#or he ISNT poisoned and just sustained too much damage to be Healed without immediate care (by enemies for torture then i guess)

[sweetautumnwine]

Kill Me

Drabble Prompts // Accepting // @inkspillsnotebook​

Leave a “Kill Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about one character killing another.

Warnings for blood and the death of a main character!

___

Merlin’s grip on the hilt of Arthur’s sword never wavered. He didn’t like how it felt, how the grooves bit into his palm, but when he thought of the physical sensations, he only gripped it more tightly.

At his feet, Arthur lay slumped against a wall of stone, half shaded by the rocks above him. Face upturned, his featured caught the blue light of the moon, making him appear much paler than usual yet also serene.

Merlin reasoned that this visage was due, in part, to blood loss, as well.

Already, Merlin had tried everything, used every healing spell he’d memorized, but nothing worked. There was no cure, no answer, no solution. It had finally come to this.

He nudged Arthur with his foot. Arthur’s groan confirmed that he was still alive, still clinging to the last breath of life he could find. This realization didn’t serve to reassure Merlin. In fact, he quickly turned away from Arthur as he began to rouse himself.

Instead of dwelling on Arthur’s current state, Merlin surveyed the battle field. The sound of clashing swords had dwindled significantly, but the battle waged on. And it was getting closer. The longer they remained in this hidden alcove, Arthur would be in danger. As far as Merlin could tell, there was no one left around them to offer protection.

They were alone. A wounded king and his servant. Against an army.

Merlin knelt before Arthur as he managed to open his eyes. While Arthur fought to maintain consciousness, Merlin tried to stifle the torrent of fear and rage within himself.

“Merlin?” Arthur spoke before Merlin could properly ground himself, and all at once, his fortitude dissipated, rendering him weak. “What’s happening? How long have I been out?”

Merlin toppled forward, falling with his palms open on the stone floor, the sword clattering against the rock beneath his hands. “I’m sorry, Arthur.”

That was it. That was all he could say before tears pricked his eyes. He ground his teeth together as his own weariness overcame him. Letting his head fall, he realized how foolish he had been. All this time, Merlin had known that it would come to this. The Once and Future King would rise again, so the Great Dragon had said. But in order for that to come true, that meant Arthur would have to fall.

Merlin just hadn’t ever predicted it would have to be by his hand.

Arthur’s fingers brushed Merlin’s cheek. It was a tender touch, but his hand trembled. “I need an honest answer, Merlin. How bad is it?”

Automatically, Merlin seized Arthur’s hand and raised his face only to give the king a stern look. “You’re gravely wounded; don’t move so much, idiot.”

Arthur laughed. He pressed a fist to his mouth when the sound became difficult and a wet cough seized him. Though he winced, he managed to keep his grin. “Never change, Merlin.”

In spite of the situation, Merlin relaxed. It was an involuntary reaction, spurred only by Arthur’s ill-timed joviality. He took a deep breath, then settled back on his heels, loosely curling a hand around the hilt of the sword. Though he caught Arthur’s gaze as the motion drew his eyes, Merlin disregarded it. The time would come to address it, but not yet.

“We’ve lost,” Merlin said. “Rather badly. The few members of your forces that remain have been scattered, though it seems a small group of them are putting up a good fight nearby. At the very least, they’ve bought us some time. For that, we should be grateful.”

“We don’t need time,” Arthur said bitterly, losing all traces of his optimism. “We need a strategy.”

Merlin tightened his free hand into a fist. “Sire, it’s too late for that.”

In another battle, at another time, Arthur might have argued with Merlin, citing his inexperience on the front lines as an indicator of his ignorance. But for once, when Arthur met Merlin’s eyes, he realized something. Merlin—clumsy, honest, stubborn Merlin—had given up. And it wasn’t without reason. While he was unconscious, Arthur reasoned Merlin had scouted the battlefield, searching for survivors, only to witness tragedy and chaos, all while trying to keep Arthur alive and safe.

Arthur bowed his head in a rare act of humility. “What am I supposed to do, Merlin? We’ve lost the battle. Do we go back to Camelot? Plan a counterattack? Raise a new army on the bones of the last one?”

Merlin could tell Arthur was trying to think about the future. He, too, was thinking about the days to come. The difference was, of course, that Arthur was thinking in days, weeks, years. Merlin thought in centuries, of the ages and eras to come in Arthur’s wake.

Placing both hands on the hilt of Arthur’s sword, Merlin rose, standing so that the blade’s tip rested against the stone between his feet. He couldn’t picture his own expression but imagined, based on Arthur’s solemn look of recognition, it was a grim one.

“If they find you,” Merlin said, swallowing hard as the words became difficult to speak. “If they capture you, I won’t be able to save you. No one will. They’ll keep you imprisoned. They’ll torture you for information, but they will not let you die. If that happens, Camelot will fall. I can’t let that happen.”

Arthur didn’t move. He kept his eyes trained on Merlin. “You’re right.”

Merlin nodded. His head felt light, but he stood firm.

