It was the start of a beautiful long summer. Full of hope and joy and love, Merlin and Arthur fell into a pattern of light romance and fulfilment they could only find when with each other.
Arthur learned of Merlin’s magic. His ability to read the winds, listen to the tides, feel the oceans moving when he couldn’t see them, how he could interpret nature with barely a second thought. Saw his ability to sketch and mould words into delicate phrases, that could roll of his tongue with a soft elegance Merlin’s person didn’t posses. Merlin wrote him letters, hundreds of them, but they’re importance soon was lost.
The war came. The days became shorter, the nights became longer and everything was colder, everything was darker. But they thought nothing of it. Merlin wasn’t army material, and Arthur was too wealthy to go for now. They worked hard on the home front, providing for their families, Arthur leaving his formal duties on an almost daily basis to help run the lands. Life was good. Life was easy. Life was safe.
Uther Pendragon, however, had other ideas. It was now December 1915, and the army was getting desperate. Conscription was on the cards, and Uther did not want the shame on his family of a son who wouldn’t willingly volunteer to fight. So he signed Arthur up.
A gruelling winter followed, a winter that felt like it was eternity, their last winter together.
Arthur was gone by February.
“Promise me you’ll write.” Arthur begged Merlin the night before he left, “Don’t leave me, Merlin. I know you can’t come out yourself, you’re needed here and your lungs aren’t strong enough but please, Merlin, I beg of you, don’t forget me. I need you on the battlefield, I need your words.”
Merlin just nodded, silent tears rolling down his cheeks in a torrent that wouldn’t stop. Neither of them were stupid. They’d seen the news, heard the reports. They’d been lied to. The war wasn’t going as well as anyone made out, men were dying everywhere. A generation was nearly all wiped out. And there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.
He’d been gone a month before Merlin received a letter.
I can’t write much, Merlin, we haven’t been given much time. They say we’ll be able to receive more letters than we can write, I hope that’s okay.
It’s really not as bad out here as we thought. I mean, yes there are a lot of wounded men and bodies lying at the sides of roads and there’s death and destruction everywhere, but it could be worse. Surely it could be worse?
I miss you already, Merlin. More than you will ever know.
For you, now and always, Arthur.
He was lying of course. It was as bad as it had seemed to them even from the hundreds of miles away. The levels of horror were off the scale, men were losing their minds and they had barely been there a month. It was not going to be easy. For a few months, life went on. Merlin worked the fields, writing to Arthur as often as he could without being seen as suspicious. Arthur continued to fight, spending time here there and everywhere. On the frontlines, in a small safe house in France, drinking with the guys when he wasn’t on active duty.
Then the rumours came through on the wireless. The Somme they were calling it. The Battle of the Somme. Merlin knew this was it. Everyone around him could only see the honour and the glory it would bring to the men. But he could sense it. The Somme would be the end of days for thousands of people.
Arthur The wind is cooler again now; it seems that the heat from the summer has long since passed despite it being only June. Father thinks this year’s harvest isn’t going to be as good as last years, I agree. It’s like when the war began the whole world thought it was going to end so there was no point in producing the crops. And it certainly feels like that. The crops can’t grow, the light has gone, the animals are too jumpy to produce food, and all around is the news of death and destruction. I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but you did ask to be kept updated on the news of the town. Mrs Harthwight’s son died last week, the telegram arrived on Monday. You might know this of course, I’ve never really know who is in your regiment, which of our boys you still see, but I thought I should tell you. He’s being well remembered too. They’ve built a small memorial for all our boys who have died in the town square, each of them having a separate plaque with their names on. Nice really, but a painful reminder of the fate that awaits so many of them.
The word back from the front is that everything is okay. That’s a lie. How can no one feel it in the air? The wind shifting because of the hands of death that have gripped onto the world and are refusing to let go.
I miss you, Arthur. More than I ever thought imaginable. And I fear that we will never see each other again. They’re lying to us, my darling. They’re saying that everything will be fine and all our men will come back alive and well, ready to take back their jobs and we can rebuild our lives. Yet it won’t happen. They’ve begun to recruit the women; the Women’s Land Army, the Women’s Royal Air Force, the Women’s Royal Navy, all so they can send more men out to where you are.
