Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The day after the burning, there was a feast. The effects of the enchantment on Queen Guinevere had been lifted, and she was resting in her chambers as the kingdom celebrated her recovery. The feast had long grown quiet, leaving only a select few at the tables. The food had been cleared, leaving only a flagon of wine with the King and his round-table knights. Said flagon was currently being held by the king’s exhausted looking manservant.

“Come now, Merlin. what’s got you looking like a boar on Beltane?” Gwaine asked jovially, “Arthur’s not working you too hard again, is he?” The other knights laughed at the joke while Arthur rolled his eyes, but Merlin was silent for a moment before responding.

“Do you ever, just, look at yourself and realize no one knows how far you’re gone?” Merlin’s voice was quiet in the stifled air, startling the knights with its solemnity. “And you can’t help but feel helpless because the few times you tried to reach out, tried to tell someone even just a small piece of what’s wrong, they brushed it off? Because, sure, maybe you don’t phrase it in the most urgent way, but the entire time you’re just begging for them to understand. To see everything that’s trapped in your mind that can’t seem to escape through the words.” Gwaine and Elyan shared a concerned glance, silently communicating something. Elyan—who was sitting closest to Merlin—nodded slightly, carefully taking the wine from the man’s grasp. Merlin continued speaking as though he hadn’t noticed, and the concern in their eyes increased to alarm.

“And they don’t seem to notice that for once, there’s no trace of the usual humor, no trace of your defense mechanism that at this point probably couldn’t be chased away by grief? Like, your best friend could die in front of you and you’d cry, but the next morning you’d crack a joke because how else are you supposed to feel?!?” Arthur flinched at that, but Merlin didn’t notice, his voice growing louder as something akin to desperation leaked into it. More glances were shared between the knights. Leon wore a worried frown as he caught the eye of a distressed Elyan who clearly wanted to give Merlin a hug. Percival watched silently as Gwaine’s face morphed into one of pained understanding. The king’s gaze, however, remained firmly on his manservant. No, on his friend. His friend who was apparently hurting so much more than any of them had thought.

“You can’t shove it aside easily, not when the lies and the jokes come before you can even process the questions. And yet when you actually try? When you force yourself to be honest and leave the humor behind and actually be open? When you’re acknowledging there’s something wrong, practically screaming and begging for help in the only way you still can? They barely give it a blink. And somehow, that makes you feel worse than you did before you tried to reach out. It makes you wonder if you’re even worth helping. You don’t wonder if you need help. No, you know you need help. You know it so deeply and intrinsically that you can never escape from it. It drowns out your other thoughts, begging for release, yet somehow, when anyone asks, you’re suddenly fine. Not internally. Not deep in your soul where you know it’ll never be rooted out. But to that person, and anyone else who asks? You’re fine. Because you’ve given up on trying to tell them. You no longer try to get help. Afterall, how do you fix something you can’t even identify, can’t even name?” He was shouting now, yet none of them could find the voice to speak up, afraid of what the reaction would be if they did. Afraid that Merlin would stop talking again, would go back to saying he was fine when it was becoming more and more clear that he wasn’t. That he hadn’t been for a while.

“The answer? You don’t. You reach a point where you know that you can’t get rid of that pain—that marrow-deep anguish—anymore than you can change the color of your blood. And the only person who really knows how broken you are is you. And honestly? Once you reach that point, you just don’t care anymore. You become numb. You know, objectively, that you’re not okay. You acknowledge your pain and your longing for help, but you don’t do anything about it. You push it down until you almost convince yourself that you’re fine. You cover the problem with enough layers that on the surface everything’s fine. But ultimately it doesn’t matter how many bandages you layer on top if the wound never gets the chance to heal.” Merlin paused, panting as he reached the end of the impromptu rant. No one spoke as he caught his breath.

