I couldn't think of a better title...
**WARNING** suicidal thoughts and reference to past suicide attempt.
*I do not own Merlin, that clear enough?*
A raven-haired young man stood at the edge of a cliff, staring at the darkness beneath him with an unreadable expression.
The forest around him was eerily quiet; no creature moved around, not even the rustle of leaves was heard. The woods illuminated only by the meager light of the crescent moon and the stars high above in the heavens.
The silver glow shining on him gave his pale skin an ethereal quality, emphasizing his dark hair and dull blue eyes, that are depthless with hints of gold hiding deep within them.
Merlin sighed and dropped -in a surprisingly graceful manner- to the ground; sitting at the edge with his legs hanging over it, his weight supported on his hands that were firmly placed on the earth behind him.
The young man (barely more than a boy, really) turned his gaze to the night sky, his face blank and the usual smile absent from sight.
He knew that he shouldn't be here; he should be in bed sleeping, as he had to wake up early tomorrow to serve the royal prat, as usual. But he couldn't help it, he was restless.
It was getting harder and harder lately: lying, hiding, existing.
As time goes on, he finds that lying to his friends is becoming more difficult, to mask who he really is, what he really is, to act like a fool and to cover his true emotions and thoughts with that goofy smile and cheerful attitude.
Another sigh escaped his lips, and he felt the magic around him -the magic of the forest, its inhabitants, the magic of the Earth itself- reach out to his own, to comfort, to heal, to protect.
That's another thing that has been occupying his thoughts a lot. Since before he came to Camelot, actually. His magic, it was different than any others', he didn't come across another with the same connection to magic and the Old Religion as him, nor did he come across anything similar to it in the meager amount of books that somehow survived the Purge.
He turned his gaze back to the darkness below him. He knew how high the cliff was, and had he been normal he could've ended all of this with one jump.
But he wasn't normal. All the fall would accomplish is hurting him; adding physical pain to the emotional and psychological anguish he was feeling.
He can't die; he's tried before.
Even if his destiny did not exist, jumping was not a logical and practical option. Despite what everyone believed, he was not an idiot, he knew better than trying to do something that he already knew was futile.
Yet, he longed for the freedom that death offers; the one thing it seemed that he truly could not have, no matter how hard he tried or wished for it.
With another sigh and a heavy heart, Merlin stood up and made his way back to the castle just as dawn was breaking on the horizon.
Thoughts?
RogueMagic