"And I, the last, go forth companionless,
And the days darken round me, and the years,
Among new men, strange faces, other minds."
The Isle of Avalon, beautiful and relatively unchanged in over a thousand years. Merlin could feel the magic here, pulsing like a distant heartbeat all around him. The lake was vast and still, and the wind was cold and bitter on his lined face as he made his way down the bank from the road. Cars and lorries passed by the lake every day. Children played by the water in the summer, people walked their dogs and jogged through the sparse trees remaining on the bank, leading to green fields and pretty dolls house cottages. The legend of King Arthur remained inextricably linked to Avalon, although warped by time, and misinterpreted and changed in some rather unforgivable ways. Merlin was just happy that he had been remembered. For once, it was something he was glad the Great Dragon had been right about. Arthur had been remembered, and his life had been built up from the reality only Merlin knew. Today, he was known as Arthur, the Faultless King. Children dressed up as him on holidays and for pageants, historians fancied themselves experts on his life and times. Some did not believe that he had ever existed at all.
What made Merlin sad was that there was no text which could ever capture the way Arthur's eyes crinkled at the edges when he laughed at something Merlin had said, or shared stories with his knights and talked to Guinevere in the hushed tones they reserved only for each other. Guinevere, whom the stories portrayed as a disloyal wife, a vain and vindictive creature, whose true nature could not be further from the lies these people told of her. He wondered if it satisfied them, to weave these elaborate stories about betrayal and lost love, when poor, sweet Gwen had lived and loved a life as pure as any other, and suffered the death of her husband as a young and loyal queen. Nobody alive would ever truly know what it felt like to be on the receiving end of one of Arthur's dazzling smiles, to feel the warmth spread outwards from their hearts and want more than anything to please him, this noble, valiant king. The ruined castle walls of Camelot could not retain the wonder of his majesty and love in their cold stone. The only other ones who could ever know the real Arthur Pendragon, arrogant prince, wise king, and good man, were long dead and gone. Merlin carried the memory of his prince with him through the ages, knowing that one day he would be back, and he would be as much of a prat as ever. Merlin had never wanted anything more in his life.
The legends also spoke of an old man who stood watch over the lake, protecting it for many years. Some people called him Merlin, the great wizard and confidant of the illustrious King Arthur. Only a handful of people had ever seen him, or thought they had seen that distant figure standing sentinel over the lake. He never stayed long, just looking out over the water as if he were waiting for something; when that something never came, he would walk calmly away and melt seamlessly back into the trees. To some, he was a ghost of the past, to others, a guardian of their future. They didn't know that he was only there for one person, the one person who never came home.
Merlin scratched at his long white beard, smoothing it down thoughtfully. He didn't much like being in this old body, it made him feel more powerful of course, but somehow vulnerable, knowing how others perceived him as a frail old man ambling along at the side of the road. He broke through the clearing, and somewhere deep inside him that fragile little bubble of hope swelled up and warmed his heart before he managed to fight it down again. It was the eve of the anniversary, the only day of the year that ever mattered to Merlin now. He couldn't even remember his own birthday anymore. The years passed in a blur of decades and centenaries with no measure of note except this one day every year where Merlin made the pilgrimage home. He approached the black water with well practiced restraint and let his eyes scan once over the surface for that pale hand reaching up from the depths. Merlin closed his eyes and took a breath, looking over to the bank and seeing in his mind's eye the slumped form of Arthur in his dying moments, held tight in his arms, whispering to him the words that Merlin knew he spoke from his heart.
His attention was drawn to the water's edge by a loud indignant cry where several teens stood hurling rocks into the still water and skimming smooth, flat stones across the surface in competition. One of them picked up a jagged lump of rock and threw it into the water with a grunt of satisfaction, watching as it cast an almighty splash in its wake, churning the water up in billowing clouds of mud. The boy's friend laughed in delight and followed up the display by flinging a sharp stone far out into the mere, where it landed with a soft splash in the deep water. Merlin stumbled as memories flashed through his head, each more vivid than the last: Arthur, falling to the ground as the last of his strength left him, holding onto him in desperation, the hope, the love, the fear in his eyes. And then he was gone, and Merlin was staring down at his friend's body, feeling the cold, unnatural clamminess of his skin and waiting for him to wake up, to breathe, anything. The boat was small and the ceremony could never be grand enough for his Arthur. Merlin had watched a piece of his heart drifting out onto the lake with Arthur's body, and known that until he returned, he would never again feel whole. He was left with the ache in his chest and the overwhelming sense of loss which consumed him. There was another cry from the group of young boys, and Merlin closed his eyes against the pain. Just hold me, please.
