FIC: The Last
Title: The Last
Author: minuialeth75
Beta: marindamar
Fandom: Merlin
Rating: G
Word Count: 530
Characters: Merlin
Summary: It's time to say goodbye
Warning: Character's death
Author's notes: I had a vision of this when watching the end of 4x09 "Lancelot du Lac". I'm aware it doesn't really keep with most of the legends but I had to get it out of my chest.
Disclaimer: I do not own "Merlin"; the BBC and Shine do. I'm not making any money out of this, just enjoying myself. A lot.
No copyright infringement is intended.
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The sun had dared to be shining brightly when Merlin had set off. Now the sky was overcast with ominous black clouds and thunderclaps could be heard in the distance.
He knew the weather had drastically changed in a few moments because of his mood.
Of course Arthur would have said that he was really full of himself if he thought he could change the weather with nary a thought.
The sharp slice of acute pain in his chest didn't come, neither did the tears.
Merlin was beyond tears and pain. It seemed that only his magic was holding the shards of his heart together.
The lake's water was coloured black by the clouds reflecting on it. It had been ages since he last came here, yet it seemed it was only a few years, even if his weary bones told him otherwise.
Two persons he had held dear were resting here. It seemed only fitting that the dearest one, the last one, should join them.
Merlin magically floated Arthur's body closer to the shore while he created a boat out of thin air, filling it with red and golden flowers, like the Pendragon crest - the things that had seemed extraordinary to him when he first achieved them were now as easy as breathing.
Arthur's chest was still, so terribly still, would be still forever.
Merlin faltered briefly. He forced himself to look at Arthur's face instead. A face as familiar as his own, perhaps even more, etched with deep lines, and some battle scars Arthur had refused to have Merlin erase.
He slowly floated Arthur to the boat waiting on the water and gingerly laid him down inside, among the flowers. Arthur, who had been enveloped in magic and protected by magic in life, was now surrounded by it.
Merlin teetered on the shore, his whole being longing to join Arthur in the boat because everywhere Arthur went, he went too. But he knew, he knew this time he couldn't be at Arthur's side for this adventure.
His magic kept whispering to him what he already knew: he had to stay behind. It wasn't his time, and it wasn't his place. His place was no longer at Arthur's side. The coin had been cleaved in two.
Merlin couldn't set fire to the boat. For the first time in ages, his magic wasn't responding to him. He kept trying to reach into the center of his being, but there was no magic there, only a gaping chasm.
He extended his arm, palm open and had to brokenly whisper the spell, closing his eyes because he couldn't, didn't want to see. As he felt his magic bursting forth, Arthur's booming laugh, carefree smile and youthful face from a long time ago, flashed through his mind.
Merlin opened his eyes just in time to see two pair of hands, one feminine, one masculine, griping the edges of the burning boat, gently tugging it underwater, until only the golden light coming from the flames - still ablaze - could be seen. And then, there was nothing. The rain started to fall.
Now he could mourn. Until the end of time.