Warning, today I woke up and chose violence, read at your own peril.
Three days had passed since the funeral. Merlin returned to Camelot after they had already announced the king's death. First, he visited Gwen, tears in his eyes, apologizing for not saving her husband. Then he visited Gaius. They shared a meal together completely quietly if it were not for the stifled sobs coming from Merlin. Gaius tried to comfort him, but said nothing, knowing that would only make things worse. Then he left. He left without visiting any of the knights, unable to tell them what had transpired. He left without knowing that Gwaine was dead. It was better that way, the young man already had lost so much, the death of another friend might kill him entirely.
Merlin moved back to Ealdor to live with his mother, he no longer cared if the people there feared him. No longer cared if they called him demon child. He was not a child anymore. They lived together for thirty years before she passed. Hunith could not take the strain any longer, she couldn't bare seeing her once bright and beautiful boy as the hollow man he'd become. Living on only for a dead man. Living as a dead man himself. He had not been able to fulfill the king's dying request of always being himself. How could he be the same chipper spirit he was before with half of his soul on the other side of the veil.
The people in Ealdor talked in hushed voices about the sudden prosperity that had chanced their village the moment Hunith's Bastard son returned, but as the older generation died out, talk of Merlin once again was filled with his oddity. A lone man living in Ealdor after establishing a bolstering life in Camelot. One who left his abode in the early mornings to go out into the forest for hours without speaking to a single soul. Something must have happened in Camelot.
"My auntie said he used to visit us with Camelot's king!" Young Geneveve, who was just shy of fifteen years said.
"I heard he was his slave or something." Another of the small group chimed in.
"You don't think..." Declann, the town trouble maker, lowered his voice. "He was banished for killing him do you?"
The sky thundered in response. The summer sun had been instantaneously replaced with thick, grey storm clouds. The teens needn't wonder whether it would pour because it took less than a bunny's hop for the rain to start. It poured for a week straight. Not a single moment did the rain let up as old man Merlin cried alone in his house. Usually he ignored gossip of such nature, but today it was too much for his heart to handle as he had gone to his favorite clearing that morning, and Kilgarrah had never answered his call. And so after nearly fifty years in Ealdor, Merlin moved again. Leaving a note in his mother's home that simply said "To whomever should have need of house and home."
He considered traveling to Camelot, hoping friendly faces might greet him. Then remembered that the knights had not lived a sheltered life in a peaceful little town, war had likely taken most of them, and age the rest. Any surviving friends would be in their early eighties, hobbling around more than he already was. He pictured Gwaine getting drunk at a feast and forgetting he was an old man. Percival would go up to pull him off the dance floor before he broke something. No. He could not return to Camelot. It was much better that he just kept such pleasant thoughts in his head, where they were safe and happy. He left having no idea that Arthur and Gwen were survived by two wonderful sons.
Instead he turned to the perilous lands, taking refuge in the castle of the fisher king. Now, only the wyverns seemed to remember the great man who once lived their. Wyverns were distant cousins to dragons. So while they mostly listened to Merlin's commands, sometimes they got testy like young children, whining that they were tired or bored. It wasn't untill he had settled there near three years that Merlin even considered calling Aithusa. He had not been ready for a long time. He found it hard to face one of his greatest mistakes in his foolish youth. He feared though, that he may not get another chance. Arthur was supposed to have returned by now so that Merlin would be there to serve him. But as he aged he wondered if that was just one of the many possible futures that he destroyed on his path to destiny.
Aithusa came when called. The dragon was now a sizable beast, still smaller than Kilgarrah had been, yet larger than Merlin could have ever hoped. His wings and vocal cords still damaged from his adolescent years spent in a pit. Merlin went to stroke the dragon's head, but he shied away. This time not in fear, in shame. Aithusa did not mingle with humans enough to know Arthur's significance to them. The only two humans he really cared for were Morgana, whom he missed dearly, and Merlin, who stood before him despite the death he had caused. No, humans had not told him anything about the man's death. The forest however screamed out in pain at the loss of a beautiful soul. The air in the skies was stale for months, choking Aithusa for the part he had played. He accepted their judgement readily. He dreaded the day Emrys would call judgement upon him. He dreaded this day.
"I'm so sorry, Aithusa." The old broken human man before him fell to his knees as he poured out his soul to the last of his kin. The last being that could possibly understand him. "I should have protected you, guided you. I should never have left you to learn this world on your own. I should have trusted you."
Even with his little experience interacting with humans, Aithusa knew that not all these words were meant for him. He could not have known, however, that they were for his former mother, the lady Morgana. He could not know that they were for the boy she brought before him the night he forged her a blade. He couldn't know that the words were for three lost souls Merlin had plunged into darkness by fear. He sat and listened as Emrys wept, rambling like one who'd lost his mind and was talking to the wind. When finally Emrys had lost the strength to speak Aithusa spoke to him.
