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Summary
Merlin lost Arthur five years ago and the pain still cut deep every time he got out of bed.
His panic attacks hadn't got any better in the years that had passed, in fact they had gotten worse. His breath often went too shallow, head spinning as he gripped his palms too hard.
There was no one left to help him either.
Mordred was dead, Morgana was dead, Gwaine, Lancelot, Elyan, Arthur... all dead.
Even Gaius was lying on his death bed in his old age.
Merlin was left with nothing. Gwen was busy trying to run a kingdom, Percival had gone off the rails after Gwaine's death and no one could get too close to him. And Leon, he was stretched thin trying to support everyone.
But Merlin had some things to sort out.