author's note: hello lovely people. this is my first venture into the world of publishing fanfiction. merlin has had my heart for many years, and i have read so many wonderful stories that have inspired me! i hope this short little one-shot makes you happy! i'm a sucker for some merlin/arthur bromance.

disclaimer: i do not own merlin.

"No!" The scream rippled and echoed through the cavernous isle. Merlin Emrys, the esteemed warlock of legend, the last dragonlord, and the greatest sorcerer to ever walk the earth, stood powerless. His friend had just willingly walked to his death, and Merlin Emrys had done nothing to stop it.

Merlin kept seeing the Dochraid's smile, kept feeling the Dorocha's biting touch, kept hearing himself tell Lancelot, "you have to have a reason. Something you care about. Something that's more important than anything".

What had been most important to Lancelot?

These thoughts circulated in Merlin's head, holding him captive to the ground where he stood. He wasn't sure how long he stood there, motionless, but that is how the knights found him when they came to.

"Merlin?" He heard someone call his name but couldn't force his body to answer. "Merlin, where is Lancelot?" Oh god, where was Lancelot? Was he trapped in the spirit world? Did his soul return to Avalon? Did he become a Dorocha? Did -

"Merlin!" A loud shout startled him from his thoughts. He allowed his head to turn and was faced with the blazing eyes of his king staring at him. The lack of response from Merlin seemed to deflate Arthur; that was all the answer he needed as to what happened. The warlock saw but didn't process Arthur turn to Gwaine, look down, and mutter, "let's go home."

Merlin remained still. He jumped as a hand landed on his shoulders. "Come on, Merlin. It's time to go," said his king in a soft voice. Finally, he nodded and allowed himself to be led out of that cursed isle.

Merlin managed to continue walking until they reached the horses. He climbed on, pulled the reigns, and moved forward, more from muscle memory than conscious effort.

He said nothing. Neither did anyone else.

The somber silence hung over the group for hours. Sorcerer, king, and knight alike all felt choked by the looming presence of their friend who did not get the chance to return home with them. It was only broken when Arthur, in his king voice, said, "it's late; we are all tired. Let's make camp here. We'll leave for Camelot first thing in the morning." Everyone got off their horses and began to set up for dinner. Nothing else was said.

Merlin found the pot he used for making stew and walked over to the fire with it. Before he got there, Gwaine walked up and took the pot from his hands. "Let me tonight, mate. I've learned a few things about cooking through various lady friends", he said, giving Merlin a small grin. Merlin nodded and managed a smile in thanks. He went and sat by the fire, alone with his thoughts once more.

He sat there in silence until Gwaine came up and handed him a bowl of what he hoped was stew. With one bite, Merlin realized that the knight probably didn't learn as much from his lady friends as he thought he had. He took a sip of water and put the bowl down. Even if it were a meal fit for a king, Merlin doubt he would've eaten it anyway. Soon, the knights got out their sleeping mats and scattered across the dirt-covered ground. Merlin didn't move, content to sit alone and stare at the flames.

He wasn't alone for long after that, however. Moments after he put his dinner aside, he was joined by the king. Merlin almost smiled. Usually he was the one coming and sitting by the fire to comfort the other.

For several moments, the king said nothing. He stared at his servant, seemingly trying to think of what to say. "Merlin…" Arthur started, and then paused. Merlin turned to look at him. Arthur wasn't the best at comforting others, but the fact that he was trying was enough.

"It's okay, Arthur." Merlin realized those were the first words he'd spoken all afternoon. Always looking out for Arthur.

Arthur nodded and looked down. "Do you want to tell me what happened?"

Did he? The warlock wasn't sure. It took Merlin a moment to find his voice again. Images of Lancelot being consumed by the black veil prevented him from opening his mouth. Finally, he said, "he got there before I could."

