prompt number: 3/200
word count: 559
a/n: so, errr I promise you someday I will write something happy! But until then...well, yeah.
Merlin can taste the ash in the air long after the fires have gone out. He can feel the heat though he wasn't there. But - but He should have been there. Should have been there for Gwen for Leon, for the people he'd left thirty years ago.
He's done it again. It's Arthur all over again, except this time he'd destroyed something else, something that was almost as beautiful as the golden king had been - the kings legacy. A legacy that Merlin should have been safe guarding.
But he'd fled and he'd ran. For thirty years he'd ran from everything, from Gwen, from Camelot, from the Druids, from his once home, but most of all from the memories, soft and gilded and beautiful. He'd hidden himself away like a common criminal and now look where it gotten him?
Look where it gotten Camelot. The great city that he'd been amazed of at first sight, the one that became his home, the one that gave him friends and happiness, the one that gave him his king - Arthur's home, his legacy was nothing but smoking rubble.
It was all gone, he'd been to late once again and now it was all gone. Merlin choked on a sob as he stared at the destroyed citadel he'd done it again and now it was all gone, everything, everyone was gone.
He'd never be able to forgive himself for this. Not this - never this. Because once upon a time - before the golden kings death, when this place had still represented safety and love - this hollowed ground had been his home too.
And now it was all rubble and smoking wood. Everyone - gone, dead. No survivors.
And suddenly he's angry, fury bubbling beneath his skin like molten magma, ready to burst into an explosion of red and orange. The colors of destruction. Because how dare these common criminals - these savages - how dare they destroy the last thing Merlin had had to hold onto.
And Merlin - Merlin throws his head back and roars in a way he hasn't in so long, magic pulses from him in thick golden waves as he hits his knee's, his head thrown back, tears streaming from his eyes in the way he swore they never would again.
Because damn them! Damn them all, damn - damn himself! How could this happen? How could he let this happen?
He screams once again and the very earth seems to shake with the force of his rage, with the force of his agony.
Tree's fall and flowers and weeds and the grass wilt. Wilt down into piles of black only to spring back to life once again shooting up into the air until they covered the ruined skyline.
Covered Merlin's mistakes. Covered the destroyed city in a blanket of green life until where Camelot once stood there was only a large hill. Completely unremarkable and devoid of former glory.
Merlin panted and sobbed. No one would be able to find it again. No one would be able to hurt Camelot, not again. Never again, because better to have it buried then to have someone else rule the city that was Arthur's.
He sobbed and laid himself down upon the soft grass, dug his nails into the hollowed ground and slept, silent tears still flowing.