Merlin stepped out of the shower onto the bathmat, grabbing a towel from the rack. Steam curled around the ceiling and moisture dripped down the walls. Merlin loved taking hot showers, and after living for 1500 years, showers were one of Merlin's favorite inventions. Wrapping the towel around his waist, Merlin walked to his room. He pulled out a pair of jeans and a baseball tee and slipped them on. Automatically, he rubbed his hand over the neckerchief stashed away in the bottom of his drawer, one he'd saved from all those years ago.

Once dressed, Merlin wandered into the spacious living room of the apartment. She was in the kitchen, standing at the sink washing dishes. She smiled at him as he entered the room. Slipping his arms around her waist, Merlin hugged her from behind and placed a gentle kiss on her neck. A content sigh escaped her lips.

"Are you going to do my dishes too?" asked Merlin.

"No way buddy, do your own," she teased.

Merlin scoffed and squeezed her waist. She giggled in response and wiggled out of his grasp. As she turned back to her dishes, Merlin pulled away and grabbed his jacket from the back of a chair. "I'm going for a walk," he told her, grabbing his keys. She nodded in response, used to Merlin's routine.

There had been many of them over the years, companions to keep Merlin's bed warm. He loved them all, he was sure, and was always sort of sad when things inevitably ended. Yet he never missed them for long and was never too heartbroken to see them go. Sometimes Merlin's relationships would end in a fight, other times Merlin left because they wanted to get married or have children. Occasionally, Merlin would spend an entire lifetime with someone, only to outlive them. Merlin was used to people being temporary in his life. Abigail was only the most recent in a series of lovers, both men and women, who Merlin always ended up saying goodbye to. He knew it was only a matter of time before he was on his own again.

Merlin took the back stairs and pushed through an exit into the chilly morning air. Fingering his keys in his jacket pocket, Merlin wandered down the street to the coffee shop on the corner. There he purchased a cup of coffee and a muffin. Breakfast in hand, Merlin walked down a quiet winding road, towards the lake he knew so well.

Merlin never lived too far from the island Avalon, usually no more than an hour's journey. Currently he lived within walking distance and had made it a part of his daily routine to walk to the lake every morning. He sat on a small bench, eating his muffin in silence. Through the mist, Merlin could just see the island in the middle of the lake, and his heart ached. It had been hundreds of years since that fateful day when Merlin had last seen his best friend. Yet somehow the pain of it always lingered in Merlin's heart. His sadness had dulled over the centuries, but never fully went away. Merlin doubted that it ever would.

Often Merlin worried that Arthur wasn't coming back. It had been fifteen hundred years since The Once and supposedly Future King had breathed his last, but Arthur still had not risen. Merlin didn't think he could bear another fifteen hundred years of waiting, and thought it might save him some heartache to simply give up on his best friend. Albion had seen a lot throughout the years, horrors that Merlin had thought must have been enough for Arthur to rise again. Plagues, invasions, even the world wars, surely those were terrible enough to require Arthur? Yet Arthur remained dead, and Albion survived without him. Frankly, Merlin wasn't sure what Arthur could have done against a bomb anyway, with just a sword as his weapon.

Perhaps, Merlin often thought, Albion's greatest trial would be something that only Arthur could save them from, though Merlin couldn't imagine what that could be. Leaders always rose up, armies amassed and people fought back. Humans were always so resilient, how could they possibly need Arthur? Furthermore, Merlin was sure that technology had advanced beyond Arthur's abilities. There was nothing Arthur would be able to do against the armies of today. No, Merlin was sure of it. Arthur was never coming back.

As he had finished his muffin, Merlin stood up, brushing away the crumbs that had fallen into his lap. He stuffed his napkin into his pocket, and started on back to his apartment. As he walked, Merlin tried to shake thoughts of Arthur from his head, instead determined to focus on his present life. His thoughts turned to Abigail as he considered taking her out to dinner that evening. Yes, they should go out, Merlin decided. His spirits lifted as he walked, leaving his thoughts of Arthur behind him.

Far away in darkness, five women began to chant.

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