"I am sorry too, Emrys." He projected into the mind of the last dragonlord. The last of his kin. "Neither of us can take back the follies of our youth."
"That is so," he said, raising a hand to Aithusa's neck. "but at least I can fix this one thing."
Aithusa had not heard the words of the old religion in many years. It almost grated on his ears as he struggled to understand their meaning. His throat began to writhe in agony. Long strands whipped and snapped around as the old man continued to mutter. At long last they stopped wriggling, attaching themselves firmly in place between his neck and his mouth.
"H...Ho..Haw." He said aloud, trying to form a question.
Merlin broke out in a smile. He did not think the spell would work on the dragon. Hearing Aithusa talk for the first time was just as wondrous to him as the day he was born near sixty years ago. Aithusa continued to practice "Hawing" until the sunset.
"In time." Merlin told him.
By the time Merlin's one hundred twentieth birthday rolled around, he realized that he would not be joining Arthur beyond the veil for a long time. He found it ironic that he should live in the fisher king's palace for so long without so much as guessing that he may be the same caliber, that he might be immortal. Either way, he finally felt safe travelling back into the world, everyone he knew and loved was officially gone, their passing being as serene as water to him. Aithusa had not visited him in some time, but he dare not call him for fear that he would not answer. So he set out alone, bidding the wyverns farewell.
Some would say Merlin arrived in Camelot via a puff of smoke, others that the sky itself carried him down. What it was did not really matter as Camelot began to whisper of sorcerers for the first time in over a decade. Within the citadel however, no one paid the doddery old man in the red robe any heed as he went from one side to the other, climbing the north tower with more ease than a man his age should be afforded. Hesitantly, he entered the physician's chambers he lived in for only ten years. It had been tenfold that since he visited and yet he still felt as if he belonged there. He had not expected anything to change. Almost everything was different. The chamber had clearly undergone massive renovations, the loft was made of stone, mirrors were hung strategically to amplify the sunlight, the books and vials on the shelves were all organized meticulously. Merlin was sure anyone who wanted to steal something from the chamber would have absolutely no trouble doing it, as the owner of the chamber had made it as easy as reading the shelf labels.
"Can I help you?" Merlin found the voice to belong to a boy sitting in the corner, reading one of the old tomes. His hair was shoulder length and blonde, his skin had a dark tint to it, as if the dawn were still trying to wash away any shadows of the night. The book he read looked somewhat familiar but Merlin couldn't quite place it.
"Ah, I'm looking for the court physician." He said raising his arms as if to indicate that as a man of old age he is not in the best of health.
"I am he." The boy stood and lightly bowed his head. He could not be much older than Merlin had been when he first arrived in Camelot. "Merlin, pleased to make your acquaintance."
"How did you..." Merlin paused looking the boy over again. "Are you saying you're Merlin?"
The boy rolled his eyes and moved to sit at a smaller table made for two people. There was a journal sprawled open, and Merlin could read the logs of previous patients from where he stood.
"Yes, Merlin, crown prince, court physician, take your pick." He said. "I'm used to people underestimating me cause of my age."
He started jotting down the date and time in the medical diary. Pausing to ask the older Merlin his name. Merlin's eyes widened as they fell back on the worn leatherbound book the boy had been reading. The color had lightened, the edges were fraying, pages seemed loose, but there was no mistaking what it was.
"Merlin." He said before summoning the book toward him.
He caught it gingerly in one had and opened to the first page, ignoring the shock on the young physician's face.
July 25th, the year of our lord 556
I have a destiny. A rather stupid destiny to protect the prince of prats. Tomorrow I have the "honor" of being his manservant. I really don't understand how royals think-
The boy snatched the book out of his hands before he could continue reading his once messy handwriting.
"What did you just do!?" Old Merlin was taken aback by the words, remembering the first time he had entered the physician's chambers. He let out no more than a peep in response. "Tell me."
Young Merlin spoke with all the authority his titles provided. He clutched the book to his stomach, both hands around it protectively. No one is supposed to read it. Merlin chuckled at the sight of someone else protecting his journal from him. He moved past the boy into the patient's room, his room one upon a time. Not wanting to waste time he magically moved the bed from it's place and the floor board went flying. He miscalculated and it flew out the window. His mission remained unaltered by the sound of shouts from below. Buried in the floor were the sidhe staff and his magical textbook, where they always were. Where his journal had always been. Young merlin closed the door with a bang, locking it behind him. When Old Merlin turned to face him he went straight into a tirade.
