FIC: A Chance to Grieve
Oct. 25th, 2017 12:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fifty_fiftyTitle: A Chance to Grieve
Pairing(s): None
Character(s): Merlin, Arthur Pendragon, Balinor
Word Count: 1202
Rating: Gen
Summary: Merlin buries Balinor and struggles to grieve over the death of the father he barely knew.
Notes: Written for Prompt #285 - Sorrow for Camelot Drabble. On AO3 here.
The forest was quiet apart from the harsh sobs he was doing his best to silence and the panting of his own breath. He felt as though he had a huge hole burning its way through his chest to his heart, destroying everything in its path leaving a hollow empty void in its wake.
His Father. His Father. His father who had only known of his existence for a scant few hours, who had talked to him into the late hours of the night, whom his Mother had resolutely refused to talk about. Oh his poor Mother. How could he tell his mother?
Still, he couldn’t wait. He couldn’t even grieve. Arthur had gone to check for further patrols and would be back fairly soon. He grabbed the stick at his feet and wiped his eyes and snotty nose with his shirt sleeve. He needed to get this done. He needed to do this, even if he couldn’t properly mourn the loss of his father, he could at least honour him in death.
Using the stick and his hands, he started to dig into the soft earth.
By the time Arthur returned, his father’s grave was shallow, but almost as deep as he could make it without a proper shovel or magic. He looked up at Arthur with red-rimmed eyes.
Arthur stared at him with a look of utter confusion. “What on Earth are you doing, Merlin?”
Merlin bristled, his magic fizzed beneath his skin as he suppressed the overwhelming urge to punch Arthur right in his perfect face. He looked away from Arthur. “What does it look like? I’m digging m- him- Ba-. I’m digging Balinor a grave.”
He was proud of himself for neither sniffling nor hitting Arthur. He carried on digging with his bare hands, scooping out the dirt and piling it on one side of him. Balinor’s body wrapped in Merlin’s own blanket lay on the other.
Arthur rolled his eyes at him. “Fine. Just don’t take all day about it and we certainly don’t tell my father about it.” He took his crossbow and a quiver of arrows from Hengroen’s saddle. “I’m going to find us something to eat. Gather some firewood after you’ve buried the Dragonlord.”
Eyes bright with fresh tears, Merlin continued to dig, refusing to use his magic to help. He needed this, he needed the work to tire him out so that he would sleep without visions of his father flitting through his head. The cavernous ache in his chest drove him to work faster rather than hindering him. By the time that Arthur returned, he was dragging his father’s body into its shallow grave and started pushing the soil over him. He whispered prayers of the old religion, asking the Gods to guide his spirit to the afterlife, pushing magic into the soil to purify and bless his father’s resting place.
Arthur had wisely made no comment when he found that Merlin was still working on Balinor’s grave and went to get the firewood himself.
“Come, Merlin.” He called. “Get some rest and eat some food. You’ll feel better in the morning and then we will return to Camelot and do what we must to kill this dragon.”
Merlin obeyed, slouched with a bowed head by the fire where Arthur skinned and cooked the rabbits and then they turned in for the night.
***
When they returned to Camelot and faced Kilgharrah, Merlin pushed the grief for his father aside. He had to. Camelot needed him. Arthur needed him. Afterwards, he was soaring high from the adrenaline and joy of having been able to force Kilgharrah to obey him and save Camelot. But he soon found it all crashing down on him again when he finally had a moment to breathe. Arthur had noticed and had tried to cheer him up in his normal prattish way, but he was struggling.
***
The next day Merlin was sitting on a stool by Arthur’s fireplace, sharpening his best sword with a whetting stone. The last thing he had to do before Arthur would let him leave for the night, when a knock sounded at the door.
“Get the door Merlin. And for Gods sake, if it’s Morgana, don’t let her in.”
Merlin rose from his seat and went to open the door. He was surprised to find Gaius standing there. “Gaius, what’s wrong? Do you need me?”
Gaius smiled genially at him. “No, my boy. I’ve come to ask a favour of Arthur.”
“Merlin- don’t make Gaius wait out there all night, bring him in,” called Arthur’s voice.
