Arthur took a few hearty steps and then threw his arms around Merlin, who suddenly let out all the breath he'd been holding in. The sorcerer felt a rush of relief wash over him, like all his mistakes and eight years suffering could be removed with a single embrace. And he was surprised at how real it was – for the moment his friend was not pure ether, but a thing of substance once more.
Arthur pulled away and took a step back to examine his servant. "Merlin, you don't look a day older! Hasn't it been years? By the way, you could've done to come sooner. You're always late, but this is frankly unacceptable."
Merlin's smile stretched from ear to ear.
His friend waited expectantly. "Come on, say something. You've never been this quiet in your whole life."
"Yes," Merlin said suddenly, "And you've never been so loud in your death." The smile began to fade. The weight of the world came crashing back down. "Sorry about that, by the way."
"Oh you aren't still caught up on that are you?" Arthur said playfully. He gave Merlin a gentle punch to the shoulder, but the sorcerer's smile did not return. The king paused, his voice falling to solemnity. "You are, aren't you? Merlin…"
"It was my job to protect you," Merlin said. He had begun to shake. He looked down at his quivering hands desperately, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. He with all his great power – he could not prevent Arthur's death eight years ago, and now he could not even manage to still his own broken heart. "If I had done my job right, you would not be here."
"Merlin," Arthur said earnestly, "If it weren't for you, I would have been here much sooner. I'm not angry."
Merlin shook his head. He was staring at his boots again, which looked peculiar in the effervescence. They seemed as much a mirage as Arthur did.
"I know you're not angry," Merlin said, "But I am."
A silence fell in which the static buzz of the earth could be heard. Arthur took a few paces away, his footsteps falling without a single sound. "Well then," he said at last, "You really are an idiot."
Merlin looked up. Arthur had a serious air about him, a kingly look.
"I've never seen angry get anyone anywhere. I've seen angry start wars, destroy friendships. I've seen angry end lives. But I've never seen angry bring one spec of joy to this world."
Merlin nodded. "Are you really wise, Arthur?"
"I might be," he said, nodding his head. "Or maybe that was you."
Merlin crossed his arms and feigned thinking for a moment. "Yeah, you're right it was me. You're too much of a dollophead."
Arthur raised an eyebrow. "You're going to talk to your King like that? Have you put in the stocks, I will. Can you even define dollophead?"
"Sure I can," Merlin said, "it's the same as a clotpole."
The two stared at each other for a long moment, waiting to see who would break first. It was Merlin, of course, who let the first hint of a smile dance on his lips, though he tried earnestly to hide it. Arthur let out a great deep laugh, and all at once they were in the midst of the laughter like a cloud. It was infectious. Merlin laughed until his cheeks were sore and warm tears were running down his face.
It was the happiest he'd been in eight years.
When finally the cackles and chuckles had come to a low simmer Arthur said, "It is good to see you, Merlin. Everything until today has been hazy, like whispers that come to me from long way. It's nice to see something clearly for once. I'm glad that it's you."
"Yes," Merlin said, "I feel very much the same way."
"You've seen Guinevere recently?"
Merlin nodded.
"How is she?" Arthur's eyes held a tinge of worry. Merlin smiled it away.
"She misses you. But she is well. Leon and the other knights take good care of her. She is as strong as ever and the kingdom is at peace."
Arthur swallowed. Merlin wondered what exactly he was choking back, but then, he was almost certain he knew. "I'm glad she's well." Arthur said. The words came out like a whisper, strained and almost inaudible. Merlin looked away. "Oh, and another thing," Arthur said, suddenly perking back up. "What is this about you having Morgana's dragon?"
Merlin looked around, as if Aithusa might be standing right in front of him. No, she was outside keeping watch over the horses. "You know about that?" Merlin stuttered.
"You thought I wouldn't notice?" he said, almost winking with his words. And then, "Merlin, you can't keep a dragon in Camelot!"
"Why not?" Merlin said.
"Why not? It's a dragon!"
"Do you know how many times a dragon saved your life?"
