InsaneJournal

Who: Arthur (and Merlin?)
What: Much in the way of angsting
When: Sometime shortly after Merlin says Morgana's dead
Where: Merlin's room
Rating: Low
Status: (in?)complete



There weren't enough words to cover Guinevere's grief. Arthur stared at his wife, helpless and unnerved by the way she shook. He cast aside the PDA as he crouched before her, catching her knees before reaching for her hands to free the device in her own hands. Outside, the world raged madly, but for a few moments, all of Arthur's attention was directed onto Gwen and the way agony twisted her face. He brushed her hair from her wet eyes, tucking the curls neatly behind her ears and waited for the dull ringing in his ears to cease and let the rest of the world's sound pour back in.

He stayed before her for what felt like hours, brushing his thumbs across her cheeks and under her eyes, breath catching each time she swayed and her body trembled with a new burst of tears. Arthur's calves burned by the time Gwen raced to the bathroom, heaving into the toilet. Her knuckles bled white against the bowl and he had to pry her from it, half-carrying her back to the sofa and bringing her a blanket. He didn't know what more he could do for her. He'd never seen her like this. The silence resonated deep within him and with a final kiss to her forehead, he left her to go see Merlin as promised.

The halls were quiet as he passed the few doors to Merlin's own and was only greeted by further quiet on the other side. Uncommonly quiet, really. Arthur cleared his throat, just to break the stillness, tempted to rap on the wall just to see if Merlin was even in. Morgause would come by. Arthur was certain of it, had she not come already. But the silence was as thick as any he had encountered and he didn't dare shatter it further.

He cut a path through Merlin's rooms, heading toward the one that had been empty save the strays Merlin took in and paused at the threshold. He stared at the door which was halfway shut, fingers hesitating to push it the rest of the way open. Merlin's eyes were like sharp pins into the back of his neck. He could feel his pained gaze from where he sat, unmoving if Arthur cared to glance. He knew Merlin well. That was never in doubt and he knew Merlin wouldn't interrupt unless he deemed it necessary.

This would not be one of those times.

Arthur sucked in a shallow breath and his heart began beating its way slowly into his throat. For one wittering moment, he nearly turned away, convinced he had nothing there to see, but God, he couldn't turn back. Not from this. Turning his back would not change what laid beyond the waiting door, who laid beyond the door.

He pushed, too gentle at first to make the door budge more than an inch or so before giving into the urge to slam it the rest of the way open, shaking the stillness from the rooms and breaking his own buzzing thoughts.

Morgana could have been asleep had he not known better. Merlin had placed her on the bed, devoid of mark, scratch or bloodstain and set her hands to rest on her stomach. Her eyes were closed and her dark hair fanned around her head like an unholy crown. Had it not been for the unnatural peace found in her features, Arthur would have gone out and shouted at Merlin for being a hideous liar.

She didn't move. Not a single twitch, flutter or grimace. She wasn't going to either.

Arthur sank to his knees at the bedside, unable to tear his gaze from the easy expression on her face. He reached out with a shaking hand to touch the corner of her dull lips, dreading the cold he would encounter but needing it to anchor him to the situation. He needed it to make this real. His chest ached at the first pinprick of unnaturalness, the coolness of her skin and lack of air against his thumb.

"You could never ask for help, could you?" he whispered, choking on the last words. His voice was rough, hoarse and dry when he bent over, clutching one of her hands and bringing it to his lips. It was his fault, he realized, that she was like that. They fought over it before. They had fought over it here. And still she hadn't believed him and he had no one to blame but himself. For all that he claimed he would listen, she never could let herself believe him. "It actually killed you this time."

Arthur stayed in that position gazing at Morgana's face for long minutes, her hand stiff and unyielding in his own. His back ached where his knees wouldn't and nothing moved quite as it should. Nothing felt quite like it ought. He didn't move until he felt a startling splatter of water hit his own hand and he realized he'd been crying and by that point, it was too late to stop.