Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin. Which is a mighty, mighty shame. :(

A/N: Hello everyone! I've decided to add a Merlin POV to this fic now, just because it snuck up on me and wouldn't let me go! I hope you enjoy it- and please do review- lots of people favourite and alert my stories but leave nothing, it's always great to know which bits people particularly enjoy/dislike, as it helps me improve as a writer! :)

Also, I hope you all enjoy the series opener tomorrow! :D

Requiem For The Truth

Merlin sat on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands, blue eyes hiding behind pale lids. The subdued morning sun leaked through his small window, the distant twitter of birds the only other sound other than the warlock's breathing.

His heart was burning like an imploding sun. One day it would go out all together.

Another day. Another lie.

Sickness rised in his stomach as everything that had culminated over the last few months hit him like a physical blow. His whole body shook as he tried to suppress hot tears from running down his cheeks; how had he ever been dealt this card?

His vision blurred, and he stared down at his hands as they trembled uncontrollably. Merlin had driven away nearly everyone he loved; he was tainted, the boy who everyone believed lived a happy and simple existence, was the omen of his own life.

Merlin rubbed his hands together hard, the rough skin of a servant scratching the other palm, a salty track running down his cheek. His eyes caught sight of the beautiful dragon on his bedside carved from pale wood, its head raised majestically.

He stretched his hand out for it, turning it in his fingers, a shudder running through him as he pressed it to his nose and lips, it tasted earthy, it tasted real, it tasted raw. . .

It tasted of magic.

His father's face swam into view, a man he had known for so little time, but felt akin to immediately. Their ease in each other's presence as they'd silently gathered wood together was like nothing he'd experienced before; their quiet acceptance, as if they'd known each other their entire lives. Merlin gritted his teeth bitterly. We should have known each other our entire lives.

The presence of his father's gift coursed through his veins now, a bond between himself, his father and Kilgharrah that could never be broken. He was not just human now; whatever their souls were made of, they were all the same. . .

His reverie was broken as Gaius poked his head round the door, he asked if Merlin was ok, and he'd nodded and smiled half heartedly. His mentor saw what Merlin was holding delicately in his hands, nodding in understanding and quietly closing the door. He knew when Merlin needed time alone. Now was one of those times.

Every day he was grateful for Gaius, the only person in Camelot who knew the entire tale of his crazed existence. He'd listen to everything and anything, challenging his judgement and telling him to hold on just that one more second.

He'd suffered the cruel torture at the hands of Aridian due to Merlin's own stupidity. Merlin would've jumped into the flames to save the man who had become his father here. After the numbing fear of nearly losing Gaius, losing Freya so shortly after had nearly broken him. . . and then Morgana. . .

Merlin felt shame slither down his spine and settle in his stomach. Her spectre steadily crawling into his mind; a cascade of dark curls hiding her face from view, her piercing green eyes looking at him with such sadness and mistrust that he wanted to reach out and touch her. They were the same. They should still be the same. Together they had dwelled in the secret garden of Camelot, their powers as natural as the growth of a flower, yet hidden away from prying eyes.

He had locked her in their garden and left her, he thought she'd be safe if she was alone, but she had grown sad and lonely and weary.

They're my people. . . they're like me.

She had escaped. And now they were parted forever. He was the sun and she was moon, separated by an entire world.

His lost affinity.

Merlin gently placed the dragon back on his table, his hand slowly dropping away from the tiny figurine. His eyes were glassy, red rimmed as he stared at the corner of his bedroom, the creamy blandness of the wall temporarily wiping his mind clean as he let out small, hiccoughing breaths. It was the morning and yet he felt exhausted, drained of all life as he coasted along.

He stood up, slowly dropping his shirt onto his shoulders and tying his neckerchief around the tender flesh of his throat. Arthur would be wondering where he was.

Alright, I know I'm a prince, so we can't be friends. But if I wasn't a prince. . .


Well then. . . I think we'd probably get on.


So that means you can tell me.

It was moments like that when Merlin felt like everything he hid was going to burst out from him. A horrendous sadness ate away at him every time he avoided the ugly truth, a cowardice clenching at his heart and words dissolving on his tongue. Arthur had come to trust him so much, yet Merlin still shrouded himself in secrecy; the prince had spilled his heart over Gwen, and Merlin had been the one he'd chosen to entrust with the knowledge of it. Arthur had taken only Merlin with him to find Morgause- the voyeur as the flaxen haired boy had been briefly and painfully reunited with his mother. Merlin had been the one Arthur had asked to protect his father in the midst of slumbering chaos.

Arthur trusted Merlin unswervingly- whether he'd admit it or not. Merlin trusted Arthur with his life.

But not with his secrets.

What would Arthur say? What would he do if he knew the truth?

Merlin sighed to himself. It would destroy our friendship- everything we'd ever built together.

Doubt sat shredding itself into fine pieces that settled at the bottom of his chest. Deep down, Merlin knew Arthur was better than he, or certainly Gaius, gave him credit for.

Merlin, whatever happens, you must not let Arthur know who this man is; Uther would view the son of a Dragonlord with the deepest suspicion.

Arthur may not have even told his father. Why had they presumed that conclusion? Merlin hoped that he'd been a good enough friend these past couple of years to hope that Arthur wouldn't just throw him away without a backwards glance. Merlin knew of their destiny; he wondered sometimes if Arthur sensed that they shared a fate.

Unlike Gaius, Merlin knew Arthur was no puppet of Uther. He had cut those pale strings some time ago.

Merlin left his chambers, walking through the courtyard heading towards the great double doors. He paused at the tops of the steps, searching the sky in case Kilgharrah had decided to make another show again. He had kept his word it seemed.

A searing pain struck his head all of the sudden, the two familiar voices of Morgause and Morgana dripping with venom reverberating around his mind. He closed his eyes, his breath silently escaping his lips as he clutched his hair.

The pain subsided, turning quickly towards the castle, one thought clear in his head: Arthur may be angry if he found out, he may even feel hurt, but Merlin could not imagine him sending him away. They had come too far.

All I need to do is make a leap of faith.

Trust yourself.

Trust in Arthur.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed it, please click the blue button with the speech bubble. ;) xxx