Arthur's face contorted in horror. It was like he'd just smelled one of his own dirty boots for the first time. George had a habit of making the same face when he was thinking. George, Merlin thought – he'd almost forgot the little boy, he'd been so silent, watching in perfect awe as his father strode out of the abyss and back into Merlin's life. "I'm just going to pretend you didn't say that," Arthur said.
"Doesn't make it any less true," Merlin remarked absent-mindedly. He glanced at the young prince. Arthur failed to notice.
"There is one thing I don't understand," Arthur said. He was pacing again. Arthur always did get too caught up in his own thoughts.
"Just one?"
Arthur cast his friend an annoyed look, but went on with his pacing. "Today is the equinox, so you must have found the Horn of Cathbhadh to open the veil."
Merlin bit his lip. He said, "yes," softly and found he was staring at George. The boy's eyes reflected back the pool of light around them, making them seem even wider and fuller of life than usual.
"But for the horn to call me," Arthur said, returning his gaze definitely to Merlin, "it would have had to be blown by one of my descendants. And you are not my descendant."
The sorcerer shifted his weight. "Right. About that…" Merlin turned away slowly, and Arthur followed the motion, his eyes alighting on the little boy with the cat-like eyes who was still desperately clutching the horn.
If Arthur had breath, it all went out of him suddenly.
"George," Merlin said softly. The boy looked between the two men, stupefied by all that had happened. "Come meet your father."
Arthur's eyes gleamed with some strange mixture of pride and sadness. George stared back at the man he'd never met but somehow knew, and his eyes were the same. "Father," Arthur repeated slowly, tasting the word. He turned to Merlin, "This is my son?"
"Don't tell me you knew about the dragon but you didn't know about this?"
"Shut up Merlin," Arthur said half-heartedly. He took a few steps, and then crouched slowly next to George, who still refused to speak. The pair just stared at each other for a long moment, neither sure what this newfound relationship meant. Then Arthur put a hand on the boy's shoulder. The little boy dropped the horn he'd been holding so dearly and threw his arms around Arthur's neck, which took him somewhat by surprise. Merlin watched as they embraced, not knowing what to feel.
"I'm sorry," Arthur said to the boy, "I should be there to help you grow into a man. But you'll be alright without me. You have good people watching over you. You'll just have to be extra brave."
The little boy nodded, his face wet with silent tears. He sucked in a deep breath, and said, "When I grow up, father, I'm going to be like you."
Arthur laughed through a burst of sudden sorrow. His eyes were wet, too, but they were clear. "Don't be too much like me," he said. "Be your own man, but always remember to be courageous, and also to be kind."
The little boy smiled as Arthur stood and lay a hand on his head to ruffle his hair. The king cast a glance at Merlin, then turned halfway away, not sure if he should be embarrassed that he was crying. Sure, he was too proud for that, but if someone had to see him weep he didn't mind it being his warm-hearted servant. "You have to go," Arthur said at last. "The veil is beginning to close. I can feel it."
Merlin could feel it too, the ebb and flow of magic that had held Arthur in place was slipping away, back into the great chasm from which it came. The sorcerer nodded. Slowly, Merlin moved towards George, who was still looking up at his magnificent father.
"You will take care of them." Arthur said.
Merlin nearly chocked on his words. "Of course."
The king gave his friend his best smile, though it was surely a sad one. "Next time, don't wait eight years to visit."
"As you wish, Sire." A moment of peace transpired, that all desperately hoped could last forever, but Merlin knew too well how close to the brink they were. They had already stayed longer than they should. He gathered up the horn George had dropped, and set his arm on his shoulder and the pair walked towards the edge of the great circle, the light around them already beginning to dim, as if they were waking from some shared surrealist dream.
The king watched them go.
At the edge of glow, the little boy paused and cast a glance back at his ghostly father, who was all but obscured by mist. Merlin caught the exchange out of the corner of his eye. His heart dropped.
The little boy refocused on the path in front of him, and the great radiance dissolved into daylight. It was properly raining now, and the world felt dark.
Merlin stared at George for a long moment, knowing something monumental had been done in one small gesture.