They’re trying not to frighten us, it’s not working. The men are staying strong because they have to, the women are falling apart. They don’t want to lose anyone. Brothers, fathers, sons, lovers, they’ve all been lost in this fight. Maybe I’m becoming more of a girl, but I can understand where they are coming from. The men left behind are fine. They don’t have to worry about the ones who have gone away; I worry about you constantly.
Especially with all these rumours about the Somme. If anything happens to you there Arthur I swear I will be out there in a heartbeat, fighting where you once stood because they cannot hurt you and get away with it, your life is far too precious for that.
Oh Gods, time is running short, and since I fear this will be my final message to you I need to say certain things.
First of all, I love you. More than anything in the world, more than the horses who plough the fields, more than my own mother. I love you more than life itself. The world is darker now you’ve gone away. And I think that even the battlefield would be a happy place if you were there with me. I miss your smile, the crookedness of your teeth that Lady Morgana thinks need reshaping. I miss the shine in your eyes when you’re planning jokes on people. I miss the way you laugh, your head thrown back and a massive grin upon your face, I miss the way your shoulders shake with glee. You’re an arrogant prat, and I love you all the more for it.
But most of all, I want to say thank you. For making me smile, for making me laugh, for making me better. Before I met you, I was a different person. Guarded and insecure, I flung myself threw life avoiding anyone who tried to stand in my way because it was easier to do so.
There are dark days afoot and they are going to be hard, Arthur. You’re going to face things you can only see in your darkest dreams, where the ghosts of your friends haunt your thoughts into oblivion. The stars do not read well Uncle Gaius says. There’s something coming. Lady Morgana’s nightmares have returned, I hear her screaming in the dead of night, when all that should be heard is the hoots of the owls as they wake for their day.
My last thoughts to you though are these. Remember the days where we kissed in the rain? Hiding behind Mr Harrow’s cottage, laughing as we watched him herding the pigs into their shy, his stick in the air and him shouting with all his might to try and get them to move? Do you remember when we swam in the lake? And a carp got caught in your trousers because I’d pushed you in fully clothed? Mother shouted at me so much that day. When we both came in sopping wet and she had to get your clothes dry before your father wondered where you were and why you were completely soaked.
It’s so lonely here now, Arthur. Every place I go is just full of memories of you. I miss you so much, I love you so much. Just think of all that might still be, what might have been, believe in that.
Perceval Green. Died, Battle of the Somme, July 1st 1916. Elyan Smith. Died, Battle of the Somme, July 1st 1916. Lancelot Scully. Died, Battle of the Somme, July 1st 1916. Gwaine Gorlois. Died, Battle of the Somme, July 1st 1916. Leon Carr. Died, Battle of the Somme, July 1st 1916. Arthur Pendragon. Died, Battle of the Somme, July 1st 1916.
All just boys. A band of brothers born to fight, born to die. Falling together on that fateful day, never to return to their loved ones ever again.
July 1st 1916, the day the world ended, the day that Merlin lost everything, the day the words fell away forever.
Jesus Christ, thanks for breaking my heart, oh my god. They’re lying to us, my darling. I just. It's too much. It's beautiful and horrific and I'm sitting here bawling my eyes out.
This was really beautifully written. It's amazing. I can't even express it. I love the gentle flow of your story, the story of how they met and fell for each other. The longing that the letters conveyed. And those final telegrams were like an arrow to the heart. Wonderful. Thank you.
I saved this up to read when I could be alone, some place where no one could see me cry - because after skimming the first couple paragraphs, I knew I would, that it was going to be one of those fics that sort of sticks a hand down the throat and tugs. Wonderful use of language and these characters to re-evoke the horrors of that war, make it personal and immediate in a way monuments and memorials never are (imho).
They are lying to us,my darling. Just think of all that might still be, what might have been, believe in that. If anything happens to you there Arthur I swear I will be out there in a heartbeat, fighting where you once stood because they cannot hurt you and get away with it, your life is far too precious for that.
