Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin

Hiya, guys! How're you all doing? I'm sorry I've been gone so long. So, so many things have happened. On top of everything, I just moved, so I haven't had wifi for a few months. It's not a priority to my dad, unfortunately. But I was able to write this a few weeks ago! And I'm house sitting right now, so I have wifi. Anyway, I hope you guys like it. I've had this concept in my head for a while, so I'm glad I finally get to publish it.

Enjoy!

Remembrance

Arthur wasn't sure what it was about looking at the crackling hearth that calmed him so. It eased his tense nerves and made seemingly every pore in his body relax. Perhaps the cup of fine wine in his hand helped with that too. Merlin said it was from the early eighteen hundreds, kept in the cellar in his cottage since its production. He took another sip and looked over at his friend.

The warlock was laid out on he couch next to him, eyes closed. His fingers were laced behind his head, and though his breathing was steady, Arthur knew he wasn't asleep. Simply resting.

Just like in Camelot, Arthur thought. Listening to the crack of the flames was something special for them both, for it was a time wherein titles and positions were stripped from them both and they were simply people. Except it was typically on hunting trips or missions; now they were just relaxing in Merlin's apartment. And the king—for that is what he would always be—was about to break that peace.

"Merlin?"

"Hm?"

Arthur paused, shifting in his easy chair. There had been a question buzzing through his head for a while now, one that he had wanted his friend to answer. He was hesitant to ask, because he knew the pain it could bring, and because frankly it was selfish of him to ask. But he wanted to know. "What happened after I died?"

Merlin's eyes snapped open suddenly, and he sputtered as he sat up. He hissed; his hand flying to his still healing wound. Under his breath, he muttered a spell that would help the pain as he righted himself on the couch. "I'm fine," he quickly said, seeing the concern in Arthur's eyes. The warlock swallowed heavily, cocking an eyebrow. "W-what brought this on?"

"Curiosity?" he shrugged. "We all want to know what happened after we die, don't we?"

"I suppose." Merlin reached forward, mindful of his wound, and plucked his glass of wine off the table. He took a long sip. "Well... where do you want me to start?"

Unfortunately for Merlin, Arthur had given this a fair amount of thought. "I... I told you to hold me while I died. When we were in the field. After Morgana. What happened after I passed out?" He didn't miss the flash of pain in his friend's eyes. The pain of remembrance. The king very nearly regretted asking anything at all.

"Well..." Merlin's voice was stone, hiding all emotion. The knight could tell he'd been through his a hundred times; relived the memory in his mind over and over. "Short version? I called the Great Dragon and we rode on his back the rest of the way to the lake, where... where you died in my arms." There was a far off look in his eye when his voice caught. "In case you were wondering, Kilgharrah was my first option to get there, but Gaius and I thought a dragon would be spotted too easily by Morgana. Who found us anyway. And I thought we'd get there with plenty of time to spare." A familiar grin spread across his lips, a failed attempt to add some humor to his story. "Don't worry, I gave you a proper burial worthy of a king."

"It's not that I'm concerned about, Merlin," the king said softly. "I mean... what happened to you? To Gwen? To Gaius? The knights?"

The aged warlock took another sip of wine; his eyes never left the fire. His eyes were dark and guarded and yet filled with so much pain, and it was then that Arthur did regret asking. "Um. I... It might be easier if I showed you."

"Showed me? How?"

A devious smirk—that Arthur was used to—appeared on his warlock's face. "Magic, of course. Come here."

He scooted over on the couch, carefully folded his legs beneath him and gesturing for the young man to sit. Arthur did so, setting his wine down on the coffee table beside him. He crossed his legs underneath him as well; the two men sat facing each other on the couch.

Merlin cracked his knuckles and flexed his fingers. "Now, just relax."

"I'm very confused."

"It's more or less a memory transfer. You'll see my memories. Ones I select for you. I'll be in control. You and I will be there, sort of, but only as observers. You won't be able to interact with anything you see and nothing you say will be heard by anyone except my present self." The warlock reached forward with lithe fingers and fussed with Arthur's hair, searching out his friend's temples. He placed his first two fingers on them and started massaging the area.

"Present self?"

