Cold Waters: A Merthur Oneshot

Cold Waters

Merlin collapsed down into the shallow water in utter despair, watching the boat burn away to ashes and sink down into the water. Tears streamed down his face and onto his already soaked shirt. His only real friend, his life, his love. Gone.

Agony and loss thrown across his face as he weekly stood and stepped further into the water following the boat that was now ashes mixing into the water. If he couldn't live with Arthur then he couldn't live at all.

The water was ice cold and sent his body into shock as it reached up to his neck. He continued to walk in, the water reaching up to his mouth, nose and soon enough his whole body was consumed and engulfed by the water. His mind began to think back on all the good memories he and Arthur had shared, all the times they were both ready to sacrifice their lives for one another again and again. All the times they had looked into each other's silent but yearning eyes as they talked by the fire, sitting so close that marks would appear on their arms from the other's clothing. All that time Merlin had spent polishing armour, obeying Arthur's every command, sharing very useful advice that Arthur would usually rely upon over anyone else but of course he never admitted to it, or just simply being the friend Arthur needed him to be. All that time he spent looking after Arthur and watching over him now meaning nothing for his king was dead and without his king, Merlin was nothing.

Merlin sunk deeper into the water and the water filled into his lungs, it was like sharp daggers sliding along the inside of him. His eyes were opened as they flashed gold for the last time. Flames rose up around him, a large ball of fire around him at the bottom of the lake, defying all sense to the common mundane. The fire vanished almost as quickly as it had come and all that was left was the soaked ashes, breaking away and dissolving into the water of the lake. Merlin would be with his love once again.

Percival rode as fast as the horse would take him, the hooves barley touching the ground, tracing Merlin and Arthur's trail. His worry built as he saw the tracks zigzagging and the bigger footprints, Arthur's, digging deeper into the mud or occasionally leaving the trail fully. The fire had flared in his eyes of both the anger and determination to save his king, he had already lost one friend today, he would lose no more. Within that hour he had reached the lake. "My King!?" He cried out furiously, searching desperately for a reply or the smallest signs of life. All he ever found was the worn bloodstained satule that once belonged to the King's manservant, Merlin.

The fire that had enriched his eyes had changed to a dulled grey as he looked out along the great lake of Avalon. As the wind changed towards him he smell the smoke that still lingered in the chill of the air. To deliver such news to the kingdom would be a burdening task, to watch the hope fade from their eyes as they looked into his. The journey back to Camelot would be a long one.