Im crying....i can never decide whether i should read sad stories or not.....on one hand no happy endings and usually Merlin is left alone (poor baby) but then there are all those feels n then the way Writers like you write them*sigh* how can a person not read :( But nontheless job welldone.the way u have shown love between the boys n the last spoken words of Arthur to Merlin asking him to write...its heartbreaking :'(
Arthur learned of Merlin’s magic. His ability to read the winds, listen to the tides, feel the oceans moving when he couldn’t see them, how he could interpret nature with barely a second thought. Saw his ability to sketch and mould words into delicate phrases, that could roll of his tongue with a soft elegance Merlin’s person didn’t posses. Merlin wrote him letters, hundreds of them, but they’re importance soon was lost.
The war came. The days became shorter, the nights became longer and everything was colder, everything was darker. But they thought nothing of it. Merlin wasn’t army material, and Arthur was too wealthy to go for now. They worked hard on the home front, providing for their families, Arthur leaving his formal duties on an almost daily basis to help run the lands.
Life was good. Life was easy. Life was safe.
Uther Pendragon, however, had other ideas. It was now December 1915, and the army was getting desperate. Conscription was on the cards, and Uther did not want the shame on his family of a son who wouldn’t willingly volunteer to fight. So he signed Arthur up.
A gruelling winter followed, a winter that felt like it was eternity, their last winter together.
Arthur was gone by February.
“Promise me you’ll write.” Arthur begged Merlin the night before he left, “Don’t leave me, Merlin. I know you can’t come out yourself, you’re needed here and your lungs aren’t strong enough but please, Merlin, I beg of you, don’t forget me. I need you on the battlefield, I need your words.”
Merlin just nodded, silent tears rolling down his cheeks in a torrent that wouldn’t stop. Neither of them were stupid. They’d seen the news, heard the reports. They’d been lied to. The war wasn’t going as well as anyone made out, men were dying everywhere. A generation was nearly all wiped out. And there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.
The chances of Arthur returning were very slim.
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I can’t write much, Merlin, we haven’t been given much time. They say we’ll be able to receive more letters than we can write, I hope that’s okay.
It’s really not as bad out here as we thought. I mean, yes there are a lot of wounded men and bodies lying at the sides of roads and there’s death and destruction everywhere, but it could be worse. Surely it could be worse?
I miss you already, Merlin. More than you will ever know.
For you, now and always, Arthur.
He was lying of course. It was as bad as it had seemed to them even from the hundreds of miles away. The levels of horror were off the scale, men were losing their minds and they had barely been there a month. It was not going to be easy.
For a few months, life went on. Merlin worked the fields, writing to Arthur as often as he could without being seen as suspicious. Arthur continued to fight, spending time here there and everywhere. On the frontlines, in a small safe house in France, drinking with the guys when he wasn’t on active duty.
Then the rumours came through on the wireless. The Somme they were calling it. The Battle of the Somme.
Merlin knew this was it. Everyone around him could only see the honour and the glory it would bring to the men. But he could sense it. The Somme would be the end of days for thousands of people.
Reply
Arthur
The wind is cooler again now; it seems that the heat from the summer has long since passed despite it being only June. Father thinks this year’s harvest isn’t going to be as good as last years, I agree. It’s like when the war began the whole world thought it was going to end so there was no point in producing the crops. And it certainly feels like that. The crops can’t grow, the light has gone, the animals are too jumpy to produce food, and all around is the news of death and destruction.
I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but you did ask to be kept updated on the news of the town. Mrs Harthwight’s son died last week, the telegram arrived on Monday. You might know this of course, I’ve never really know who is in your regiment, which of our boys you still see, but I thought I should tell you. He’s being well remembered too. They’ve built a small memorial for all our boys who have died in the town square, each of them having a separate plaque with their names on. Nice really, but a painful reminder of the fate that awaits so many of them.
The word back from the front is that everything is okay. That’s a lie. How can no one feel it in the air? The wind shifting because of the hands of death that have gripped onto the world and are refusing to let go.
