tounge that harnessed his magic. There was a bright flash of light beneath his palms, and Arthur groaned in pain. Merlin quickly checked the wound, but it was still bleeding as fast as ever. He tried again, and again, and again, but all he did was exhaust himself until he had no magic left to draw on.
"Merlin, Merlin stop. It's not working." Arthur's voice was quiet, but calm. "But you stopped it hurting, so your not compleatly useless. At least as a sorcerer, your still a terrible servant."
Merlin let out a slightly hysterical laugh, then tried to stand on shakey legs, the fatigue from the repeated spellwork showing on his face.
"Merlin?" Arthur clutched tighter to Merlin's hand, stopping him from standing.
"I'm...I'll run back to the castle, I'll get Gaius, he can help."
"Merlin, no."
"I can get there in under two hours, if I run, you just have to hold on."
Merlin went to stand, but Arthur pulled him down again, his grip strong, even wounded as he was.
"Please, Arthur. It's your only chance."
"I don't want to die alone."
Hearing the note of terror in Arthur's voice, Merlin stopped. Nodding, he gathered Arthur in his arms and stumbled a few feet towards the trees.
"What are you doing?" Arthur rasped out.
"I'm just... I don't want to sit next to those warriors."
Merlin carefully set Arthur down before he collapsed. He settled himself in the grass, leaning against a smooth boulder, before pulling Arthur up between his legs to lean against his chest.
"Is that alright?" He murmured into Arthur's ear.
"That's perfect." Arthur replied as he rested his head on Merlin's shoulder. "I love you, you know." He said solemnly.
"I know, I love you too." Merlin rested his cheek on his prince's soft hair, silent tears streaming down his face.
"Keep talking." Arthur mumbled tiredly.
"What about?"
"Anything."
So Merlin sat with his dying prince lying in his arms, and he spoke of good times past; of the jokes they'd shared, the things they'd done, the fights they'd had, even the occasional pranks they'd pulled, and when gurgling coughs wraked Arthur's body, he spoke soothing, quiet words, and stroked his hand through Arthur's hair. He lost track of how long he sat there, but the sun cast long shadows when Arthur began to shiver, and was beginning to set when he stopped. Even when Arthur stopped breathing, Merlin held him, stroked his hair, and it was long past dark before he accepted that his prince was dead.
He lay them both down on the ground, curling himself protectivly over Arthur's body. For most of that night Merlin's screams carried through the forest, the broken, pain-filled sound of someone who had lost his heart. By morning his throat was raw, and only pained whimpers escaped him as he burrowed his face into Arthur's neck. That's how Uther's men found them.
They say it took four men to wrest Merlin's kicking, screaming form away from Arthur's body. They say the man who shared his horse with him had to hold Merlin up to keep his limp charge from falling to the ground all the way to camelot. They say that though the whole kingdom grieved, none grieved like Merlin, not even the King. Merlin held Arthur's hand as they prepared him for burial, he walked beside as they took him to the crypt. He lay resting on the cold stone long after all the other mourner's had left, until Gaius got a man to carry his still form back their rooms. And not once did Merlin speak.
Merlin lay silently on his bed for days before Gaius became truly worried. He would drink water when it was put in his hands, but he would not eat. He barely moved, and any attempt at conversation was met with Merlin simply turning his face into the pillow. Gaius tried begging, he tried threats, he tried cold water, but nothing would make Merlin move. It had been over a week since Arthur's death when Gaius changed tacts.
"Do you think this is what Arthur would have wanted? Do you think he wished you to waste your life away grieving for him?"
Then Merlin turned his head, met his old tutor's eyes, and spoke his first words since Arthur's death.
"Arthur was my destiny, without him, I have no life."
For another month, nothing changed. Merlin lay, listless, living off nothing but the potions Gaius forced him to drink and the magic inside himself, sustaining his life whether he wished it or not. Gaius stopped trying to talk to him, instead, every night he would read to Merlin from a book of Greek myths he had loved to read as a child. He read him the story of Persephone and the pomegrante seeds, the story of Narcissus and his vanity, Arachne and her web. As he read, Merlin would turn his head to listen, so Gaius continued to read every night.
Zeus, Apollo, Hera and Eros. He told stories of them all. He read the stories of Perseus beheading the Medusa, of Aphrodite setting in motion the great war of Troy. He read of Orpheus failing to rescue his love from the underworld, and the great adventures of the Argonauts. Then one day he entered Merlin's room to find him standing, he almost cried out in shock.
"Can I have some breakfast? Or dinner, whatever." Merlin's voice was raspy from disuse, but it was the sweetest sound Gaius had ever heard.
After that, life went back to normal. Merlin rarley spoke, and never laughed, but he would eat, and perform his duties, and do other things Gaius requested of him. Every time he had free though, Merlin wandered out into the city. When Gaius asked him about it, he merely replied he was walking, so Gaius left him be. He would speak to Gwen sometimes, about the pain of loosing Arthur, and sometimes, just sometimes, he would smile. So Gaius stopped worrying, they thought he was getting better.
It was Gaius who found Merlin's body. He went in to wake the sleeping boy, and found him lying still and cold. There were strange books scattered about the room, books on magic and myth, science and theology. Gaius didn't know what to make of any of them, save for one book of Greek myths, lying open at the story of Orpheus, who followed his love into the underworld.
Merlin was buried in the cemetery behind the castle, surrounded by his friends. Many people attended the funeral, for Merlin's quick wit and easy smile had engendered a fondness for him in many of the castle staff. Gwen wept on Morgana's shoulder, even Uther was seen watching from a high window. As the small crowd dispersed, returning to their lives, Gauis put his hand on the fresh grave and said fairwell to the only son he had ever know.
******************************************************************
Merlin drifted through the darkness, he was blind, deaf and mute, and had no idea where he was. He was terrified, but he pushed on. The Dragon had said they were two halves of a whole, and Merlin trusted that to guide him. He was coming back with Arthur, even if it took him a century. He was coming back with Arthur, or he wasn't coming back at all.