Heartquake

Heartquake 16

Barely anyone’s awake, still. He can see a few figures trudging through the small village but, still, barely anyone. He can feel the sadness, though, as if Ellyn’s death had shadowed the happiness of the villagers for the day. Her funeral’s today, Arthur remembers sadly.

The breeze whips his hair away from his face, as he walks towards the edge of the woods, the trees that start the path for more and more. He sees something through the green, though. Something red.

Apples. Floating around in mid-air, being navigated by an invisible hand, stacking them upon another, until they made an outline of a stick figure in between the trees.

Magic. There’s a rustle in the tree and Arthur withdraws his sword.

“Come out, sorcerer. Reveal yourself before I cut you down,” Arthur orders. There’s no response. “COME OUT!”

A floating figure emerges from the tree, a small figure, oddly familiar. She lands on the ground, her body wracking and crying, her hands up. Arthur’s sword is still pointed at her; he can’t quite put it down.

“Emeline…Emeline,” he keeps saying incoherently.

“ARTHUR!” a voice breaks through, as Emeline, the sorceress, the sorceress, this little girl he cares for more than he does himself, faints. Merlin rushes to her side like any good father would do, and holds her in his arms.

“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING, ARTHUR? YOU POINT YOUR SWORD AT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BETTER HAVE AN EXPLANATION!” Merlin bellows.

“I…”

“YOU WHAT?”

“She has magic!”

Merlin, who’s had his back to Arthur before, turns to face him but he’s different, his eyes, they’re inhuman, they’re golden, they’re magic.

“So do I!” Merlin yells, tears running down his cheeks in earnest. “Who do you think’s been protecting your royal arse for these past two years? So, unless you want to point your sword at me, as well, you better leave. NOW.”

“Merlin.”

“GET THE BLOODY HELL AWAY FROM ME AND MY DAUGHTER NOW! Or I swear, it won’t matter you’re my destiny or not because you’ll be dead, Arthur Pendragon. JUST GO.”

Merlin has magic. Merlin has magic and he’s never told him. Merlin has magic and he loves him. Arthur should feel betrayed, angry, mad, as he rides his horse back to Camelot.

But, no, he doesn’t feel any of this. He just feels empty. Without Em, without Merlin, all he is, is just empty.