After Arthur died, life carried on.
Merlin was no great commander or leader. He returned to Camelot and consoled Guinevere, spoke of Arthur's bravery and Arthur's death. It had been a good, noble death, worthy of a warrior like Arthur.
But Guinevere was no great commander, or Merlin, and even Leon, for all his worthiness, was only one man and couldn't hold back the Saxon hordes. Camelot held out for a year and a day, and then the city couldn't stand any longer against the Saxons, the Jutes, the Angles. Guinevere was executed a year and a day after her husband, having watched her city burn to the ground.
Encased in a pair of cold iron handcuffs, Merlin watched her burn and raged, raged against the injustice of it all- that after all that they had been through, he couldn't save her. Gaius passed away the following evening in his sleep.
The Saxon leader offered him a position in his armies and Merlin turned him down- he had seen far too much bloodshed in the last few years. When the Saxon leader offered him death, Merlin spat in his face. He thought of calling out to Kilgharrah, of begging for help one last time, but his pride, still wounded, protested. Without all the talk of destiny he could have been happy in Camelot.
He went gladly to the chopping-block, but when the metal touched his neck, it shattered like glass. When they tried to burn him, the flames turned to water. When they tried to drown him, his magic broke free of the cuffs and turned the Saxons to dust.
After that they let him walk free.
For three years, he hid out in the woods. People called him a madman, a sorcerer driven insane by the piles of enchanted gold that he undoubtedly hid in the caves and crevices of the forest. They spoke of the demons he consorted with, talked of his parentage- he was born of a nun and a succubus, they said. They spoke of how he hadn't aged a day since the Last Battle. So they left him in peace and he grieved.
One day in a city in Anglia, he ran into Leon. Out of unspoken agreement, they went to a local tavern and sat together.
"I thought you died holding off the Saxons." Merlin said abruptly. He cared less and less for politeness these days.
"I almost did." Leon replied. "I was dealt a mortal blow, I should have died. I must have survived somehow, but I forgot who I was. I found work as a mercenary until about a year ago, when I remembered."
Merlin studied him intently. "And have you been to see your city?"
"I have."
"There is no one but ghosts there now." Merlin said, studying Leon's face intently. It twisted into an expression of sorrow.
"I know."
"So what do you plan to do next?"
"I heard of a holy grail somewhere on the mainland. I was only planning to stop in this city for a day or two, and then I'm heading to Normandy to search for it." Leon explained. "What of you?"
Merlin thought for a few seconds. He considered what a waste of life it would be if he whiled it away in the forest. "I thought I might find a place to teach magic. It's legal across the land now anyway."
"You should." Leon said. "Arthur wouldn't have wanted you to mourn too long for him."
Merlin cracked the first smile he had in several long years. "Thank you, Sir Leon." He stood up. "I should go now, and so should you. Your quest awaits."
"Farewell, Merlin."
For a few days, Merlin thought on his conversation with Leon. So he found a home with the druids and began to teach and learn magic as well. Most importantly, he told the stories of brave Arthur and his knights, and the beautiful Queen Guinevere, and the secret warlock Merlin, so they would never be forgotten.
A decade passed by and Merlin remembered how to smile and laugh. He lost many people, but he didn't succumb to grief.
Arthur would always be his greatest friend, but Albion carried on without him. Because that's what people do. People die, they lose everything they have, but they stand up again and start fresh.
Life carries on.
It's short, it's sweet, and it's over! I wrote this little bit to the song all alright by Fun.
Hoping to have another short story out (a soulmarks AU, I'm turning into a walking cliche) within this week (or more likely the next considering the sheer number of tests I have this week.)