Merlin called for the Great Dragon, for Kilgharrah. He called for the creature until his voice was hoarse and his throat was parched. For if anyone knew how to save Arthur, it would be Kilgharrah. He would know what to do, know which spell Merlin had to use to bring his love back. Arthur couldn’t just die, couldn’t just leave Merlin and Camelot and all else he loved behind. He still had so much good left to do in the world.
Eventually the dragon heard Merlin’s pleas, and came to him.
“What is it, young warlock?” he asked, voice echoing around the chasm where the battle had taken place.
Merlin looked up at the dragon, tears streaming down his face. “It’s Arthur. He needs help.”
The eyes of Kilgharrahfilled with sorrow for there was nothing that could be done for the fallen king. “It is too late for Arthur.”
“NO!” Merlin cried, clutching Arthur closer to his chest. “You’re wrong. He can’t die. He can’t.”
The dragon shook his head slowly, dreading the words that would come forth. “He has died, Merlin.”
Fresh tears poured down the sorcerer’s face. How much longer could Arthur remain like this until it was too late to bring him back? Too late for anything?
“Surely there is something we can do. I thought you said I have the most powerful magic. Then why can’t I help him?”
“There are limits to even your powers, young warlock. And bringing back someone who is gone is one of those very limits.”
Merlin hung his head over Arthur’s, trying to find some warmth in his body, some indication that all of this was some sort of dream, some sort of twisted joke played by destiny.
“Merlin,” Kilgharrah began.
The sorcerer raised his head to look the great creature in the eye.
“When Albion’s need is greatest, Arthur will return. He is the once and future king.”
Merlin took little solace in the dragon’s words. When would Albion’s need be greatest? How long would Merlin have to wait to see Arthur again, if ever?
It would be best if Merlin could accept what had happened, if only to save himself from the pain that consumed his entire being.
Arthur was dead. There would be no more whispered confessions, no more stolen kisses. No more dreams of the future, or of adventures yet to come. There was no more Merlin and Arthur. No more king and his sorcerer.
It was the end of everything.
YOU ARE READING
The King and His Sorcerer
FanfictionI decided to expand on my Methur fanfic, and start their story from the very beginning. Merlin is a young warlock who somehow finds himself as the manservant to the prince of Camelot. At first, he cannot stand his princely employer, but when the two...
