Innocent, loving, caring, strong, Gwen.
Heartbroken, defeated, lonely, Gwen.
Merlin doesn't think he'd ever seen someone so broken before, but maybe that's because he hadn't looked in a mirror lately.
"Don't ever show your face in Camelot's land again!"
The venom in her voice was unmistakable; and it hurt Merlin more to hear that forgiveness wasn't even a thought.
"Gwen, if you'd just-"
"No, no! The last words my husband said to me had to do with finding you! How could I be such an idiot and not understand that you've been the only one he's ever been selfless for!"
That wasn't true. Arthur risked his life for her when a dangerous dragon was close enough to kill both of them with a single move.
"Gwen, I-"
"Don't dare say my name as if we're friends! We all know that was a mistake right from the start. You've robbed me of my king and husband!Get out!"
That was the last expression he'd seen on Gwen's - The Queen's - face. His former friend thought less of him than dirt, and that caused more heartache than he thought he could manage at that given point.
He'd always regret never saying goodbye to his mentor and second father, Gaius. His justification was he'd probably be just as upset and disappointed as the rest of the citizens of rich abundant Camelot. It was a load of bollocks.
Camelot was once his home. You can take the man away from his home, but you can't take the home away from the man.
There was aimless wandering for the next few centuries. In that time, he'd watched from afar as all his friends... or, former friends he should say, passed onto the next life. All into death - what Merlin so desperately tried to grasp. Suicidal wasn't the right term for his heart... he was just tired.
Centuries turned into millenniums, and that number of years is too much for any mortal man to comprehend. Waiting, and waiting, for something he's not even sure would happen. It was just another sick joke fate had tried to play, that the destiny was a game, that Kilgarrah and Gaius and his own mother were all wrong. Nothing good came out of his and Arthur's relationship.
All the faces had faded throughout the years, sometimes he would even forget his own appearance, and saved himself from insanity and checked the mirror to remind himself he was real, a figure in the world that would never leave. Sometimes he would think he was just an immortal ghost damned to all eternity with nothing but memories of a failure.
One face never left his recollection though, and everyone could guess who's face it was. It was hard to forget a face that you saw the light die from, even though the eyes seemed too blue for them ever to fade. Arthur's death was peaceful, as if he accepted that dying, being held by a traitor, a liar, a coward... that that was the perfect way to die.
It was the 1970's now. Science and technology left magic in the distance, as some myth and ridiculous tall tales that only children would hear before they fell asleep. Or for these things called films to recreate in their own twisted image. No recollection of Merlin and Arthur's story was factual, it was all fabricated nice and pretty for children to receive smiles on their faces, knowing that it couldn't have possibly happened.
Oh, how much the world had changed.
Merlin was at these new things called parks. They'd never had them in Camelot, it was either work or sleep, never time for relaxing. This was nice.
It also made Merlin reflect on every decision he'd ever made, and that was the downside.
On the bright side (that came every once in awhile), was the talkative people that started chatter with him as he sat by himself.
Human contact had been foreign to Merlin. Sure, he'd obviously had interactions, but when it came to making strong relationships with people... that was a different story. He'd sooner or later watch them die like all those before him.
Some middle-age man was sitting next to him, with glasses. Nothing was with him, no newspaper, children, family... like Merlin usually saw. This man just sat down and stared off into the distance of the park to couples, and groups of friends walking around.
Merlin was under an alias in this day's age. He had to adapt to the society's changes, no matter how strange they would be. He was wearing brown trousers, tightly fitted (since that was somehow a style now), and a jacket. He wore a beanie on the top of his head, covering his dark matted hair. There was always his red handkerchief that he'd revived through all the ages. He didn't know exactly why it had become so important to him, but along the way he thought of it important to keep some symbol of his past with him, incase somehow he did forget.
"Hello, kid."
Merlin might've been a couple thousand years old, but he hadn't looked a day older from that fatal day.
"Hi."
The man had a roundish face, and Merlin could tell he was probably as much of a hermit as himself.
"What's your name, son? I'm Fred. Fred Daly," the gentleman extended a hand.
Merlin looked at the hand strangely, but eventually took it with a weak shake, his arm begging to move farther to his forearm; just for old times sake.
"I'm... Arthur. Arthur... Smith," Merlin didn't bother using his real name with the man. He didn't want to get off on that tangent.
Silence surrounded the two for a few more minutes. Merlin didn't usually hate conversation with people, but something about this 'Fred' was different.
Fred Daly asked a question that was so out of the ordinary, so unexpected, that Merlin almost jumped.
"Tell me, Arthur. Do you believe in magic?"
Merlin had to calm his magic from overreacting, and it almost released as he hadn't had to repress it in so long. Who asks people that? How is that even a regular question? This had to be some awful joke. Fate was probably directing it.
"I believe in reality," was the only reply he could muster.
Fred looked at him again, and it made Merlin shift uncomfortably. He was already socially awkward in situations, but this man was trying to hard to make him comfortable, and he was prying with things he shouldn't meddle with. That's how things turn bad.
"Why do you ask? What's this about?" Merlin asked, a little more harshly than he'd attended.
"Well," Fred began, "I was looking into some things. And these things... Druids, they used to call them. Crazy people, practiced all kinds of wonky things. Goofy tricks that seem impossible," Fred looked up at the sky, "But if it was so believable back then, with an immense amount of people following it, how could it have been impossible? What if magic isn't just some.. myth."
If a heart could jump ten feet, Merlin's would've done so. He'd never heard of someone showing a genuine interest in magic like this.
It frightened him.
"I choose reality," Merlin said indefinitely, no matter how much it hurt to lie.
