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Finally alone in the woods, Merlin broke down. He couldn't take it anymore. He had lost Will, Freya, his father, Lancelot, and others he cared about, and he had to pretend he wasn't breaking on the inside. They had loved him, magic and all, and now they were dead. He faced immense pressure to protect Camelot and Arthur, yet he was treated as if he didn't even matter—as if every sacrifice he had made had been in vain.
Screaming, he punched the ground, watching as his magic burned the leaves around him. He had all this power, yet he couldn't save those around him. Every time he did something good, the universe restored the balance by making him suffer. He knew it wouldn't be easy, but he never imagined it meant he could never be truly happy.
When he saved Arthur, he was made his servant, as if it were an honor to do someone else’s bidding. When he finally found love, she died in his arms, and he had to mourn her alone. When he finally met his father after a lifetime of wondering who he was, his father died, and Merlin had to pretend he wasn't a son mourning his father because Arthur couldn't know about his magic. Every time happiness was within his reach, it was ripped away from him.
He had a heart, and it was constantly being broken. He was never allowed to mend it because he was just a servant whose feelings didn't matter. Arthur couldn't even know about his hardships, and it was killing him to hide so much from him.
He didn't know how many times he had thought about taking some of Gaius' poisons or just walking into the lake and never coming out. Sometimes, during battles, he wanted to let one of the enemies stab him so that he could pretend to die a noble death. On better days, he wondered if he could live off the land and become one with nature, away from the pain of humanity.
Sometimes, he used his magic to control his pain. Sometimes, he drank potions that made him numb, and sometimes, he used spells that gave him temporary happiness. Occasionally, he simply used his magic to destroy things, and when his anger or grief subsided, he fixed the damage he had caused. His magic was becoming more and more unpredictable as his mental state worsened.
He had been trying to hide it, but his body had started to betray him. The bags under his eyes revealed to anyone who looked at him that he wasn't sleeping anymore because of his nightmares. Gaius had to give him strong potions to knock him out, and he was becoming dangerously thin. He only forced himself to eat when he felt his magic weakening.
Everyone had noticed, even Arthur. Morgana and Gwen had started coming in at night to help him sleep. They had always been kind to him, so talking to them actually comforted him enough to fall asleep. When the nightmares struck, they would hold him, and for a second, it felt like he was a ten-year-old being held by his mother during a bad storm.
The knights always made sure to sit him down three times a day with them to ensure he ate. They started by giving him small snacks throughout the day until they managed to work him up to full meals. They would tell jokes and share stories. He felt so loved that the thought of eating no longer made him want to vomit. They looked at him as if he mattered—as if he was one of them.
Arthur had taken Merlin's downward spiral the hardest. Merlin felt guilty for making Arthur look pained whenever he saw the bags under his eyes or noticed how his clothes hung loosely on his rapidly thinning body. Arthur had tried many times to talk to him, but they were always interrupted. The changes started small, but looking back, Merlin realized how much Arthur had changed. Whenever he gave orders, he never raised his voice or insulted Merlin, unless it was obviously in jest. He listened more when Merlin made suggestions, even those suggesting the acceptance of magic. Eventually, after Merlin revealed his magical abilities to him, Arthur decriminalized the use of magic and appointed Merlin as Court Sorcerer. Arthur never overlooked him anymore, now that he understood the sacrifices Merlin had made for Camelot and for him.
The next time Merlin cried in the woods, it wasn't because he felt alone. He cried because he didn't know what he had done to deserve such friends. He was happy. It had all been worth it.