“You usually are,” Arthur said absently. “There have been many times I’ve felt foolish for dismissing you.”

Blinking, Merlin watched as Arthur’s face softened. “Arthur?”

With some effort, Arthur shifted so that he was sitting straighter, granting him a more regal disposition even with bloodstained armor and pallid skin. “That’s more like it. Much more comfortable.”

Merlin felt his hands begin to shake but forced his grip to remain firm. “I can’t think of another way.”

“I know.”

“I’m not strong enough,” Merlin continued, “to fend off our enemies, to carry you back. And I can’t abandon you, not to be kidnapped and not to die.”

Arthur nodded, though it appeared that this simple act took substantial effort now. “I understand. You have my blessing, Merlin.”

Merlin was crying. His shoulders heaved with each shaky breath, and he could barely see Arthur’s form in front of him. “I’m sorry, Arthur. I am truly sorry.”

When Arthur spoke again, Merlin could hear the tears in his voice, as well. It was moments like this, when Arthur demonstrated just how human he was, that Merlin would carry with him. “This day comes for all of us, I suppose. Just don’t be an idiot about it. If you miss, I’ll stab you right back.”

“Yeah, right,” Merlin said, wiping a sleeve across his face. “You can barely lift your arms. I’ve finally got the upper hand.”

Arthur smiled. “It’s a shame it has to be like this.”

“Maybe next time will be better,” Merlin said loftily.

“Next time?”

Merlin recognized his mistake at once. At the same time, he realized that he didn’t care. Straightening his posture, Merlin gazed down upon the bloody, beaten Arthur with eyes that still burned with curiosity and life, and what he saw wasn’t the young, honest king or the prodigious fighter or even his own best friend. Merlin saw hope. He saw a symbol, a message, a legend, all in the visage of the man he cared so deeply for.

“You are the Once and Future King,” Merlin said. “You made Camelot what it is today. And one day, you’ll do it again. That is your destiny.”

The twitch of Arthur’s mouth suggested that he was inclined to laugh, but he could tell from Merlin’s tone that he was serious. “And how do you know all this, Merlin?”

It was Merlin’s turn to smile, and he did so sadly, with some reserve, feeling all those years of guilt and secrecy welling up within him. “There’s a lot that you don’t know, Arthur. I’ve kept secrets because I had to. But what you need to know, what I need you to understand, is that I have always been on your side, even from the very beginning when you were such a prat. I knew you were destined for greatness, and I honestly didn’t need a dragon to tell me that.”

“A dragon?” Arthur asked. But then, he shut his mouth, leveling his gaze and lifting his face. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. I trust you, Merlin. So do me a favor and make this quick.”

Merlin shut his eyes before nodding. “As you wish.”

He took a few steps forward, raising the blade so that its tip aligned with Arthur’s chest. His own strength surprised him. Still, he didn’t waver.

“Arthur,” Merlin said.

“For God’s sake, Merlin,” Arthur spat, his chest heaving. “Stop stalling already.”

Merlin laughed as he cried, the tears now streaming down his cheeks. “I just wanted to say that, no matter how much it hurts my pride, it’s been an honor to be your servant. But more than that, I suppose, it’s been an honor to be your friend.”

The way Arthur looked at him with conviction and resolve in his eyes struck Merlin to his core. But then he smiled, bowing his head and turning away. “That’s my line,” he said, closing his eyes and taking in a slow, deep breath. “I’m the lucky one to have had such a great friend as you by my side this entire time. I trust that, in the next life, you’ll be there, too.”

Though he knew Arthur wasn’t watching, Merlin nodded anyway. “Of course. I won’t miss a moment.”

Then, Merlin braced himself against the hilt of Arthur’s sword. He wanted to shut his eyes, to blind himself to the task at hand, but he kept them open, watching the blade. With one decisive push, Merlin grunted as he drove the sword into Arthur’s chest.

Arthur’s eyes flashed open as a gasp was forced from his lungs. His body spasmed once, then fell limp and still. Before allowing himself to crumble, Merlin withdrew the blade and wiped it off on Arthur’s cloak. Still clutching the hilt with white knuckles, Merlin forced himself to turn away, moving one step at a time, and only when the sounds of battle had finally been replaced by the nightly chatter of forest creatures did Merlin collapse, falling to the earth as though gravity itself had driven him to his knees.

He wept. And then, once his tears subsided long enough for him to catch his breath, he rose, trudging onward into the night, knowing that though an era had ended by his hand, a new one was about to begin.

#inkspillsnotebook #bbc merlin #my work #my writing #drabble #death #blood #blood loss #injury #merlin fic #this is i guess some weird alt ending to the show? #it's been literal years since i watched s5 so details are Rough #but i guess in this version arthur is poisoned still? but the enemies would have an Antidote #or he ISNT poisoned and just sustained too much damage to be Healed without immediate care (by enemies for torture then i guess) #idk honestly #it was fun either way #it didnt hurt as much as i expected so it's probably not THAT impactful BUT #i like writing for merlin bc it's such an important series to me! #so thanks for this request like a literal year and a half ago lol