I've had this scene in my head for like ages. For the time being, it could be read as an one-shot. Set after series 4, no spoilers for series 5.

Huge thanks to my good friend and partner in Merlin crime, Sfsf, for beta-reading this. I don't have her writing talent, but it means a lot to me that I have her encouragement and help. And that she tolerates my unfinished fics and moods. :P This one is for you, S ! :)

Disclaimer: If only I owned Merlin. If only.

Moments of Transition

What am I doing here?

The thought hit him hard. It surprised him, it shocked him, it saddened him. It was both a bucket of ice cold water on his numb body and a hot knife into his gut.

What am I still doing here?

Merlin scanned the scene before him, his brows furrowed, his lips pressed in a thin line.

Arthur was talking and laughing with his fellow royals. Three years into his reign, he was now the High King of Albion, the man who had united the five kingdoms in an alliance of peace and prosperity. This feast was being held in honour of the union, to celebrate the end of decades, even centuries, of conflicts and the beginning of a new era.

Gwen was sitting beside her husband, smiling with pride and happiness. The initial hushed criticism and sideway glances at her common birth had long ended. She was now recognized as an extraordinary woman and beloved High Queen.

Camelot's Knights were sitting beside them, cheering and sharing stories with the Knights of the other kingdoms. Nobles and peasants alike, brothers in honour and battle, members of the Round Table. Equals.

Even the new Court Physician, Galen, and his wife, Rhiannon had joined their company. They too were now part of Camelot, respected, trusted, loved.

Merlin's heart clenched. He was painfully reminded of who was missing, not only from the court, but from his life as well.

Gaius.

The old physician had passed away, died peacefully in his sleep about two of months ago. Camelot had mourned for him, given him an honourable funeral, said they would always remember him fondly.

And then, naturally, they had all moved on.

All but himself. Merlin.

What the hell am I still doing here?

He was still a servant. To the High King of course, but a servant none the less.

And, painfully, still a magical in hiding. A warlock in the shadows.

All the things he had done, all the fights, struggles, sacrifices and agony, they had created this moment. In the end, Merlin had created Albion, really. Without him, this celebration, this great feast, would not be taking place. It had been his destiny to fulfill… and he had succeeded. All was now well.

And yet, I am still not who I really am…

This is not me…They don't know me…

Merlin closed his eyes and let his magic slow down time around him. All sounds ceased, a silence with a magical hum filling the air. He opened his eyes again, his senses acute, his heart hammering in his chest.

He had felt it before, this feeling of loneliness, of suffocation, of bitterness. Of unfairness. But it was after Gaius' death that it had escalated, slowly turning into an urge to flee. To get out.

Camelot no longer felt like home. Home is where you can freely be yourself. And Merlin hadn't been himself, not really, not for the last couple of months. He had not really talked to anyone, not really laughed with anyone, not shared his soul with anyone. After losing Gaius, there was no one else left. No friend he felt he could share his true self with.

He had been utterly, desperately alone.

He took a breath, trying one more time to ignore the voice in his head. The voice of his heart, the voice of his soul, the voice of his desolate magic.

What am I doing here…

The answer hit him then. It was almost hilariously obvious.

Wasn't it his destiny to help Arthur create Albion? Yes. Wasn't Albion there in front of him? Yes!

Then... His destiny had been fulfilled! He had done it!

So... what was he doing still there?

Nothing.

Nothing but keeping himself, his true self, caged in a kingdom that, unfortunately, still condemned him. Nothing but torturing himself, living in a place that did not really welcome him.

Nothing but still allowing himself to be a lesser man. On the serving and not the freed side.

I am Emrys. The most powerful sorcerer alive. Is this is supposed to be my ever lasting place? My reward?

The realization dawned on him hard. It was both a blow and a relief.

I don't belong here anymore. I have done what I was destined to do. It's now time to see what is over the hill. If not for myself, then for my kin. For Magic.

Every fiber of his being came to life. Even his magic was pulsating, telling him that yes, it was time to go.

His mood, heavy and sad, changed to anxious. His heart filled with yearning, with the certainty that, now, this was what he was destined to do.

The first very important part of his life was over. The second was about to begin.

No matter how he had tried, he had not managed to make Arthur see magic for what it really was from inside Camelot. He would now try from the outside. Though it might, yet again, take many years, in the end he would have Magic free.

Breathing deeply, the warlock let time flow normally around him once more. The music, voices and laughs filled to his senses.

He smiled.

Arthur did not know what made him turn. In the midst of a conversation, he got this strange feeling that made him look at the doors of the great hall.

He saw Merlin standing there, half way out. Their eyes locked. There was something like a smile on the servant's face, something so eerie that a shudder passed though the king.

He had never seen such an expression on Merlin's face before. Something was... amiss.

Just then, Guinevere diverted his attention with a hand on his arm and a fleeting comment. When he looked back at the doors, Merlin was no longer there. Looking around, he realized that his manservant was no longer even in the hall.

The following morning, the High King finally understood. When the report from the citadel and gate's guards came, he simply blinked. It said that Merlin had been seen leaving the city that night, on his own, on foot, a bag and bedroll on his back.

Arthur was, uncharacteristically, not surprised. Not even angry. He was expecting it. He somehow knew it.

Merlin, with his eerie smile, had said goodbye to him.

Author's Note:

I would be honoured and delighted if you reviewed. Is this something you would like to read more of? If enough people say yes, then I will devote myself to giving you a full story. Thank you! :)