for @merthurmicrofic | prompt : Ā« party Ā» | 888 words
Merlin was standing on the balcony when he felt it. He had left the party for a brief swig of fresh air, and had just been about to turn away from the inky view when the stars began to blink and the ground began to sputter. He knew instantly that only he could feel it, that the others inside were oblivious to this monumental shift in the fabric of the earth. It was finally time.
Merlin had been enjoying the party, certainly. Marcine had invited him ā it was her older sisterās birthday, and she didnāt really want to make the journey south alone, and sheād never seen Merlin drunk after all, so would he please come with her ā and Merlin had surprised himself, firstly by saying yes, and secondly by having a rather good time at said party. In the end, he did not get drunk, and in fact was very likely the most sober person in attendance, but if anything, the strange clarity only increased his enjoyment of the whole affair. Humans were a funny species, garnering so much joy from dancing around senseless in a shoddily-decorated kitchen, or playing silly games they would struggle to remember the following morning. Merlin remembered a time when he, too, had been like them. It was strangely comforting to pretend, just for one night, that he still was like that. He danced in the kitchen with them, holding the speaker aloft when his song came on; joined in with their game of spin the bottle, in which he planted a firm kiss on Marcineās sisterās surprised lips; and mixed cocktails on the kitchen island with a man whose name he did not know, but whose smile was infectious.
It was late into the evening ā or, more accurately, very early into the morning ā when Merlin had stepped outside to breathe in the cold night air. The balcony was small but sturdy, and offered a sweeping view of the sleeping houses below, and the twirling stars above. He could hear the stars whispering, wanting to tell him something important. He couldnāt quite make out their voices.
He was straining his ears to listen to them when he felt it. A deep, trembling groan that shook the very core of the earth. Then ā a golden light, dancing in the inky black, swirling and shifting and singing. Soon, the whole sky was illuminated with a soft gold glow that only Merlin could see. Its light reflected in his eyes, and thrummed in his soul. After all this waiting, it was finally time.
Merlin slid open the balcony door, and eased himself back into the kitchen. He surveyed the current state of the party, and his gold-blue eyes met Marcineās green ones. āIām afraid I have to go,ā he told her, clasping her hand, āYouāve been a very dear friend to me ā I hope we will meet again someday.ā
Marcine nodded solemnly, not quite understanding the true meaning of Merlinās words. He would write to her, he thought. She had been good to him, and it felt rude to leave with so little warning, but he had had no warning either. It was probably for the best, that way. The anticipation would have been unbearable.
He kissed Marcine on the cheek, and walked out the door, trading the hazy atmosphere of the party for the cool embrace of the golden wind. The sky was still glowing, and he followed the tendrils of light to the edge of the lake. It would have been a long distance for anyone else to cover, but Merlin was not like anyone else, not anymore. He covered the miles in a few short steps, the earth folding and reforming under his feet as he focused on his destination.
If the sky was golden, then the lake was incandescent. Merlin could feel the magic humming, vibrating his very being. He knelt down by the lakeās shore, and placed his hands into the water. The earth throbbed and the water spun, metallic ripples giving way to the grassy shores of a long-dead island. Merlin did not need the boat to reach the island, but he took it anyway.
Surging forwards on a sea of gold, it was not long until Merlinās boat came to the centre of the lake. Merlin was so attuned to the magic reverberating off the surface of the water that he had forgotten to be nervous. It was only when his feet touched the soft grass of the island that he remembered where he was, what was happening. It was like the most beautiful of fever dreams. Merlin was hot with emotion. He felt his heart jump from within his chest when he saw the man lying on the grassy earth. He was every bit as beautiful as Merlin remembered him. He was dressed in his chainmail, his rich red cloak draped over his body like a blanket ā or a shroud. His armour was freshly polished, his boots scrubbed clean, and a faint smile graced his lips. He looked as though he were sleeping.
Merlin bent down, and reverently kissed Arthurās forehead. He sat on the soft earth next to his king, and felt the gold fade from the sky as Arthurās eyes slowly opened. For the first time in a long, long time, Merlin felt whole again.
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