“You know what makes it even worse?” Merlin was quiet now, and somehow the exhausted defeat in his voice was worse than the anger ever had been. “Sometimes, when you try to reach out, it’s like your struggles are invalid. It doesn’t matter how much you work, or whether or not you’re injured. It doesn’t matter if you want to let yourself be killed. It doesn’t matter because obviously everyone else has had it just as bad or worse. So I should be able to handle it! Everyone else can! If I can’t, then maybe I don’t deserve to. Maybe everything that goes wrong is my fault because I can’t handle it, and if I could just handle it things wouldn’t be so bad. And if everyone else is going through difficult things yet they still have the strength to keep going, to keep fighting, then maybe the problem isn’t with my life. Maybe the problem is me. And I can change so many things about my life, but no matter what I do, I can’t change me. I’m stuck as me until the day I die, and if I’m the problem, maybe that day should come sooner. Maybe it would be better if I died. After all, everyone else is fine, and I’m sure they’d still be fine if I wasn’t here to see it—”

“Merlin…” Arthur muttered quietly, his heart aching at what he was hearing.

“—Afterall, I’m just an idiot who’s too weak to handle stuff that should be easy.  And if I can’t handle that how am I supposed to handle everything else that’s going to come? ‘Cause it’ll only get worse from here, you know? So I might as well do everyone a favor and-”

” Merlin.” It was Gwaine’s voice that time and Merlin froze, as if realizing what he’d just said.

A look at his friends’ faces confirmed they had, indeed, been listening. 

Merlin did the only thing he could do; he ran.

Chapter Text

The silence following Merlin’s exit lasted a total of seconds before Gwaine was rounding on Arthur.

“What did you do?!”

“Gwaine—” Elyan tried to interject. But he shook his head vehemently.

“No. No, Elyan. Not when Merlin- not after that. I’ve never seen him like that and I want to know what happened. ” Gwaine stood from his seat, stalking towards the distressed king like a Griffin towards a lost knight. An aura surrounded him of bittersweet fury, his brown eyes blazing amber with anger.

“I, I don’t-“ Arthur stammered, his gaze on the door, “I don’t know-“

“Oh shove off, Princess .” Gwaine snarled, an unusual amount of venom in his voice. “I saw the flinch; you knew what he was talking about, and I want to know what you did to hurt Merlin.”

“It wasn’t just him.” Percival’s quiet voice rang out. Leon nodded.

“You all heard Merlin, how many times has he tried to reach out and we haven’t noticed? Or worse, how many times have we merely brushed him off?” Leon asked, averting his eyes in shame.

“I thought- I mean, now that I think about it, he’s been quieter lately, but I never- I didn’t think much of it.” Arthur spoke, finally looking away from the door, his shattered gaze finding Gwaine’s burning one. The large stone room grew quiet after the statement, filled with its occupants’ swirling thoughts. As each moment faded past, the realizations increased. The way Merlin would be fine one day only to be withdrawn and tense the next. The way his visits to the tavern had allegedly increased lately. The difference was starting as memories of a bright-eyed, snarky young man resurfaced next to the images of the man from that night. This new Merlin was wired, anxious and jaded, and so, so tired.

“We really messed up, didn’t we?” Elyan muttered softly.

“Yeah, we did.” Gwaine agreed roughly. Without another word he stalked out of the room, his shoulders tight with tension and adrenaline.

No one moved to follow.

~               *               —                *             ~

No one saw Merlin the next day, Gaius claiming he was sick and not to be bothered. Gwaine was also absent, although his state was much less of a mystery when he drunkenly staggered back to his quarters not long after the moon had risen. King Arthur had spent the day either in the throne room, council meetings, or by his wife’s side. After having to deal with George the entire day (who really was a good servant, but that was quite possibly the problem ) Arthur realized he’d been too busy to speak to Gaius or Merlin who were both quite probably asleep now. 

Arthur didn’t sleep that night.

The next morning, Merlin was back as if nothing had happened. To most of the castle, it was a normal day, but to a select few, everything was off. Merlin’s smile—the same smile as a week ago—was scrutinized as he helped Arthur into his armor. Was it real? If it was fake, how long had he been using it that they couldn’t tell the difference? When Gwaine had clapped him on the shoulder affectionately, Merlin had grinned, bumping against him. But when he noticed the worry and concern in his friend’s eyes, the smile had dimmed and Gwaine’s arm had been shrugged off, Merlin rushing away with the mumbled excuse of chores. Elyan’s offer to help polish armor and sharpen swords had been denied, Merlin claiming that the knight surely had many more important things to do.

