Summary: Merlin misses Arthur
Word Count: 314
Thanks to tambear13 for the once-over ;)
Destiny. Screw destiny, he’d thought since the beginning. For years, he’d mourned Arthur’s death. It had been so unfair that he did everything he could and still he wasn’t able to protect him. Merlin missed him terribly. Even after hundreds of years, the pain still throbbed dully somewhere in his heart.
There were lots of tiny things he missed. The way Arthur bossed him around, the way he looked up on a horse, that little flip-thingy he did with his sword. The sound of his voice, the feel of his hair between his fingers, the scent of his skin after practice.
But what scared him the most was that he started to forget what Arthur looked like. Of course, he had been tall, blond and had blue eyes, but that image faded away, no matter how hard Merlin tried to hold on to it.
So when photography was invented, Merlin had mastered the art quickly and always had a camera with him. From the very start, when they were large heavy things with wooden tripods to SLRs and finally to digital cameras that seemed to get smaller and smaller.
The ‘hobby’ of taking photographs of blond men had turned into somewhat of an obsession when digital photography came along. He spent hours manipulating photos so the random men he’d snapped pictures of looked a bit more like Arthur. But none of them were him.
Of course he had his camera in hand when he wandered about the medieval music festival, smiling at what people in the 21st century thought was medieval music, and looked around for more blond men.
He spotted one and raised his camera, waiting for the bloke in the red tunic to turn around.
When he finally did, all Merlin could do was stare.
The man stared for a moment, too, and then a huge smile spread on his face. “Merlin!”