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February 23rd, 2012

Drabble - Merlin/methos verse

The village was burning... He hadn't spoken their language, hadn't understood their attempts to communicate, but the part of him that would have cared was dead.

Dead like Arthur - growing cold in a distant land.

Merlin didn't know what had happened. He remembered seeing Arthur fall. He remembered screaming. And then he had awoken with the taste of sand in his mouth and the burning heat of the sun on his face.

Unwilling to lay down and die until he had slain every last person responsible for the death of his King, he got up and walked. The land was unlike any he'd seen... Scraggly and vacant, compared to the lush forests of Camelot.

He had come across an oasis and stopped to drink. The strange tree cast no shade, the bushes bearing no berries. There was a noise behind him and before thought had surfaced, he'd turned and the man who also sought the oasis was dropping dead. Merlin had simply taken his pack and strange beast and continued on.

And now the village was burning.

There were none left alive to scream. It was the first inhabited space he'd approached. A woman had offered him water. He had looked up to accept and the slope of her face had reminded him of Morgana.

She had been the first to die.

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