A/N

Thank you so much for the response on the last chapter or one-shot. I hope this one will receive the same raise, if not, feel free to yell at me.

There are some major differences in this one compared to what Merlin told Morgana in chapter 'The One With the Christmas Party', as well as what he told Hermione in 'The One With the Long Conversation' when they talked about children, but take into consideration that by that time, Merlin was almost 1400 years old, his memories are due to get mixed together. And I think you'll understand why he wouldn't want to tell Morgana, or Hermione for that matter, what had really happened before he fell into the depression (Which will be in the next one-shot). Maybe he told her later one when they got together, but I doubt it. Some things are best left alone.

I was supposed to write this last week, but in the evening after I posted the first one-shot, the inspiration finally hit me for a Doctor Who story featuring Eleven/Rose. So I have spent the last two weeks writing the first two chapters of that one, and as soon as I've finished chapter three and gotten them beta:ed by my friend Sam, who is not only a native Englishman so he knows the language better than I do, but is also a whovian. He's not a fanfic reader though, but he still agreed to read it so maybe I can convert him ;)

So if you're a Rose fan, and maybe even a Eleven/Rose shipper, be sure to be on the lookout for it in the coming weeks. I think it will have the title 'No More Words' after the Westlife song, but I haven't decided yet.

Enjoy =)

Give In or Give Up

Leaving Camelot was both the hardest and the easiest thing Merlin had done in his life. He knew there was nothing left for him there now, not with the last of the Pendragons stuck in another realm for who knew how long. He was as good as dead to Merlin, a pain that made itself known every time he closed his eyes.

Maybe he could return in a few years when the memories weren't as fresh, but he doubted it. There were no more High Priestesses left, and the renegade druids had all died in Camlann. Camelot was at peace and his services were no longer required.

He walked towards Ealdor, not knowing where else to go at the moment.

He arrived in the middle of the night, five days after he left Camelot. It was the fastest he had ever walked there before, but he had scarcely slept. The nightmares kept him up and he used his magic to fuel himself with new energy.

His mother was happy to see him, and for the first time in over a week he slept soundly in his cot beside her bed.

He stayed for one week.

His mother cried when he left, but he felt too restless to stay any longer. He needed to keep moving, drive away the memories with distance.

He walked north until he could no longer walk any further. He visited several druid camps on his way there, always using an alias of course, asking for help with his magic. It took two years for him to reach the most northern shores, his face no longer recognisable since he had stopped shaving the moment he left Ealdor.

He also learned to speak the rough tongue of the northerners, his Welsh heritage too different for them to understand. He enjoyed it immensely, learning a new language, and he was a natural at it. After only six months he could move on from using a druid as an interpreter.

The only recognisable thing he wore was his scarf, other than that; his clothes resembled those of the northern clans. Lined with fur and leather thick enough to withstand whatever the weather threw at him.

They even managed to stop an arrow from piercing his heart once; a hunting accident, nothing more.

He stayed with the northern clans for one year before moving south again, this time following the road to the east.

It took longer to reach the white cliffs then it took to reach the north, Camelot being positioned in the middle of Albion. The druids on the east side were different from the one in the north and the west, and he learned a lot of new magic.

When he reached the south, he came across a camp that used sticks with a magical core to channel their magic. They explained it was easier for the children to learn while using them. He scoffed at the idea, refusing to test one.

He only stayed a week at that camp.

Six years after leaving Camelot, he stood at the shore looking out over the waste sea. He knew the Saxons came from somewhere over there and he was itching to cross over the seemingly endless body of water and see the land for himself.

It took him a month to find people willing enough to take him over in their ship, another two days to cross it.

It wasn't the land of the Saxons he got off at, it was the Kingdom of France, but he didn't care. He had new ground under his feet and he intended to discover as much about it as he could.

Four years he stayed there, learning yet another language, now he knew five, as well as a brand new kind of magic. They used the magic of the Old Religion, but with different spells created from a different language, and with a different attitude. Magic was never banned here and it had flourished to immeasurable lengths. Everywhere he went, people were using it. Even the royal family was known to use it for as mundane tasks as getting dressed.

At the beginning of his firth year, one year after the appointment of the new king, Childebert III, he received a letter by crow. It bore the seal of the Pendragons, and he knew without opening it that it was from Gwen.

Gaius was on his deathbed.

