The Descent

He remembers.

He remembers the image in his mind so well… The image of Death. The way her dark hair was splayed out on the pillow, framing a beautiful face that had already begun to lose its colour…

It had been his fault then, as it seemed it always was. But he hadn't meant to kill her, couldn't bear the sight of her taking shallow breaths as she drifted in and out of consciousness. Why had she set out to murder the King? He had to stop her. Barring the door in front of her was supposed to cut off her path; he hadn't anticipated that she would lose her footing and crash down the adjacent stairs. Even today, he can still feel the cold dread that crept over him as he made his way down the seemingly endless flight of steps, hoping to see her stir, even turn around and shout at him. But instead he was met with silence and the sight of blood, slowly trickling from her forehead.

And this image blinded him, even now. It would steal into his thoughts every so often, keeping him from the festivities that were happening around him in honour of the new Queen. And try as he might, he could not join into the gaiety around him. Because of her. He wondered if this was her form of vengeance for all the times he had thwarted her plans. For all he had done to her. But he had healed her then. Went against everything that was advised to him, all he had worked for, what his destiny promised – to save her. He had been warned; saving her would throw Camelot into turmoil once more. And it did; brought them closer than ever before to the brink of destruction. Bringing her back hadn't changed her as he'd hoped; it had only made her more bitter, more hell-bent on vengeance.

"Come on, Merlin! Have a drink!"

Merlin looked up, shaken out of his thoughts by Elyan's heavy arm clamping over his shoulders. "Have one before Gwaine finishes them all!" he added with a wide grin.

Merlin let out a small chuckle and looked over at the knight in question, who incidentally had a mug of ale in each hand and was simultaneously serenading a kitchen maid. Elyan nodded grimly at the sight. "Yes, if we don't do anything about this, he'll steal all the ale and all the women!" With another laugh and a pat on the shoulder, Gwaine made his way towards another friend, leaving Merlin to contemplate the scene around him.

He glanced at the head table where Arthur, and the newly crowned Guinevere sat blissfully, basking in each other's attentions. Everyone appeared content. He should be content. They had dethroned Morgana, removed her threat from Camelot and restored order to the Kingdom. Yet he couldn't shake the feeling of numbness that crept over him every time he thought of her. Morgana… Again, it was he who had taken her down. He had cheated, drained her of her magic and then caused the archway of a hall to collapse before her, propelling her back with his own power when she was focused on another enemy. He remembers the sickening thud that echoed as she hit the ground. He knew that she was wounded, perhaps fatally.

"She's not there."

Arthur nodded. "She's gone again." He said with a sigh, staring over at the throne she had so commandingly occupied just minutes ago.

He threw his sword towards the throne in contempt. "Of course she's gone. It's Morgana! She's probably licking her wounds somewhere. Too much damn pride to stay when she knows she's lost!"

Merlin looked at Arthur. Despite his frustration, he remembers how the King looked at her when they met in the throne room. The tension between the siblings had been palpable, but so was the hurt, the bitterness of a loved one lost. Even Morgana had tears in her eyes, for which she quickly made amends when she tried to kill Arthur…

And since then, every second that had passed he wondered if she was lingering closer to death, alone somewhere, now that all her allies had been killed or disbanded. He knew her loneliness well. She brought it upon herself, but he too was at fault. He could have opened up to her, revealed to her that they were so alike, kin... But he chose not to out of fear. She descended down a path he could not follow. This had driven them apart for good, destroying everything that there was or could have been between them…

"Merlin! Not so enthusiastic, please. This hall can only take so much of your merriment." Gaius noted dryly, giving his ward a peculiar glance.

Merlin looked up and offered a half-hearted smile. "Sorry, Gaius."

The court physician nodded, picking at his food before leaning back into his chair across from the young man. "What's bothering you, Merlin?"

"It's nothing, Gaius."

"Surely, you don't expect me to believe that. You've been moping about since the coronation ceremony. You have nothing more to worry about! Everything you strove to achieve has finally come to pass. Arthur is King again, Guinevere is his Queen, Morgana is gone…"

Merlin stiffened at those last words. Gaius was right. He knew that well enough. After all, he had spent the better part of the last hour telling himself to be happy. He got up with a sigh, pushing his chair back. "I think I need to get out a little. Or go to sleep early. Maybe I'm just tired."

Gaius nodded slowly. "You did much today. You must be exhausted! Goodnight, my boy. Sleep well."

Merlin made his way out of the room, trying to draw as little attention to himself as possible. Now was not the time and really, who could understand?

Even walking the damn halls reminded him of her. Her malice. Her incessant mocking.

Her constant ambushes in these convenient alcoves when she knew they were alone. Where it took the last vestiges of his sanity not to shove her up against the wall and show her exactly how much he hated her. But instead he'd will himself to keep his hands at his sides and his body angled away from hers.

"If you breathe a word of what you saw, I will make your life a very short and painful one!" She'd threaten, voice rich with disdain.

"My lady" he would respond reluctantly, the only acknowledgement of her tirade, with as expressionless a gaze as he could muster.

Sleep well? Even if Merlin somehow managed to escape his tormented thoughts long enough to drift into sleep, it wouldn't be the peaceful kind. Even at night he couldn't quite escape her. She invaded his dreams and her presence there was even more dangerous than it was in his waking life. Because in his dreams, she coaxed him closer… Because in his dreams he showed no restraint.

And it would go on and on, nails clawing at skin, mouths seeking dominance, bodies tangled in a dangerous game that would only end in bitter regret and yet would continue and continue and conti…

And he would wake up with a start, flushed and gasping, covers strewn across the floor.

What sleep? He smiled grimly. Not now.

He could heal her again…

He stopped in his tracks. The traitorous thought had crept into his mind. The sound of her voice, a taunting whisper in his ear… He leaned against a wall, cold beads of sweat forming on his brow.

No. No…

He rested his arm against the wall and leaned his forehead into it.

To what end? She wouldn't change now. He knew that well enough, better than anyone. Revive her for what, then? The sick game they played with each other, day and night? Haunting, hunting and harming one another in every way they could?

Aithusa.

Hope everyone enjoyed it! Please review, if so :) Next Chapter, called 'Aithusa.' Will be coming out relatively soon if people enjoy this part/want a continuation.