A/N: Today is my ten year anniversary on FF, and I wanted to celebrate it with a story!I've read a lot of modern day fics where Arthur returns and Merlin is right there waiting, I was suddenly struck with an idea. What if Merlin wasn't there? The years have been difficult on his beloved servant, all that waiting around for his king to return. And the devoted servant receives his faithful king!
The Faithful King
The last thing Arthur remembers is being cold, feeling a sharp pain in his chest, and the arms of his servant wrapped tightly around him. After that there's just darkness, as though he has been in a deep, dreamless sleep for a very long time. And now he is awake.
The sun is high in the sky, nearly blinding him. He's dressed in the same clothes he 'went to sleep' in, traces of blood still clinging stubbornly to the chain mail. Something's wrong, but he can't quite put his finger on what that is. Shielding his eyes from the sun, he looks around himself and finds that he is in the grass, lying beside a creek.
Sitting up from the ground takes time, his limbs aren't really listening to him, after being unused for who knows how long. Arthur manages to get on his hands and knees when he finally figures out what the 'something wrong' is.
Merlin.
He tries to stand, but the second his feet are beneath him he collapses back to his knees. Now desperation is really kicking in, he needs to find Merlin. Arthur can feel it deep within his very soul, as though he is somehow bonded with his manservant, something has happened. And that feeling deep within himself is pulling him away from the creek, to somewhere Arthur doesn't know. Again, he tries to get his feet beneath him only to fall to the ground once more. Clenching his gloved hands around the grass, a frustrated cry leaves him panting for breath. Merlin needs him, that's what the feeling is telling him, over and over again, Merlin needs him- Merlinneedshim. And he has got to get off this ground and find his servant. Now.
With one last effort, Arthur pushes away from the grass and is able to stand without falling. There are trees all around him and he uses them to maneuver through the forest, while he slowly regains the strength in his legs. He allows that bond, a bond he was never aware of before, to lead him through the maze of trees and light. And it leads him directly to… a grey path. Arthur stops and stares at it, confused by the dotted lines and the thickness of the stone used. Just as he's about to step foot on it a loud squawking sound pierces his right ear and he jumps back in time to avoid being slammed into by a large thing on wheels.
Heart racing, Arthur stumbles backwards into a tree, unable to take his eyes off his new surroundings. There are brightly colored objects on shiny wheels racing past him left and right, and they're carrying people inside of them. Some sort of cart without horses to guide them, some sort of magic? Arthur wonders how any of this is possible. How long was he asleep?
And there are men and women walking along the path dressed quite revealing in his opinion, with tight-fitting clothing, the ladies aren't even wearing flowing dresses, but what almost appears to be night garments in some cases. Arthur rubs at his eyes, hoping the citadel of Camelot will appear in front of him. But when he opens his eyes nothing has changed, it's as if he is in another world. So far from home. An ache builds in his chest as he looks around, familiar names suddenly filling his mind. Guinevere, Leon, Gaius, Percival, Gwaine- are they all here somewhere? Or has so much time passed and they have all died? That solemn thought lasts longer than he wants it to until another thought occurs to him, what if Merlin's dead? But the pecking at his soul dismisses that, Merlin is alive.
With renewed focus, Arthur turns to follow the side paths that the other people are walking along, to avoid being hit by those fast-moving objects. He notices with some irritation that instead of the usual head-bowing and curtseying he is used to receiving, the people around him only stare oddly and dare him to get in their way. It's as if they have no idea who he is! Wherever he is, it is a very very very long way from home.
He continues to follow the bond where it takes him, anxious to see a familiar face. And after being bombarded with so much change, Arthur considers Merlin's presence welcome indeed. He rounds a corner and is met with a village filled with even more of those horseless, magical carts, and so many other things Arthur can't begin to describe, objects he doesn't even have names for. The sight overstimulates his eyes for a moment, and in that brief moment he loses the feeling of that thumpthumpthump bond calling out to him. Panicked, Arthur quickly shuts his eyes and focuses, praying for that only connection he has left to his home.
And then he hears it. Not the bond, no the bond has gone eerily silent, but in the near distance he hears a groaning and then a group of boys are running past him. In the coming days Arthur will think back to this exact second in time and wonder what moved his feet forward, but in the end there is no reason, just a feeling. Perhaps one of those funny feelings Merlin always gets.
