A/N: Hello everyone! This new fic kind of a companion fic to my other Mergana fic, "Endlessly," but it can be read alone. Enjoy!
A New Start
After King Arthur's death, Merlin did not return to Camelot. Nothing awaited him there except pain and heartbreak. Instead, he wandered. He visited places he never thought to visit before. At first, he stayed in the boundaries of Albion, never venturing further as to not be apart from his King. But after decades of wandering from village to village, kingdom to kingdom, he realized that he hadn't aged a day. He realized that this was either punishment for not fulfilling his destiny or a blessing so that he may await the return of Arthur.
Soon, he stowed away on various ships to get to as many places around the world as possible. He visited neighboring countries in Europe and soon ended up in the Americas and, soon, Asia. Sometimes he wandered as himself. Sometimes, he wandered as Dragoon. He taught himself various languages and accepted a variety of odd jobs, became an apprentice to many professions, but none compared to his job as Arthur's manservant. He missed his best friend. He missed all of his friends. He missed his mother. He even missed Kilgarrah, no matter how annoying the old dragon was with his cryptic messages. But he knew he needed to go on through life and wait for Arthur to return.
In the year 2006, Merlin returned to his native country. Of course, things were different now. But, the island of Avalon was still visible. To the normal eye, it was simply an off limits island, creepy and possibly haunted. But to Merlin, it was where the remains of his old friend laid, waiting to rise again. He chose Dragoon's form this time.
It was a Wednesday. He was just on his way back home from gazing at the island of Avalon on one of his many walks, when the driver of a black Mustang lost control of the wheel and almost ran him over, but swerved on time. But Merlin had already found himself on the ground, covered in dirt and his elderly back aching. The car door opened and out came the driver to apologize. When Merlin looked up, he almost got a heart attack. For there was Morgana, in all her beauty, like she never died in his arms. Her hair was shorter, falling to her shoulders now instead of her waist, but still wavy. She wore an emerald green blouse with pink flower patters, blue jeans, and silver sandals.
She stared at Merlin, clearly in shock. Merlin stared back.
"Morgana," he finally said.
Wordlessly, she extended a hand to him. He took it, warily as she pulled him up on his feet.
"I'm sorry," she said. "For almost running you over."
Without another word, she went back to her car and drove away.
They met again, under less dangerous circumstances, on a Wednesday. He was sitting on the bank of the river across from Avalon again, sketching. He was no longer in his Dragoon disguise. It took centuries, but Merlin discovered he had a knack for art. It came naturally to him as his magic. He was sketching the island of Avalon when he suddenly felt a presence and eventually knew who it was. Morgana had settled herself next to him without a word. He refused to break the silence for fear of what would result. Hours they sat next to each other, Merlin sketching, Morgana simply watching. She left on her own without saying a word to him.
They met like this for a couple of Wednesdays. Morgana brought a book sometimes and would read while Merlin sketched and painted.
Finally, one Wednesday, Merlin broke the silence with the question, "How?"
A gloomy aura overtook Morgana as she told her tale.
She had resided in Avalon for a long time, not knowing exactly how long for Avalon did not bother with trivial things such as time. During that period, she had the opportunity to truly reflect on her past actions. She realized, to her horror, that she had unintentionally become her father, her evil, tyrannical father, who listened to no pleas or explanation. She became the very person that she hated. She wanted to redeem herself. But the Triple Goddess had a plan for her. They sent her back to the land of the living, never to age. She was to wait for her brother to rise from the dead and gain his forgiveness. It was both a blessing and a punishment. At first, she struggled, going to different places, frustrated with her never-ending wait and watching people she had become friends with through her lifetime pass on without her. Eventually, she learned. Like Merlin, she took up a number of odd jobs, educating herself, and learning to be independent. She still had her magic, but rarely used it except for emergencies.
Morgana was no longer the power-hungry, revenge-obsessed witch she once was. It was almost like death had reverted her back to the Morgana that Merlin was friends with. But, however good and less bitter Morgana was now, she still could not forgive Merlin for killing her and lying to her about his magic. At least, not at first.
After a few meetings, some coffee at the local café, trips to the theater and cinema, the two rekindled their friendship. Along with that, Merlin's past affection for the young sorceress was rekindled as well. But of course, he didn't say a word. She may no longer be a lady of the court and he may no longer be servant. But, she was still Morgana and he was still Merlin. He was not worthy of Morgana.
It was a Wednesday, a year later, and they were on the riverbank across from Avalon. Merlin was sketching and Morgana was writing. Suddenly, the scratching of the pen on her notebook stopped as she looked up. Merlin continued to sketch, paying her no mind as she often did this.
"I forgive you."
She whispered it so softly that if Merlin had not been paying attention, he might have missed it. He stopped and turned his head to look at her. She was looking at him with sorrow and regret.
"I forgive you Merlin," she repeated. "I forgive you for lying to me. I forgive you for killing me. I forgive you. Only if… you forgive me too. For all the heartache, the sorrow I caused. I forgot our friendship. I forgot how to be me because all I felt was rage and anger and… Please…"
She had never asked him for forgiveness. It was he who always asked. But today… today was special.
Smiling, Merlin placed his art materials aside as he scooted closer to her. He placed a hand on her cheek and looked deep into her emerald green eyes, now watering with tears.
"I forgive you," he whispered, wiping away a teardrop cascading down her red cheeks. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "Thank you," he whispered into her hair. "Thank you…"
In 2010, they had decided to live together. Scrounging up whatever money they had from their meager salaries as an artist and a columnist, they rented a small apartment. It was almost as if Merlin and Morgana had a silent agreement that they, in this era's words, were dating. Though neither have said the magic three words, it was obvious they cared for each other.
Merlin was the first to say the words. They were up watching a movie, an adaptation of the Arthurian legend. They laughed at the inaccuracies, Morgana teasing Merlin about being portrayed as an old man in nearly all the adaptations. Merlin cringed at the emphasis on the supposed incestuous relationship between Morgana and Arthur. Both were angry that their dear friend Guinevere was portrayed as a cheating and unfaithful wife. As the credits rolled, Morgana sat there, crying silently. The ending had been sad. Arthur had died, just like in real life. Merlin wiped the tears from her cheeks looked her in the eyes and leaned in to kiss her.
Their first kiss.
He could taste the salt from her tears. When he pulled away, her eyes were still closed, her lips puckered. Merlin laughed. Morgana opened her eyes and blushed.
"I love you," he whispered, leaning in for another kiss.
Morgana cried even more.
It wasn't until a few days later that she finally responded to the three magic words. It was Merlin who cried this time.
A/N: I know it was short, but I hope it was sweet.