Chapter One: Realization
Merlin sat on his barstool, waiting for his drink. The bartender came up to him, clunking his drink on the rough wooden table.
"Yur a wee young fur firewater, lad," the large man disapproved.
Merlin didn't even laugh. He had heard the same thing for years. Five hundred and thirty-odd years, in fact. That's how long it had been since...since it happened. Merlin hadn't aged, not since Arthur's death.
He didn't respond. He wasn't about to say, "Actually, I'm ten times your age."
So he sat still, sipping his drink. The bar faded slowly….
Four individuals on horses. They rode through the English countryside. Merlin looked at the other three; as they rode away from Ealdor, Merlin began to accept the companionship he had always needed. Three friends who had risked their lives for him. Three people who cared for him. They didn't know his secret—he would tell them later….
All of them—gone.
Merlin's appearance was not the only thing that remained the same. The pain never left—it stayed with him constantly, filling the most essential place in his heart. It hadn't gotten easier over the years. If anything, it had become worse with every passing day.
The names were inscribed on his soul: Arthur, Gaius, Gwen, Lancelot, Leon, Gwaine, Percival, Elyan, Mother, Father, Will, Morgana.
Their attachment to him seemed an unnatural magic; as if the prospect of letting go was not conceivable.
Merlin looked at his reflection in his glass. He often thought of the times when he had first met them—he could recall them with utter clarity.
Arthur, whom he met beating up some poor servant. Gwen, who made conversation while dodging errant fruits and vegetables. Morgana, who hadn't even been aware he was in her room the first time he met her. Gaius, whom he had had to save by slowing down time to make a soft landing.
Slowing down time. Wait. How did I do that?
Merlin closed his eyes completely, shutting the tavern off from his mind. He had seen Gaius fall, but there was no decision, no conscious spell. Time had slowed dramatically, and Merlin had used his instincts to move the bed under Gaius.
Merlin was suddenly excited. If he could control the magic—if he could learn to manipulate time—
A drunk farmer staggered past, breaking him out of his thoughts. The tavern was almost empty. It was very late.
Merlin peered at the reflection of his blue eyes in his glass. They flickered with something he had not felt in many, many years.
The bartender approached. "It's time tuh go home, lad," boomed the voice. Merlin smiled. If he could learn to control the magic of time—well, perhaps one day he really could go home.
Perhaps, after all the years, he could set things right.
A/N: Review, please? My first and only fic. Many more chapters to come.
If you guess two of the future pairings in your review, you get a mini-prize: I will review all your stories, and give you a shout-out if this fic is popular.