Merlin opened his eyes, and in the distance from the depths there rose a pale hand, clutching a beautiful silver blade which caught the light and flashed bright like the white dragon fire which forged it in legend. The hand swept the sword in an elaborate arc, brandishing it three times in triumph, a gesture which Merlin knew all too well. The stones the boys threw rained down upon it and struck the polished blade, and the hand began to withdraw. "Stop," Merlin breathed, one hand pressed against his forehead. "Stop it," he said, louder this time, his head pounding. They were ruining everything, they were hurting Arthur, disrespecting his memory. "Stop!" he cried. The boys looked over at the crazy old man lurching towards them with his hand outstretched.
"What?" One of them called, the others laughed.
"Stop it!" Merlin felt the tears wetting his eyes again, blurring his vision.
"Stop what?"
"Don't throw the rocks, you'll hurt him." Merlin found himself saying, his eyes fixed on the point where the hand had appeared moments before.
"Hurt who? There's no one there mate!" The boys laughed. Merlin swallowed thickly and dragged his eyes away to look at them, this group of young, unknowing torturers, and he shook his head in a daze of grief.
"Someone might be swimming, it's dangerous." Merlin said, his voice catching in a throaty mimicry of his usual tone, scratched by age and time.
"Who would be swimming in this weather? It's bloody freezing." Merlin wanted to hit him.
"Just...don't." he said wearily, and the boys shrugged at each other and ambled away.
Merlin limped towards the water and fell to his knees beside the gently lapping surface. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, and the wind which rustled the leaves in the trees around him carried Arthur's last whispered words. Merlin spread his hand across the water and felt the pull of magic in the depths of the cold mere.
By the time the sun set on the industrial horizon, Merlin way lying on the bank beside the lake, young again, listening to the quiet rippling of the water and manipulating the air to warm himself in the cold night.
"Gaius is back," Merlin said with a short laugh. "He's just the same, still treating me like a boy." He watched the ripples cast across the lake by the playful breeze, trailing a hand in the cool water thoughtfully. "You know, he didn't remember at first. He thought I was crazy, running up to him in the street like that." Merlin closed his eyes. "I hope you remember," he whispered. "I hope you know who I am, when you come back. I don't want you to be a stranger after all these years." He swept his hand in a wide arc, trailing sparks of brilliant light through the clear water which danced into the form of Arthur's smiling face, looking up at Merlin beneath the glassy surface; unreachable.
Merlin slept beside the lake that night; he needed to be close to Arthur again. He had tried leaving. He had tried so many times in all those years to leave the lake, leave the country. Merlin had spent a hundred years in Australia, of all places, trying to forget. He walked, he backpacked across whole countries, three times around the world and back again; but it was no good. Something always drew him back here to the lake, to Avalon, to Camelot, to Arthur. Merlin always felt the most at home, lying on the bank next to the lake, beneath the same bright stars, waiting.
When he left, it didn't feel like waiting anymore, it felt like running. Merlin had lived for too long to forget what running away from his problems felt like, and that it never solved anything in the long run. And it had been a long run, a very long run to this blue lake, and this new age of technology and science. The lives of the people Merlin had once known, their courage and valour and nobility, all that they had ever lived and loved, and even he and Arthur, had become the stuff of legend. He had watched as the present turned to past, the past from history to stories, drifting into myth and legend, and soon to be lost to him forever.
Merlin looked up at the trees and felt the cold like frozen lips against his cheek, and the wind running playful fingers through his soft dark hair, and thought of Arthur. Merlin thought of all those years, looking back and realising that hidden in every glance they ever shared, every word they ever spoke was 'I love you'. Merlin had seen every moment of their lives together and wished more than anything that he had told Arthur just once how much he meant to him. They would always have those last hours together, at the end. That had been the closest they had ever come to those three little words, and Merlin had loved him more in that short time than he ever thought possible. As the years passed, Merlin had kept watch over that lake, and poured his heart out to that stagnant pool and imagined that his friend could hear him. It helped him to deal, when the grief became too much. He couldn't say it now, no matter how much he felt it needed to be said. The time had passed for last words, and Merlin knew that nothing could ever do justice to the way he felt about him, and how his heart beat out a constant maddening tattoo of Arthur...Arthur...Arthur and drove out all other thoughts besides his Once and Future King. The part of him which had been sent off into the mere with Arthur's body pulled at him relentlessly, no matter where he fled.
