Hi, and welcome to my newest and first collection of anything - or, to elaborate, song-inspired one-shots. Yeah, so I was originally just going to post all my one-shots separately, but I just don't like the idea of leaving a post with only a single chapter (it BUGS me!), so...I decided to do this instead. I wrote this a year ago, beta-free, and posted it as a one-shot called 'Who Am I Living For?'...so if your brain tells you it's familiar, that's why. =D Thanks to Naleky, who gave me some advice on just how to go about turning this into a multiple-chapter post! :D

This is mainly retrospect, but it's got canon whump for Merlin (in his mind, anyway), and (as you already know) was inspired by and is dedicated to the song 'Who Am I Living For?' by Katy Perry. :) Go listen to it! It's pretty good music-wise, and amazing in it's Merlin-ness...if that is even a word...*sigh*

Title: Who Am I Living For?

Summary: Arthur is about to march to his death, and Merlin to find his magic - both losing time and faith. Just a few words, strung unsuspectingly together, can bring back so many painful memories - and renew any lost hope. [This takes place in the beginning of the Diamond of the Day Part 1, where (according to me) Merlin is helping Arthur with his armor before he leaves for the Crystal Cave. Doesn't make sense? Yeah, whatever. I needed the correct setting for this, here it is.]

Rating: T (moderately violent memories) (no language)

Genre: General / Angst

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, or the characters of Merlin…and didn't we already KNOW that?

BEFORE YOU READ: Listen to the song 'Who Am I Living For' by Katy Perry before/as you read this. That's the song that inspired me to write this, and I hope that the fiction and song go well together. Enjoy! :D

Arthur didn't move as Merlin strapped the armor onto him, piece by piece. He was silent, for once; Arthur and Merlin's usual banter was extinguished by the coming storm of battle. Merlin worked carefully, steadily, with his head down; a mistake here could cost Arthur his life out on the battle field. Especially if Merlin wasn't there to protect him.

Because I won't be, Merlin thought to himself sadly, ignoring Arthur's gaze on the back of his head. He knew Arthur could tell that something was off. Something was missing. Something that made Merlin Merlin; something that had to be present for the life in his eyes to be complete.

Magic.

And there was the reason Arthur couldn't know.

As Merlin fumbled for a moment with an unwilling strap, Arthur sighed loudly.

"Merlin," Arthur drawled, playing out his King Prat voice. "You know, actually acting like a normal servant for once really doesn't suit you."

Merlin didn't look up, simply nodding and moving on to the next strap. He knew that there was no getting away without saying something, but Merlin was planning on delaying this talk – this last talk – between them for as long as possible.

The silence didn't last long. "Merlin, what's wrong now?" Arthur still managed to inject a lofty tone into his obviously concerned words. Well, that was Arthur for you.

Merlin took a breath, trying to find the right words to say. How many times had he done this? Sent Arthur off to fight with words of wisdom, all the while preparing for his own battles? Never knowing if this was that day – the last day?

Finally Merlin raised his head, looking Arthur square in the eye. There was no smile on his face, no attempt at humor. "Arthur…this isn't just any battle. It's the battle of Camlann, the turning point of this war. The battle that decided whether we win…or we lose. And we can't lose."

Merlin turned to pick up Arthur's helmet, pausing in his speech. When he faced Arthur, Merlin let his eyes remain on the helmet. "So…we have to win." Merlin looked up into Arthur's eyes, offering him his helmet. "You have to win. And I believe you can."

Arthur stared at the helmet with apprehension, then at Merlin. His eyes only held concern. "…thank you."

Unfortunately, his voice always pretended otherwise. Arthur frowned skeptically at Merlin, their serious moment over. "What would you know about battles, anyway?"

Merlin froze, turning again so that Arthur couldn't see his eyes. He was sure that they would betray him.

What would I know about battles, anyway?

Merlin reached back, and every memory was as fresh as if it had happened just yesterday –

He was drinking the poison from Arthur's cup, feeling the venom spread throughout his body, burning him, drowning him; he was watching the fight for Ealdor progress, watching his people die, feeling his resolve to not use magic crumple; he was at the Isle of the Blessed, falling in agony as Nimueh's fireball collided with his body; he was watching as Arthur and his Knights attacked Freya, hearing her pain, feeling her pain; he was pouring the poison into the water, thrusting it at Morgana, watching her as she drank it and choked, staring at him accusingly, and hating himself.

Every time Arthur suited up for battle, Merlin was doing the same; every time Arthur marched out with his Knights and his armies, Merlin was walking a different road alone. Arthur fought in the battles with swords and strength, amongst friends and allies. Merlin fought with his magic, but he stood on a different front, and he was the only soldier. He could never afford to be afraid, so he wasn't. Not on the outside.