The king said nothing. They both sat and stared at the blazing flames. Merlin had never been fond of fire, knowing that it could very well cause his death, but now he longed for the flames to engulf him. They were so opposite of the cold, stiff deadness he was feeling. He could conjure the heat right now; just wave his hand until they grew and -

"Merlin, you know this isn't your fault, right?" Merlin jumped at Arthur's voice but didn't respond. After a moment of silence, he continued, "the fate of the kingdom does not rest on your shoulders. It never has. I am the leader of Camelot, and it is my duty to protect it. I should have been the one to die, not Lancelot. And certainly not you."

Merlin shivered against a nonexistent wind. "Arthur, you're too important for Camelot to lose you. It needs you." He paused to choke on the tears threatening to fall. "And it needs Lancelot, too. I...I told him what I was planning. That I was going to sacrifice myself. I don't really know why. I didn't think he would try to stop me." Merlin gave a small smile and looked back up at Arthur. "It just seems that so much has to be sacrificed for the sake of destiny." His growing tears began to fall.

"Lancelot was the most noble knight in Camelot. If anyone deserved to die for the kingdom, it wasn't him." Arthur's voice began to betray his own emotion. "I failed my own knight...my own friend. And I failed you, Merlin. I know how close you and Lancelot were. I know I told you once that no man is worth your tears, but Merlin, it's okay to grieve for him. He was a good man. And...and I'm sorry."

Merlin's tear-glistened eyes looked straight at Arthur. "Arthur, if this isn't my fault, then it isn't yours, either. You've done all you can to protect your kingdom. And...you've done all you can for me, too. Arthur, thank you. I know you're going to be the greatest king Camelot has ever known."

Arthur had been looking at Merlin the whole time he was speaking, but now he looked down. "It is I who should be thanking you, Merlin," he said, and the servant thought it was the softest he had ever heard Arthur speak. "You jumped in front of certain death for me. I would never ask that of you, and yet you do it anyway. I'm glad you're here, Merlin." And just as when he said those words years before, Merlin knew he meant them.

Merlin had returned to gazing into the fire. The intense heat made his eyes water even more, but he embraced the discomfort. Without processing his words, he said in almost a whisper, "I saw the Dochraid. Before Lancelot…" he once again had to pause. "She said that my time among men was not yet over...even if I want it to be." His eyes never left the fire.

Arthur stared at Merlin for several moments and let the silence stretch between them. Sorcerer and king alike were lost in his own thoughts. Finally, Arthur spoke. "Earlier, you said that had things been different, we'd have been great friends. But Merlin, you are the closest friend I have. I couldn't bear to lose you. I'm not glad that Lancelot is gone. Believe me. But I am glad that you're not."

Merlin tore his eyes away from the flames to look at his king. Arthur had just admitted that he cared about him. While Merlin had known it was true, it was nice to hear it out loud, especially because one of the people that openly cared for him was now dead. The warlock's face spread into a genuine smile for the first time that day. His eyes that had been watery from both the heat and emotion now shown with overwhelming gratitude and loyalty. "That means more to me than you know, Arthur. Really. I'm glad you're not gone, either."

Arthur loosened up as Merlin grinned. He stared at his servant again, and when he seemed satisfied that the servant in question was not going to faint over, he rose to get up. "I'll leave you alone for now. Don't worry about the horses; I'll take care of them. Get some rest."

When Merlin was once again alone, he pulled out his sleeping mat and lied down on the hard floor. The flames still raged beside him, and after making sure no one was looking, his magic flashed to put them out. His body immediately missed the warmth, but his eyes cleared, and he began to breathe deeper. The coldness in his heart that he had already become accustomed to was now slightly less prevalent with the reminder that he was cared for. The pain of Lancelot's absence would not go away easily, but Merlin now had hope that it could eventually be healed.

As the remaining embers continued to dwindle out, a cool breeze swept through and extinguished them. Merlin Emrys closed his eyes against the wind, and within moments, he was asleep.