The strange incidents continued throughout the day with Merlin managing to avoid any attempts to talk about the other day. It was once dinner had come and gone and Merlin was tidying up Arthur’s chambers that the King finally took the chance to talk to his elusive manservant.

“Merlin, we need to talk.” Arthur spoke up faux casually from his seat at his desk. At her husband’s words, Gwen looked up confused from where she sat at the table, drafting a letter for the metal workers and forgers. Merlin paused what he was doing, glancing over his shoulder. His eyebrows furrowed slightly in amused befuddlement.

“Do we, Sire?” A cheeky grin was on his face, as he spoke, “Don’t tell me something happened while I was gone yesterday; it’s hard enough to get days off as it is.”

“I’m not talking about yesterday, I’m talking about the night before.” Arthur’s voice was serious: the voice he used before a battle, after the fancy speech was over with and right before they rode into almost certain death. It was the voice he used when he hoped for the best, but prepared for the worst. Merlin had heard the same tone the night before Kanen had attacked Ealdor and killed his oldest friend. It was a tone that preceded victory for Arthur and loss for Merlin. And now Arthur was using it when there was no battle, when the only current problem could be Merlin himself.

Merlin turned his back to the two royals, but it wasn’t quick enough to hide the flash of pain in his eyes.

“Merlin.” Arthur’s voice was kinder than normal and it unsettled Merlin, making him feel off-balanced. “Stop acting like you’re fine, please. We both know that’s not the case and we can’t fix anything if we ignore it.” Merlin ignored him, retrieving another shirt from under the bed. “ Mer lin.” Arthur ground out, glaring imploringly at his friend.

“Your Majesty .” Merlin snarked back, what was meant to be a tease coming out harshly. A painful smile sat on his face, breaking the fragile peace in the room.

“Oh for the love of– Merlin . Stop smiling like that!”  Arthur shouted. “You’re not fine, so stop trying to convince me.” He tensely folded his arms, planting his feet obstinately.

“Of course I’m not fine!” Merlin finally snapped, frustrated as he raised his gaze, “Not that you care! Not that any of you care!” His grip tightened noticeably on the edge of the basket in his arms.

“We do care, Merlin-“ Gwen started softly, but Merlin cut her off.

“I don’t want you to.” Arthur staggered back as if struck. “Why can’t you just, leave it? It happened, it’s done, so let’s just go back to how things were before. Alright? There’s nothing any of you can do to fix this, fix me, and I don’t want you to try.” I don’t want you to make it better, because what if that’s worse than it is now? “Is that all, Sire? ”

“No, Merlin I–“

“ Is that all? ”

“Yes Merlin,” Gwen spoke up softly, having been quiet for the majority of the argument, “You can leave.” Merlin nodded, bowing stiffly before marching out with the basket of soiled laundry firmly clenched in his grip. The two guards outside the King’s chambers watched on in concern as the King’s manservant stalked out of the room, far from his usual self.

When George once again brought the king and queen dinner, the Queen’s frustrated voice was heard.

“Arthur Pendragon, what is going on?”

Chapter Text

Merlin was tired. He had been tired ever since the burning. He had been tired when he snapped at the knights, he had been tired when Arthur tried to talk about it, but if he really thought about it, he had been tired long before that.

Merlin was tired of being tired.

It was nearing sunrise, and he still hadn’t slept. He couldn’t. Not when he’d possibly ruined the only friendships he had. Ever since that night they’d all looked at him differently; they watched him when his back was turned, snuck side-eyes during practice, went out of their way to ‘accidentally’ come across his path in the corridors. It stung. These were the people he knew best in the world. These were the men he’d put effort into getting to know. Not just Arthur, either. All of them were. Often Merlin found himself wondering how it was possible to know another so wholly, to know more about them than himself. Which was why their reactions stung all the more. He hadn’t meant to share all of that, hadn’t meant to lay himself bare, but they acted as though those words changed who he was. As if he was suddenly going to fall apart if they didn’t watch him every second.

