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Merlin couldn't help but send a longing glance towards the steaming hot bath water he had just finished preparing in anticipation of Arthur's arrival. He felt as though his skin was crawling with something and, more than anything, he wished that he could use it himself; increase the temperature a bit until it was boiling and try to scrub himself clean. Not that it would help at all. He would still feel dirty. Some things never went away and Merlin felt the death of each and every person he'd killed as a stain on his soul. It didn't matter that they had all been killed for good reason - to protect Arthur, to protect Camelot - Merlin still felt dirty.

He had tried, of course, in the early days when he had just arrived in Camelot. The first few times that he had been forced to take a life, he had spent countless hours in the tiny little bath tub in the rooms he shared with Gaius, scrubbing at his skin until it was red raw. It never helped though and he just ended up with bright-red, painful skin that he had to cover up so that neither Arthur nor Gaius found out about it and questioned him.

Merlin just wished that there was somebody that he could talk to, find out if this feeling would ever go away. Who could he ask though? He had the feeling that Gaius had never had to deal with this problem and, while Arthur had, how could Merlin broach the subject with him without letting Arthur know about his magic? It simply wasn't an option.

Hearing Arthur's voice outside the door, Merlin stepped away from the tub and plastered a smile on his face, not wanting Arthur to have any hint of his inner turmoil. Yet, even as he did so, he couldn't help wondering how much it would take before he soul was stained completely and irrevocably.