Merlin shook his head, a smile playing on his lips. "You'll see. Now... I'll pick up from where I returned to Camelot"

The king felt a sudden rush of power—magic—rush through him, overwhelm him, and the world went black.

"Arthur? Arthur?"

Merlin.

"Arthur?"

Definitely Merlin.

Dang it. Five more minutes. Just a few.

"Arthur, open your eyes."

He sounded slightly urgent, so Arthur complied, groaning. He peeled open one eye, then both. And he quickly found that he wasn't in his bed. He wasn't even on Merlin's comfortable couch. He was in a bloody forest. Standing up.

And it was this realization that made him nearly fall down.

Merlin caught his shoulder before he could, thankfully.

And then Arthur realized that Merlin, too, was standing.

Even after he'd found his footing, he didn't let go of his friend.

"Merlin, you shouldn't be up yet," he said, eyes gesturing to the wound in his side. "You need to be resting."

The warlock grinned and lifted up the hem of his Twenty One Pilots t-shirt. There was no wound. The rugged circle where the bullet had pierced his skin was gone. "It's a memory, remember. Not technically real. I wouldn't feel any pain so I manipulated my image to not have a scar. No big deal."

"I don't understand any of that, but as long as you're okay."

"Yeah, I'm alright. How's the head?"

It was only then that Arthur registered the pounding in his skull. "How... how did you know before I did?"

"Memory transfer is a tricky thing. I've only done it a few times. The headache is from the rush of magic. It'll pass soon enough."

The king nodded and took in his surroundings. It was nearly dark. Maybe morning? But the air wasn't crisp enough, so... night. Late night. He looked up and saw the moon standing watch overhead, an army of stars to accompany it. Crickets sang around him. The air smelled wonderful. He'd forgotten how truly beautiful this forest was. He looked to his left, past Merlin's shoulder, and saw the battlements of his once beautiful castle. For a second, he stopped breathing. It felt like he hadn't seen his beloved city in years, but at the same time it felt like no time at all had passed.

A twig snapped.

"Get down!" Arthur hissed. He grabbed his friend's shoulder and dragged him behind a bush. He peeked up just enough to scan the horizon.

"Arthur."

"Sh."

"But Arthur."

"Will you shut up?"

"Arthur, it's just me. Look." He pointed to their right, and sure enough... Merlin was walking through the forest. Trampling, more like. "It's my memories, remember? It's just me. No harm will come to you here."

"Sorry," the king apologized. His eyes flickered between the two Merlins. One in pajama pants and a band tee. The other in brown pants, blue tunic, brown jacket, and... a stupid red neckerchief.

Something pricked Arthur's heart. Something like nostalgia and longing.

He felt his friend's hand on his shoulder. "It's fine. C'mon,"

Memory Merlin made no attempt to hide himself—he kept stepping on fallen twigs and dried leaves. Present Merlin didn't either, and Arthur had to remind himself once more that none of this was real. No one could see or hear them.

But they would hear memory Merlin.

"You never did learn subtly, did you?" he joked.

The warlock smirked at him. "It wasn't really a priority then."

Arthur could concede that. After all the then-young warlock had just been through, and the fact that he had magic to protect himself, he could imagine that subtly didn't really matter. They followed him through the forest and into the Lower Town. There was almost no one walking through the town to interupt him. When he reached the portcullis, memory Merlin caught a court messengers arm and said: "Find Queen Guinevere. Tell her Merlin requests an audience with her in her chambers."

The young boy only nodded and scurried off in the opposite direction. Arthur and present Merlin had to pick up the pace to keep up with the past warlock. He jogged up the front steps of the castle, ignoring the inquisitive and sometimes worried looks he got from passersbys. None of them dared stop him though; the look in his face was much too serious and determined for that. And frankly frightening.

"I should add that this is a few days after your death. By then, Gwen had already been declared sole ruler of Camelot," his Merlin said. The king gave him a quick glance as they walked down the long hallway to what once was his and his wife's chambers. The aged warlock had the same stony expression as when he'd first asked what had happened. A small stab of pain pricked his heart when he realized that his warlock must have relived this memory, just like this, in every horrible detail, more than a few times.

