The Thousandth Year || Merlin fanfic

Merlin- Demons

What happens next isn't pretty.

I'm not gonna drag it out- I'm not proud of it. Just imagine the most powerful warlock in the world, with the power of the gods at his fingertips, throwing a tantrum. Then forget that, because you cannot imagine the hell I unleashed.

Arthur reassures me afterwards that nobody had actually died- a lot of injuries I managed to heal, the odd concussion, and lot in shock, but no fatalities, which is a miracle all and of itself. There is that to be thankful for.

I lean back against the wall, noting the carvings digging into my back, noting the fresh breeze against my cheek, and feeling them as bitter poison against my flesh. It's happened before, of course. When I've lost control, when my magic is no longer subordinate. Instead of a limb I can bend and stretch as I wish, it is a wild beast, separate and untamable. I close my eyes tight as I recall the storm that thrashed and howled around me, that monster pulled straight from my own nightmares. My demons, in physical forms.

There was the occasional glimpse of red eyes, torn black cloaks as a tornado ripped apart the council room, spinning around, tossed as limply as a rag doll, a million tortured voices screaming in my ears, claws tearing at my skin... I kept Arthur safe though. Even subconsciously, I threw a protection bubble around him, leaving him sheltered from the wraiths and monsters that were me. This was my soul, laid bare in all its darkness, in all its twisted glory. Once, the world would have sung. Now it screamed and cowered, shrinking away from my grotesque power.

So long I have tried to banish the darkness- I have fought trading companies and kings, illness and injustice. Yet there is something I have learnt, something branded into my soul. You cannot fight monsters without becoming one. I am a monster. Where there used to be flesh; blood; skin; a beating heart, there is only them. I am a patchwork of the people around me, stitched together by their ability to see past my darkness, and not be afraid of what their eyes are greeted by.

For so long, Arthur was what the wool was borne of, the substance behind every movement. He still is, he always will be, but Alaric was the thread that span between the days, binding them, made them worth living. I still have my base, my home in Arthur, but the gap between those last days and these is too much. Alaric, the thread that wound the days between this and that, has gone, and I am falling apart at the seams.

I squeeze my eyes shut tighter, trying so hard not to remember Jonathan's words. There is no Alaric Tsayrael. There never was. There is no Alaric Tsayrael. There never was thereneverwasthereneverwas-

"You want some coffee? I tried some and its actually quite nice. Why didn't we have this at Camelot again?"

I open my eyes. Quickly wipe the tears from my cheek. Scramble for a response.

"Maybe-" something catches in my throat, so I cough and try again. "Maybe its to do with the fact that it wasn't discovered until the sixteen hundreds?"

"Ah, I knew it would be something like that." Arthur slides down the wall to sit next to me, and offers the steaming polystyrene cup. I take it with a murmured thanks, wrapping both hands around the plastic , and feeling the warmth seep into my skin. It is the first sensation that doesn't sting or burn.

We sit in silence, as I take a few scalding sips.

"I'm... sorry." I mumble. The words seem ridiculously puny, so I repeat them, but it has no effect. It is merely a whisper in a room of screams. He doesn't reply, and I dare a glance from the corner of my eye. He looks completely revolted, as if I had just vomited on his shirt. I bite back my hurt. Do I really disgust him that much?

"Merlin... you are without a doubt the stupidest idiot in all the five kingdoms."

Well. Okay, then. "But... you saw what happened. What I did. I'm a monster." I barely breathe the words, hating the feel of them in my mouth.