Merlin drifted in a haze of pain. He didn't know for how long. The first time he came fully to his senses, he was pleased to see Gwaine. So he was safe. Arthur? Was he safe? Oh good. Then he could return to the darkness.
He was so tired. He didn't know why. He knew he was getting weaker. He knew his magic was struggling to keep him alive. He didn't think he cared any more. Anything was better than this world of pain. Gwaine. Yes. He had to stay alive for his friend. He had to protect him. Though he didn't seem to be doing much of that.
Arthur was safe. He needed to hear that often, it seemed. He wanted to ask more of Gwaine the short time he was awake, but always darkness pulled him back down. So much of his energy was focused just on breathing. He'd wake up hot, cold.
And then they had started. The horrible visions of what waited for him in Camelot. Arthur was safe, but he couldn't accept Merlin's magic. His years of lies. And he couldn't explain. Couldn't tell his King the truth. He could scream, though, as the fire licked at his feet, then his legs. He could cough on the thick black smoke choking him. Burning to death, he decided, was a slower process than it looked. How particularly cruel of Uther.
In other visions, Arthur had him beaten. In some he even beat him himself, sometimes looking smug and satisfied, others looking icy cold and duty driven. Always, though, were the accusations of the lies. The broken trust between them. Merlin screamed out that he was sorry. That he had never meant to hurt Arthur, his best friend. It had been necessary to be able to continue to protect him.
Arthur always sneered, insisting the only thing he had needed protection from was Merlin himself. On and on those visions went, never giving him peace. He longed for the quiet of the darkness again. He could do it, he thought finally. If he only stopped focusing on breathing, then he could end it.
But then Arthur was there, really there. Merlin was awake. He could feel Arthur's hand in his. Arthur had come for him, as he'd promised a long time ago he always would.
Arthur, he thought, I'm so sorry. You have to know. You have to believe I never wanted to hurt you. I hated lying to you. But it was for the best, don't you see? So many choices we had to make. None of them fair. I couldn't be another choice for you. I wouldn't.
Arthur, I'm sorry. I have to go. I have to leave you behind. You kept your promise, but I have to break mine. I was truly happy and honored to serve you. I know you'll be the King Camelot so desperately needs.
Merlin felt tears. I never thought to hear you say thank you. I wish you hadn't now. I can't stay, Arthur. I'm sorry, but I can't. My time is ending. Look at the man you've become, my friend, my love. If I had to do it all over again, I would. I wish I could make you see that. Thank you, for letting me serve. For opening your heart to me. And for opening mine to you.
Darkness was coming again. This time Merlin knew it would keep him. He had nothing left to give. He'd received a rare gift in this goodbye. He was ready. And so, so tired. He welcomed it. He willingly surrendered his shattered body to it.
Merlin, please. I need you. You've never abandoned me before. Don't do it now. Not when I need you most.
Merlin paused. Arthur? No. I'm not abandoning you. I'm just so tired.
But he felt… something… calling to him. More than calling. It was commanding his return. He looked longingly at the darkness. Need called to him. Arthur's need. He had never failed to respond to that deep call. It came from within, his magic instinctively resonating with it, drawing on it, fluttering weakly.
Strength was flooding into him, golden and pure. Arthur's strength. Wearily, Merlin stopped fighting it. Arthur would not let him go. Was demanding still more from him. As that need pulled at him, he felt too the great anger, the desperation, and the grief that flowed in that offering of strength. He saw the ages of ruin that anger would bring. He had caused those things.
The Anger he feared. That anger, that was his Father's. It would lay waste to the world, it was so powerful. He'd thought his friend beyond that. Need called to him, stronger now than ever. He was needed to calm that fire before it became a storm. A thousand years of magic cried out to him to answer. He could feel ancient magic mixing with his own, determined to return him to the world he had just left.
A world of pain, of loss, of suffering, and of betrayal.
A world of friendship, of love, of hope, the magic whispered back, tempting him.
A world with Arthur, who had come for him even now knowing a part of his secret. The darkness was fading, but he no longer watched it go. With effort he took back his body, he forced air into his lungs once more. He forced his heart to beat a little faster.
Hang on, Arthur, he thought. I'm coming home.