Memory Merlin walked right into the rooms, without knocking, and the knight felt a small grin that that had at least always stayed the same. They followed him in, and it was only once the doors were closed behind him did the past Merlin allow some emotion to show. His eyes were those of a broken man. The agony held within them was nearly too much to bear to see. Memory Merlin took a few deep breaths, swallowing his emotions.

Arthur frowned. Oh, Merlin...

The warlock went to stand next to the window and folded his hands behind his back. He looked out into the courtyard, just watching people mill about. So many were still in black mourning gowns and robes...

The chamber doors opened.

"Merlin!" Guinevere yelled. "Oh, thank god you're here."

The young warlock turned from the courtyard, and just before Gwen reached him, he fell to one knee, head bowed.

"Merlin?"

"What are you doing?" Arthur asked, honestly confused.

Present Merlin bit his lip, refusing to look at his king. "Just watch."

"I'm sorry, my lady," memory Merlin said. "It's my fault Arthur is... the king is... It's my fault. I'm sorry I failed you. I take full responsibility."

Even after he stopped speaking, he kept his head bowed. His whole body was so tense. He was scared, Arthur realized. Of Gwen? No. Of Guinevere's judgement. Of how she would react. It made Arthur sick. To see Merlin made so low. To see that he was blaming himself for his death as though he'd run the sword through him himself.

The queen gathered her skirts in one hand and knelt in front of him. She laid on hand on his shoulder. Merlin nearly flinched. "Listen to me now," she said. Her voice was hard; full of grief. "This is not your fault. It's not. You are not to blame, Merlin. Arthur wouldn't want you to blame yourself. I know that much."

Merlin's dark eyes, now glazed with unshed tears, snapped to hers. "But it is. Gwen, I couldn't stop the dragons. I couldn't stop Morgana. I couldn't stop Mordred. I wasn't strong enough. I have... And I should have been able to. The prophecies. And I failed. With all my bloody magic, I failed."

"Stop this, Merlin," she pleaded. "If that is true, then I am to blame as much as you are. Magic or no, this is not your fault."

A single tear fell from the young man's lashes. "You..."

She gave him a small smile. "I know about your magic, Merlin. I figured it out on my own. And I also know that you tried your best. Because that is what you've always done."

"But I wasn't..." His voice broke and his chest was racked with sobs. "I wasn't g-good enough. I couldn't save him. I'm so s-sorry, Gwen. I'm so sorry."

The queen reached forward and wrapped her arms around her broken friend, tears freely falling from her eyes now too. "It's alright, Merlin. It's alright." They cried together, the queen and her warlock, and when Leon and Percival and Gaius finally arrived from the messages Gwen had sent, even more tears were shed. And when Merlin heard the news about Gwaine... Mirrors were shattered by his magic.

"That's enough," Arthur said, wiping tears from his own cheeks. "That's enough." He looked over to see that his friend's eyes weren't exactly dry either. And his face was a little more than flushed. The king put a hand on his shoulder and wished more than anything he could take his friend's pain away. "What about being court sorcerer? Or returning magic? Can you show me that? Something happy?"

Merlin nodded, sniffling. He closed his eyes and the world changed. Gone was the orange light from the chamber's burning candles; sunlight shone down from high above, and its warmth recharged Arthur.

Hundreds of banners streamed through the courtyard. So many colors... Arthur recognized Camelot's own flag, Lot's, Mithian's, and the Druid's... Cheering echoed around them. Laughter. Clapping. So many smiles.

"And it is with great pleasure, in honor of my late husband, the Once and Future King, that I repeal the laws banning magic," Guinevere said.

The king's eyes snapped to her. She was on the high balcony overlooking the courtyard, dressed in a beautiful burgundy colored gown. Her voice was strong; resilient. The voice of a Queen. Merlin and Gaius stood on her right. Leon and Percival stood on her left.

The crowd absolutely roared. Arthur didn't think he'd ever seen the people this happy.

Guinevere put her hands up to quiet the crowd, failing to suppress ear to ear grin on her face. Her eyes danced. Then: "Merlin, please come forward."

The young man did so, taking a few steps forward until he stood beside her, looking out onto the crowd. He was dressed in his usual clothes, though Arthur could tell that they were of higher quality. They showed no trace of the wear and tear the king was so familiar with. He could also see that there were tears in his friend's eyes. Tears of joy. He looked over at his own Merlin to see a small smile on his lips. Did he realize how proud Arthur was of him?

