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Summary
“Merlin,” Arthur sighs. The man’s body is heavy; his skin pale. “Just hold me, please.” It could almost be disguised as long-suffering if Merlin ignored the rest. A quirk of the lips would be all that Merlin would need to know that it would all be OK. If he ignored the tiredness of his voice, the upcoming quiet, the slowing of that thready hum. Almost like a little bird fluttering against its cage. He tried not to think of the terrible warmth of blood on his fingers that would soon be a terrible cold.
OR
Merlin goes a little crazy after Arthur dies.Series
- Part 1 of Here's to you, Arthur
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