Between two stone structures is a narrow gap, Arthur edges closer to the opening and peers in. Another boy runs past him, nearly knocking him sideways. A slight tremor has begun in his hands; he doesn't want to know what lies beyond him in that alley. Sliding between the two walls, just barely fitting, Arthur sees a dark shadow on the ground leaned up against the stone. He won't admit it to himself until he's sure, but in his heart he knows instantly who it is.
Closing the distance, he kneels beside his fallen servant, whose face is turned away from him. Arthur reaches out with shaky hands and rolls the head towards him. He's not at all surprised to see the too-big ears and wild black hair that meets him. He's unsure of how long he was gone, but Merlin hasn't aged a single day. Arthur grimaces when he sees the various bruises on the other man's face, the time he spent asleep had obviously not been as kind on his servant. Leaving his still shaking hand resting behind Merlin's head, he brings up his other hand, hurriedly removing his glove with his teeth, and checks for a pulse. It's there, a soft thud against his fingertips, but Merlin's unresponsiveness is cause for concern.
Twisting his head around towards the opening of the alley, Arthur puts his fear for his servant above his own pride, and cries out, "Someone, help! I need a physician!" In seconds an answering figure appears, blocking out the small amount of light that had made the two ancient men visible. The figure crouches down beside Arthur, cocking their head curiously at Merlin.
"My friend needs help, I'm not sure what's wrong-" He's abruptly cut off by a snort from the figure.
Arthur's eyes finally adjust to the darkness and he can see who is beside him, an elderly woman leering down at his unconscious servant. He watches as she picks up a small item from the ground and shoves it in his face. "This is what's wrong." Arthur leans in and makes out a small vial with black writing on it and a pointy tip. He makes the connection instantly; an image of darts that carry poison appears in his mind.
"He's been poisoned!" He exclaims incredulously.
The elderly woman chuckles, and for the life of him Arthur can't figure out what about this situation could be considered funny, responding, "Poisoned himself, more like." Tossing the dart-like object to the ground, she stands, brushing the knees of her pants. "Jus' another junkie."
Arthur doesn't know what that means, why would Merlin poison himself? His quiet, compassionate, loyal servant would never do something as drastic as to take his own life. A flicker of doubt enters his heart and the hand cradling the back of Merlin's head tightens. He doesn't much care for this person's tone, either.
"Either help us or leave us," the king inside Arthur emerges into this new world.
The old woman's eyes narrow before a smirk appears on her wrinkled face, "Yes, your majesty," she mocks as she looks him up and down before walking away. Little does she know…
Feeling for the slow pulse again, Arthur then gently slaps the side of his servants face. "Come on, Merlin. Enough lazing about." The slaps become increasingly rough until shining blue eyes unexpectedly open.
"Ahh… My head," Merlin groans, lifting his hand from his lap and pushing against his temple.
Arthur leans back against the opposite wall, hand dropping from its place behind his servant's head. "It's about time."
A gasp escapes Merlin, his hand falling from his face. Too-bright eyes try to focus, but they're bloodshot and keep crossing on their own. It's a few moments before Merlin manages to control his rolling eyeballs and squints up at the dark shape before him. "A-Arthur?" Arthur doesn't move, but he can't help the upward twitch of his lips. "Am I dead?" Merlin whispers his last question fearfully, unsure if he wants to know the answer.
"I am very much alive; I suppose that means you must be as well-"
Suddenly Merlin launches himself across the foot of space that separates them and Arthur is being forcibly embraced by his manservant. He's about to open his mouth to say something sarcastic and manly when he hears a choked sob come from the other man.
"Idiot." Arthur chuckles, patting his servant- no, his friend's back. Merlin's grip merely tightens in response.
It's quite some time before Merlin calms down from his hysteria, and Arthur patiently waits for the moment when his servant truly looks at him. He's not disappointed. A wide smile appears on the worn but young face, "I've been waiting so long," Merlin's voice gives out at the end, and he falls back against the stone wall behind him, tears threatening to fall.
"How long, exactly? You and I haven't changed a bit, but this world isn't the one I left behind."