And that’s all they did; they watched. Even Gwaine had done nothing more than pat him on the shoulder. Arthur was the only one to actually ask, yet somehow that had done nothing to ease the pain Merlin was feeling.

Why did they have to ask?

Why couldn’t they just know him the way he’d always tried to know them? Did they not care? Was he truly nothing more than Arthur’s servant?

Throwing down the pillow he’d unknowingly started clutching at some point, Merlin uncurled from his position on the floor of his room. The first hint of morning was approaching, and it was clear in the dim light that Merlin wasn’t getting any sleep tonight. Throwing on his jacket, he left Gaius’s tower.

Without an explicit destination in mind, he ended up in one of the lesser used corridors of the castle. It was lined with rooms that laid empty for most of the year, only used when every other guest chamber was full. At the end of the long hallway was a large window, left undraped to allow light to get in. On the outskirts of the castle, it was one of the few windows to have an unencumbered view of the castle gardens.

As Merlin walked absently down the hallway, he noticed a figure standing still as they gazed out the window. They stood, leaning against the wall next to the grand window, with a flask in their left hand. Their presence should’ve been alarming, but the stance was familiar to Merlin. The way they stood to the side of the window instead of in front of it, how they leaned against their left shoulder so their right arm wouldn’t be hindered from protecting themselves, even going so far as to hold their drink in their left hand, likely learned after accidentally starting one to many bar fights. His hair was a mess, and Merlin got the feeling he hadn’t slept either.

Stopping in the center of the large window, Merlin gazed at the moonlit gardens far below.

“Too bad it doesn’t open.” He joked, resting a hand against the glass. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Gwaine flinch, but he shoved down the pang of guilt. If they were going to treat him different, why shouldn’t he act different? It’s not like he hadn’t thought that before. Before Gwaine could respond, Merlin was talking again.

“Couldn’t sleep, you?”

“Yeah,” Gwaine responded roughly, his voice tired and strained. “Just… too many thoughts, y’know?”

“Yeah, I get that.” Merlin gave a half-hearted smile, which Gwaine returned briefly before his expression fell.

“About the other night…” He started hesitantly, but Merlin’s face shuttered.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Merlin, please. I get it, I really do. I know what you’re going through because-”

“Oh, you know, do you? Wonderful! Isn’t that just amazing? Congratulations Gwaine, you know. You’ve figured it out! You know all about what’s wrong with Merlin . How does that feel? Hmm? So what is wrong with Arthur’s stupid manservant? No really, tell me, ‘cause I sure have no clue.” Merlin’s voice broke, finishing as a whisper, “What’s wrong with me Gwaine?”

He startled slightly as a pair of arms wound their way around him. Opening his eyes— when had he closed them?— he found he was being held against Gwaine’s chest. Instead of pushing away though, he found himself sinking closer to the warmth and comfort it provided.

“Nothing’s wrong with you, Merlin.” Gwaine muttered, leading Merlin to scoff, even as the knight tightened his hold slightly.

“That’s not really an answer.”

“Maybe not.” Merlin could feel the knight shrugging above him. “Or maybe it just means that if you’re not wrong, then it’s us that are wrong.” Merlin tried to pull back, tried to protest that he was the one at fault, he was the one who yelled at everyone, but Gwaine didn’t let go. 

“We’ve been horrible friends, and it’s about time someone yelled at us for it.” Merlin grumbled something, finally pushing back out of the hug as the knight let go and looking his friend in the face. Gwaine met his gaze, and his eyes were full of such intense regret and self-deprecation that Merlin found his breath catching.

“Gwaine…”

“I’m sorry, Merlin. I should’ve paid more attention. I should’ve made it more clear that you can talk to me . I’m your friend before I’m some royal’s knight, no matter who that royal is.” Gwaine smiled sadly, “I want to help, Merlin. Please… let me help.”

Merlin turned away, staring out the window as silence fell between them. After a moment, his quiet voice seemed to echo in the empty corridor.