Merlin rolled his eyes. “Better come in Gaius, his Highness demands it.”
“I heard that!” came Arthur’s voice.
Merlin pulled the door open with a grin at Arthur and Gaius came in. He bowed to Arthur. “Sire.”
Arthur rose from behind his desk and walked over to the dining table. “Good evening, Gaius.” He gestured to a chair. “Please, sit. What can I do for you?”
Gaius took a seat with Arthur gratefully. “Thank you, Sire. I have come to ask if I might borrow Merlin for a few days, Sire.” Merlin raised his eyebrows at Gaius with surprise. This was the first he’d heard about this. “I appreciate that you are busy rebuilding the town. But all the burns and injuries from the dragon's attack have seriously depleted my stores. I would appreciate having Merlin on hand to send out further afield for some of my rarer herbs.”
Arthur rubbed his ring against his bottom lip as he thought. “It really can’t be done at a later date?”
Gaius crossed his hands on the table and leaned forward. “Well, I could, Sire. But I fear that I might not be able to continue providing the best of treatments for much longer, if I do not replenish my medicines.”
Arthur sighed. “Very well. How many days?”
Gaius rose as if to leave. “Four days ought to do nicely. Thank you, Sire.”
“Well, go on then Merlin. You better pack.”
Merlin grinned at Arthur. “Thanks, Arthur.”
As he reached the door, Arthur gripped his shoulder. “Try not to get eaten by bears, Merlin.”
Merlin rolled his eyes again.
***
Merlin trailed after Gaius on the way back to their shared chambers and once the door was closed, he rounded on Gaius.
“Gaius, what was all that about? We have plenty of yarrow, calendula and comfrey… and it’s not like there’s not more nearby.”
Gaius smiled and went to his bench to tinker with a few things that were heating. “Glad to hear that you’ve been paying attention, Merlin. But Arthur doesn’t know that does he?”
Glancing at him from the corner of his eye Merlin asked, “So why lie to him?”
Pairing(s): None
Character(s): Merlin, Arthur Pendragon, Balinor
Word Count: 1202
Rating: Gen
Summary: Merlin buries Balinor and struggles to grieve over the death of the father he barely knew.
Notes: Written for Prompt #285 - Sorrow for Camelot Drabble. On AO3 here.
The forest was quiet apart from the harsh sobs he was doing his best to silence and the panting of his own breath. He felt as though he had a huge hole burning its way through his chest to his heart, destroying everything in its path leaving a hollow empty void in its wake.
His Father. His Father. His father who had only known of his existence for a scant few hours, who had talked to him into the late hours of the night, whom his Mother had resolutely refused to talk about. Oh his poor Mother. How could he tell his mother?
Still, he couldn’t wait. He couldn’t even grieve. Arthur had gone to check for further patrols and would be back fairly soon. He grabbed the stick at his feet and wiped his eyes and snotty nose with his shirt sleeve. He needed to get this done. He needed to do this, even if he couldn’t properly mourn the loss of his father, he could at least honour him in death.
Using the stick and his hands, he started to dig into the soft earth.
By the time Arthur returned, his father’s grave was shallow, but almost as deep as he could make it without a proper shovel or magic. He looked up at Arthur with red-rimmed eyes.
Arthur stared at him with a look of utter confusion. “What on Earth are you doing, Merlin?”
Merlin bristled, his magic fizzed beneath his skin as he suppressed the overwhelming urge to punch Arthur right in his perfect face. He looked away from Arthur. “What does it look like? I’m digging m- him- Ba-. I’m digging Balinor a grave.”
He was proud of himself for neither sniffling nor hitting Arthur. He carried on digging with his bare hands, scooping out the dirt and piling it on one side of him. Balinor’s body wrapped in Merlin’s own blanket lay on the other.
Arthur rolled his eyes at him. “Fine. Just don’t take all day about it and we certainly don’t tell my father about it.” He took his crossbow and a quiver of arrows from Hengroen’s saddle. “I’m going to find us something to eat. Gather some firewood after you’ve buried the Dragonlord.”