Merlin closed his eyes and let sleep take him, reaching out to Arthur with his mind and dreaming of their days in Camelot together. He could scarcely remember how it felt when Arthur would touch him, just casual pats on the back or their friendly jostling. He missed it so much.
He woke up with the early morning sunlight filtering through the trees above his head. Merlin was reminded suddenly of a hunting trip he had gone on with Arthur and the knights in the summer. He remembered the way Gwaine and Percival had wrestled with one another in the grass, laughing uproariously before Arthur split them up with a grin. He remembered the way the breeze stirred Arthur's hair as they lay in wait, two each huddled behind a tree, weapons trained on the hart which scented the air and pawed the ground restlessly as it sensed danger. Then Merlin had tripped on a tree stump and fallen face first into the dirt at Arthur's feet and the hart bounded off into the trees. Merlin smiled to himself as he thought about the way Arthur had cuffed him round the head before looking down at him affectionately and helping him up. A tear slipped down his cheek before Merlin could stop it, and he brushed it away angrily.
Gaius returning had been one of the first signs that Arthur was coming back. Merlin had waited forever for a sound, a sign, anything that would tell him that it was time for Arthur to live again. He wondered how long it would take for everything to settle into place. Today was the anniversary of Arthur's death, and Merlin knew that it was foolish to think that today might also be the day that he would get to have Arthur back and living and breathing again; but there was a tiny part of him which refused to believe that it couldn't happen. That part was hope.
Merlin blinked into the sun and stretched his aching limbs, casting a longing gaze over the water before turning his back on the lake and starting out through the trees to collect firewood. The council didn't officially allow open fires in the woods, but Merlin cast a cloaking spell around the billowing smoke his small fire gave off and basked in the trapped heat, safe in the knowledge that he couldn't be seen. There was a song Arthur used to sing when they went on patrol of Camelot's boarders with the knights, and Merlin hummed it to himself softly now, mimicking Arthur's deep, gruff voice and missing the way he used to bend down the note at the end into a stirring baritone. Arthur hadn't liked anyone to hear him singing, and it was only when he and Merlin were alone that he clearly felt comfortable enough to begin. Merlin just pretended not to listen too intently and smiled to himself as they walked. He had a good voice, and Merlin wondered if it would have changed in all this time, become deeper, maybe, more commanding. What scared Merlin most about waiting was the possibility that at the end of it all he would find out he had been waiting for someone who wasn't the same person any more.
Merlin spent the day occupying himself by wandering through the small woods and resolutely not watching the lake. He tried very hard not to think again about what it would be like to have Arthur back, wondering what he would say to him. By the time the sun was about to set, Merlin couldn't stand it any longer.
The lake was still, reflecting liquid gold in the last rays of sunlight. Merlin walked slowly towards the water's edge and looked out over the mere, his heart beating a frantic tattoo as he watched for the hand reaching out of the water, brandishing the fabled Excalibur. For a long time nothing happened, and Merlin closed his eyes and swallowed the lump in his throat.
"Arthur, I-" Merlin sighed and turned away. There was a soft rustle in the trees as the wind stirred the leaves, and carried on the breeze Merlin heard a single name.
Merlin... He turned slowly and opened his eyes. There, as the last rays of sunlight slipped soundlessly below the horizon and cast the world into darkness, out in the distant depths of the mere the tip of a sword broke the mirrored surface. Merlin stumbled closer, drawn by the memory of ages past. He watched in disbelief as the sword rose out of the water, held aloft by a strong arm which he had dreamt of seeing again. Merlin rubbed his eyes comically and blinked a few times, but unlike before, the arm remained, rising into the open. Merlin found himself already knee deep in the freezing water, eyes fixed on the body emerging from the lake. Clad in chainmail as clean and rust free as the day it was forged, soaking breaches clinging to his legs, skin grey with cold, and with eyes of the most piercing blue, stood Arthur Pendragon, the King of Camelot, the Once and Future King.
