Work Text:
Today seemed longer than any other to Merlin, even longer than the days when he thought Arthur was going to die. That is because today, Merlin was going to die. The other times his life was in danger, he was going to go out quick enough, and it was for Arthur's sake. Today, his life was not in danger, and today, he was dying for his own sake.
He went through the motions like he normally did, but slower than usual. His heart was screaming for help. "Someone catch me before I fall!" it shouted. He wanted someone to help him, for someone to grip him tight and never let go. No one observed, and if they did, they did not care enough to do anything. So he told the caring part of him to shut up.
All day, he absorbed his last with Arthur's distant warmth. Merlin realized that Arthur would be devastated. They were friends, after all. No. He was lying to himself. If Arthur was really his friend, he'd stop and listen to him. If Arthur was his friend, he'd accept Merlin for who he really was.
Magic. Arthur still discriminated against magic despite all previous promises he made.
Scared. Merlin was so deperately scared. Scared of what? Merlin could almost hear Arthur's voice. "You're such a girl, Merlin."
Depressed. Lonely. He felt like horse dung all the time. He hardly felt like moving. Or existing.
In love with the King of Albion. Arthur loved Gwen so very much. He had his people to take care of. If he cared in the slightest about Merlin, he would soon be over he death of his servant. Get a new one.
Well, Albion my way.
When evening rolled around, Merlin grabbed a bottle of poison from the back of Gaius's cabinet and headed to the woods instead. Only a spoonfull of the stuff was enough to make a full grown man severely ill. What would happen if he downed the whole bottle? When he reached the edge of the forest that he and Arthur spent so much time in, he paused. No, he wasn't going to isolate himself anymore. Besides, if he went into the woods, there's a chance that he would never be found again; Arthur, if he cared, might spend the rest of his life searching for him, and he'll be gone forever. Grieving is better than not knowing if it was time to grieve, Merlin decided.
He turned on his heals and headed back into the city. He should be crying. He should be too afraid. He should be regretting his decision. Instead, he was at peace. Finally.
Back in Camelot, in the town square, he stood where the burning post usually stood, and marveled at the castle. He remembered his first day in Camelot, and how close he had grown to the prat that he stood againt all those years ago. Now he felt so far away.
Merlin uncorked the bottle and was about to pour it down his throat when he heard his name. It was Gaius. How could he have forgotten about Gaius? There was someone else saying his name, trying to get his attention. One voice he identified to be Gwen's. The other made him gasp and nearly lose his grip on the poisonous liquid.
Arthur.
"What are you doing, boy?" Queried the physician.
"Merlin, put the bottle down! Don't do this!" Called Gwen's teary voice.
"Merlin, please," Begged Arthur.
Only now did Merlin feel anything. Why didn't he go into the woods? He gazed at the three friends around him. His throat closed up and his eyes watered for the first time that day. Townsfolk, peasants, knights, and all began to gather around. A proper audience.
"This is it!" Said Merlin, lifting the bottle above his head for all to see. His friends got quiet, but their expressions still pleaded. "A public execution! Th-that's how all magic-users in Camelot die, isn't it?" Merlin looked directly at Arthur's face and instantly regretted it.
"Merlin," Arthur tried, his lips quivering. He took a step forward.
"Arthur, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," said Merlin, taking a step back. He brought the bottle down to his chin. A single tear rolled down his face. "I love you." The bottle was cold on his lips.