“I don’t know how”

Chapter Text

“So let me get this straight.” Queen Guinevere started, voice cold and hard. “After I was hit by some mystery enchantment, you decided the best plan was to immediately send out a witch hunt and execute the culprit who you had startled instead of, oh, I don’t know, asking them to remove it?”

“It’s not like it would’ve worked,” Arthur retorted frustratedly, shifting uneasily under his wife’s glare.

“Wouldn’t it?” Gwen glared, “Did you even bother to suggest it? ”

“No… well I mean, Merlin did, but—”

“Was there a trial? Did they have a chance to plead their case? Were you the fair and just man that I’ve seen in you? That Merlin has always seen in you?” Her glare sharpened, “Or did you behave just like Uther?”

“ I was scared!” Arthur gasped, pained and desperate, the words coming out as if he’d been punched. “I was terrified to lose you. I couldn’t— I can’t— I didn’t want to lose you! Not after everything, please Guinevere, understand—“

“ He was a boy!” Gwen snarled, “barely as old as Merlin when he first arrived in Camelot, and surely young enough that he grew up under Uther’s murderous reign. Of course he was scared when we came across him doing magic during our ride! I saw him, Arthur, before whatever that spell was hit me, I saw the fear on his face . It was the same fear I felt when they accused me of healing my father, the same fear I felt when my father was sentenced and executed .” Arthur flinched back at her words, struggling to find the words to respond.

“I, I wasn’t thinking clearly, I’m sorry Guinevere, really—”

“It’s not me you should apologize to, it’s…” she frowned, trailing off before taking a steadying breath. “You’ve spent so much time repairing relations with the druids, repairing damage your father caused, and now you nearly threw it all away in a fraction of the time. Magic may not be legal, but persecuting those with it never helped. What if killing them didn’t work?”

“But it did!” Arthur spoke up quickly, desperately, “You’re alright, the enchantment’s gone, so surely it worked!” 

“What if it hadn’t? Or what if that’s not why the enchantment’s gone? For all we know it wore off, or it was removed by someone else! Gaius could’ve cured me and that boy would’ve died for nothing.” Gwen’s gaze was sad now, as she looked at the despairing king. “I get that you were scared for me, and I appreciate that. But you both reacted out of fear; he was merely mending ripped clothes, not plotting some great scheme.” She raised a hand before he could interrupt her, “I’m not excusing what either of you did. I’m not condoning it, but I won’t condemn you either. I’ve seen you struggle, and I’m constantly seeing you grow. You reacted poorly, someone lost their life, but I trust you’ll grow from this. Just promise me you won’t grow backwards.”

“I promise, Guinevere.” Arthur met her gaze, before lowering his head in shame. 

“You’re lucky you managed to convince me to wait until morning.” Gwen huffed, finally sitting down in one of the bedroom’s many chairs, picking at what remained of the breakfast George had dropped off before being shooed out by Arthur. “I’m not sure my self-restraint would have been strong enough as tired as I was.” Arthur’s face paled slightly at the thought of how much angrier his wife could’ve been.

“Arthur,” Gwen spoke up a moment later, her voice soft and warm, “Did you ever think that maybe this whole mess is what set Merlin off?” He looked up sharply, catching her gaze.

“It can’t be, he mentioned Ealdor, and— you should’ve heard him. It sounded like it’s been festering for a long while, Gwen.” His eyes were hopeless, haunted by the pain of another.

“True,” Gwen conceded, “but that doesn’t mean that this didn’t contribute to him finally breaking. You said he tried to get you to think rationally, right? Tried to stop it? Yet not only did you ignore him, you then proceeded to have a feast as though it was something to celebrate. It makes sense for him to be upset. He never liked the executions.”

“Gwaine was right,” Arthur despaired, burying his face in his hands, “It’s all my fault.”

“No,” Gwen spoke softly, “I have a feeling there’s a lot more to it than that.” Standing, she rested a hand on his shoulder. “I’m going to go find Merlin, take some time to sort out your thoughts.”