The queen looked towards her people. "Most of you know Merlin. You know that he is the physician's nephew. That he was Arthur's servant. But if that is all you know of him, then it is truly unfortunate." Guinevere's hand found her friends, and she wrapped her fingers around his. "For you do not know his heart. It is the purest I have ever found. More kind than any I've had the pleasure of knowing. And more loyal than... Than Camelot ever deserves. He has saved this kingdom, single handedly, more times than I care to count. He was the main force in defeating Morgana time and time again. He is the reason we were able to take back our beloved kingdom. He is the reason this castle still stands. How? Because this young man holds more magic in his single finger than most people could acquire in their whole lifetime."

The crowd was silent; all eyes were fixed on the servant. Merlin's eyes were fixed firmly on his boots, and a flush reddened his face.

"No doubt, you will hear more of his tale throughout the coming months, but for now, I wish you to know: Merlin is the reason you live and breathe today. The reason your children live and breathe today. He is my best friend. Your protector. And he has sworn fealty to me, to this kingdom. And it is for these reasons, and many more, than I, Queen Guinevere Pendragon, name him, Merlin Emrys, Court Sorcerer of Camelot!"

There was a moment of silence as the people of Camelot seemed to slowly grasped everything their queen was saying to them. But it wasn't long before everyone was screaming again. Clapping their hands. Crying. Hugging each other. Camelotians and Druids. Celebrating this newfound peace. Together.

A knight Arthur wasn't familiar with walked up behind Guinevere, holding a small chest in his hands. He could see the tears falling from memory Merlin's eyes, and he watched as his oldest friend gave the queen a questioning look. Her smile was radiant, and it only grew as she flipped open the box. Merlin's mouth fell open, and he covered it with one shaking hand.

"Oh, Gwen..." he watched the warlock mouth.

He couldn't see her reply, but as she grabbed the hem of the cloth and pulled it from the chest, a beautifully made indigo cloak fell. Arthur knew it was of the finest fabric, the finest make... That's just how Guinevere was. He watched as she flung it around her friend's shoulders and brought the broaches together along Merlin's collarbone. Then he watched as Merlin flung himself at the young queen, wrapping his arms around her neck. She hugged him back just as tightly. Arthur didn't miss the tears on her own face.

"This was one of the best moments of my life," his Merlin said. His voice was thick. "I had been scared to death that Camelot wouldn't accept me, but of course Gwen knew they would. I always imagined it would have been you to reveal me to the kingdom, but this... This was just as beautiful."

Arthur's smile softened. He couldn't have been more proud of his warlock. His friend. He couldn't imagine the pain he must have gone through to keep his secret so long, or the pain he must have felt. And he couldn't imagine the joy or the relief he must have felt to not have to hide himself any longer.

"Magic flourished throughout the kingdom. There was true peace. There were a few slip ups here and there, but nothing that Guinevere couldn't handle. She was truly amazing. Truly."

"It's... I'm..." What could he really say? He'd always been terrible with words. "I'm so proud of you, Merlin. Of you both."

The aged warlock's eyes sparkled and crinkled at the edges with the force of his lopsided grin. "Thank you."

The world shifted again, darkened, and the castle disappeared. Arthur blinked and opened his eyes to see the warlock's flat once more. It was much darker now, save for the light from the fire. Merlin's eyes were still closed; tear tracks marked his cheeks. And when he did open his eyes, the young man could still see the flecks of gold in his irises. His fingers fell from Arthur's temples.

"That... that was amazing, Merlin," he said quietly.

The elder huffed a laugh. "Thanks. Exhausting, too. It's quite troublesome to have nearly infinite magic and still need it to be channeled through a finite human body." His hand traveled to his side, and he groaned as his wound reminded him that he was back in the real world.

"Rest, you idiot." The king hopped up off the couch and helped Merlin spread out. He grabbed a blanket from off the back of the sofa and laid it on his friend as his eyelids drooped down. "I'm excited to see some your adventures like that," he teased.

"Maybe one day," he muttered. "Good night, my lord."

The young man tousled his friend's hair. "Sleep well, Merlin Emrys."