Before he knew it, Merlin was splashing into the water and flinging himself deeper into the freezing cold. His clothes were weighing him down and Arthur was too far away but he was screaming and laughing and he could hardly see through the tears streaming down his face and mingling with the icy water plastering his hair to his scalp. Arthur stood in the shallow water, and his eyes held a faraway look which frightened Merlin more than he could ever put words to. Arthur seemed in a trance, staring down at the sword in his hand and oblivious to Merlin meters away now, shouting at him. "Arthur!" Merlin screamed his throat raw in his terror, tripping on a rock beneath the surface and splashing into the water. "Arthur look at me!" he cried, reaching out to the figure standing rigidly in the lake. "It's me, Merlin, please!"
As soon as Merlin said his name, Arthur seemed to snap out of his trance. He looked up and in an instant the memories flashed behind his eyes, the years they spent together, their bond, everything becoming crystal clear and painfully real. "Merlin," Arthur said softly, and that was enough. Merlin was on his knees, water lapping at his throat, and Arthur took one step, and then another. Merlin threw himself forwards and Arthur stumbled the last few paces and his arms were around Merlin and his face was buried in Merlin's neck and Merlin was sobbing with great, heaving cries of happiness as they held each other.
"Arthur," Merlin choked, his eyes squeezed shut and his hands scrabbling at the smooth armour on Arthur's back, his cheek pressed against Arthur's cheek and his arms tightening impossibly around Arthur's shoulders. Arthur was hugging him so tightly it hurt and Merlin didn't care, his just murmured Arthur's name over and over again and clutched at his body and wove his fingers into his hair and pressed a hard, chaste kiss to his cheek. "I missed you so much," Merlin gasped as Arthur stroked his hair and Merlin felt hot, wet tears dripping onto his shoulder where Arthur's face was buried against his neck.
"Merlin," Arthur said again, and Merlin just about managed to let him go for a few seconds to look at him fully. Arthur blinked at him and his face split into a grin, his hand cupping Merlin's face as he stared at him in wonder. Merlin leant into the touch; Arthur's fingers were as cold as ice and Merlin took his other hand and tugged on it eagerly, leading him towards the shore. Arthur put his arm around Merlin's waist and leaned his weight on Merlin's shoulder. The couple staggered awkwardly through the cold which made their chests tighten and cast small indolent ghosts of their breath in the night air. Arthur's hand twitched sporadically around Merlin's as the other man dragged him forwards, his breathing laboured and his eyes slipping closed. They tripped onto the sandy bank and fell in a mess of tired limbs on the ground. Merlin took Arthur's weight and held him around his middle like a child hugging a teddy bear, his face buried against Arthur's warm, living flesh, feeling his King's pulse beat frantically beneath his fragile skin.
Arthur sat up slowly and turned to look at Merlin. Merlin reached out and touched his face. When he realised what he had just done he looked startled but Arthur smiled. He suddenly leaned back and appraised Merlin critically for some moments before frowning.
"Merlin, what are you wearing?!" He said with an incredulous expression. Merlin looked down at his blue hoodie and red snood and he laughed loudly. Arthur just stared at him, and then he reached out and swiped his thumb across Merlin's cheek gently, removing a tear track. Merlin's laughter subsided into awkward hiccupping coughs as the tears continued to wash his cheeks. "Why are you crying?" Arthur said kindly, and Merlin sniffed and wiped a hand over his face.
"I'm happy," Arthur's face softened and he touched his forehead to Merlin's tenderly.
"How long..." He said after a moment. Merlin closed his eyes and shook his head slowly.
"I stopped counting after the first thousand." He replied. Merlin didn't see Arthur's face pale.
"Years?!" Arthur exclaimed. Merlin leaned into his touch and said nothing. Arthur's sigh was heavy with regret. He moved away and looked at Merlin again, reaching out to ruffle his wet hair plastered to his scalp.
"My wonderful idiot," he said softly. Merlin smiled shakily as Arthur folded him into a hug. When Arthur held him it was like he wished he could erase the last one thousand four hundred and seventy years with a single embrace, and that was all Merlin had ever really wanted.
"You know, I spent so long thinking of all the things I'd say to you when I finally had you back, and now I can't think of anything at all." Merlin murmured; his hands pressed against the cold metal armour which had failed to protect his friend in his final moments. He almost felt as though he could transfer all those thoughts, all those emotions and memories to Arthur through the simple touch. Arthur huffed and plucked at Merlin's hideous neck-thing from his position over his shoulder.
