Title: The Journey Home
Character/s: Merlin, Kilgharrah
Summary: Thoughts plague Merlin on his way back to Camelot
Word Count: 420
Prompt: #204 - s5e10 - The Kindness of Strangers
Author's Notes: Unbeta’d
He remained sat for a moment, just watching as Kilgharrah flew away, the dragon becoming smaller and smaller by the second.
His fingers danced over the small hole his in shirt, though the wound underneath was healed it still twinged with every small movement he made.
Deciding he had been here long enough, he allowed his eyes to flick over his surrounds, calculating where he was and how long it would take him to reach Camelot.
Few hours, damn. There was no way Arthur would not notice his absence. He’d need to come up with some sort of vaguely plausible excuse for where he had been and why. Though he was sure he would be in for some sort of punishment, knowing the king as he did.
With a resigned huff, he pushed himself up to his feet, suffering only a small wobble as he did.
Setting off he couldn’t help the dark cloud that seemed to settle over his thoughts. First Alator, then Finna and now Kilgharrah…
Too many people were dying in his name - or rather the name of Emrys. It seemed all those who knew of his magical side were doom to meet an early end.
Cross his arms tightly over his chest in an almost hug, he found himself pondering and not for the first time, why fate had chosen him for this destiny, there were others much more competent than him, those who had had the necessary training to handle everything thrown their way, rather than fumbling along as if in the darkness without a light as he did.
These unnecessary deaths felt like his fault, if only he could have been faster - better skilled - than he currently was.
What if’s floated through his mind, and he almost walked into a tree, it was only at the last minute that he stepped to the side and, ducked around a tree, being mindful not to trip over on of its many raised roots, perhaps he should sneak back into that secret room in the castle library, surely one of the many books held there would be useful. He would just need to find the time between all his chores to actually read.
He shook his head once, quickly discovering that was not the best of ideas whilst suffering from blood loss.
Through the fabric of his jacket he traced the shape of Finna’s gift determined that her sacrifice would not be in vain, for that at least he would give his all.