With that she quietly left the room, heading towards the gardens.

~              *               —                *              ~

“I thought I might find you here.” Merlin jumped, the voice startling him out of his concentration. At the other end of the garden path stood Gwen, wearing a simple yet elegant blue dress. “You know,” she continued, smirking softly,  “For some reason, I never can seem to find you at the tavern.” 

“Astonishing, really, with how often I seem to be there.” Merlin responded lightly, recovering from his surprise. “What brings you out here?”

Gwen casually strode forward, taking a seat on a nearby bench. “Admiring the gardens. It’s a rather beautiful day, don’t you think?”

Merlin shrugged, taking a second to examine his friend. She looked healthy, the color having returned to her face, and her breathing even as she watched the shifting leaves of a nearby tree. All in all, it looked like Gaius’ portion had worked.

If only it had worked faster.

Turning slightly, Gwen met his gaze. “Something wrong?”

“What? Oh! No, no, nothing’s wrong, just… I’m glad you’re okay, Gwen.” Merlin gave a half hearted smile before glancing down at his notebook where he’d been sketching the henbane plant growing next to him.

“Merlin… what happened after I was—after the magic hit me?” Gwen asked, voice hesitant. “How did such a small accident lead to a public execution?” Merlin shrugged, his face held in a carefully neutral expression.

“Arthur… panicked. You passed out and almost fell off your horse, but the sorcerer was too shocked to take the chance to escape. By the time we reached Camelot, Arthur wouldn’t listen to a word I said. You know the rest.” Merlin closed his notebook, setting it into his herb gathering bag that he had with him before leaning back slightly and looking at the sky.

Gwen stayed quiet, and after a minute or so, Merlin sighed softly before speaking up again.

“Y’know… he didn’t tell anyone else what really happened. Only you and I know the truth, and I suppose I know more of it, since you’ve been unconscious.” Merlin remarked bitterly. “Arthur exaggerated it, made him seem evil and dangerous, and the execution was over before anyone even had time to think about it.” Merlin turned his gaze to meet Gwen’s mournful one. “I’m glad you weren’t there, Gwen. I’m glad you didn’t have to see his face; he looked so scared. He…” looked like me.  

He didn’t finish his sentence. Didn’t share the thought with her. But he couldn’t get the image out of his head. For the first time in a while, he remembered how naive and innocent he’d been when he’d first arrived in Camelot, not much younger than the boy who’d burned. He had been reckless, and over and over the image filled his mind of a younger version of himself in the midst of the fire. A young Merlin staring fearfully at a man who had become his friend in another universe, a man who—in this imagined world—gave the signal to end his life. 

How could he possibly explain that terror to someone without magic, someone with no knowledge of his magic? Of anyone, however, perhaps Gwen was the most likely to understand.

“I’m terrified, Gwen.” The words come out whispered and quiet. They barely reach his own ears, but still he continues. “It seems crazy, but I am.

“I can’t even tell you why, but every day I feel it. I thought it was going away, was lessening, but it’s back. It’s back, and I’m scared, and I don’t want to die, Gwen.” The last sentence was whispered even softer, and his eyes were clenched shut at the admission.

A hand rested on his shoulder, and he choked back a sob, “Please don’t let me die.”

Above him, her voice was soft and gentle as she responded, “I won’t, Merlin. I promise.”

Chapter Text

It was too much; the looks, the whispers, all the times they would go out of their way to say hi or invite him to do stuff. It was stifling in the way it made his chest feel weird, in the way he wanted to fight and scream, but also hide away forever. It felt like there was a swirling ball of emotion behind his sternum, like an abyss had opened within him and he itched to reach inside and yank it out before it could swallow him.

His fingers twitched. It was too much.

He only told Gaius he was leaving. He didn’t plan to, but the old man had walked in while he was packing his bags. They agreed on a trip to Ealdor, but he was only to spend up to a week there, or Gaius would send Arthur after him. In exchange, Gaius wouldn’t stop him. 

He left before Gaius could change his mind.