He packed his meagre belongings and headed north. In his pack he had several books filled with notes of the languages he had learned and the magic he had discovered. He hoped he would have time to show them to Gaius.

It was easier to catch a ride back than it had been to get there in the first place; a small trade route had been opened during the four years since he last crossed the sea.

Once on the ground of Albion he used the transportation spell to take him as far north as he could, knowing it would take too long to walk back. It took three trips until he landed in the middle of the Darkling woods, from there he walked.

He walked non-stop until he reached the gates. Luckily it was in the middle of the day and he could walk in without rousing suspicion. His long beard and hair, as well as his distinctly French clothing, was enough to make him stand out as it was.

He managed to get as far as the courtyard before he was stopped, by Sir Leon no less.

"Halt!" He stopped him with a spear on his chest, and Merlin who had walked in some sort of trance looked up at the man that dare stop him, a tetchy retort on his tongue. But when he took in the ginger beard and hair, he closed his mouth with a snap.

"Leon?" He asked, frowning. It had been so long since he had used the Celtic tongue, and he struggled to find the right words.

"State your name and intention." Leon continued, unaware of the inner struggles of the man before him.

"It's me," He managed to force out, a distinct French accent marring the words. "It's me, Merlin." He pleaded with his eyes, knowing those were probably the only aspect of his appearance he could hope to recognise.

"Merlin?" Leon huffed, clearly not believing him. "I recognise a French accent when I hear one."

"It's true." Merlin urged, doing his best to get rid of the accent. "I've been living in the Kingdom of France for the last four years."

"Prove it." He removed the spear, but Merlin could see he was still on guard.

"Gwen once made you were a dress so you could escape from the dungeons after Morgana and Morgause had taken control of the city." He smirked. Gwen had told him that detail one night after they had both had a bit too much wine, a few weeks before her engagement and subsequent exile. "Me and..." He stopped short. He had not said his name in over ten years and he wasn't about to do it now. "I was hiding in a cave with Gaius and the others before we met up and relocated to the abandoned castle." His accent got less and less noticeable as he spoke.

"Merlin?" This time his voice carried an air of wonder. "It's really you." He beamed.

"It's really me." Merlin beamed back, engulfing his old friend in a hug.

"Let me take you to Gaius." Leon turned serious the minute they broke apart and Merlin followed him closely as they walked to the Physician's chamber.

It felt like going back in time, walking up the familiar stairs and towards the rickety wooden door that separated their chambers from the rest of the castle.

He opened the door with a wary hand, his eyes immediately landing on the form lying on the cot by the fire. Gaius.

Gwen was sitting beside him on a stool, her head bowed and her hands clasped in her lap, a single tear marking its path from her eye and down her cheek. She looked up as he closed the door behind him, Leon deciding to stay outside.

"Merlin?" She looked at him with a mix of confusion, happiness, and sorrow. "Is it really you?"

"It's me." Merlin nodded, dropping his backpack at the bench.

"You..." She stood up on shaky legs. "You look so different." She sniffed.

"Nah," He shook his head with a grin. "It's just the beard." He laughed, he was so happy to see her again. She let out a laugh of her own before running into his open arms. He lifted her up and spun her around before setting her down again. "You look different though." He said and traced a lock of grey hair behind her ear. "But still beautiful." He smiled.

"I was afraid you wouldn't get my letter in time." She took his hand in hers.

"Me to," He confessed. "How is he?" He looked over at the sleeping form of his mentor and father.

"Alwyn says he won't last the night." She sniffed again and gripped his hand harder.

"Alwyn?" Merlin questioned, not recognising the name.

"Our new Court Physician." She clarified. "He studied under Gaius when you left. He took over the position completely last year."

Merlin let go of her hand so he could walk over to Gaius. He kneeled beside the cot and took his old wrinkled hand in his own. He looked so old, his face almost too wrinkled to recognise.

A hot tear slipped out from his eye but he didn't bother to wipe it off. He had had some contact with Gaius over the years, but the danger with the written word was that you didn't notice age. And Gaius, as stubborn as he was, had failed to mention his declining health.

Had he said something in his last letter a couple of months ago, he would have had weeks with the old man. Now it seemed like he would only have a few hours.

He sat beside him all night, Gwen reclaimed her stool. He told her and Gaius about his travels and all the people he had met. He showed Gwen his notes of the different languages he had learnt, as well as the different dialects belonging to them. He also showed her his notes on magic, now that the ban had been lifted.

