Unexpected Forms of Resurrection
Prologue
Merlin had waited, has easy as it had seemed it would be when he was by the lake, when he had known that he would have to wait for Albion to be in need before Arthur would rise. He had always known it may come down to this, and had dreaded the moment 'till it came, tears spilling from his anguished eyes. He had thought that it would not be long before Arthur was needed, how wrong he was.
He had waited for many years, changing his attire and ways as time slowly crawled by. He saw Camelot's lands divided, the first computers, men on the moon and new countries in war, far bloodier then war had ever been in Arthur's days. He had never aged though; in fact recently he began to look younger. Slowly he became less of a 22 year old and more of a 15 year old. His decreasing age had seemed like his body was trying to erase all memories of the years with Arthur. He had tried to forget, so hard that he almost had, but the bit of Arthur in him clung to the memories and pains of his life with his best-friend; 'No' he silently corrected now, his late best friend.
The issues with not aging were that despite being able to maintain his character and strength he also had to change identities about every seven years. He would gain friends, almost have the grasp of a real teenage life, but then have to lose them because his magic couldn't keep up with his spells that tried to age him to match his friends pace. Then Merlin would suddenly have to "move away" from his new friends. He would release is aging spells and once again become his younger self, then move and begin fresh with a new record and a new reputation, of the new kid. This had happened so often that he didn't even feel like a new kid, it was just routine.
Losing Arthur, Gwen and Gwain had been the hardest thing that had happened to him. Hell, he even missed Morgana and her sheer blindness to the obvious, in the Pendragon blood he always thought just to try to cheer himself up.
It was 2013; Merlin had long ago given up counting the years he had ached for his friends. Every day he visited the small plot of land he had, where the lake had once been. If anyone asked his rich uncle had given it to him. Long ago he had also given up visiting the lake each week, instead moving to the states, finding a place much like how Camelot had been. In his new life Portland, Oregon; he had all but completely abandoned any thoughts of Arthur returning and had just begun to sink into normal life. Never once had he thought that just that month it would all take a surprising turn.