Merthur - Forgotten

Long Nights

"To create a man of your own is to defy God." 

"Then I will create my own world, and you can watch how he strikes me down."

___ ___ ___ 

Cold, frost-bitten fingers combed through yellowed pages of a forgotten novel. Forgotten by all except, of course, the richest of those who have the capacity to remember and those bold enough to borrow from them. Shadows fell over the deepest recesses of the library and the air was thick with dust, but her eyes stayed keen on the paper. Via was, above all else, a woman of knowledge, and this library was the only one left still standing; kept alive by the continuity of pride and the stubbornness of creativity.

This was, in all respects, the last place in the world with open knowledge. Via came each cold night, hands shaking with excitement and exertion, to read what was left. In through the window as soon as the clocks struck midnight.

There was no librarian. Nobody to keep these noble documents from withering. Via's hands were the only ones to wipe off the dust and warm the pages in this seemingly endless winter. There was no heat running through this ancient building anymore and no fire to speak of. Via dared not light one lest she ruin what little they had left. Each book was a flimsy treasure that, in Via's mind, must be protected at all costs.

In her hands was the last book she had left to read. Over the course of three years, Via was able to make her rounds each night and hold in her hands the would-be immortal children of the Golden age. All one hundred and twenty-six of them. From great tales of murders to predictions of the future that didn't quite come to pass. Via read them all, loved them all, and now read on with a heavy heart because she knew that this story would be her last. In every sense.

Merlin, pressing his thumb and forefinger together to stimulate the frozen nerves, watched Arthur pace around his chambers. The inability to sate his fears wasn't something the prince struggled with regularly, but this time, Merlin understood.

"It's late," Merlin told him, not quite meeting his gaze. Arthur hesitated, his foot twitching as if to turn. There was nothing to do but continue. "Tomorrow, you ride out in search of the woman most dear to you. Sleep would help."

There was a mumble and a rustle from the young prince. Merlin looked up and wasn't surprised to see a sour expression turning his face from warm honey to bitter cinnamon. The candlelight in the room made shadows dance on his cheekbones and in the corners of his eyes. His usually pale skin looked a soft orange, but the bags under his eyes were no less prominent. The smooth and undamaged skin of his chest was far different from the calloused hands at his sides.

"I can't sleep, Merlin."

A terrible fear grew in Merlin's belly and in the furthest reaches of his mind, he heard those words repeated a thousand times, then a thousand more. He wondered how long he could stave off that feeling, how long he could keep Arthur from collapsing in on himself.

"Not pacing around, you can't." All at once, Arthur stopped, bit at the inside of his right cheek, and his expression changed from bitter cinnamon to a quiet honeysuckle. Merlin made his way to him, stepping over Arthur's day clothes which had been shed almost as soon as his chamber doors shut nearly two hours ago. The night was cold and placid, but inside the castle, it was warm enough for Arthur not to feel it.

Arthur gave Merlin a wary, questioning look as if this weren't a part of their nightly routine. Merlin's hands found his master's shoulders and he guided him to bed. Each tap of their feet-- Merlin's booted and Arthur's bare-- against the stone floor sounded like the last steps of a crumpled lamb as it wandered toward its last resting place.

"If Gwen doesn't-" Arthur cut himself off, letting Merlin slide the heavy feather-filled blanket over him. An inhale. "If I don't find her, Merlin, there won't be another chance."

Merlin fought back his instinctive response and in the end, said nothing, though Arthur needed comfort. Especially now, in the dark and the cold when death seemed so close. Merlin smoothed the blanket over his chest as he had done so many times before, but this time, he lingered before he pulled away.

"Leave. And take the candle with you."

Merlin did, taking the candle into his hands without really thinking about it. The night was dark and tomorrow would be darker. Merlin could feel it in the deepest parts of him. The veil of uncertainty was descending over Arthur and so, over Camelot. Uther may still be king, but he had no power and it seemed that only Merlin knew.

The hallway just outside the prince's chambers was far colder than inside and the candle did little to warm him. Merlin's step faltered just before the door closed and before he could stop himself, Merlin poked his head back in.

"You'll find her, Arthur," then, in his head, he made his prince a promise.

And if you don't, I will.

There was no answer and Merlin retreated back into the moonlit corridors of the castle, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand alert. The candle did not help him to guide his way and before he took the third step away from the door, he'd already blown it out.