Standard Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin. If I did, then Arthur wouldn't. Have. DIED.
o~O~o
It was him.
It took Merlin a few moments to shake off the weariness that had stiffened his once-agile limbs, a few more to force his age-dulled eyes wide open, and a lot longer still to convince himself that, after all this time, it was Arthur standing before him. But there could be no mistaking it. The Once and Future King stood tall and proud against the dark pall of night, his chainmail whole and glistening in the moonlight as if freshly polished; gone too the mark that indicated where Mordred's blade had slipped betwixt his ribs. The strong boned noble face, the gentle blue eyes, the messy blonde locks … it was him. It was Arthur.
"Sire," Merlin breathed, almost choking on the words. Such was the strength of his relief that he didn't feel the pull of his magic, didn't notice his beard evaporating or the wrinkles on his face smoothing out. He didn't feel the sweet return of youth until he stood painlessly and walked over to embrace the king, the friend, the brother his heart had yearned to see all these long, painful, lonely years. Because it was him. Because he was back. Because the dragon, the god-damn dragon that spoke perpetually in riddles, was right.
"Merlin." Arthur's voice was strong and warm, a balm to soothe the warlock's turbulent emotions. Then his brow creased and his eyes grew conflicted as he held up a hand, palm outwards, to stop the warlock in his tracks. Merlin paused fearfully, wondering what could possibly intrude on his happy reunion. He glanced down self-consciously at his attire; he was still wearing the garments he'd bought a few years previously in an op-shop, though following his regression back to his youth he half-expected to have reacquired his scruffy servant's clothes. A pang of disappointment rippled through him.
"Merlin," Arthur repeated, and the warlock lifted his gaze to his friend's. The crease remained between Arthur's eyebrows, but his mouth was lilted in a familiar half-smile.
"Why the hell are you wearing a beret?"
o~O~o
A/N:
Seriously BBC? You replaced Merlin's neckerchief with a beret? Screw Arthur's death; THAT was the real tragedy of the whole thing. Bastards.
Seriously though, I'm a glass case of emotion right now. I don't think I've ever cried that much in my whole life; not even when my goldfish died. All the death and the angst and the magic reveal and the death and the magic and the angst and the DEATH. I'mma go cry some more manly tears now.
This is my first submission on fanfiction, so any constructive criticism is welcome. Reviewers get cyber cookies with motivational icing sugar messages on top.
EDIT: the cover photo doesn't belong to me either. I just 'borrowed' it off the Google search engine.