Camelot wasn't London.
For all of the land's beauty, the cobbled streets and rolling green hills, the scarlet and gold banners on every street corner, the grand castle that Merlin called his home, its greatest fault remained the fact that it was not London.
There were no cars or trains, no beaten-up black motorbike that had been Merlin's graduation present, no heat or electricity, no small but homey flat that he had grown up in, no universities, no future career options, hardly a future at all.
The boy with the full scholarship to study physics at Cambridge, the genius boy with the smiling eyes and skinny frame, was no more. Now he was a servant to a king in a land a thousand years older than the world he knew so well.
Merlin had always thought that his name was some sort of ridiculous joke on the part of his mother – a child with extraordinary, unexplained powers, so why not give him the name Merlin? – But he had been wrong.
He, Merlin Emery, born in twentieth century London, was the old and bearded sorcerer from a time of myths and legends. Only instead of being as the stories described, Merlin was young and fresh-faced, just a hair under nineteen when he had been experimenting a bit with the magical powers that had been a part of him since birth, since before he could walk or talk, and something went wrong.
He had found himself centuries before his time, in Camelot no less, and had no idea what he had even done to cause him to arrive here, let alone how to get back to his familiar world.
It wasn't long after that that he discovered magic was highly illegal, punishable by death, and he had a sentence hanging over his head for merely existing.
He had hated it, hated it with a passion, this world, and somehow, because it was just his luck, he stumbled into Camelot and into Prince Arthur, into destiny.
It wasn't long before he discovered he was Merlin – and then promptly hit his head against solid brick eight or nine times, because now he was probably going to be stuck here for the rest of eternity, and there was no escaping.
And, within the course of a few days of mishaps and insults and getting thrown in the stocks, he had saved Arthur's life and secured a position as his manservant and a mentor figure in Gaius, the court physician, who recognized his magic nearly immediately and immediately set about making a bed up for Merlin in his own chambers.
It was comforting, Gaius being there and knowing something about Merlin's life, even if he wasn't aware of what was clearly the most important secret of all.
And so the child genius became a serving boy.
He met Guinevere, a simple servant like himself, but he knew what she was to become, and so he smiled because Gwen was sweet and lovely, and would make an excellent queen. It was quite hilarious, though, the idea that the bratty prince would soon fall for someone of such low esteem in this world.
He saw no Lancelot, though, and that was worrying. The whole idea of Lancelot was worrying.
But Merlin met him eventually, made fast friends with him, in fact, even attempted to get him knighted, but it was not to be. Hard to believe that he, in what appeared to be steadfast loyalty to Camelot and to Arthur, would ever steal his queen away from him.
The Lady Morgana was another that Merlin became acquainted with, but he never quite trusted her. She was, according to the myths, one of Arthur's greatest nemeses and would orchestrate his demise, and although he liked her, it would do well to keep one eye open around her at all times.
And then there was Arthur himself. Merlin had started out hating him, hating what he stood for and every single one of those annoying personality traits, hating the fact that Merlin seemed to be stuck here protecting him from harm. It was fate, he was sure of it, that had led him so far astray into this era, and taking care of Arthur was a part of that. He had saved his life, after all.
Arthur got better over time, though. He was sarcastic and biting, traits that Merlin always appreciated in a person, had moments of outstanding bravery and courage, and after a while, became almost like a friend.
Which, in this culture, was absolutely absurd. Merlin loathed this culture with every fiber of his being.
The lack of heat and electricity was frustrating to begin with, but Merlin eventually grew used to functioning without them. He had never been much for technology anyway.
His adjustments were much more difficult at first, which led to more than one person in the court believing he had a mental infliction, which he did not. He was top of his class, for Christ's sake. He just had never had to survive without things that he had so long taken for granted.
Good thing he had already known how to ride a horse or the rumors would have quadrupled.
He missed his studies, even though he did have the opportunity to study magic here with Gaius, which was something he had never had before.
He missed his mother and her kind smile and dark hair, he missed his mates, he missed old boyrfriends, he missed his motorbike and his pet cat. He missed a lot of things.
For instance, his future. Here, he had no future, he was meant to be a servant who secretly protected Arthur from danger by illegally practicing sorcery. He wasn't royalty, wasn't nobility, he couldn't expect respect from anyone.
He missed being able to say how he felt. He had always taken his freedom of speech for granted and here, it was all but diminished. Merlin, as anyone who met him knew, could hardly function without insulting someone at least once per hour, and here he could barely get away with a roll of his eyes.
