Merlin has to make a choice: die remembering Arthur, or forget and save him?
Written for the Merthur Microfic prompt "blue." [reblog on tumblr]
Title from the song of the same name by Bic Runga. [listen here]
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The last flowers are blue.
Forget-me-nots, Merlin thinks. An unkind irony. He holds out his hand for the potion.
“I’m ready now.”
It tastes bitter, but forgetting often does. Slowly, it uproots his heart: the memory of Arthur’s eyes; his smile.
Afterwards, Arthur will be safe. That’s all that matters.
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