Merlin never returned to Camelot.

He looked in occasionally - twice under disguises, near the beginning, then more often through the eyes of an animal and once under the camouflage spell he worked out two decades later - but he never returned as himself. He saw Gwen's coronation as the Queen of Camelot, unable to choke out more than one, "Long live the Queen," before he had needed to flee, tears running down his face and grief and longing constricting his throat. Leon, Percival and Gaius's faces in that moment haunted his dreams for years. Gwen's expression when she had looked down at Arthur's ring, twisting it in her fingers like she still couldn't believe it was real, stuck in his memory forever.

Merlin snuck in when Gaius died, three years after Arthur's passing (and he refused to call it his death because Arthur was coming back, he was), to take his body to be cremated on the Lake of Avalon with Lancelot, Elyan and Freya. The hubbub that was created by the disappearing dead physician was silenced by Gwen who insisted that a funeral be held anyway. Merlin returned just in time for it and managed to remain throughout the whole service only through his respect for the man who had loved him and mentored him and supported him and, above all, always believed in him. Then he left, before anyone took note of the strange old man in the corner of the courtyard, and spent several weeks lost in his thoughts as he wandered the forests.

Visiting Ealdor was heart-wrenchingly painful. There wasn't much else Merlin could say about that trip. It had brought closure at least, to see his mother one last time, but he also felt the white-hot pain of loss stab through him as she passed by without recognising the old storyteller who was only staying in town for a night. He knew that they would never meet again. The letter he left on her pallet, unsigned and with only a simple, "I'm sorry. I love you," did nothing justice, but it was as much as he could risk.

When Leon went missing during a hunt, five years into Gwen's reign, Merlin spent almost two months looking for at least a body without any luck. He rode the winds in the mind of a raven to watch as Percival stepped up to take on Leon's duties among both the Knights and the Council then, satisfied that Camelot was in safe hands at least for now, retreated into the mountains.

Almost ten years passed before Merlin saw Camelot again, once more through the eyes of a bird. Gwen had aged, as had Percival, but the city was thriving, its people well-fed and happy, and so Merlin decided it was safe for him to go a little farther afield.

Eight years it took for Merlin to track down various druids, priests and artifacts of the Old Religion as he tried to learn all he could of the legends of Emrys and the Once and Future King. He learnt many things as well, staying up to a year in some places so that he could be taught by the wise men and women he met, and though it felt amazing to finally understand just what he could do it also brought back memories of Gaius and so many situations that could have gone so differently if he had only known this or that. The what-ifs almost drove him mad, his magic going completely out of control, so once again he was forced to retreat into isolation to try and find a balance between the past and the present and the future.

The news of Percival's death - honourably, in the defence of the Queen and at the hand of twenty enemies - drove Merlin to look in on Camelot once again. It was a bad idea. Everything had changed, from the layout of the city to the people that inhabited it and it brought forth only pain to see the city Arthur had loved so different. Good different - Gwen had achieved nothing but good - but still different.

Gwen was fifty-one when she died, a good age for the time. She passed in her sleep, the reports said, with a smile on her face. Her final words, as heard by Merlin himself as he hid in a corner, invisible, were a whispered, "Never forget: when in a time of great need, the Once and Future King will return. Until then, we leave Camelot in the hands of the future."

Merlin stole her body away in the dead of night, as he had with Gaius and Percival, filled a boat with the brightest of flowers and set it adrift on the Lake of Avalon, igniting the wood once it was far enough out and entrusting her ashes to the Lady of the Lake. He stood on the bank for six hours, still as stone all through the night and into the early hours after dawn, before he managed to tear himself away and wander back into the forest, heart and mind lost.

Thirty years. In all, thirty years from Arthur's passing was all it took for Merlin's friends to all die out, one by one. Thirty years until he was left all alone, a wanderer who now knew the forests of Albion better than anyone, who had memorised every book of lore and history he could find, who was capable of more magic than any man should be allowed and who had absolutely no use for any of it.

Not yet.

And that was what Merlin clung to, from the first second after Arthur's body stilled and began to set with the rigors of death. Throughout the following years as his friends died and as he learned things that would have been so useful before, that was what he clung to.

Not yet.

When he realised, twenty years later, that the druids were dying out - that magic was leaving the lands of Albion - that was what he clung to.

Not yet.

When he felt himself fall once more into the pit of despair, this time with no one to pull him back out, that was what he clung to.

Not yet.

And when he had realised only six months after Arthur's passing that something was wrong, that was what he clung to.

Not yet.

Because the one thing he had that was proof that maybe, some day, Arthur would return?

He wasn't aging.

AN: So, I really need to stop starting new stories. I now have four on the go between my five fandoms, although I'm only posting three of them so far. Though this one should be nice and short (that's what I said about IWC though, so who knows).

This is part one (hope you liked it!) of three, maybe four, and I promise the others will be longer. Had to set the scene first. This is based on a comment I made on my tumblr but I won't repeat it because that would spoil the story. Just, if something starts to sound familiar and you follow me, that's why.

A warning for anyone reading my work for the first time: I only write when I feel like it, so updates can be a bit sporadic. I also have a million other stories on the go, so my time is rather divided. That said, reviews motivate me to write, and I love discussing plot points/fandom/canon/anything with people. I'll try to reply to reviews promptly - I read all of them, I promise!

See you!