I miss you, Arthur. More than I ever thought imaginable. And I fear that we will never see each other again. They’re lying to us, my darling. They’re saying that everything will be fine and all our men will come back alive and well, ready to take back their jobs and we can rebuild our lives. Yet it won’t happen. They’ve begun to recruit the women; the Women’s Land Army, the Women’s Royal Air Force, the Women’s Royal Navy, all so they can send more men out to where you are.
They’re trying not to frighten us, it’s not working. The men are staying strong because they have to, the women are falling apart. They don’t want to lose anyone. Brothers, fathers, sons, lovers, they’ve all been lost in this fight. Maybe I’m becoming more of a girl, but I can understand where they are coming from. The men left behind are fine. They don’t have to worry about the ones who have gone away; I worry about you constantly.
Especially with all these rumours about the Somme. If anything happens to you there Arthur I swear I will be out there in a heartbeat, fighting where you once stood because they cannot hurt you and get away with it, your life is far too precious for that.
Reply
First of all, I love you. More than anything in the world, more than the horses who plough the fields, more than my own mother. I love you more than life itself. The world is darker now you’ve gone away. And I think that even the battlefield would be a happy place if you were there with me. I miss your smile, the crookedness of your teeth that Lady Morgana thinks need reshaping. I miss the shine in your eyes when you’re planning jokes on people. I miss the way you laugh, your head thrown back and a massive grin upon your face, I miss the way your shoulders shake with glee. You’re an arrogant prat, and I love you all the more for it.
But most of all, I want to say thank you. For making me smile, for making me laugh, for making me better. Before I met you, I was a different person. Guarded and insecure, I flung myself threw life avoiding anyone who tried to stand in my way because it was easier to do so.
There are dark days afoot and they are going to be hard, Arthur. You’re going to face things you can only see in your darkest dreams, where the ghosts of your friends haunt your thoughts into oblivion. The stars do not read well Uncle Gaius says. There’s something coming. Lady Morgana’s nightmares have returned, I hear her screaming in the dead of night, when all that should be heard is the hoots of the owls as they wake for their day.
My last thoughts to you though are these. Remember the days where we kissed in the rain? Hiding behind Mr Harrow’s cottage, laughing as we watched him herding the pigs into their shy, his stick in the air and him shouting with all his might to try and get them to move? Do you remember when we swam in the lake? And a carp got caught in your trousers because I’d pushed you in fully clothed? Mother shouted at me so much that day. When we both came in sopping wet and she had to get your clothes dry before your father wondered where you were and why you were completely soaked.
It’s so lonely here now, Arthur. Every place I go is just full of memories of you. I miss you so much, I love you so much. Just think of all that might still be, what might have been, believe in that.
Goodbye, Arthur.
All my love, Merlin.
Reply
Perceval Green. Died, Battle of the Somme, July 1st 1916.
Elyan Smith. Died, Battle of the Somme, July 1st 1916.
Lancelot Scully. Died, Battle of the Somme, July 1st 1916.
Gwaine Gorlois. Died, Battle of the Somme, July 1st 1916.
Leon Carr. Died, Battle of the Somme, July 1st 1916.
Arthur Pendragon. Died, Battle of the Somme, July 1st 1916.
All just boys. A band of brothers born to fight, born to die. Falling together on that fateful day, never to return to their loved ones ever again.
July 1st 1916, the day the world ended, the day that Merlin lost everything, the day the words fell away forever.
Just think what might have been.
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Just think of all that might still be, what might have been, believe in that.
If anything happens to you there Arthur I swear I will be out there in a heartbeat, fighting where you once stood because they cannot hurt you and get away with it, your life is far too precious for that.
Im crying....i can never decide whether i should read sad stories or not.....on one hand no happy endings and usually Merlin is left alone (poor baby) but then there are all those feels n then the way Writers like you write them*sigh* how can a person not read :( But nontheless job welldone.the way u have shown love between the boys n the last spoken words of Arthur to Merlin asking him to write...its heartbreaking :'(
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