He was wrapped in chains, watching as Morgause walked away, leaving him to die, watching as the serkets came closer and closer, the sting biting into his back with a rush of flames and fear; he was pacing in his room, his mind tearing at itself to choose between saving Morgana or saving his destiny; he was being led out to the pyre, disguised as an old man and unable to free himself, the fear of burning clawing its way up his throat; he was running towards the Cup of Life, just inches away when he was ripped back and slammed into a hard stone wall; he was leaping through the Dorocha, feeling the ice clutch his heart with an iron grip, feeling it beckon him cruelly into the darkness.

But Arthur fought the enemies that were announced and visible. Merlin fought constantly, and he fought the things hiding in the dark. He could never take off his armor because the battle was never won. And he fought in the dark, too; he would save Arthur or Camelot or the entire world, and when he came home, half dead, no one could ever know. He had to continue on with a smile on his face and cheerful remark on his tongue, ignoring his aching wounds.

He was watching, horrified, as Uther gasped one last time and finally lay still, as Arthur accused him furiously of killing the king; he was running through the crumbling temple, the precious egg clutched tightly in his arms, feeling the pain of the man lying inside, dying, dead, but unable to go back to save him; he was strung up in Morgana's hut, panic bubbling in the pit of his stomach, as she hissed the very last words he wanted to hear, choking on his screams as the Fomorroh twisted itself into his very flesh; he was frozen, watching, as Morgana waited expectantly for Alator to reveal Emrys' identity, for her to turn to him with redoubled hate in her eyes, for the agony to start.

Arthur lived by the sword, and everyone knew it. His weapon was revered and acknowledged. Merlin had to hide his only weapon, and live with the constant fear of being discovered, of being called a traitor, of being executed. Merlin's magic was his light, his candle; without it, he'd have been lost long ago. It was the sharpest of swords to some, and it was a savior to others. It was greater than anyone could ever imagine. But he knew that if anyone found out…if Arthur, or Gwen, or the Knights found out about any tiny part of himself that he kept hidden, forever secret, it would change everything. The smallest spark would set off undying flames, burning away any friendship Merlin had with any of them.

He was yelling at the knights to listen to him, to believe him about Lamia, falling painfully against the wall as Leon shoved him back, wondering if this was how it would be if his secret was ever discovered; he was rushing through the caves outside Ealdor, revealing his magic to Agravaine, watching distantly as Agravaine flew back against the rock, cracking his head, dying, and instead of satisfied, he felt so sad; he was staring into the pool of water, icy terror gripping his heart, as he watched Mordred stride up to an injured Arthur and plunged a sword into his stomach, unable to tear away his gaze; he was inspecting the rock curiously, freezing in panic as he read the name 'Morgana', leaping up to warn them, warn Arthur, but flying back into the sharp pain that faded into darkness…

Merlin had never wanted to be born with this destiny. He had never asked for magic; he had never gotten a choice. He had been chosen, without any say in the matter. He had learned this during those first few days, during his first meeting with the Great Dragon. He had defied the call of destiny at first. Later, he had accepted – he resigned himself to spending his life protecting a man who would never be more than a job needing doing. But as time passed, he seemed to forget the reason. He forgot about destiny, and started thinking more about who he was protecting. He started helping Arthur grow into a worthy Prince, and not because of destiny. Not really.

What would I know about battles, anyway?

Why did he do it? Why did Merlin sacrifice everything – his friends, his family, his very life – for this? To be put through endless misery and pain? Who was he living and dying for?

Magic.

Destiny.

Camelot.

Loyalty and friendship and promises…

Arthur.

– lost in the endless jungle, determined to never give up; watching with undying pride as Gwen stumbled into the lake, into Arthur's forgiving arms; promising to himself as he felt Finna die that he would end this –

A destiny that would never die; a friend that would never turn on him. Merlin knew who he lived for, and he knew who he would die for. The Once and Future King. His best friend. Arthur.

"– Merlin?" Arthur's incredulous voice broke him out of his trance. Merlin glanced up at Arthur, eyebrows raised.

Arthur gaped at him with his brow wrinkled, what seemed to be his default expression when it came to Merlin. "You know, sometimes I really wonder about you." Shaking his head, Arthur snatched his helmet from Merlin's grasp and clanked out of the room.

Merlin smiled to himself as he watched Arthur go.

What would I know about battles, anyway?

More than you can ever know, Arthur.

So! I REALLY enjoyed writing this. It just felt so perfect and sad and wonderful all at the same time. =D I hope you enjoyed reading this...and if you did OR didn't, please review? I JUST LOVE REVIEWS. xDXDxD

The next chapter (one-shot) will be posted...whenever I next hear an inspiring song! LOL No just kidding, I'm working on two (unrelated) one-shots currently. No idea when I'll post them though, so just sit tight. Also, it would be GREAT if you could tell me about songs you know that remind you of Merlin! I'm always on the lookout fopr great new songs. :D

Thanks for reading, and have a nice day!

~whatswiththemustache