Chapter Text
The sword disappeared beneath the surface and Merlin watched with breath caught in his throat as the ripples slowly died out across the lake. He was still for a moment, lungs aching in his chest as if he were the one sinking under the water, pressure pressing down around his chest like a vise until he felt like he was drowning. He had considered it – when he placed Arthur in the boat and folded his arms gently across his still, still chest – had considered laying himself down as well, curling up at Arthur’s feet, and just letting the boat out to the depths with him inside.
Because that had been his promise – to be by his side through it all, by his side onto his own death – and yet he had let Arthur go without him. He had gripped at him tight while the warmth faded from his body and only then had loosened his hold with the understanding that Arthur was really truly gone this time.
Until Albion’s need was greatest – whatever that meant. Because what could Albion’s greatest need be except a wise, noble king in a time of a peace? What would he need to wait for to see Arthur again?
He felt as if he was lost for a moment, standing there on the shoreline, as if he did not know what to do with himself and maybe never would again. He swayed with the motion of the water before him, swayed like he was the boat that had rocked gently as it carried Arthur away from him, out of sight for the last time.
There was the sound of a bird cry in the distance and suddenly he could hear the rush of the wind in the trees behind him and the splash of the water against the muddy sand beneath him. With a shuddering breath, Merlin blinked back the burning in his eyes and noticed how the world around him was continuing on, even with Arthur gone.
Water lapped at the toes of his boots, at the slowly drying hems of his trousers, and he realized that he did know what to do. Because this was not the first time he had done this, not even the second. He had known this before, the struggle to pull his eyes from the water and turn away, to willingly lose sight of someone he held dear, to let go of someone that he had lost due to his own failing.
But as he turned this time, the aching pain in his heart stayed fresh, when it had always before dimmed slightly to a weak throb, and the guilt that choked him still felt thick in his throat when he swallowed. He could still taste the words ‘I failed’ on his lips and could still feel Arthur’s shaking hand beneath his fingertips, and he clenched his fists and grit his teeth, blinking back fresh tears as he walked away from the lake that held yet another person he had loved and lost.
He managed only a few steps before he paused again, tilting his head back to peer up at the sky. Merlin waited, as the distant dark shape far above grew larger and larger, as Kilgharrah circled down towards him and landed slowly before him.
Kilgharrah inclined his head shallowly at him and said softly, “I could not leave my kin to face this alone, though alone you needed to be when laying him to rest.”
Merlin swallowed, eyes sliding down and away from the dragon to the grass. “You will stay with me then?” he asked the ground, his throat tight around his hoarse words.
He saw Kilgharrah duck down from the corner of his eye, settling low as he always has done for Merlin to climb on his neck. A shudder ran through him when he caught sight of a spot of brownish-red near Kilgharrah’s spine, right where he desperately clutched Arthur to his chest. “I will stay with you for as long as you need me,” the dragon intoned solemnly.
Merlin turned back and saw that Kilgharrah’s eyes are closed as he laid before him, saw that he looked almost as if he were resting, and Merlin suddenly ached even more for the tired, old dragon he thought of as family now, after so many years.
As he stepped towards Kilgharrah, feet heavy and shoulders bent, the dragon muttered, “It is far to Camelot.”
“And I would not have asked this of you,” Merlin replied, hand resting against Kilgharrah’s side, “But you have offered.” He swallowed again and pressed his fingers down with just a bit more strength. “We are both tired, old friend.”
The dragon was quiet then as he pulled himself up and straddled his spine with legs that shook from exhaustion. “There is one stop I want to make,” he added as he dropped his head forward and closed his eyes against the shine of light reflecting back from the scales under him, “So you won’t be making the journey all in one go.” And Kilgharrah shifted beneath him, the stretch of his wings causing the muscles to flex and move throughout his shoulders, and he pushed himself into the air without asking Merlin where he meant.
Because surely he knew.