A massive thank you to my amazing friends Katie and Helen who beta-ed this for me. (Look! The brackets are sorted!)

Again, this is epic SPOILERS for the second episode of series FOUR.

Stream-of-consciousness angst. Enjoy. xD

Merlin lay on his bed and stared at the shadowed ceiling with eyes that were too sore for more tears. There had been so much to do on their "successful" return from the veil that he had finally staggered back to Gaius' chambers long after sundown. Gaius had been asleep at his desk and Merlin had tried with all his might not to trip over anything in the dark. He didn't want to speak to anyone.

"Why couldn't it have been Arthur?"

It was a fleeting thought; one that he tried to banish as soon as he registered what it was, but still it emerged as a dry whisper and sat like a burning coal on his tongue. It was treason to think like that, and more besides: betrayal of a friend, and greatest of all, denial of his destiny.

Destiny! That withered Old Magic rope that bound him to a hope that might not even happen.

Arthur would be a good king, yes, but magic? Could he accept that? Could he really accept that it had crawled in next to him from a string of coincindences and a boy's hero complex and had been stood so close for so many years now? Breathing the same air, sometimes eating the same food, saving each other's lives with absurd regularity?

Merlin had once considered it a mark of the greatest of bonds to be willing to die for someone. Now he would do it without a second's thought - no. With one thought. Protect him. He didn't know whether it was duty that he'd taken too far, or friendship. Right now he didn't even know which one he wanted it to be.

"Why couldn't it have been me?"

That was the plan! It was idiot-proof, if only in a back to front way because only an idiot would ever have attempted it. But it had made so much sense! The life of that stupid, blundering, short-sighted crown prince of Camelot, or the life of his manservant. Uther wouldn't have even considered it a choice (but then, Uther would never have made the sacrifice). And yes, if he had died then the living Arthur would have been defenceless against Morgana and whatever she was planning next, but if he had held back because of that then Arthur would have sacrificed himself and died anyway.

He'd been damned if he did and damned if he didn't. Either way, bye-bye Camelot, Albion and the Destiny he had struggled under for years now.

Then Lancelot had come and sliced through the Gordian knot - so the future king and his secret warlock were still alive. Destiny was intact ... and that was supposed to be good, right?

"Why did it have to be you?"

Why had he been tortured with months of having a friend his own age who knew and accepted his magic ... only for it to be taken away?

They had exchanged looks behind the other knights' backs, laughed when Arthur belittled him to get his own self-confidence back, and, oh, the number of times Lancelot had warned him not to do anything stupid out of frustration, like he normally did! Like turn Arthur's sword slightly as he fought in order to put his form off, or levitate mud at Elyan and pretend it was Gwaine. All sorts of stuff that was hilarious at the time but that Lancelot had helped him to remember was really stupid. You'd think the amount of times Merlin'd been arrested would have put him off being foolhardy, but no. Not when magic was like air, like moving his hands and feet - and Lancelot had known that! Not understood, no, you needed magic for that, but he had known and oh, it had helped so much.

Now he was dead. The stupid fucking selfless noble bastard. He had lifted the aching weight of secrecy with everything he did, and now he was dead and Merlin was alone again.

He had often thought to himself that his friendship with Lancelot was what he could have had with Arthur, if he hadn't been magic or Arthur hadn't been the prince. But he hadn't realised, until that terrible moment of eye contact in front of the veil, what that had actually translated to in reality. He and Lancelot had that friendship already. No what-ifs, maybe-ifs, or if-onlys. Lancelot had filled the holes in Merlin that he didn't even fully realise Arthur had left empty.

Magic, destiny and Arthur were sour ashes in his mouth. Just for tonight, Lancelot meant more to him than they did.

All opinions welcome; thank you for reading! :)

xMhax