Shattered Illusions

Summary: The most complex and believable illusions are not the ones made by magic, but by our own minds. But they are also the most painful when they shatter.

Author's Note: This is basically Merlin thinking back to the very end of the final battle. Haven't I become prolific all of a sudden? Two one-shots at once! Yay me…

"Don't forget me, Merlin! I…love you. As a son…"

Merlin's fists clenched. How he hated Mab. Or rather, had hated Mab. She was gone now, vanished forever into the oblivion he'd banished her to. He knew he should feel triumphant at his victory, or relief, but he could feel nothing but anger and pain, and a void of emptiness.

His eyes closed and unwillingly, he remembered back to that day, that moment. To Mab's final parting shot.

"I… love you…"

When she'd said those words, it had taken all the effort he could muster to stop himself from turning around to face her, shouting a denial at her, calling her a liar, grabbing her and shaking her, hitting her. Anything to make her take back those words she had just spoken. It had only been his knowledge that to do so would more than probably hold Mab in this world for even longer that had held him in place and enabled him to walk calmly away.

He hated her for saying those words. He hated her more for that than for anything and everything she had done in the past. If someone had told him that, prior to that final battle, he would have told them that that was impossible. When he had arrived home from the Land of Magic to watch Ambrosia die in his arms as Mab stood and watched, so many years ago, he had thought his hatred could grow no larger. When he had seen Nimue scarred by dragon-fire at Mab's command, he had thought his hate for Mab had reached its peak. But he had been wrong. It could grow much worse.

So many years of war had taken their toll on Merlin, and the burning, all-consuming, passionate hatred had grown colder and harder, becoming resigned and uncaring, but it had never lessened. All he felt was the need to destroy Mab, nothing else about her had mattered. Not that she was only fighting to exist, not that she had given him his powers, and certainly not that she had created him. At least, he had thought that.

After everything Mab had done, he should loathe her, despise her, want to destroy her. And he had done. His war with Mab, his determination to end her existence, had been the focal point of his entire life for years. During their final battle, he could not imagine feeling anything at her defeat except a sense of finality. He didn't care about her…

And then she'd called out to him. Although he couldn't think of anything he wanted less, he knew that he would never forget those words.

"Don't forget me, Merlin! I…love you. As a son…"

He remembered his early studies in magic, back in the Land of Magic itself, before he had declared war on Mab. Frik had taught him that most magic was based upon illusion and trickery, and it had somehow always been a comfort to know that, however powerful Mab was, her magic was mostly a simple illusion, a trick, a lie. That was how he saw Mab- a weaver of illusions, a player of tricks. Admittedly, very powerful illusions and tricks that could be every bit as dangerous as reality, but still just a cheap shadow of what they pretended to be. As a result, Merlin had always hated illusions.

So imagine how he had felt when the illusion he had built his entire life around had been shattered. He had won the battle, but in the final few moments of their lifelong war, it had not been he who shattered Mab's illusionary magic, but she who had, with a few short words, destroyed the complex illusion that he had deceived himself with for the long years of their war. The illusion that he cared nothing for her…

Perhaps she had been lying when she'd spoken those words. Creatures of the Old Ways found it almost impossible to lie, so that was unlikely… but then, creatures of the Old Ways found it almost impossible to create living things, never mind a living, breathing human being. Ruling out such things where Mab was concerned was simply foolish.

In any case, it mattered little whether she had been sincere or not. Her words had shattered the protective illusion of his unwavering hatred as easily as a stone shatters glass. The admittance of a feeling that wasn't hatred had dredged up something in Merlin- the small spark still left of him that remembered that Mab had created him, was his mother in some way, that they were inextricably linked by blood, and that she was all he had left. And because she'd said that, he'd had to walk away with the full knowledge of his own feelings, and know the true consequences of his actions for himself.

He hated her, because she'd shattered his protective illusion, into a thousand painful shards.

He hated her, because she had reminded him that he loved her.

And we have the end. Once more, reviews are welcomed, flames are glared most threateningly and displeasedly (is that a real word?) at. Hope you enjoyed reading it. It will surely be much more interesting than my damn computing coursework that is the next on my writing agenda. Argh!

Have a good Easter everybody.