"Well, it's the year two-thousand thirteen, so I've been waiting over fifteen-hundred years." His voice is still weak but a twinkle flickers within his dark eyes.
"You don't look a day over twenty-seven! Is it because of your… magic?" Arthur immediately coughs after the word and looks around, as though he expects armed guards to suddenly appear.
Merlin barks out a laugh, "The druids said Emrys was immortal. They were right."
"You can't die?" Arthur asks, thinking back to earlier when Merlin had asked whether or not he was dead.
"I can, but I guess I've always been lucky," he responds with a shrug of his shoulders.
An uncomfortable silence grows between them, and Arthur finally sits down on the ground and reaches for the dart. "Did you try to poison yourself?" The smile quickly drops off of Merlin's face, and Arthur watches as his servant curls in on himself, refusing to look at the object. "Were you trying to kill yourself? What if I hadn't woken up? I don't even know why I woke up from the dead, but if I hadn't, would you have tried again?"
"When Albion's need is greatest," Arthur hears Merlin mumble to himself.
"Merlin?"
"I have waited for your return for so long, Arthur," Merlin's gaze holds his own. "But I've lost myself along the way," a tongue darts out to moisten dry lips. "I got so caught up in just moving forward decade after decade, that I stopped believing I'd ever see you again." Arthur tries to shift his gaze away, but there's something building up inside him that feels familiar, that feels like home. It takes him a second to realize it's the bond in his soul that he had felt earlier. "Yes, I have tried to kill myself. But every single time someone saves me, like I'm not meant to decide for myself when I'm done." Merlin finishes bitterly.
Arthur reaches for Merlin's hand and places it over his own heart. "Do you feel that? I'm here now, and you're not going anywhere." Merlin's face crumples under the weight of his emotion and he falls forward in Arthur's arm once more. "I'm here, my friend."
The sun has long since set and the sounds of the village beyond the alley have died away when Arthur emerges with Merlin leaning against him. The two move slowly down the cobblestone path, ignoring the few strange looks they're given.
"I don't have a home," Merlin whispers uncertainly.
"It's not as if we haven't slept beneath the stars before," Arthur jokes back. Merlin grunts in response.
They're nearly back to the same creek that Arthur had found himself beside that morning, the very same spot, when Merlin jerks away. "What is it?" Arthur asks, brows furrowing.
"How do you know about this place?" When Arthur doesn't respond, Merlin steps closer to him. "This very spot, how did you know to come here?"
"I woke up here, this morning, before I found you. Why?"
Merlin's eyes crinkle from his beaming smile, "This is where I've slept every night for nearly two centuries now. Being near this water calms me down, reminds me why I need to keep going." Not knowing what to say in response, Arthur simply nods.
Arthur takes his time gathering broken tree limbs to prepare a fire for the both of them. Merlin stays huddled up on the ground a shiver coursing through his body every so often. "Are you cold? Come closer to the fire," Arthur says, taking off his thick Camelot cloak to wrap around his servant. Even in the year two-thousand and thirteen, Merlin still insists on wearing thin pants and an equally as thin shirt.
"S'the drugs mostly," Merlin mutters, clutching Arthur's cloak tighter around himself.
The fire is still crackling as the moon rises above the tree tops, its light glistening like silver atop the water. Arthur has tried to shut his eyes and go to sleep, but alas sleep will not come to him this night. Across the fire, he can see Merlin still gazing up at the stars. His shivering keeps getting worse, but Merlin insists it will go away in time.
"Remember when you told me you were a sorcerer?" Arthur asks.
Merlin laughs. "How could I forget?"
Turning over on the hard ground, Arthur looks over at his servant. "Remember what you did after?"
A solemn nod is all he receives.
"Can you do it again?" Merlin hears a hint of curiosity in that tone.
The immortal extends his fingers towards the flames, only this time he doesn't need words, his eyes flash a brilliant gold and suddenly a small dragon bursts forth from the fire. Arthur smiles, truly smiles as the dragon flies about his head before disappearing into the night. The feeling of acceptance and love warms Merlin to the core, and for the first time since Arthur's death he can feel the steady thumpthumpthump of the bond between them again.
Tomorrow he will tell Arthur all that his friend has missed these last fifteen-hundred years, explain every detail of this new world to his king. But for the first time in years, tonight he will sleep soundly.