"Come on," Merlin said, sniffing brightly and wiping his eyes again as they pulled apart. Arthur still had that peculiar sadness about him, and Merlin wished he could make it go away. All those questions, he thought. All that time and everything he's missed. "There's someone you should meet."
When Merlin rapped on the door of the old cottage on the farm, Gaius took so long to open it that they nearly thought he was out. The soft orange light of the fire within cast liquid pools of gold on the grass outside. Merlin sighed loudly and took a step back, bracing himself for the onslaught of abuse.
"What have you done with your bloody keys young man?!" Gaius yelled from inside, his voice familiar, even though his language had taken a somewhat interesting turn in the last year since Merlin had found him again.
"Sorry Gaius," Merlin replied guiltily.
"I confess it's been a while but as far as I can remember, you youngsters still respected your elders in the middle ages!" Merlin rolled his eyes, and Arthur shifted beside him, his hand still on Merlin's hip comfortably, unable to let each other go just yet. "And immortality is no excu..."
Gaius tried valiantly to finish his sentence as the door swung open, but all words fell from his lips and melted into silence at the sight of Arthur Pendragon standing behind his former manservant on their porch. "My God," Gaius breathed. "Sire..." Arthur smiled at the title which Gaius ejaculated instinctively.
"Gaius," Arthur replied, leaving Merlin's side momentarily and folding the old man into a hug. Gaius put his arms around the King's torso woodenly and patted his back.
"It's good to see you again my boy," he said, withdrawing awkwardly and holding Arthur at arm's length to appraise him. "You haven't aged a day," Gaius continued in a slightly less stunned voice. Merlin just stood there grinning from ear to prominent ear. Gaius peered over Arthur's shoulder and glared at Merlin. "Do you know what it's going to be like, surrounded by immortal young men? At my age? Inconsiderate twits. Come on, there's a fire in the next room, and then you must both tell me everything." Arthur glanced behind him as Gaius propelled him through the doorway and shared a private grin with Merlin.
Merlin leaned against the wall uneasily for a moment and steadied his breathing. There was so much to tell Arthur, and no proper way to explain how much the world had changed in all those years. He had no idea how they were going to manage this, if Arthur would want to know everything that had happened in his absence, or nothing at all. When he entered the living room Arthur was seated on the big sofa in the corner and Gaius was trying to offer him a cup of tea. Merlin took in the scene before him and stifled another smile. He sat down beside Arthur and wordlessly began fiddling with the fastenings on his armour. "Merlin you don't have to do that -" Arthur objected but Merlin shushed him and carefully began removing the heavy metal plates from Arthur's shoulders.
"Be quiet," Merlin said gently, "you don't know how much I've missed this." Arthur looked at Gaius as the old man cast his eyes to the floor. Evidently he knew all too well how much Merlin had missed everything about his former life with the King. "Your clothes are wet, come with me and I'll find you something to wear." Merlin instructed, leading Arthur out of the room by the hand and down the corridor to his bedroom. Arthur followed him obediently and sidled into the room behind Merlin. Merlin turned to look at him and rolled his eyes.
"Arthur, put the sword down." He said wearily. Arthur glanced at the sword Excalibur in his hand and set it down guiltily. "Look," Merlin said, rummaging through a wardrobe and finding one of his old tee shirts from the eighties with 'AC/DC' printed on the front in faded letters. "Try this on; a friend borrowed this once, I think he was about your size." Arthur took the tee shirt awkwardly and held it up against himself. "And...uh, trousers, here you go," Arthur caught the jogging bottoms with one hand and eyed them warily. Merlin turned around and looked at him. "Um, yeah, pants." He muttered to himself, handing Arthur a pair of his boxers.
"Merlin?" Arthur said in a slightly startled voice. Merlin caught his eye and smiled encouragingly. "...thanks."
"No problem." Merlin replied, leaving Arthur standing alone in the room with the borrowed clothes clutched to his chest.
Merlin closed the door behind him and leaned against it exhaustedly, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. "Merlin, what's wrong?" Gaius approached him with his quiet shuffle and stared at him with one eyebrow raised quizzically. Merlin looked at him plaintively and Gaius gestured to the door. "Aside from...that." Merlin swallowed, breathing deeply for a few moments before shoving away from the door and running his fingers through his hair in distress.
"He doesn't belong here, Gaius! I mean, why now? What's so special about now? I've lived through hundreds of years that Arthur would have been better suited to!"
