It would be ten long years. Ten years of ruling a peaceful and prospering kingdom when Gwen finally left Arthur. The people cried out in disdain, in outrage. Gwen had been their hope, their queen and she was nothing more than an adulterer. Arthur did what was appropriate, he banished both Guinevere and Lancelot from Camelot although he had given Lancelot enough gold to set up a nice estate in a neighbouring kingdom. How could he blame her? They had known from the beginning what they were doing, and since Merlin's departure, Arthur had never quite been the same. He had managed after a year of illness and dark depression to bring himself back into society. He had to be the king Camelot deserved after his father's rule. He had to be the king Merlin had believed in so devoutly.
But King Arthur and Arthur the person were once again separate people. He had not been accustomed to being alone after all those years with Merlin. Even with new knights and commoner blood and equality now more assessable to those who true deserved better, Arthur was once again alone in life. Even with Gawain, Percival, Leon, Lancelot and Guinevere, friends and brothers and yet no one to truly open up to when he needed it. It was just too personal for his knights. Arthur had boundaries with them and they kept well across the line in respect.
So Arthur ruled alone, Queen-less and heir-less. He knew Guinevere had left because of the baby. He had noticed if no one else but Lancelot. He also knew it wasn't his, and he was relieved not to put the weight of the crown on an innocent babe's head. After a year or two his advisers told him to produce an heir, asked which princess he thought would be the most suitable. Arthur was king of Albion he could choose anyone, any woman would love to be Queen. This was commonly associated with a scowl at the old queen. Arthur would normally smile secretively at this, the image of a dark haired youth running wild in a small village somewhere west of Camelot. Of a laughing little girl or boy that babe had turned out to be. And still Arthur had hope, that maybe Merlin had heard, that he'd return. So Arthur went Queen-less and heir-less. And as the years passed his advisers asked, pleaded, begged and even ordered him to choose a queen. But still Arthur looked upon the people of his kingdom and only held a small glimmer of love for them. He had once held Camelot and Albion in a full fire, would have died a hundred times over for her. Now his only thoughts turned to Merlin and where he was, what he was doing. Would their love last beyond this life that duty had stolen from them? Arthur believed it. Merlin after all, had said forever, and forever was Avalon. Arthur sat, proud, regal, and dignified all sadness and longing and need trapped behind a mask that never lifted. Arthur after all had always been a good liar.
Merlin spent his years wandering from forest to mountain. He ventured farther and deeper than any before him, reaching secrets none had even dreamt about. He helped magical users when he came upon the old ways, druids, sorcerer's, witches living in villages in forests. He set up schools and laws, wrote books and had them copied, soon to fill every shelf of every sorcerer. He spent most of his years flying though, until Kilgharrah curled up into a cave high up in the mountains, Merlin had sat petting his friend's nose and finally asked what had plagued him for so long.
"Was this how it was meant to turn out?" His voice held all the pain and sorrow as it did that day. And slowly the old dragon answered and as always it lead to more questions than answers. "Merlin, destiny works in many different ways. I am very sorry you had to go through this terrible curse but Arthur became king of a great and noble land, you succeeded." The dragon fell into a deep sleep and Merlin was left wondering if he truly did.
The dragon did not reawaken and Merlin made his progress wandering alone. The news of Guinevere's betrayal reached him slowly and for many years he was consumed with going back, fighting on every level of his instincts. And the time came when Merlin returned to Camelot.
Arthur was ill. In fact he was past ill. He had been bed ridden for weeks, though only in his early sixties he was weak. The revolt of a neighbouring kingdom to the north had attacked one of his villages. Their last stand against the wide spread use of magic had been easy to silence but not well enough to miss the arrow to his chest. The wound itself was healed by one of his court sorcerers but the illness wouldn't budge.
Everyone now heard...King Arthur of Albion was dying a slow and painful death.
Arthur was sure he was hallucinating. The fever had made him relive many memories of which he wished he buried deeper than he had. All were of his lover, his friend and he wished he could purge them from his mind. In this point of his life he had great regrets, shame that could and would never be erased. He wasn't and never had been as strong as Merlin had thought and he felt so much desperation for just one more touch.
And Merlin was there. Tears streamed down the King's face, the first in years of what had felt like forever. His emotions that had been in check for so long now raged up to smother him and Merlin was laying beside him. "Arthur?" Arthur's eyes snapped open, he wiped at them to vanish the blurriness. Merlin...Merlin was real, too solid, too warm to be something of his imagination. His thoughts could never reproduce the exact feeling of his lover.
Arthur almost had a heart attack as Merlin's eyes bore into his. Both of them taking in what the years had done to their bodies. And Arthur didn't have to strength in his to hide his blush in both awe and shame. Merlin had taken age gracefully, in fact he looked better than he ever had. So beautiful, wild almost, Arthur felt ugly and uncoordinated next to this fay of his old friend, something he never would have expect from Merlin. His hair was long, he had grown stubble, that reminded him of how Gawain had once supported the same look. Grey hair was at his temples and in his whiskers. Lines were at the edges of Merlin's eyes, his body now tan from all the sunlight he had received over the years. His body seemed bigger, he had gain weight and Arthur guessed at some point had been muscular, Arthur breathed in sharply at the image it made in his mind. He wanted nothing more than to touch him, to see if indeed this was real or a torture from his heart. But Arthur frowned at the sickly paleness beneath the tanned face.
Merlin too was examining Arthur, his grey hair was only just noticeable, the blonde making it easier to hide, it was slightly wavy now, still short but longer than it had been. Lines to darted his eyes, his body more broader but less muscled than Merlin remembered, though he'd bet on some days he could still beat all most all of younger knights. His eyes were flashing between dull and alive as he starred back at him. Arthur reached out slowly scarping his knuckles against Merlin's short beard. Merlin smiled his eyes watering and his heart hammering at the first touch of someone in years. And it was Arthur.
He leaned in, nuzzled the hand, just as familiar as it always had been and Merlin didn't miss the sharp intake of air from Arthur. Merlin was light headed, weak, unnaturally so. He knew what was going to happen, they both did, once again completely aware of the future, of their path. Arthur smiled at him, his eyes alight knowing this was real, this was Merlin and he was crying and laughing softly at the same time.
Then Arthur asked softly, unsure and hopeful, "Why aren't you kissing me?" Merlin didn't move, causing Arthur to tense beside him, his eyes now down cast but then Merlin spoke already moving closer. "I love you prat." He whispered next to Arthur's lips. Arthur was smiling when they touched. It was ferocious or hard or fast but slow, soft and deep, not lacking in passion or need but simply joining together. Neither would ever forget the pains of the past but right now it was just them, together.
Merlin curled up next to his king, both feeling weak. Arthur was dying and Merlin would go with him. It wasn't magic or devotion to his king that had bonded them together, but the undying love between them, not king and servant, or king and warlock but Arthur and Merlin. Two sides of a whole and one could never live truly without each other. "I love you Merlin."
Merlin after would always follow Arthur, it was just what he did. What he was born to do.
