He held the sword. Long time ago, the dragon made him promise that only Arthur would use it. Yet he was holding it again. Clenching his fist around the hilt, his eyes resting on the calm water, Merlin stood at the shore. He felt nothing but emptiness, as if his soul had been ripped out of his body.
Without you, Arthur will never succeed. Without you, there will be no Albion.
How he had wanted it to be a lie. How he had refused it, how he had tried to fight his fate. When they first met, he had never ever wanted to be a part of Arthur's destiny. Yet, in the end, he became much more than that. He became a part of his life.
The sword was long gone, hidden at the deepest bottom of the Lake of Avalon. His sapphire eyes resting on the calm water, Merlin stood at the shore. Even all these long years could not ease the pain, could not fill the emptiness.
It would be better if the witch never knew the true extent of her powers.
How he had wanted to help her. Comfort her. Save her. Until the very last moment. Everything he had seen in Morgana's emerald eyes, all that fear, despair, loneliness — he had felt it, too. He wanted to tell her she was not alone. He tried. He really did try. But instead, he just pushed her away.
It was winter. Rumours were told about a young man who had been striding around the lake for hundreds of years. It was silly, of course. No one lives for hundreds of years. Yet, along the narrow path toward the lake, footprints were embedded in the crunchy snow. And, his blue eyes resting on the frozen water, Merlin stood at the shore. He was lonelier than he had ever been, his heart was colder than the chilly air surrounding him.
It is his destiny to bring about Arthur's doom.
How hard he had tried to protect Arthur from him. He had never trusted him, and that was the biggest mistake he could have ever made. If only he had understood how destiny worked, he would never have wanted to stop Mordred. He just wanted to save the king, but everything that followed, everything that Mordred became was his fault.
The huge waters of Avalon disappeared leaving a small, humble, shallow lake behind, and the island was turned into the green hill of Glastonbury Tor by the long passing centuries. His tired eyes resting on the tiny waves, Merlin stood at the shore. Day after day, again and again, because he never lost hope.
Take heart, for when Albion's need is greatest, Arthur will rise again.
Eventually, everything the dragon said came to pass. Everything he had ever wanted to prevent. No matter how hard he tried, it always happened.
But now, for the first and last time, he did not fight it. Maybe that is why it was never fulfilled.