Merthur minis-one shots

The Missing Parts

Merlin hadn't been happy for a long time.
Not fully anyway.
Arthur had been neglecting him a lot recently, due to the departure of Gwen and Lancelot.
Arthur had cut back to a quite voice, fewer words, and sad glances.
Sometimes when Merlin looked at Arthur, he saw Arthur look away.

He wasn't good enough.
He would never be enough.

Merlin would always try to push those thoughts away, but as the glances grew colder, it became harder.
Merlin himself had been reduced to frequent panic attacks, and nightmares, as his phobia of never being good enough, and failing Arthur grew.

One time Arthur had been in a particularly bad mood, yelled at Merlin about how he should never have been born, and had no purpose -and promptly stormed out of the royal chambers.
Merlin slid down against the wall, as tears began to fall freely down off his chin. His breaths became short and stuttering, and his mind grew foggy with dark thoughts.

Why are you here?
You're so slow Merlin!
Is there anything you are capable of doing? Your mother must be so proud, Merlin.
It's a wonder you are here at all Merlin, really.

Merlin gripped his hair and groaned, punching the ground, and his thoughts grew darker still, until he was hyperventilating so much he could see black spots dotting his vision, and felt himself slip into unconsciousness.

Why did I bother?
Why did I stay?
I'm a burden I'm a burdenburdenburden.

♧

Arthur returned around 20 minutes after leaving his chambers.
He would apologise to Merlin, tell him, and be off before he could respond.
He couldn't hear anything as he approached his chamber doors.
Arthur opened them slowly,
"Merlin?"
No response.
Arthur cast a glance around the room, that's funn- Merlin.
Lying still beside his cabinet.
"Merlin!"
Arthur rushed over to where his servant lay.
Arthur checked his pulse.
Slow.
He checked his breath.
He wasn't breathing.
Fuck.
Arthur fumbled fervently through his bedside table draw, reading the labels on the flasks in panic.
He rushed back over to Merlin, unsealed the flask, and held his face  to pour the potion down his throat.
He waited, unmoving, until there was a definite rise an fall of his servant's chest.
Merlin was unconscious, but breathing more steadily.

♧

Arthur carded his fingers through Merlin's hair, as he rested silently in the pleasant slumber of Arthur's embrace.
The King rested his head atop his Manservant's protectively.
Protectively.
Arthur had meant to protect Merlin, but had only cast him away.
This was all his own fault.
Merlin had nearly died because: of him.
Arthur's hand stilled in Merlin's black hair, and he pushed himself away from The Raven.
It was for the best.
He wouldn't tell Merlin.
Merlin would be okay.
Arthur would be fine, be fine befinebefinebefine.
They had to be.

♧

Merlin shook through the night.
He was having another nightmare, and he knew it.

Arthur was crying, his face emotionless as he neared the cliff. He looked to the cliff adjacent to his, with a long, long death drop dividing them.
Merlin was yelling something, Arthur couldn't make it out, so he drew himself nearer to the cliff.
You do everything you can to get him to turn back, don't go after me, you say.
You're running out of ideas, and Arthur can't hear you, and then it hits you.
You whisper it, so that Arthur can't see your lips move, and a blue orb forms in front of Arthur's face.
The trance breaks, and so does your heart as Arthur looks past the orb.