Merlin took an anti-aging spell for the first time in fifty years. He felt the fatigue slip away, and the wrinkles smooth out like an ironed shirt. He saw his gray hair turn black, and he felt himself increase in height the slightest bit. He looked in the mirror. He hadn't seen himself so young for years. Before people started documenting age and birthdates, he kept himself as someone in their late 30s. But now he looked as he did when Arthur died. How odd it was to be in his twenties again. He walked out of his room and saw Arthur, still asleep. Merlin quietly attempted to change Arthur out of his chainmail and into some of Merlin's clothes. Unfortunately, it wasn't until after Merlin had him mostly undressed that he realized none of his clothes would fit Arthur. It took Merlin a moment to realize he could just use his magic to weave the fabric of his clothes together to create larger ones. He did his best to use modern material to make something looking more old fashioned. When Merlin was done he was shocked to see Arthur was still asleep. He was a deep sleeper but the act of changing his clothes should have awakened him. Unless there was some sort of injury. Merlin searched but found no bruises or anything to indicate internal damage. He stared at Arthur with concern for a few moments. Finally, after about half an hour, Arthur started to stir.
"I was beginning to think you weren't going to wake up." Arthur didn't move for a second, then sat straight up.
"Merlin!"
"Yeah?"
"I was- I was- I was dying!" Merlin burst into laughter. He laughed so hard he started crying, then he started crying for real. He was having an odd mixture of emotions.
"Yeah, you were dying 900 years ago."
"900-"
"-years ago yes."
"How-?"
"- You died. And the prophecies said you would return when Albion needed you most. But it's not called Albion anymore. This is England."
"But how-?"
"-Magic stuff. Who knows." Merlin shrugged. He knew no matter what Arthur asked, only time would help his disorientation.
"Guinevere," Arthur muttered. His head dropped back onto the sofa. Merlin said nothing.
"How did she die?" It was a whisper. At least Arthur is comprehending his situation.
"She lived a full life. She didn't remarry but she didn't want to. She was strong. She ruled with honour and kindness. She died peacefully in the bed you shared. She was 64." Merlin didn't mention how people lived well into their 90s nowadays. After they established the past, they would consider the present. And after that, the future. How they would cope together. Thankfully, Merlin's flat was set up in a way that highly resembled that of what Arthur was used to. They could avoid that conversation until a later date.
"So you've just been alive, alone for 900 years?" Merlin looked away.
"Yup." He tried to sound casual like it was no big deal like it didn't nearly kill him.
"I'm so sorry. That sounds like a fate worse than death." Merlin sighed.
"Well, it was worth it now. Somebody needs to help you save Albion."
"What does it need saving from?"
"Nothing as far as I know. But I suppose we'll have to find out." Arthur's eyes widened.
"You have Magic!" Merlin laughed again.
"Yes."
"I should have you hanged!"
"I'd like to see you try."
"What do you mean?"
"Yes, please find some way to request an audience with the Queen, tell her you are the resurrected legendary Arthur Pendragon, and that you need your servant Merlin to be hanged for magic."
"If I told them you had magic, they'd still hang you, no matter who they thought I was." He mumbled.
"They don't believe in magic anymore."
"What do you mean?"
"Magic to them only exists in fictional stories."
"Where do they think it went?"
"They don't think it was ever real." Arthur tried to grasp this.
"So-"
"-The few of us left with magic are all living as normal people, who occasionally use magic in the safety of their own homes. I have this tattoo,-" Merlin lifted an arm to reveal a modified druid symbol "to show my abilities to others like me. But only someone with magic knows what it means, and let me tell you, there aren't many of us left. I've only seen two others with the tattoo in the last century." Merlin could see the conflict in Arthur's eyes. Between what he was raised to believe- that magic is evil and it should die out, and what he truly believed for himself- that no one should have to watch their species go extinct.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
"It's not your fault. And if all goes well, magic will be part of the world again, and we will be treated as equals. And it will be because of you, Arthur Pendragon, that this comes to pass. My only wish is that we would have saved the dragons before Aithusa died." Merlin could tell Arthur didn't know what he was talking about but said nothing.