He looks in the mirror and can hardly believe it. After all these years he once again recognizes the face that stares back at him from the days of his youth. He remembers that adventure well. Arthur had not yet known of his gifts. Uthur was on the throne.
Some things had changed. Guinevere was yet a servant. Some things had not. Morgana had already begun her reign of treachery. But it is the little things that he still remembers. The light streaming through the many glass bottles of polices and tinctures. The way his guardian would smile when he staggered through the door after his latest run in with death.
He can remember their conversation. He'd asked if anyone would recognize him. Gaius had lent in closer and then shook his head.
"There's something of you in the eyes, but it maybe just because I know that it's you!"
He remembers turning to the mirror, just as he is now, and taking in the withered frame, the long curly beard and the straight, but equally long hair. He can almost see his old mentor in the reflection behind him: a half remembered dream of the days of old. They are strong. Ready for the challenge ahead. Ready to risk life and limb for the man they know as king.
He looks in the mirror now and sees that nothing has changed.