AN: Just something I've had stuck in my head. I haven't written in awhile, so be kind. Can be read as Merthur or friendship. I don't own Merlin.
Merlin sat on the shore of Lake Avalon. It was a beautiful summer day and he was staring longingly at the glistening water. After all the years that had gone by, he was amazed that it looked the exact same as it did the day Arthur passed away.
Many years had past since he'd last seen Arthur. He came back every chance he could just to sit and stare, never allowing himself to get his hopes up. He'd long given up on the dream of Arthur returning. Kilgharrah had been wrong, Merlin was sure of it.
The first hundred years, and with every new threat to Camelot, he found himself waiting for Arthur's return. Knowing that he was destined to rise when Albion's need was great, but Arthur never came. Maybe the need wasn't great enough.
For many years after that, he lived in solitude; quietly residing right beside the lake of Avalon. Days past like hours. Years past like days. Only ever waiting for Arthur's return and every year brought him more pain and less hope.
The next few hundred years, Merlin found himself thousands of miles away from Albion. He traveled to many places, for many years. Everyone he cared for was gone and he was searching for a purpose. Someone to care about and someone to care about him. He met people. He loved people. He even used his magic to aide those in need, but in the end, he found himself beside the lake again.
When it came down to it, he still had Arthur. He still had a purpose. Even if he losing hope, he still had Arthur.
Now here he was, present day, still waiting.
He was thinking about calling it a day, when I young girl, no older than twelve sat down beside him.
"I see you here a lot," she commented as she picked up a blade of grass and began twirling it through her fingers.
Merlin just nodded and gave her a small smile.
"I thought, maybe you just needed some company." She grinned back and threw the grass down.
"I appreciate that. I haven't talked to anyone for a long time."
They sat in silence for a few moments.
"Why do you sit here?" the young girl asked trying to get Merlin to talk.
Merlin took in a deep breath, "I lost someone very important to me here a long…long time ago."
"I'm so sorry." She almost regretted asking, but he seemed to be opening up to her. "Doesn't it bring back the pain when you keep coming back?"
"Yeah," Merlin felt hot tears filling his eyes, "but I have to."
"Why?" she pressed.
Merlin closed his eyes, willing the tears to go away, "because I'm afraid if I don't come back here, I'll forget. I'll forget him."
It was the truth. The hundreds of years he spent away from what used to be Albion, he felt his memories slipping. He almost forgot why he felt the need to go back.
When he did return, the memories flooded back like a tidal wave. The rush of emotions brought him to his knees and he cursed himself for ever leaving. For nearly forgetting about Arthur.
Ever since then, he tried to return to the lake as often as he could. Being closer to the lake made the memories stronger, as if everything that happened long ago in Camelot happened only yesterday. Merlin knew it was some sort of magic. A magic that connected him to Arthur forever. A magic that made him never forget about Arthur.
"You'll see him again. I know it," the girl said smiling big. She turned around quickly and turned back to Merlin, "my sister's calling me. I have to go. Maybe I'll see you here again."
"Maybe," Merlin replied, "I enjoyed the company. Thank you."
She got up and he watched her jog away.
People like her were reasons why he wanted to travel and find someone to care about again. He hated that his life felt so empty.
However, he couldn't. There was no way he'd allow himself to leave the lake again. To leave the lake, he knew would mean leaving Arthur. The longer he spent away from the lake, the more and more he forgot. He knew a long period of time away, he would forget entirely and he would never allow that.
Arthur may never return, but he would never give up.
He had little hope of Arthur's return, but there still was hope.