Just a quick little one-shot I threw together a couple months ago but never got around to posting. Here it is now. Let me know what you think!
Summary: The future's not what Merlin once thought it would be. Not that he ever thinks about it, anyway.
He never thinks about the future.
It used to consume him, and that, he knows now, was his first mistake. It had been a complete mistake to spend every moment dreaming up a life that wasn't guaranteed to fall into place. It had been wrong of him to feel so secure in this future that he hadn't taken the time to prepare for any other.
So now, he simply doesn't think about anything but what's in front of him. Nothing else is his concern.
The bartender slaps a tankard of frothing beer on the beaten old counter, grunting for payment. Merlin slips a few coins from his pocket and takes the mug in return, carrying it off to the dark, dingy corner. It makes the locals wonder, he knows. They wonder who the mysterious man sitting in the shadows could be; it's a suspicious place to sit habitually. He knows this, but he doesn't care.
That is, he doesn't care until someone plops down determinedly across from him.
"Cheers, lad," the other man says, taking a giant swig out of Merlin's beer. Not that he minds particularly - he can never down a full one, anyway. "Bit young to need to drown out your sorrows, eh?" Indeed, he feels desperately in youth's clutches compared to the man with grizzly gray hair across from him.
"I'm not drowning anything," he answers, offering no more explanation than that.
The man shrugs. "Course you're not. That'd mean you're just like everyone else here, wouldn't it?" He chuckles and shakes his head. "One day, son, you won't care if the whole world thinks you're just one more sad fellow that life kicked on his arse. Ain't none of their damn business, and the same's probably true for all of them."
He doesn't feel entirely comfortable with this stranger sitting down and smothering him in some philosophy that doesn't have anything to do with his life. He doesn't have any sorrows to drown. Really. He would, but he's learned that hand-in-hand with not thinking about the future comes not thinking about the past. Otherwise he'd be in here for very different reasons, and might feel a little more intent on drinking at least a whole mug.
"Why are you here, then?" he asks, more polite than truly curious. At least, until the man answers.
"Just came from Camelot. My son's a guard. Well, was. Died, you see. Defending that good for nothing king. And for what? King died, anyway."
Merlin freezes, the mug halfway to his lips. "Uther's dead?" he repeats, not liking how that sounds, how it tastes in his mouth. Not because he feels any regret for it, but because he knows what else that must mean.
"That's right. You been to Camelot, lad? That old Pendragon was a monster... don't know much about his son, but I got no reason to think he'll be much better."
Without thinking, Merlin's grip tightens on the mug. "I've been there, all right, and Arthur's nothing like his father. He'll make Camelot good again." And once upon a time, he was supposed to be part of that. No longer.
The man peers at him closer. "You talk like it's personal. What's some king of another land got to do with you?"
Merlin doesn't lie. There's no point. "He's my friend. Was. I served him for a few years, a while back. He's a prat, but deep down he's a good man." Might as well say it all. "He's going to unite Albion and become the greatest king the land has ever known."
The stranger stares at him, then chuckles again. "If you say so, lad. If you say so."
He didn't really expect this man to believe him. He wouldn't believe him. What are the chances that some random man in the corner of the tavern should've ever had connections with the current king of Camelot? Why should the same young man happen to know what the future held for this king?
Suddenly he wants, needs, to see Arthur again. He needs to explain everything. He needs to be by his side. He needs to do everything a dragon once told him he would, however ridiculous that sounds when he thinks about it for too long. He needs to stand next to the Once and Future King, and know everything is as it should be.
"So if you were friends with the king, why'd you leave?"
Honestly? "Because he's going to make Camelot good again. But... he hasn't yet."
And that's what it comes down to. Maybe he'll go back when this happens; maybe he won't.
But that's in the future, so he doesn't think about it.