"Is your reality really that bad?"
Merlin looked at him. His face filled with strange curiosity, with a hint of something else. He couldn't quite find it in him to question any further. So Merlin did something he hadn't done in a very long time.
He told someone the full story.
"One time, there was this boy. He had to leave where he'd lived since a boy because there were threats towards him, so he moved to this huge city. Like - New York City huge. The people there were foreign and fun and he absolutely went bonkers for it."
Bonkers.
"But then there was this one guy, who was... popular, yeah? Liked to pick on all the little guys... bit of a prat. Anyway, one time, the boy who was new to the town confronted the big guy on all his bullshit, and the result was... really embarrassing. Honestly, probably the worst attempts at bravery in history."
Merlin earned a chuckled from that.
"But in some twisted way, that stupid bravery made the boy somehow... important. The boy never quite understood it himself. The prat and the peasant were kind of, forced together, in a strange way. Over time though, they'd become real great friends, possible a step higher than just friends but... that's really..." Merlin paused a bit, and collected his breath, "besides the point."
"The boy became the prat's... butler. Yeah, butler. And the boy met this girl, she was a... maid. They got on real well, but not in a romantic sense. No, that'd be wrong for multiple reasons... She was great, and fearless, a real catch if there ever was one. But the thing was, she fancied the popular guy. The magical thing was though, the popular guy liked her back, so it was all great."
Merlin took another breath trying to bring in any tears that threatened to escape.
"But the prat's dad hated the lot of it all. All about status quo and about who belonged with who. Became a huge hassle really and... well, the whole story is a bit fucked up," Merlin laughed at his own usage of these present day 'swear-words', "But they got their happy ending."
"So what happened to the boy?" Fred asked.
Merlin paused and looked Fred in the eye again, this time, not leaving them.
"My two best friends, yeah? They were great. They married. She blamed me for his death. I blame me too, but I guess that's besides the point. She had me banned for life after he died, away from their... estate, if you will. I can't ever go back there, you know? Even water it..." Merlin paused and angrily wiped at his face, "Reminds me of him. Reminds me of everything wrong. Reminds me of everything..."
Fred was looking at him with a peculiar eye, not quite looking like he's confused, but as if Merlin's reaction to the whole thing is wrong.
"You're...?" Fred started out.
"I am the one your people used to call Emrys."
There was silence for a next few moments before either of them said a word. Merlin was taking small gasps for breath, trying not to convulse to hard. Crying was vulnerability, it was cowardly, no man should have ever been worth his tears.
As if anything couldn't have gotten any stranger, Fred Daly said something different that would've been the last thing Merlin expected to hear.
"Nice to see you again, Merlin."
Merlin froze, and suddenly his magic burst. Time stopped. Colors faded from the Earth. The only things that were in color were himself and 'Fred Daly' that obviously wasn't really him at all. The people having a picnic not far off were stopped in mid-action while eating. The children playing with a ball were frozen laughing.
Anger was something that he hadn't experienced in a long, long, time.
"How - do - you - know - who - I - am," Merlin punctuated each word with as much bitterness he could manage.
The man was too busy looking around at what Merlin had done, obviously bending time and logic. That amount of magic hadn't been seen in, well... ages.
"You are Emrys, the last Dragonlord, the warlock, the... Merlin," The man looked into Merlin's now golden eyes, "Atticus. My name is Atticus..."
Merlin stepped forward and extended his hand in a very different way than he had before to the man. It was his defending stance, being prepared to strike at any given moment. He'd spent plenty of years being humiliated, but this was a different threat. Whoever it was didn't sit well with Merlin's stomach.
"Atticus, as in, a Druid. I've come with good news... you've... passed the test!"
"If you don't start making sense soon I'll blast your face into oblivion you sniveling-"
"I see these years have made you cold," Atticus looked on with sad eyes, "But not without reason. Let me explain: I was once dead. I should be dead as we sit here and speak but a voice spoke to me, maybe fate itself whispered in my ear to come to you and retrieve you... for a moment you've been begging to happen. But you couldn't have this prize without first letting off emotions that have been bottling you for years. Now, you've let some out, yes. And I think that means you've passed the test, but I don't understand how come nothing's happened yet..."
"As in what?"
"Well, my heart tells me something about needing a strong remembrance of the past. Something that reminds you that you were once a manservant, once nothing but Arthur's boy."
Merlin looked strangely, as if it was all a trick. This was random, too out of place to be true. But then again, if it was true, than everything would've made such a huge difference. Could he finally have...
"I remember the past. Of course I do."
"I think we both know what you need to say."
Merlin looked at him with hatred. Maybe this wasn't Atticus' fault, but no one else was available to direct his anger towards.
"You can't mean..."
"I believe you have been denying that truth for some time now... It's just three simple words. They're said quite enough."
Merlin shook his head, "You're insane."
"If anyone's insane here, I'd assume it's you for not giving it a chance."
Merlin took a deep breath. He swallowed his pride and brought in humility. He shakily reached into his jacket and pulled out the only thing that was kept alive through all these years.
That red handkerchief. So foolish and torn. That symbolized so much for some stupid reason.
The cloth was extended and Merlin looked between the raggedy fabric and Atticus.
He took a deep breath, and whispered in the lowest voice he could manage.
"I love him."
All of a sudden, the world popped back into color and movement. It shocked both Atticus and Merlin, and Atticus let out a weak smile.
Merlin noticed the cloth starting to heat up and almost... glow.
He hadn't smiled so genuinely in years.
Atticus looked up at him and smiled back.
"Destiny awaits, warlock."