Eyes bright with fresh tears, Merlin continued to dig, refusing to use his magic to help. He needed this, he needed the work to tire him out so that he would sleep without visions of his father flitting through his head. The cavernous ache in his chest drove him to work faster rather than hindering him. By the time that Arthur returned, he was dragging his father’s body into its shallow grave and started pushing the soil over him. He whispered prayers of the old religion, asking the Gods to guide his spirit to the afterlife, pushing magic into the soil to purify and bless his father’s resting place.
Arthur had wisely made no comment when he found that Merlin was still working on Balinor’s grave and went to get the firewood himself.
“Come, Merlin.” He called. “Get some rest and eat some food. You’ll feel better in the morning and then we will return to Camelot and do what we must to kill this dragon.”
Merlin obeyed, slouched with a bowed head by the fire where Arthur skinned and cooked the rabbits and then they turned in for the night.
***
When they returned to Camelot and faced Kilgharrah, Merlin pushed the grief for his father aside. He had to. Camelot needed him. Arthur needed him. Afterwards, he was soaring high from the adrenaline and joy of having been able to force Kilgharrah to obey him and save Camelot. But he soon found it all crashing down on him again when he finally had a moment to breathe. Arthur had noticed and had tried to cheer him up in his normal prattish way, but he was struggling.
***
The next day Merlin was sitting on a stool by Arthur’s fireplace, sharpening his best sword with a whetting stone. The last thing he had to do before Arthur would let him leave for the night, when a knock sounded at the door.
“Get the door Merlin. And for Gods sake, if it’s Morgana, don’t let her in.”
Merlin rose from his seat and went to open the door. He was surprised to find Gaius standing there. “Gaius, what’s wrong? Do you need me?”
Gaius smiled genially at him. “No, my boy. I’ve come to ask a favour of Arthur.”
“Merlin- don’t make Gaius wait out there all night, bring him in,” called Arthur’s voice.
Merlin rolled his eyes. “Better come in Gaius, his Highness demands it.”
“I heard that!” came Arthur’s voice.
Merlin pulled the door open with a grin at Arthur and Gaius came in. He bowed to Arthur. “Sire.”
Arthur rose from behind his desk and walked over to the dining table. “Good evening, Gaius.” He gestured to a chair. “Please, sit. What can I do for you?”
Gaius took a seat with Arthur gratefully. “Thank you, Sire. I have come to ask if I might borrow Merlin for a few days, Sire.” Merlin raised his eyebrows at Gaius with surprise. This was the first he’d heard about this. “I appreciate that you are busy rebuilding the town. But all the burns and injuries from the dragon's attack have seriously depleted my stores. I would appreciate having Merlin on hand to send out further afield for some of my rarer herbs.”
Arthur rubbed his ring against his bottom lip as he thought. “It really can’t be done at a later date?”
Gaius crossed his hands on the table and leaned forward. “Well, I could, Sire. But I fear that I might not be able to continue providing the best of treatments for much longer, if I do not replenish my medicines.”
Arthur sighed. “Very well. How many days?”
Gaius rose as if to leave. “Four days ought to do nicely. Thank you, Sire.”
“Well, go on then Merlin. You better pack.”
Merlin grinned at Arthur. “Thanks, Arthur.”
As he reached the door, Arthur gripped his shoulder. “Try not to get eaten by bears, Merlin.”
Merlin rolled his eyes again.
***
Merlin trailed after Gaius on the way back to their shared chambers and once the door was closed, he rounded on Gaius.
“Gaius, what was all that about? We have plenty of yarrow, calendula and comfrey… and it’s not like there’s not more nearby.”
Gaius smiled and went to his bench to tinker with a few things that were heating. “Glad to hear that you’ve been paying attention, Merlin. But Arthur doesn’t know that does he?”
Glancing at him from the corner of his eye Merlin asked, “So why lie to him?”
Gaius returned to their bench and sat with him. “Because, my boy, everyone deserves time to grieve and I believe you need it more than most." He pressed an old book into Merlin's hands. "Here, take this and some grain to your mother. I’m sad to say, I think it falls to you to tell her about your father.”
***
And so the next morning, Merlin set off to Ealdor to comfort his mother and mourn their loss together.