The news had reached him a few months after he had arrived in France, and he had celebrated with a group of villagers he was staying with at the time. That was the night he had lost his innocence in a way he had never thought he would be happy enough to do. Not after Freya.

He promised Gwen to make copies for the Court Sorcerer and Sorceress, twins, a man and a woman not older than twenty five summers, but already well versed in the art of magic, having grown up with druids.

Gaius passed away just before sunset, and after saying his goodbye to the old man Merlin stood up and walked into his old room. It looked the same, except for the clothes strewn across the bed. It wasn't his any more; instead they belonged to the new Physician, Alwyn.

He spent the morning getting rid of the beard and cutting his hair, he wanted to look presentable during the funeral that was to take place that afternoon. He changed his French attire to Celtic ones, the rough material itching his skin, but he couldn't care less. All that mattered was Gaius.

The funeral was a sombre affair. He stood beside Gwen during the whole process, holding her hand when he needed the strength, or when she needed the comfort.

He noticed the looks he was receiving from the people, and he heard muttered words as 'Not changed at all', or 'Not a day older'. He knew he had stopped ageing when he had lived one year in France. It hadn't come as a surprise. After Camlann his magic had been stronger, and he could feel the rejuvenating powers in it.

He was glad neither Gwen or Percival or Leon had mentioned it. Though he knew they had noticed as well.

He left that night, when everyone was asleep except for the guards. He didn't want to go through another round of goodbyes.

Instead of heading back to France, he made his way to the lake. A small village had been built a few miles away and he decided to stay there for a few weeks before moving on.

He ended up staying for three months, falling in love with the barkeeps daughter. He had never imagined he would ever fall for someone again, especially when he was as broken as he was, but couldn't make himself regret it.

It wasn't until he received news about his mother that he told her who he really was. She accompanied him to Ealdor to take farewell of his mother, as well as getting her blessing for his new love.

She helped him through his grief; he even opened up about Arthur for the first time in over ten years.

After two months of courting, and after telling her who he really was, he asked for her hand in marriage. They shared a few years together, happy in their own little haven. They tried to conceive children, but it was a difficult task. Until one day.

They were excited of the prospect of becoming parents, but when the day came when they would meet their son or daughter for the first time, everything went to hell.

He tried all he could, every possible spell in his repertoire, but it was no use. She died of childbirth three years after their marriage, the child dying along with her. He wowed never to have another child after that, no matter what.

He was catatonic for a while after that, the only people able to come through to him were her parents and brother. He didn't grieve, the action was too painful. Instead when he was coherent enough he decided to build himself a cottage closer to the lake. He wanted to be closer to her family, as well as having his own private space.

The only family he had left was hers, and as lovely as they were and as much as they loved him as their own son, he couldn't stay with them any more. He still visited once a week though, but they never knew him like she had.

They never knew about his inability to age, so he was forced to use an ageing spell every time he visited them. Soon he became an expert in that particularly brand of magic.

It was two years after her death that he started visiting the Crystal cave. He had gone by with only a crystal the last fifteen years, but he knew he needed more than that if he wanted to be able to stay ahead of coming events.

Time flowed differently in there, and he ended up sometimes staying several weeks. He mostly saw the past or current events he knew weren't worth changing.

It was after twenty years; her parents were long dead and her brother had moved on with his own family over ten years ago, and he was completely alone; that he saw the downfall of Camelot.

Gwen had become ill with an incurable sickness and he could see that after her death in a few weeks, Camelot would fall into a downtrodden spiral. The Lords would battle over who should take over the control and eventually the great castle would crumble to dust.

He tried to find ways to prevent it, but nothing he did would work. He wouldn't even be able to save Gwen so he didn't bother going to her. He already said goodbye to enough people and he preferred to leave them before he could witness their death. That way they would always be alive in his mind's eye.

It took two years for the vision to come true, and when the white castle finally lost its last battle, all the loss he had experienced in the last thirty-six years became too much and he decided he didn't want to be a part of it any more.

A/N

I didn't add any specific events on purpose, mostly because not much happens during this time in France or Britain, not until Hogwarts and the Norman invasion around the first millennium, but also because this one-shot was more about how Merlin got to live in the cottage in the first place.

I hope it wasn't too angsty.

Have a great week and keep a look out for my new Doctor Who story in a few weeks.