Merlyn's Final Truth

The Darkest Hour P4

With that, he signaled for Lancelot to start moving, Merlyn's horse following slowly. She cursed her weakness, wishing to find something more comforting than death's merciless embrace.

~

The journey was long, and Merlyn only seemed to be worsening, breath coming out in pants as she lay, slumped over her horse. Lancelot had promised Gwen that he would take care of her, but as he ventured into the Valley of the Fallen Kings, he couldn't help the shiver crept up his spine. He wasn't a superstitious man, but even he could see that there was something wrong about this place, something to do with the eerie silence that floated maliciously through the valley. Steeling himself, he guided Merlyn's horse forward, praying that the numerous bandits which usually lurked behind stone walls had decided to take the day off. It was unlikely, but with the Dorocha screaming through the forest, he could only hope that the thugs were more concerned by their own survival than a couple of pitiful travelers.

~

Arthur missed Merlyn's steady presence, her funny feelings, her chatter at his side. It wasn't that he didn't like his knights, but when he was with her, their stupidity seemed a lot more tolerable. For some of the best knights in the land, their lack of common sense was rather staggering. Merlyn would've said that he hardly set the standard, but without her voice in his ear, the woods seemed strangely empty.

"Can you here that?" Gwaine asked from behind the prince, his voice accompanied by a loud buzzing. They had taken the time to rest the horses, so trudged ahead on foot, hardly wanting to break the animals from exhaustion.

"Bees?" Percival answered uncertainly. It seemed so strange to Arthur that, after seeing Merlyn, their friend, on the brink of death, his knights didn't appear more solemn. He felt as if his heart had been shattered, pounded to dust. Part of him was glad that he was going to his death. He wouldn't have to live without his love for much longer.

"Food." Gwaine corrected; Arthur could hear the smile in his voice. The prince stopped, realising that he was a little ahead of the group, turning around to watch his knights curiously. He saw Gwaine insanely take his glove off, reaching towards a fallen bee hive buried in the roots of a spindly tree.

"Are you trying to get us killed?" Leon questioned, joining the fray of worried amusement. Gwaine simply plastered on his usual charming smile, as if it would make up for his idiocy.

"We're riding to our deaths anyway." he shrugged, displaying about as much faith as Arthur had in the mission. Merlyn should have been next to him, muttering something comforting in his ear.

Instead, he had Sir Leon.

"It's good to give the horses a rest." the knight tried, his attempt in engaging the prince in conversation falling flat. "You're quiet."

At that moment, all Arthur wanted to do was shout and scream and cry. He wanted to say that all of them should be silent, should feel just as broken as he did, should realise just what they stood to lose. He knew it wasn't fair. Gwaine easily considered Merlyn his best friend, only equal, perhaps, to Percival. Leon had joined him so very long ago on his rescue attempt of his servant and Gwen; Arthur knew that the man thought the world of Merlyn. Elyan had always been grateful of her protective nature, especially when it came to Gwen and Percival seemed to almost revere her. But he could hardly blame them for handling their grief differently. They would survive without Merlyn's smile. He wouldn't.

"That's what happens after three days listening to Gwaine." he lied, trying to appear almost cheerful, but Leon had known him long enough to see through his deceit.

"You did the right thing, you know. Merlyn couldn't have continued with us." he stated, his comfort easing the prince's mind. He wished he could have taken his love with him, selfishly watch over her in her final moments, but she would only slow them down. They needed to reach the isle as quickly as possible; perhaps Gaius had found a cure for the deathly cold. He shivered, remembering Merlyn's frozen skin. It was unnatural. Cold.