Crossfire

"We Needed To Breathe From Conflict"

Merlin

Even I couldn't escape reality in unconsciousness. The image of my father burned through my mind, the scene relapsing continuously in an ongoing pattern. It wouldn't stop—no matter how hard I tried.
He's on the ground.
There's blood dripping from his body.
I could've saved him. Yet I couldn't.
There was so much I wanted to say. But I wasn't able to.
Sleep-deprived, I already felt my eyes fluttering open, the noises of early dawn making an entrance. I stared to the small crack of the tent's opening, seeing fresh dew on the grass, hues of multiple shades of reds and yellows welcoming me. Sitting up, I gave a small stretch of the arms, bringing my hands to my eyes. At first it was intended for them to be rubbed of fatigue, but after completing the action, I felt my hands just lay there, my mind beginning to analyze the past scenarios again.
Moments later, shifting was heard from the blankets beside me. I didn't want to talk right now—to do anything. Heaving a sigh, gentle hands caressed my waist, the warmth returning to my body with seeps of energy.
"Merlin?" Arthur asked. "Are you alright?"
I gave an incoherent sigh, deciding not to answer his question. Feeling the hands crawl up my back, they ran over the skin, leaving spots of warmth wherever they traveled. A small shiver escaped me from the action. Closing my eyes, I let my thoughts drift, Arthur close and comforting to me.
He wouldn't let go of me.
"I failed," my quiet, scratchy voice came. "I couldn't get to him in time."
Arthur shifted, his body now facing mine, staring at my face with a gentle complexion. "That's not your fault, though."
"And how is it not?"
He took a moment before answering. "Because you can't save everyone." He sighed. "And that's the problem. When you do take a death, you can't stand it. You think you had the possibility to save that person. But you couldn't." Arthur's fingers went up to graze my hair, twirling a silky strand into a loose knot. "You let it get to you to a point of where you yourself take the blame."
"Arthur," I tried with a calm emotion, newfound tears threatening my eyes. "He was my father."
"That's okay. This means you'll take his place."
Giving a weak scoff, I countered his comment. "No. I'm not a prince. I'm not a royal."
"Ofcourse you are. You were destined to be."
Upon hearing his words, I choked on a wave of tears, my face changing hues. He didn't know. He couldn't possibly relate. "No, Arthur. You don't get it. You don't understand." I lazily wiped the snot on my hand, the motions drowsy, as I then let another sob blow from my lips. "I'm a mistake. My father wasn't supposed to have me—yet I'm here." Biting my cheek, I looked into his eyes, mine clouded with tears. "You'd never empathize with that. You were always loved and cared for. You were wanted." Letting my eyes lower, silent drops of water fell from them. My hands fell limp. I didn't want to feel, to grasp, to think.
Until Arthur made me.
"Stop," his hands gripped my jaw tightly with a gentle touch. Reluctantly, I stopped, heavy breaths against his face, my eyes staring into his.
"Stop saying these things to yourself." Arthur gave a sympathetic sigh. "Why do you do these things to yourself? Why? Why do you blame all the negative things on yourself?" He searched my eyes for any reply—something to go off of. "Tell me."
Eyes wet, I hastily blinked the liquid from them, opening my mouth to answer. "I couldn't save him."
"And why couldn't you save him?" he questioned, his attempt to knock some sense into me.
I looked up to him. "Because I was some place else."
"And why were you some place else?"
I took a moment to think it through, until it hit me.
Arthur seemed to connect the dots too. His breaths fell into a rapid, unsteady pattern. "No no no..." he trailed off, gripping his hair forcefully. "It's all my fault." He looked to me with a windswept look in his eyes. "Merlin..."
I didn't reply, but rather just looked him in the eye, my vision even more distorted and blurry. My hands suddenly felt tight in his grasp, Arthur's fingers rubbing the delicate skin with gentle motions.
"I'm so sorry, Merlin. It's my fault. I know that. I'm so-"
Cutting him off from air, skin was against skin—lips to lips. I didn't want him to cry, to pity me, to take the blame.
We needed to breathe from conflict.
Breaking my lips from his, I let the gentle words escape my mouth. "You told me not to mourn." I paused. "Let's not grieve."
Arthur gave a soft sigh, his only answer squeezing my hand tighter.

Arthur

He's been laying there for hours. He didn't want to grieve, but I knew that promise wouldn't be one he would keep. Merlin's just been laying there, clutching on to the sigil his father had given him, not making a sound.
At first they were screams. Screams of grief and sorrow. Those soon watered down to gasps and small hiccups. Then concluding to now, he was not making a sound; just soft, mucus-filled sniffs here and there. I sighed. I needed to do something. It was clear he wasn't planning to leave anytime soon.
Standing up, I saw all of the knights turn my way, waiting for me to give an order. I looked down upon seeing their loyalty. Merlin deserved their trust. "I'm going to fetch Merlin so we can continue our journey to Aeyland." I spoke, turning, then going off to see Merlin. I was slightly surprised when I heard the crunching of fallen leaves and damp grass sound off behind me. Did they care?
We all soon reached him, taking in the sight. Merlin was a wreck. Disheveled hair was blown in his face, a tear-striken complexion underneath. Pale hands were gently grasping on to a royal sigil, thumbs gently smoothing over the exterior.
When he saw us, he waited a moment before looking up, the motions filled with a sight of weariness and fatigue. Merlin's eyes were red clashing with blue, his white skin contrasting with the colors.
This was the first time I really saw him. He was a lost and confused soul with a forced destiny thrusted upon him. Merlin was expected of so much achievement, but in return got a pat on the back from his own hands.
I internally smiled from noticing him. He was beautiful—inside and out.
"Merlin," I croaked. "We've got to keep moving."
He sighed in reply, as if he knew this was going to happen. Wiping his eyes, he stood up, striding over to us. "Right."
"Merlin. It's okay to grieve."
He shook his head. "No, Arthur." He looked into my eyes.
That's when something locked into place. He was a ruler—a leader. He was to carry out his father's destiny. He was a king.
His pupils dilated upon taking in my features. Swallowing, he let out a soft, yet confident breath. "I've got a kingdom to run."

A/N: Hello everyone! Sorry for such the long wait! It's the end of the school year, and you know how hectic that can be. SO, if you liked this chapter or story, please leave a comment or vote! I really love when you take time out of your day to read my stories! It really means a lot to me! Anyway, bye!