Of Falcons And Lycoris (Merlin)

Losing myself

Waking up that day, felt like stopping for air after a long run. His chest heaved with the effort to soothe his aching lungs. He doesn't remember his dream, only the omnipresent sense of deep wrongness. The dread followed him throughout the day, even as he joked with Merlin about the ruined shirt he carried in his arms. Encouraging the boy to use his gift, being, after all, one of the rare few who were privy to the man's secret.

He felt it as the prince delivered his speech at the Samhain feast. As merlin collapsed onto the ground with a hard thud, remembers the way the wine pitcher in his grip hit the ground with a clang, the blood red liquid spreading onto the marble floor.

He should've seen this coming, the servant had been running himself ragged. His injuries hadn't fully healed yet, despite his numerous attempts at healing them with spells. Not to mention the extra chores Arthur had stuck him with as punishment for his mysterious absence a couple of days earlier.

Lancelot shuddered at the mere memory. Morbid scenes played just behind his eyelids as if he was back there again. Kneeling on the snowy forest ground, cold and numb to the word as he stared at his friend's corpse.

Blinking rapidly, he focused on the events presently happening before him. A woman had arrived at first light, panicked and scared, speaking of ghostly figures attacking her village.

That, coupled with Merlin's tale from yesterday, served to only further the dread coiling in his guts.

That night, they had sat there, in Gaius's chambers, the blanket wrapped tightly around the boy's shoulders as he shivered, his arms hugging his body as if to ward off the cold. Teeth clenching in order to stop their quivering as he explained what had happened to him. He spoke of ghostly old women and ominous warnings. A voice that seemed to come from the depth of the earth, echoing deep within his mind.

The prince, as noble and fair as the day Lancelot had the honor to meet him, immediately agreed to heed her call for help.

The knights, the prince, and merlin had all ridden out to investigate the location that afternoon. Lancelot can still remember the sinking feeling that blossomed in his chest as Merlin spoke to him on their way back. A quiet, solemn admittance of the failure of his magic against this particular threat.

Lancelot's heart had clenched as he heard the thinly concealed fear in his friend's tone. The slump of his shoulders as his frustration won over his thoughts, the boy had spent his whole life with the steady, constant assurance of his great powers.

Lancelot couldn't imagine the helplessness his friend must be feeling for the first time.

It is, therefore, natural that he was surprised, when the next day, Merlin joined them on their quest to close the torn veil. The knight had wanted nothing more than to hide the boy away the moment the warlock had walked towards them, leading with the reigns in his grip a cluster of horses. All he wanted to do was protect him from the horrors they were surely destined to face.

The man had done so much already. It didn't seem right to add to the burden he was carrying. However, knowing the warlock to the extent he did, he knew there was absolutely nothing he could do in order to stop the servant from protecting his prince. Magic or not. Vulnerability be damned.

Now, looking at the freezing body before him, he cursed his foolishness. He should've fought harder to convince the younger man to stay behind. Should've done more to stay by his side and protect him. Because, of course, Merlin would sacrifice himself in his endeavor to keep the prince from harm.

He prayed to every god or goddess out there to answer his plea. He desperately hoped he wouldn't have to watch his closest friend die again, right before his eyes. He swore he'd never allow himself to feel so helpless again. Yet, here he was, watching as if right back where he stood that cursed day, as the cold froze his friend's body down to his very bones. Frost gathered in both his eyelashes and his hair as he shivered under the blankets the prince had stacked onto his frame.