"Calm down Merlin, Arthur has been brought back for a reason. The fact that we don't yet know what that reason is, does not make it any less valid."
"But he's not the King anymore! He can't be the King!"
"Merlin,"
"I'm pretty sure Her Royal Highness Queen Elizabeth the Second might have something to say about that, not to mention the two men next in line to the throne of England!"
"Merlin!"
"And what if, what if there's nothing for him now? What then? Is he just supposed to- to live a pointless life with me?! Because I can tell you now that is not what he needs. It's not what Britain needs of him. He can do so much, Gaius, I've seen it, and you can remember. He can't just sit around and be... useless."
"And he won't be!" Gaius said earnestly, gripping Merlin's arms and shaking him lightly. "I promise you that everything will work out." Merlin looked at him tragically with tears welling in his eyes.
"I wanted it to be...special." He said softly. Gaius patted his arm consolingly.
"Life doesn't have to be all sparks and fireworks, lad." He replied, "It can be special in a quiet way too."
It was at this point that Arthur opened the door and stepped out into the hall self-consciously. The clothes fitted him well, while also managing to look incredibly wrong. Merlin smiled at him and wiped at his eyes in embarrassment. "You look great!" Merlin said cheerfully. Arthur raised an eyebrow doubtfully.
"There's dinner for you both on the table," Gaius said, diffusing the tension.
Merlin watched Arthur pick at his food uncomfortably, his eyes scanning the modest kitchen with vague interest. Gaius caught Merlin's eye and made a surreptitious head movement which Merlin decoded as meaning 'take Arthur into the living room'. Merlin looked across the small table at Arthur. The King looked very lost and disorientated and Merlin reached out to touch his hand briefly. "Done?" he asked, gesturing to the full plate in front of him.
"Yes, thank you." Arthur replied with a weak smile.
They settled down in front of the fire again, the night outside cold and distant in front of the warm hearth. Arthur was staring into the fire, lost to his observation of the passive flames licking at the charred logs, his thumb making repetitive, sweeping motions across his own arm. "Where is Guinevere?" He said suddenly. Gaius and Merlin looked up in surprise at the King who had been silent for almost thirty minutes. Arthur turned around and looked at them hopefully, his eyes bright with the memory of his beloved wife. Gaius and Merlin exchanged a glance before Merlin knelt down before Arthur and took his hand. Arthur's face fell and Merlin closed his eyes. "Arthur," Merlin said gently, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder and taking a deep breath against the lump in his throat. He cast a look at Gaius again and the old man nodded solemnly. "Some of them come back as they were, some remember, some do not." Arthur looked at him pleadingly, his eyes begging him not to speak the words that would make it final. "Arthur, some of them don't come back at all."
"No,"
"Gwen lived a long life," Gaius said, his eyes clouded with the memories of long ago. "She was a fair and gracious queen." Arthur looked down at his hands, as though remembering when he had held Gwen's delicate hands in his own. It must have felt like mere days ago to him where Gwen was alive and beautiful and happy. Merlin saw the pain flicker behind his eyes and the ache of loss consuming him as it had done Merlin for all those years.
"She ruled with as much heart and honour as you did, Arthur. I was proud to guide her and call her my queen." Gaius continued sadly. "Guinevere loved you until the end of her days."
Arthur brushed away the tears spilling down his cheeks. Merlin watched as Arthur stood up quickly and left the room. Gaius gave him a helpless look as Merlin ran after him.
Arthur was standing outside, his arms folded across his chest and his head tipped back, watching the stars. He took a long shuddering breath as Merlin approached and wiped his eyes with a sniff, composing himself. Merlin touched Arthur's arm as he came to stand beside him. After a long silence Merlin said: "Some of us aren't meant to come back." Arthur swallowed thickly and closed his eyes. "Gwen lived her life then, and it became a happy one, in the end."
"And you waited for all that time," Arthur murmured, unable to look at Merlin. "You saw all of them grow old and fade away." Merlin heard the catch in his voice and put his arm around Arthur's shoulders.
"Yes," Merlin replied, leaning his head against Arthur's. "But I saw them happy too. I saw the kingdom you built rise up and prosper. Your legacy lived on for an age. The people of this time still speak of us and everything you achieved as King."
Arthur smiled, but it was small and forced. Merlin squeezed his shoulder. He wished he could tell Arthur that he didn't have to smile through the pain anymore.
