Merlin One-Shots!!

Snapshot

12th May 2020

I never used to care for keepsakes. I thought they were a waste of space. I guess I thought I would have more time with the people I loved, so what's the point in memorabilia.

Now I wish I had more. To this day I only have three things that keep the memory of Camelot alive.

The first one seems out of place among the rest: a photograph of Arthur, the Knights and myself. When the technology came about I crafted a device that could capture single photographs of a person's past.

The photograph comes from quite possibly my favourite memory of my friends. It was the height of summer and Arthur had insisted we go on a 'hunting trip'. By which he meant 'please get me away from these goddamn meetings I am so bored'.

We had settled in a ethereal clearing in which sat a glittering pond and the tiniest waterfall I had ever seen. Gwaine wasted no time jumping into the water and the others were quick to follow. As always I had stayed to the side, sweating my arse of but refusing to undress in front of them.

I wasn't embarrassed or anything. I just didn't want them to see the array of scars from my countless encounters with enemies. No one pushed me, no one teased. They simply included me in conversation from the shoreline, occasionally splashing water at me.

It's such a simple memory but I think that was the day I truly realised the extent of our friendship.

That photo holds a prized place on my mantelpiece, a protective spell cast over it to ensure it never fades out.

Then there is Arthur's cape. Not the royal red one that was saved for special events or royal visits. No that felt almost wrong to keep. I buried that with him millennia ago.

No I have his blue one. Well technically it was my cape but he never thought to give it back and I never asked. I sort of just accepted that it was his and that was that.

It still smells like him. That seems like a really weird thing to say now I think about it: but it's comforting.

When I wrap it over my shoulders, if I try really hard it almost feels like I am hugging him. It sounds stupid, pathetic even. But I would give anything to hug him again. Especially when those rare times we did hug were treasured gifts.

I don't think I can write the third one down. It's too personal. Too intimate. Something only Arthur and I know about.

Since the day of his death I have never taken it off. Maybe that's why I have never been able to move on. It's always sat there staring at me, forcing memories of the days when I was whole to flash before my eyes.

Funny how a band of metal can twist your mind like that. It controls me...and I let it. Because what more do I have?