Summary: Merlin is still dealing and his dreams keep bringing him down
Warnings: Set after 5x13 (potential spoilers), angst
Word Count: 201
Prompt: #47 Memories
Author's Notes: Sequel to Noise of Loneliness. Written early but posting late due to work... I'll get it right one of these days.
The past would play over and over again in his dreams. Sometimes they were set back when they were only just beginning to work each other out as Merlin became accustom to his role as Arthur’s manservant. Other times, they were around Uther being ill, his death and Arthur’s grief. And other times his dreams would replay to him the final moments of a great King’s, a great man’s life.
Merlin would wake up gasping and on the verge of tears. It would take him several minutes, which sometimes led to hours, to swallow the memories, calm his body and mind before letting the sounds of the forests let him find rest again.
The days that followed the dreams forged from his memories would often lead to Merlin contemplating taking the long trek back to Camelot or even Ealdor, but he always came to the same conclusion.
His time there was over. The person he had helped to shape so they could lay a new set of foundations for the Kingdom and the land was gone and so Merlin’s presence in the Kingdom was no longer needed.
But he did need a purpose. At least until Arthur returned to this world.
Through the months of grief, his next purpose eluded him. When he gradually came to accept Arthur’s time had truly come and he would not be back for some time, hints started to appear in his surroundings and in his dreams.