Rating: K+ (Mentions of character deaths)

A/N: Originially written for a kinkme - merlin prompt ("Those who are dead, are not dead; they're just living in my head.")

Disclaimer: I, in no way, shape, or form, own BBC's Merlin and take no credit for the show's plot and characters.

It all started with Will – like a lot of things in Merlin's life.

He was his first friend.

He was the first outsider he told of his magic.

He was the first one to live on in Merlin's mind.

Not that he knew it was going to happen like that. One moment, Merlin was holding his hand and crying as he watched Will die, and then watching them burn his pyre, and the next Will was hysterically asking if this was normal for Merlin or was he just as confused.

In his head. Merlin burst into tears right there after Arthur walked away.

It wasn't, of course, that Merlin could see Will when he was walking around or anything. That would be crazy – and he and Will were almost certain he hadn't gone insane.

So, he went about his days and occasionally Will would jab in with a comment or snide remark at Arthur.

A typical exchange went as follows:

"And give my boots a good shine, would you, Merlin?"

"I'll give you a good shine, you oaf!"

"Will, stop."

"What was that, Merlin?

"Erh, I said, Will do, sire…uh…"

Arthur was starting to look at him like he lost his mind.

It made his lonely evenings much less lonely – Will would retell stories and jokes from their childhood, the ones he knew would make Merlin laugh the hardest. But, sometimes, he would remain silent, and it took quite a bit of yelling on Merlin's part to get him to respond.

"What's it like?" Merlin asked once, laying on his bed and staring up at the ceiling.

He could almost – just barely imagine it really – feel Will's shrug. "I couldn't explain it to you if I wanted.

"But, mate, it's…tough. Not being able to do anything I want. Not being able to leave."

Merlin remained silent.

"You know, you hear about the afterlife, right? And I wonder, will I ever have that?"

When he put Freya out on the lake, he had been repeating over and over in his head – not her, not her, please not her, please not her too, please, please, please – as he watched the boat.

When her voice didn't join Will's in his head, he set about to have a good cry on the edge of the lake.

He missed her.

When he saw her again in the cave in their darkest hour, he had frantically asked Will if she was there – with him. Was he just imagining her face there? Was she really just speaking in his head?

But, no, he had saved her in some way. She at least had the freedom to move, it seemed, or at least some type of life in the lake.

But, he had still failed her – happy as she seemed with helping him.

He had still trapped her on this earth.

It seemed everyone he knew was destined to remain with him after their death.

It seemed when someone close to him was slipping away, they began to transfer into his mind.

He didn't understand it.

He didn't want to.

But, when Morgana was lying there, gasping in desperate breaths of air, Merlin began to hear her screams and pleas in his mind – soft and almost like sounds muffled by a floor of stone. It continued for weeks after Morgause took her – the sound in his head constantly as she hovered between life and death.

Merlin almost though she had realized, there at the end, for her thoughts became aimed at hurting him – accusations and blame thrown in his face. He wondered if it was his fault or Morgause's or Uther's that she had changed so much.

He was just glad she wasn't there with him all the time – guilty as he felt.

Balinor only spoke to him when he needed the Dragon Tongue, voice steady and calm in his ear – feeding him the words and adding kind advice when speaking to Kilgharrah.

Merlin wondered if he had known this would happen.

Perhaps this was because Merlin was a Dragonlord, and such a powerful warlock, and the two had mixed and changed it somehow.

Balinor had said a Dragonlord only comes into their own when their father has passed on – that it was passed down between them. Maybe his father had been in his mind, after, teaching him and guiding him.

Merlin could never work up the courage to ask.

But, he could hear his father's murmur of happiness every time he saw Hunith – and Merlin could almost be happy with that and the knowledge that someday Balinor would be reunited with her in Merlin's head.

And that was enough.

Lancelot was the worst.

Because Merlin knew, once his voice sounded in Merlin's mind, that he was truly gone.

He apologized, over and over and over, out loud, in his head, but it never seemed enough.

Lancelot just brushed the apologies off, telling Merlin that he was honored to have given up his life for Merlin. For Arthur. For Gwen.

With Lancelot came an almost constant aid in his daily activities. If he missed an order or a direction from Arthur, Lancelot would gently remind him so he didn't forget. When there was a bandit attacking him, Lancelot would guide him through the motions of a fight with quick orders so Merlin could get to the point to drop a subtle branch on the man's head.

At Lancelot's suggestion, he asked Will to help him with his magic – he and Lancelot would remember parts of spells for him. It was easier to face more experienced sorcerers with the confidence that he wasn't the only one facing them – Will and Lancelot were there too, supporting him.

Will and Lancelot got along well, it seemed. But, then again, Lancelot had always gotten along with everyone. They seemed to have conversations without Merlin – voices a bare murmur at the back of Merlin's mind as he went about his business.

He would always greet Gwen, even though all three – well, four with Balinor – of them knew Gwen couldn't hear him.

It made Merlin want to pull his hair, and all of them, out.

And when Lancelot Du Lac appeared, Merlin instantly called out in his head to Lancelot.

And received no reply – Lancelot always replied. He was instantly suspicious, Morgana must have done something.

And, when he laid Lancelot down in the boat, whispering to himself, "It worked with Freya, it worked with Freya, it worked with Freya," Merlin looked at his face. And realized he had been starting to forget what Lancelot had looked like.

He pressed his hand to Lancelot's forehead, and cast the spell to free him from Morgana's control.

It hurt to hear Lancelot's voice again.

Outside of his head.

When the boat was consumed, Merlin felt the tears slide down his face.

Lancelot was truly gone.

It was hard.

Every time Arthur was wounded and on the brink of death.

Merlin would hear his voice start as a murmur in the back of his mind.

"You will get better. You won't die," he would say fiercely to Arthur as he sat at his bedside, changing his bandages or wiping his sweat. "I won't let you join them."

Because he couldn't stand having Arthur trapped in his head.

He knew Arthur wouldn't be able to stand it.

He especially wouldn't be able to stand it because he always seemed to forget how they appeared – he could no longer remember Will's smile, or Balinor's eyes that had been so much like his. And it was the same with them – Will had on occasion spoken up and asked if Merlin remembered what color his hair had been, or what the shape of his face, or even anything besides the sound of his voice.

Merlin had lost all of those things.

He didn't want to lose his memories of Arthur like that.

Merlin hoped such a thing would never occur – that he would die before Arthur if it came down to it. He would willingly and almost desperately throw himself in the path of any mortal blow for Arthur, just to spare him that.

Just to spare himself too.

Thanks for reading! Reviews always appreciated :)