Post by Arctura on Aug 10, 2014 0:33:22 GMT
<<<SPOILERS for Merlin season 5 finale>>>
Oh gods, I cried while writing this. I don't know why I torment myself so...
I thought yesterday, what if - what if Merlin forgot Arthur's death every day? And this memory loss continued endlessly?
Merlin wakes to the sun shining in his eyes. He stretches for a moment before the memory of Arthur, slumping in his arms on a log by the fire, telling him to never change, slams into him. Merlin bolts upright in bed, the blankets falling down around his waist.
Wait. Blankets? Bed? Merlin looks around himself. He’s in Arthur’s chambers. He scrambles out of bed and throws open the door to find two guards stationed on either side.
“My lord,” one of the guards says, inclining his head at Merlin. The other guard does the same before hurrying off.
Merlin blinks in confusion. He looks down at himself. He’s still Merlin. No accidental body switch. Then, why are people addressing him “my lord”?
When he finds his voice again, he asks, “Where’s Arthur?”
The guard freezes and avoids Merlin’s gaze. “Sir Leon will be here in a moment, my lord.”
“Leon?” Merlin asks in confusion. “But where’s Arthur? Why aren’t we still in the forest?”
The guard doesn’t reply; and before Merlin has a chance to interrogate the guard further, Leon rounds the corner. “Merlin!” Leon calls, quickening his pace to Merlin’s side.
“Leon,” Merlin says with a tight smile. “Where’s Arthur?”
The man’s face falls, and he takes Merlin’s arm, leading him back into Arthur’s chambers and gesturing for the guards to shut the door. “Leon?” Merlin asks, voice climbing an octave.
“Merlin,” Leon says softly.
“What?”
“Arthur’s dead.”
Merlin feels his entire world grind to a halt. Overcome with vertigo, he stumbles and Leon catches him on his descent. Dimly, the warlock registers Leon guiding him to the bed and helping him sit down on the edge. Leon take his hands, but he feels completely numb.
Arthur couldn’t be dead. How could he? Merlin was going to save him. That’s what he was doing. Bringing Arthur to Avalon. Saving him. As always.
“No,” Merlin says firmly, “Arthur’s not dead. He’s not.”
“I’m sorry. But he is, Merlin. He has been for two months.” Leon looks forlorn and pitying in a way Merlin had never before seen on the knight.
Merlin sways a little. “What?” he croaks. “Have I been asleep for two months?”
Leon shakes his head, hesitant. “No, Merlin. No, you’ve…”
“I’ve what?” Merlin cries, trembling with the effort of reigning in his emotions.
“You brought Arthur to Avalon, Merlin,” Leon says gently, “But it was too late. We found you by the lake later that day and you told us what happened. But when you woke the day after, your memory of Arthur’s death was gone. We don’t know why. Gaius suspects your magic erased your memories.” Leon squeezes Merlin’s hands and offers a comforting smile when Merlin tenses at the mention of magic. “Every day after, you’ve woken with no memory of Arthur’s death or the days following.”
The knight pulls out a letter from his pocket and hands it to him. “Read this. You wrote it for yourself a couple days after Arthur’s death.”
Merlin takes the letter with shaking hands and reads the contents. The letter drops from nerveless fingers. It’s true. It’s all true. Arthur’s dead. And Merlin doesn’t quite remember how it happened even though he can practically see the scene unfolding in his mind.
He knows now why he’s in Arthur’s chambers. He realizes that this will happen again and again. For the first time that day, Merlin notices the notches of wood on the headboard. There’s sixty of them. Merlin laughs humorlessly. Sixty notches for sixty days.
He finds a dagger before his eyes, offered to him by Leon. Merlin takes it and carves another notch into the headboard. He stares at the blade in his hand for a while, before Leon eases it from his grip. After the knight leaves the room, Merlin closes his eyes, hoping tomorrow will never come.
...
The next day, Merlin rushes from bed again, searching frantically for Arthur. Leon appears to speak with him and give Merlin his own letter.
Merlin continues to sequester himself in Arthur’s chambers.
...
Merlin begins to write a different letter for himself each day. A different way of cutting his heart out each time.
...
Eventually, Leon stops coming. Merlin just reads the letter on the bedside table and crawls back into bed.
...
Merlin counts the notches on the headboard every day. It’s a revelation each and every time.
...
Soon the notches cover the walls. Then, Merlin progresses to using paper and ink.
...
After the eighteen thousand two hundred and fiftieth notch, Merlin realizes he’s not going to die. All his friends are dead, but he still looks like a twenty-seven year old.
...
In a fit of grief, Merlin rips the letter he wrote to himself after seventy three thousand notches. He throws the remains into the fire for good measure.
He then sits down and writes another letter, leaving it on the bedside table as usual.
...
The warlock wants to forget, but he won’t let himself. He will make himself remember. Make himself live through the grief and the pain as if it’s new every day.
Merlin refuses to live in a world in which he doesn’t know what happened to Arthur.
...
Merlin waits for hundreds of thousands of notches.
He waits because every one of his letters contains Kilgharrah’s promise that Arthur will rise again.