"If you tell anyone about this I'll have you thrown in the dungeons." His authoritative voice was all but gone, now he spoke from desperation. These things were precious to him, and he needed no one to know of them.
"These are mine." Merlin said as he summoned the staff to his hand. Then he held out another towards the diary the boy was still clinging to.
The young prince's eyes went wide. He looked at the man, then at the book. He had found it by chance a few years back during his apprenticeship. Ever since he read it often, soaking in the words of a legend, known for one thing but in reality entirely another. He was not sure how long it had been since he breathed. He handed it over and mumbled something under his breath.
"I'm sorry, my large ears aren't what they used to be. Mind speaking up?"
"Jolly nameday, Emrys."
While the boy had a sheepish grin spreading to his sapphire eyes, Emrys had tears welling in his. It had been a long time since any had wished him a happy birthday, and a while longer since he had any semblance of one. He had returned to Camelot expecting no reminders of that life, but found himself feeling nostalgic at the idea that someone not only knew him, but looked up to him.
Merlin came to know that younger Merlin, also titled Ambrosius, was Arthur's eldest great grand son. That the boy had been named after him, a young serving boy fiercely loyal to Camelot and her king. A serving boy that according to history, died by Arthur's side at the hands of Morgana Lefay of the house of Gorlois. Geoffrey hand penned the record himself at the behest of Queen Guinevere. It stung to know she had told everyone he was dead. As the prince told the old sorcerer of all that happened they agreed to call each other by their alternate names; Ambrosius and Emrys.
"Surely Gwaine would have gone looking for me if Gwen had told him any different." Emrys laughed. "He probably would have dragged me to the tavern with him often to help me forget."
Ambrosius went silent pondering what to tell his hero. His face had told too much already, there was no going back. Emrys vanished from in front of him. No words or incantations. Just gone. He would be left wondering what exactly had happened for the rest of his life. Occasionally he would think that was how Merlin passed from the world at the age of one hundred and twenty, the lord not making exceptions for even one so magnificent. Maybe he had been a ghost to begin with, which would more than account for such seamless magic. In actuality he had simply stopped by the library, grabbing a book by the title "Sir Gawain of Caerleon." Upon learning that his two best friends died on the same day, he remembered why he had avoided castle for so long. He knew that he would likely watch Ambrosius grow old and die, and could not put himself through that. Best to leave before anything happened.
Merlin never returned to Camelot again. Not while it was still standing anyway. After having been renamed a couple times it fell just short of the year 1000 a.d. Merlin only learned this fact from some drunk travelers some two hundred years later. It was then that he took the name Geoffrey of monmouth to pen a tale about Arthur, seeing as his legacy was entirely wiped out by one of his descendants. He struggled however, to write the account the way it should be remembered, so instead he wrote a parody. One that would entice those reading it to praise the name of king Arthur, but would not cause him to fall into a pit of despair at the king's tragic fate. He added tales he thought Gwaine would enjoy, things that had never come to pass. He immortalized his image as one of a sage old man, rather than that of a giddy serving boy. How foolish he had been. He wished he could take it back. That he had just lived his life a clueless idiot to destiny. His protective nature of Arthur would not have wavered, rather he would have protected his other friends more. He would have taught Morgana how to cast a flame. He would have congratulated Mordred on his knighthood. He would have celebrated their lives instead of destroying them.
Every few hundred years Merlin would come out of his hermit ways and interact with normal people, only to be faced with the harsh truth that they would all fade and die around him. Maybe one day will be different. One day he will be the one passing on. The only thing that saved him from insanity was the promise of Arthur's return. He would have to be there, even if that meant waiting a few hundred more years.
Technology and architecture changed around him as night turns to day. He practiced explaining the new mechanics of this world to a revived Arthur, but within the year he would find his speech obsolete, already surpassed by a new invention or new discovery about the laws of nature. Merlin had watched it all unfold and it still befuddled him, Arthur would have a much harder time grasping any of the ideas presented. He decided to wait until the day of to even consider trying to summarize anything, he had wasted hundreds of years trying to prepare.
And so, in the year 2012 he went back out to see what had changed in the past twenty years of solitude. All too much, he concluded. A truck passed him quickly as he walked toward his little cottage, a new invention called a smart phone sitting in his pocket. His house was overlooking the lake of Avalon. He passed it everyday, sighing. He had been more than patient for his king's return. He would just have to wait a little longer.
Day in and day out Merlin passed the lake with the same defeated, depressed look, living the same depressing existence. And all I could do was watch, hoping to be reincarnated soon.
AN: Okay, getting back to simple realization (which may end up shorter than I previously thought), and pondering which fic to start next. The options are "Gaius's boy", "My Emrys", and "Careful what you wish for"
