Return To Me
A gentle breeze rustles the new green shoots of spring and young birds chirp happily as they soar through the azure blue sky, spreading their wings for the first time.
The old man with a long silver beard tucks his scraggily white hair beneath his dirty knitted cap and sighs leaning back on his tattered old camping chair under the boughs of the old tree he planted centuries ago.
It was today he could feel it.
Hope and joy was in the very air he breathed, he would see his love once more.
The sun dips below the horizon and the last of its glorious amber rays fade from the smooth surface of the lake, he holds his breath, Arthur would soon arrive.
Arthur would immerge from the lake, his chainmail glowing like silver scales in the light of the full moon, both Arthur and he- Merlin would pause in disbelief then charge into each others arms in sweet harmony, the way he had dreamt so many times.
The water of the great lake ripples and Merlin shoots upright, his hand clenching in anticipation at his side, but the surface goes calm only moments later like the wrinkles on a silken sheet pulled flat.
Merlin sinks back into his chair letting a single pearly tear roll down his weathered old face before wiping the offending eye.
He should have known better than to hope.
Merlin continues to watch the lake but his vision is so hazy from the unshed tears that he thinks he imagined it, a white hand slowly rising out of the lake with out disturbing the surface, Merlin blinks away the tears but its still there, still climbing until it stops at the elbow revealing silver chainmail untarnished by centuries under water.
"A-Arthur?" merlin croaks, his voice sore from lack of use and tears.
The translucent hand bobs to draw his attentions back to the unspoken question, 'will you join me?'
Merlin stands, hand out stretched and unwavering but a silent tear beads at the corner of his sky blue eye and he steps forward towards the hand that waits to take his own.
His feet move on their own accord as if in a dream, almost gliding along the dewy grass and to the pebbly shore not even pausing when the water laps at his feet.
Before long he was up to his waist in the frigid water and the sword calloused hand of his best friend, king and lover tenderly clasped Merlin's.
Magic flowed through Merlin's veins and his eyes flash golden, his silver beard recedes into nothing and the face wreathed in creases transforms into that of his youth. A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he slips under the surface of the glassy lake and into the embrace of his love.