Disclaimer : All rights to the bbc etc

Warnings: Slash, Future!Fic, character death sort of but not really (yh.... i confuse myself)

A/N : This is completely the fault of Stand December from livejournal because her future fic got in my head and inspired me until i couldn't write anything else until i had done it. Hope it live up to hers. :)


It would seem impossible that there could be a time where Merlin lived without Arthur, where the sorcerer could survive without his Prince, his King. A time when Albion was no longer the great land that it once was, no longer a symbol of hope to the people from further than any horse could take you. It was hard to fathom that there could be a time where people forgot about sorcery and the power of the Old Religion, where magic was considered nothing more than cheap parlour tricks. It was impossible to believe but it was a reality, which sadly, centuries had passed since Camelot had fallen, its greatest King taken and a legend left behind that would span the ages. Time changed the earth, it's people. Cultures evolved and religions came and went, some flourishing and some falling into mere groups of fanatics. Kings and Queens came and went, new Government took over and the rules of the land morphed until no one could really be sure what was what anymore. Only one thing didn't changed. Only one thing remained and did not vanish, no matter how much it was . As the times went on so did the young Sorcerer. His life never ended, his youth never fading. There were some things that Merlin had grown used to, expecting the unexpected was one of them. Accepting that some things he thought ridiculous were actually not far from the truth. Eternal life, that was one of them. Of course, when he had first learnt of his skill, his gift, it had been an exciting prospect. His mind had instantly been overjoyed with the idea that he would be around without fail for the entirety of Arthur's life. He would be able to stand at his side, protect him without the nuisance of death hovering over him. The idea had been never realised until later what his gift would cost him, not until it was too late. Everyone he knew aged around him, their faces changing and their strength fading. Age took them in like a cruel warden, wrapping them away somewhere Merlin could not save them. He could not stop it as Morgana's beauty faded and her eyes lost their sparkle. He could not stop it when Gwen's body lost its strength and her voice lost its brightness. He could not stop it as Arthur fell apart before him, his body failing and his humour diminishing as death closed in on him. Time took everyone from Merlin until he was the only one left.

The only one who remembered how things really were. There were stories, hundreds, and hundreds of stories about the great King of Camelot and his Knights of the Round Table. Tales told of the battles that he won and the people that he liberated. Merlin could recite you a dozen different tales about himself, some close to fact, others simple garbage thrown together in an attempt to satisfy someone's imagination. Though Merlin knew that not one could really capture the vision that had been Albion, show the courage of its Knights, the compassion of its Ladies and the sheer power of its ruler. Only Merlin remembered. It is sometime in the twenty first century when Merlin returns to where Camelot once stood, he could not tell you what town he was in. He knew it simply from the tug that he felt in his heart as he walked the pavement, telling him that he was home. A bitterness settled in Merlin's throat at the very thought. Home was where you felt safe, surrounded by those you loved, and who loved you back. Merlin had not felt at home in centuries. As he wondered through the streets and alleys, Merlin's feet kicked out at random stones. His head fell low, is hair falling to cover his eyes a little. He knew he did not need to blend in, but he felt somehow better when he did. Magic had long since disappeared from people, no one alive that could recognise him for what he was any longer. There had been times, over the years, that he had felt for sure that it would return. He heard rumours of people, powerful people, who could do things that most would consider impossible. They had all faded in time, most turning out to be a hoax, never comparing to Merlin. Each one brought a new wave of disappointed to him. Everyday Merlin wondered the roads, watching idly as people passed him. He never did anything different, never said anything different and nothing other than the normal ever happened. Until 31st, 2008. Something in the air stirred, the breeze changing so slightly that any normal person would miss it. Something whispered in the air and muttered in the trees, so subtle that Merlin almost missed it. He felt something he had not felt in so long that it was almost forgotten to him. The Old Religion stirred, its small and now insignificant power spiking in Merlin's heart. His feet froze to the spot and his head raised, eyes wide as if seeing for the first time. "It can't-" He whispered, his voice hoarse from such poor use. He did not know what he felt or what he thought was happening, only that he knew it wasn't meant to be possible. He starting running before he even knew he was doing it, pounding across the concrete with a force he hadn't used since the hunts back in Camelot's forest. His hands scraped across the sides if buildings as he hurled himself around corners, the wind whipping at his face until he could barely feel it any longer. Merlin's chest ached as he pushed himself forwards, willing his magic to allow his lungs to work the way he needed them to. It could of taken minutes or hours but suddenly, Merlin's feet stopped beneath him and he almost toppled over. Sheer shock spread across his features.

In front of him was a park, it was old and unused if the state of it's equipment was anything to go by. That was not what had Merlin's capture attention though, it was the people standing there. He felt it in his heart, in his very soul that he knew these people. He felt an aura that he had not felt in so long and a part of him craved it. As his eyes trailed across the faces they did not move, all simply staring at him unblinkingly, like they were waiting. These people were as unknown to him as anyone else on the entire planet, not any one of them someone he had seen before, still, his mind started to pick out features that stirred memories in him.

Lancelot's physique, as strong and perfected as ever.

Gwen's mouth, delicate and always the slightest hint of a smile.

Morgana's skin, so fair it was like china.

Gaius's posture, the slight lean of the arm and raise of the head.

His mouth opened the smallest amount, the uncertainty he felt clear across his face. This was not possible, they were all dead. He still felt the whole in his heart where they should be, yet this was them. He could feel it in his bones.

His eyes fell on the one figure that he had not gazed over, something inside telling him that they needed to be last. The hair was wrong, cut at a completely different style. The height was slightly different, shorter he thought, even the skin was a few shades off. The eyes though. Merlin knew they would never change. It was still him. It was still Arthur. His Arthur.

Merlin did not know he was crying until he felt the warm liquid trickle down the bottom of his cheek, falling into the crevice on the side of his neck. His feet trembled and his hands shook as he took one tentative step forward, afraid that this illusion would break if he moved any faster. No one moved except Arthur, stepping just as slow as the sorcerer, as if matching his movements. There was uncertainty on Arthur's face as well, worry, but completely different in kind to Merlin's. They stopped just short of a pace from each other, their eyes locking into each others. Merlin could tell from the look on Arthur's face that he was waiting, that he would let Merlin have the time he needed to understand this.

Merlin's hand reached out of its own accord to Arthur's arm, stopping just short of feeling the skin on his forearm. Merlin's mind screamed at him that this was real, but Merlin had dreamt this so many times. Dreamt that the people he loved had come back for him, he didn't think he could survive it if they disappeared again.

"Ar-" Merlin tried, the words failing before they even reached his mouth. "Arth-" He wanted to believe this. His hand stretched the last gap and his fingers brushed against something warm, something that was definitely real. Just like that it was as if a veil fell and Merlin threw himself into Arthur's chest, wrapping his arms around the stranger, yet still familiar man.

"Arthur." Merlin cried, tears falling freely now as he felt Arthur cling back to him, his arms as strong as he remembered locking Merlin to him, his head lowering to brush lips over the side of Merlin's face and then his nose. Merlin's heart swelled for the first time in decades as small kisses were placed all his face before finally landing on his lips, firm and fierce, just like always.

"Your not alone anymore." Arthur whispered as the others approached, every single one with tears in their eyes, laying a hand each on some part of Merlin. "We came back for you Merlin, you don't have to be alone anymore."

Merlin swore he was never going to let them go again.


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