Title: Tears To Cry
Character/s: Merlin, Arthur
Summary: 'No man is worth your tears.' 'You're certainly not.'
Warnings: Almost character death, vividly described
Word Count: 247
Author's Notes: I have theories as to why this is happening, but I'll let you make up your own minds. There's another less angsty drabble coming up, but it's longer and needs edits when I'm more awake... anyway, back to this. Enjoy!
Merlin watches Arthur go down. It’s remarkably easily done, in the end. There’s some sort of distraction; Merlin forgets what in the aftermath. And Mordred uses it to cut through the defences Merlin has set up, slides a sword under metal breastplate and speaks a few hushed words, the blade cutting Arthur’s mail as easily as if it were just another layer of cloth. Steel forges its way between ribs, and Merlin screams. Arthur just gasps.
The tears won’t come.
And moments later, looking at Arthur’s greying face, the pool of red that spreads out from between the gaps in his armour, Merlin can’t find it in himself to cry, either. Though it’s a close thing.
No man is worth your tears Arthur whispers, voice choked and hoarse. He coughs up a mouthful of blood, and tries to reach for Merlin’s face. Merlin catches his hand and supports it where he knows Arthur wants to touch.
I love you. You know what to do.
And indeed Merlin does. He takes Excalibur from Arthur, to be hidden in the lake once more, and speaks the words of the spell that will take Arthur far too far away from Merlin, but at least will not allow him to die.
Even when the ground swallows Arthur’s almost still body, Merlin’s eyes are dry.
And in the years to come, in a sunless land, wandering over kingdoms that were once his and Arthur’s, he still can’t find the tears to cry.