"Is there anyone else?" Arthur said in a voice strained with false optimism.
"Your father lived again a few years ago, but he never married, and he never had any children." Arthur nodded stiffly. Merlin recounted the small knowledge he had of the late Uther Pendragon, born again into a noble and respectable family but without a title or any knowledge of his son from another life. Arthur listened intently, but Merlin knew that he would not have wanted to meet his father again. The Uther of this time had not suffered the trials he had as King of Camelot, and in his heart he was still a good man, but he had retained an inexplicable trace of bitterness and anger which plagued his former self. Uther had died alone, and with no one to carry on the name of Pendragon, that too had died with Arthur's reincarnated father. Merlin liked to think that deep down, Uther had always known who his son had been, and would be again. Perhaps that was enough to carry him through this life for a second time. As it went, Uther's life had been the first, vital clue for Merlin that soon Arthur would be returned to him.
Arthur's legs finally betrayed him and the King sank to the damp floor where he sat with his legs tucked beneath him. "I don't want to hear anything else tonight." Arthur said in a detached voice. Merlin looked up at Gaius who had appeared silhouetted in the doorway to the cottage. He nodded at him before turning silently away and leaving the two in peace. Merlin slid onto the floor beside Arthur and put his arm around his waist, resting his head on the other man's shoulder. Arthur sighed deeply and relaxed against him.
"All that time alone," Arthur said after a pause. Merlin said nothing for a long while.
"It wouldn't have mattered if I was surrounded by the most interesting people I've ever met," Merlin murmured softly, feeling the steady rise and fall of Arthur's breathing beside him. "If none of them were you I'd always feel alone." Arthur swallowed and closed his eyes.
"Don't say things like that..." he said stiffly. "You make it sound like I'm your entire world and I can't –" Merlin didn't reply, and Arthur looked at him. "I can't bear the thought that I've stolen your life from you." Arthur rose suddenly and ran a hand through his hair.
"Arthur!" Merlin called as Arthur began striding towards the house.
"I didn't ask for any of this!" Arthur shouted, and Merlin jumped. "I would give anything for you to have lived a normal, mortal life with some pretty girl and, children and, I don't know, grandchildren!" Merlin bit his lip helplessly. "It's bad enough that fate decided that this place," here he made a sweeping gesture to the world around them shrouded in darkness, "needs me to come back for whatever reason, but the last thing I ever wanted was to drag you along with me." He cleared his throat. Merlin didn't know what to say; he stood there stupidly and felt the distance between them like a gaping wound, seeing a stranger in place of his friend and feeling like his heart had been flayed open for everyone to see. Arthur looked at him sadly and shook his head. "Knowing that you have felt every second while I've been stuck beneath that lake, that is killing me." He said. Arthur broke their gaze and walked away, closing the door behind him with a bang.
Merlin lay awake in his room, listening to Gaius snoring peacefully along the hall. He wondered if Arthur was able to sleep after everything he had learned. No sooner had he thought it, there was a sound outside his door. Arthur slipped into Merlin's room and quietly stood with his back to the door. Merlin sat up and smiled at him in the darkness. Arthur walked slowly towards Merlin's bed and sat down beside him. He was clutching the gleaming sword in his hands like he didn't know what to do with it. It was as though he needed something material to cling to, to reaffirm his belief in the solid world. Merlin lifted the covers in offering and Arthur slid beneath the duvet gratefully. "Trouble sleeping?" Merlin murmured as Arthur rolled onto his side to look at him.
"I think I've slept for long enough, don't you?" Arthur's reply was tinged with regret. Merlin inched closer and wordlessly wrapped him in his arms. Arthur sighed and buried his face in Merlin's neck, holding on to the only thing he knew in the warped and changed world around him.
When Merlin kissed his cheek, it felt like the most natural thing in the world to Arthur to return the gesture and tighten his arms around the familiar body against the onslaught of grief which threatened to pull him under. "It's alright," Merlin said soothingly. "It's OK, I've got you." Arthur closed his eyes and Merlin held him as the tears spilled silently down his cheeks. "I've got you. We're OK."
Through the lonely night, Merlin was always there to hold him when it became too much to bear, and his arms felt like the tug of a safety rope around his waist, pulling him against the tide of loneliness and guiding him towards the shore.
A/N: Thank you so much for reading! It would mean a lot to me if you have the time to write a review!