PART III: "Compress to the Aching"
When well-worn feet finally arrived at their destination, Merlin let out an expansive sigh. For a week after Arthur's death, the warlock had simply sat at the bed of the lake and stared. He didn't know what to do or how to move on, but time took care of that. The cruel hand of time urged him onward to roam the Earth without his other half.
So with heavy feet, Merlin trudged to the shore of the lake and sat. He gazed at the old Isle that held now only the remains of a grand tower. His last visit was some time ago. He'd gone in his early days when hope remained. But after coming back so many times, he'd found it torturous to always leave with sorrow, and ceased his visits.
But now Merlin sat by his king's watery grave wondering what the pain he'd felt earlier had meant. He could possibly chalk it up to his age, but he would hardly be immortal if he were ailing. Besides, with the appearance of the nymph, it screamed the Goddess' hand. It had to have something to do with Arthur. But then again, it couldn't. Arthur wasn't coming back; Merlin knew this. But now he didn't know if he should be sure of what he thought he knew.
A ripple in the water before the warlock broke his thoughts - something was moving. Initially it seemed to be something small due to the miniscule movement. But as the wake surged, and continued to do so, Merlin knew this was no small creature in the water.
Soon, a figure was emerging from the water - first a wet mop of hair, then broad, strong shoulders, then glimmering chainmail with a familiar red gambeson and cloak.
Merlin's hands began to shake and his eyes grew wide. He rose to his feet. It was happening. This couldn't be happening. Merlin felt every emotion in a flurry, but stood stock-still in front of the approaching figure.
The man in the lake appeared to be in some sort of trance as he carried his heavy armour and soaked clothes to the shore. When he reached the shore, his eyes lost their haze and locked onto the crystal blue eyes that grew damp with every moment that passed.
Neither spoke. Neither needed to.
Arthur rushed his old servant and wrapped him tightly in an embrace. Merlin's mind briefly brought him to a time Merlin and Arthur had gone in for a hug and a handshake respectively; Merlin had been denied that hug, but now wrapped in the cold, soaked arms of his dearest, it seemed funny. Merlin raised his arms to wrap around the sodden blonde and tucked his quivering form as tightly into Arthur's as possible. His shock faded into tears that refused to allow Arthur's cloak to dry. The king's hand came up from Merlin's waist to get lost in the black hairs at the back of his lover's head. They held one another for a while before Arthur spoke.
"I'm sorry I left you alone, Merlin."
Merlin sniffled into Arthur's neck, but still did not speak. Arthur placed a kiss to the side of Merlin's head. The heaving sobs grew in intensity from the warlock.
"I'm so sorry, Merlin." He was met again with wet sniffles and cries amongst the silent Earth.
"Merlin?"
"I know you're not real; that's okay. Just hold me."
Merlin had spoken in a shaky, rushed whisper that quickly dissolved into more silent, gasping whimpers.
"Merlin, what are you on about? Of course I'm real - I'm right here." Still holding Merlin by the waist, he pulled back to meet the warlock's downcast eyes. Arthur placed his finger on Merlin's chin; Merlin's eyes remained tightly shut. "Open your eyes, Merlin," Arthur demanded playfully. "I did not come back for you to deny my existence, you idiot," he said, moisture collecting in the corners of his eyes.
Crystal blue eyes finally met the man in front of him. He acknowledged and lent into the hand still holding his chin - one of the hands he had kissed for the final time all those years ago. He stared into starbright blue eyes he'd closed all those years ago. His hands, still wrapped around the sodden king, clutched at the cloak he'd laid his love to rest in all those years ago. This was no delusion; this was no tease conjured by the Old Religion. This was him.
He was really here. He was really here.
In a burst of relief, Merlin pulled Arthur in close for an earnest kiss. It was hasty, but it didn't need to be. Arthur laughed sweetly into the kiss.
Once they broke away, they just held each other for a time. Merlin's hands explored the vast expanse of Arthur's armoured back before settling on either side of the back of his warm neck. He toyed with the short, sun-kissed hairs he found there. Arthur's hands were content with reaching around Merlin's waist to grasp as much of Merlin's back as he could. Even as the Sun began to set, they held one another in a long overdue embrace. They weren't hasty; they didn't need to be. It was all different now. Now, they had heaping fistfuls of time.