For that, Merlin will wait an eternity.
Oh gods, I cried while writing this. I don't know why I torment myself so...
I thought yesterday, what if - what if Merlin forgot Arthur's death every day? And this memory loss continued endlessly?
Merlin wakes to the sun shining in his eyes. He stretches for a moment before the memory of Arthur, slumping in his arms on a log by the fire, telling him to never change, slams into him. Merlin bolts upright in bed, the blankets falling down around his waist.
Wait. Blankets? Bed? Merlin looks around himself. He’s in Arthur’s chambers. He scrambles out of bed and throws open the door to find two guards stationed on either side.
“My lord,” one of the guards says, inclining his head at Merlin. The other guard does the same before hurrying off.
Merlin blinks in confusion. He looks down at himself. He’s still Merlin. No accidental body switch. Then, why are people addressing him “my lord”?
When he finds his voice again, he asks, “Where’s Arthur?”
The guard freezes and avoids Merlin’s gaze. “Sir Leon will be here in a moment, my lord.”
“Leon?” Merlin asks in confusion. “But where’s Arthur? Why aren’t we still in the forest?”
The guard doesn’t reply; and before Merlin has a chance to interrogate the guard further, Leon rounds the corner. “Merlin!” Leon calls, quickening his pace to Merlin’s side.
“Leon,” Merlin says with a tight smile. “Where’s Arthur?”
The man’s face falls, and he takes Merlin’s arm, leading him back into Arthur’s chambers and gesturing for the guards to shut the door. “Leon?” Merlin asks, voice climbing an octave.
“Merlin,” Leon says softly.
“What?”
“Arthur’s dead.”
Merlin feels his entire world grind to a halt. Overcome with vertigo, he stumbles and Leon catches him on his descent. Dimly, the warlock registers Leon guiding him to the bed and helping him sit down on the edge. Leon take his hands, but he feels completely numb.
Arthur couldn’t be dead. How could he? Merlin was going to save him. That’s what he was doing. Bringing Arthur to Avalon. Saving him. As always.
“No,” Merlin says firmly, “Arthur’s not dead. He’s not.”
“I’m sorry. But he is, Merlin. He has been for two months.” Leon looks forlorn and pitying in a way Merlin had never before seen on the knight.
Merlin sways a little. “What?” he croaks. “Have I been asleep for two months?”
Leon shakes his head, hesitant. “No, Merlin. No, you’ve…”
“I’ve what?” Merlin cries, trembling with the effort of reigning in his emotions.
“You brought Arthur to Avalon, Merlin,” Leon says gently, “But it was too late. We found you by the lake later that day and you told us what happened. But when you woke the day after, your memory of Arthur’s death was gone. We don’t know why. Gaius suspects your magic erased your memories.” Leon squeezes Merlin’s hands and offers a comforting smile when Merlin tenses at the mention of magic. “Every day after, you’ve woken with no memory of Arthur’s death or the days following.”
The knight pulls out a letter from his pocket and hands it to him. “Read this. You wrote it for yourself a couple days after Arthur’s death.”
Merlin takes the letter with shaking hands and reads the contents. The letter drops from nerveless fingers. It’s true. It’s all true. Arthur’s dead. And Merlin doesn’t quite remember how it happened even though he can practically see the scene unfolding in his mind.
He knows now why he’s in Arthur’s chambers. He realizes that this will happen again and again. For the first time that day, Merlin notices the notches of wood on the headboard. There’s sixty of them. Merlin laughs humorlessly. Sixty notches for sixty days.
He finds a dagger before his eyes, offered to him by Leon. Merlin takes it and carves another notch into the headboard. He stares at the blade in his hand for a while, before Leon eases it from his grip. After the knight leaves the room, Merlin closes his eyes, hoping tomorrow will never come.
...
The next day, Merlin rushes from bed again, searching frantically for Arthur. Leon appears to speak with him and give Merlin his own letter.
Merlin continues to sequester himself in Arthur’s chambers.
...
Merlin begins to write a different letter for himself each day. A different way of cutting his heart out each time.
...
Eventually, Leon stops coming. Merlin just reads the letter on the bedside table and crawls back into bed.
...
Merlin counts the notches on the headboard every day. It’s a revelation each and every time.
...
Soon the notches cover the walls. Then, Merlin progresses to using paper and ink.
...
After the eighteen thousand two hundred and fiftieth notch, Merlin realizes he’s not going to die. All his friends are dead, but he still looks like a twenty-seven year old.
...
In a fit of grief, Merlin rips the letter he wrote to himself after seventy three thousand notches. He throws the remains into the fire for good measure.
He then sits down and writes another letter, leaving it on the bedside table as usual.
...
The warlock wants to forget, but he won’t let himself. He will make himself remember. Make himself live through the grief and the pain as if it’s new every day.
Merlin refuses to live in a world in which he doesn’t know what happened to Arthur.
...
Merlin waits for hundreds of thousands of notches.
He waits because every one of his letters contains Kilgharrah’s promise that Arthur will rise again.
For that, Merlin will wait an eternity.
