Merlin oneshots

002. Losing and gaining [angst]

"A year like this passes so strangely Somewhere between sorrow and bliss."

And it was love he'd felt, deep in his heart and familiar to his nature. He hadn't questioned his feelings for the girl, because he had no doubt that it was love he was feeling, love that he'd grown up embraced by, love that was planted his heart deeply.

But this.. this was new.

Heartache was new, pain was new. And it had hurt at first, oh sweet mother in Ealdor, it had hurt. Pain had surrounded him, engulfed his mind, forced tears to escape his blue eyes and scratchy, choking coughs to rip through his dry throat like the sobbing of a hungry child. And like all those first time experiencing painful heartache, he wondered why the whole world was against him so, as if the whole world would stop its spinning to grab his youthful soul in scratchy claws and pick at his heartstrings.

How could it not? When at quiet nights all he could remember were frightened brown eyes, building trust for him; only for him and no one else, telling him he had won a special place in her heart, and rosy lips that smiled at him being his unfiltered self and kissed him once.

Quiet nights like these, not spent sleeping in the tire from Arthur's chores, were spent in silence gazing up at the ceiling, still as a predator about to leap. And this night was not subject to privileged differences, his dark hair stuck to his forehead as he wiped his nose with his sleeve (Mother's sharp, slapping hands did not come to mind for the first time) and rested it back by his side.

But perhaps it was privileged -the night- because he then quickly, without thinking, leapt from his bed, shrugged his brown jacket over his shoulders in a practised motion done countless of times, and stormed from his chambers, out to the halls and right out of the kingdom.

Despite the empty corridors save for the occasional guard keeping watch, he had failed to notice the figure of his friend opening his mouth to stop him. A figure of great importance indeed. The prince.

He'd been watching his peculiar manservant, nonplussed over his behaviour. The beast that had terrorised the kingdom had shaken them all up quite well, but Merlin was no stranger to unsettling incidents- his brave heart had endured it all and arrived bright and fresh the next morning with a smile. What had happened this time that was unsettling him?

Merlin's attitude towards everything simpled down and thinned; he no longer smiled when Arthur reminded him of the Lady Babenaeux incident, and nothing seemed to bother him anymore; a halfhearted shrug was all Arthur got from the boy when he told them they'd be practising maces with "I don't care" spelled out so clearly on his face, so tired over seemingly nothing and it infuriated Arthur to no end. It had to be something, so what was it?

So he followed his friend throughout the night, into the woods, and stopped in a clearing facing a glistening lake with fields and mountains in the distance. Arthur spared a small smile at the rare fond memory of his father teaching him to swim here during his childhood.

Crouching by the water's edge, the servant brushed the ground beneath him and sat down, crossing his legs and staring into the murky abyss. Eventually, he sighed and opened his parched mouth to say something but found that the swelling in his throat made his eyes water, so he shut it quickly and resumed his staring.

He began to get impatient, he wanted to talk, he needed to talk. He couldn't keep her waiting. So with gentle whispering, golden eyes and an open palm, water crawled-crawled out of the lake and towards him in a single file line into his palms he brought to his mouth, feeling the cold water sting his chapped lips and dry throat. The stinging subsided and pleasure and desperation replaced it.'Quickly' he thought, 'Sooner refreshed, we can talk.'.