~              *               —                *              ~

It was rather ironic when the horses passed him by. He had made it only a little ways into the forest before the abyss in his chest had solidified, gripping his heart in a heavy hold that made him long to cry. To sob and release… something. He wasn’t sure if it was pain, or perhaps the emotions he’d been so desperately pushing down, but it was enough to make the thought of walking on unbearable.

He had left late, not long after the sun had gone down. He hadn’t been able to stand the thought of yet another day filled with whispers, and the thought of sleep had again seemed so far away. The sky had just begun to lighten when he stumbled his way over to a tree along the path and leaned against it. Sliding down, he hugged his knees, pressing a hand tightly against his chest. It wasn’t enough—the pain simply moved to his throat—but it was something.

He had remained like that for hours, simply trying to breathe away the impending tears, when a group of three horses rode past. Upon their backs sat three figures wearing the red cape of Camelot’s knights. The three held themselves calmly, likely just a patrol, and led their horses at a light trot. At the front rode Leon, posture loose but expression distracted and pinched slightly.

From his place against the tree, he was well sheltered from sight; the underbrush surrounding him blocked others' view while still allowing him to see the path. He knew, logically, they couldn’t see him, yet it still hurt to see them ride past as though he wasn’t there.

It was fine.

He was fine.

~              *               —                *              ~

The knot never loosened, tight around his throat and heavy in his gut. It didn’t loosen as he sat there, it didn’t loosen when he finally kept walking, it didn’t loosen long after the spires of Camelot disappeared in the distance.

It was fine.

Ealdor was too far away for him to have time to walk there, spend time in the village, and still make it back within a week. Gaius probably expected him to have taken a horse.

It was fine.

When night came again, he didn’t bother to pull out his bedroll. It felt like a waste of effort when he’d just put it back away in the morning. It wasn’t terribly cold yet, so wrapping his arms around himself would work fine. It wasn’t a real hug, and the heavy weight in his core felt deeper, but it was enough.

Everything was fine. It had to be.

~              *               —                *              ~

“Wow, splendid job Merlin. Look at where you’ve gotten yourself.” Merlin muttered bitterly as he walked. He’d woken up early in the morning and while the pit in his stomach was still there, it was easier to manage than it had been the night before.

“Not only did you spill your guts in the middle of a feast, but now you’re running away too. That’ll definitely get things back to normal. What a wonderful idea.” He kicked a rock and huffed. He’d really messed everything up, hadn’t he? If he’d just kept his mouth shut and his head down nothing would’ve changed. But he didn’t and now everything was different and he didn’t know how he was supposed to act. 

No matter what he did, their reactions were wrong . They acted different which meant he was supposed to act different too but he didn’t know how . Were they sad? Frustrated? Angry at him? Was Merlin supposed to be sympathetic or apologize? Match their energy or mirror it? He couldn’t even just act the same as before because their reactions were different, so his usual responses didn’t work .

“Idiot…” A slight rustling in the bushes to the side of the path briefly interrupted his spiral. He watched as a small rabbit hopped out, eyeing him curiously before continuing on its way. It hopped across the path before diving into the bushes and rustling away. Merlin envied the rabbit. He wished he could disappear into the bushes too and hide from the world.

Frowning, Merlin felt a soft longing for his cloak. In his hurry to leaveleavegetoutnow he’d forgotten it. He yearned for its large hood, big enough to hide his face without blocking his vision. He ached to hide away in its folds, safe and comforted by the soft fabric. For whatever reason, he always felt calmer with the hood up, the world seeming just that slight bit further away.

And yet, he didn’t have it. And to make matters worse, he’d never gotten his favorite blue cloak back from Arthur after lending it to him ages ago because the prat had to go and decide he actually liked the thing despite harshly insulting it when Merlin first offered it. So not only did Merlin not have his cloak, but even if he did have it, he’d only have his well worn brown one instead of his blue one, which was fine because he hadn’t had it in years except it wasn’t for some reason which was stupid because it really should be fine, he was being stupid.

…it just seemed to hurt so much more than usual.

Forcing himself to take a deep breath, Merlin trudged onward, making his way little by little to Ealdor.

Everything was fine.