Originally, he had searched and scoured all of Gaius's spell books for a way to return to his own time, but when he couldn't find anything after months and months, he eventually gave up.
He should be here, anyway. Here, he could be a part of a myth that would be remembered for years and years to come. Here, even though he was a servant to a prince, he knew he would be remembered for all eternity, that his name would be spoken among legions.
Until it wasn't just about that anymore. Until Arthur became such a fixated point in Merlin's life, such a comfort and such a beauty to him, a beacon of light in the darkness. Arthur would become the greatest king the world had ever seen, and Merlin would help him reach that point.
The day Arthur was crowned king was the proudest moment of Merlin's life.
Thy had gone through so much together during their time in Camelot, gone through battles with griffins and wyverns, battles with a Morgana who was no longer the smiling and beautiful girl that Merlin had met upon arriving in Camelot, but instead a fierce and cunning adversary, through death and betrayals, through Arthur's tenuous courtship of Guinevere, who he would no doubt marry soon now that his father was gone, through Merlin's own trials and tribulations of falling in love with this place, with this world that he had been thrust into without explanation or reason, but that he had come to nonetheless.
Merlin reached the point where he couldn't ever imagine being anywhere else but Camelot.
Still, he sometimes longed for home, for chocolate cake from the local grocery store, for him and his mates messing around in the back of maths class, for casual relationships with men whenever he wished, for his mother's homemade casserole.
He loved Gaius, who had become like his father. He loved Gwen, who was his sister. He loved the knights like his brothers.
And he loved Arthur like he had never loved anyone before.
Still, it was hard, knowing all of these things that they didn't. Knowing the future, how the world would remember them and their tale, how Gwen would become one of the most hated women in history – when she did eventually cheat on Arthur with the version of the man who wasn't truly Lancelot, Merlin cursed his stupidity at thinking that the myths had been wrong. How Gaius would not be remembered at all. How the knights would be immortalized in song and dance. He wished he could show them Spamalot, or perhaps the Sword in the Stone. Monty Python was a must, too.
He wished he could know how Arthur would react to a football match or a Star Wars movie, a shopping mall or a convenience store. He wondered what his friend would say about Merlin's physics career, about the media and the government and the prime minister and the economy.
Sometimes, he very selfishly wished that Arthur had somehow arrived in his time.
If only so he could go to the cinema with him and steal his popcorn, or go to rugby matches with him, or ask him out on a date and know that in this kind of society, there was always a chance of Arthur saying yes.
His greatest worry, though, his greatest heartache, was that he knew how Arthur died.
Well, he knew the story, at least. And so far, the stories hadn't always been right. They had gotten so many of the details wrong, and there was always the possibility of this one breaking the plan, too.
But, four years after Arthur's crowning, with Gwen beside him as his queen and Merlin remaining, ever steadfastly, his loyal manservant and nothing else, Mordred arrived.
Merlin had met him as a child, of course, but this was just so much worse. He was older now, and a knight, one of great magical prowess and skill with a sword. He was a threat, one Merlin needed to get rid of before he did any real damage.
Merlin managed to screw up, though, just as he always did, and Mordred betrayed them for Morgana. He had gone about it all wrong, and although he would give anything to prevent Arthur's demise, he might have just insured it.
He would never forgive himself if Arthur were to die. The reason he was here, the reason for his very existence, and if Merlin failed to protect him, then his life really was a pointless waste.
Camlann came, of course, and Merlin had always known that name, had dreaded that name for as long as he had been in this time. It was where Arthur was supposed to fall. And he would be damned if he wasn't going to be there to prevent it.
Morgana ruined that by stealing away his magic, taking it away from him and cutting it off completely. Merlin was forced into abandoning Arthur at the time of his greatest need. The moment the Crystal Cave granted Merlin his powers once more, he took off for Camlann without a second thought, not bothering with his usual disguise; not bothering with anything at all other than riding fast and hard until he arrived on the battle scene.
"Arthur!"
And Arthur, on the empty battlefield, was the only one there – except for Mordred. Their swords clanged together in a fierce but quiet steadiness, as if understanding was going through each of them, the gravity of what they were about to go through with.
Arthur turned, though, at the sound of his name, and all Merlin saw on his face was shock, but it was too late to think about that now, because Mordred was moving, taking advantage of the distraction, and Merlin felt a fury and a power inside of him that he had never before taken in at this kind of magnitude.
Power surged around him, blowing out each and every one of his senses. It was no spell, no curse, it was simply a wish.
Keep him safe, keep him safe, keep him safe, please just keep him safe…
And then there was nothing.
And then there was "Merlin?"
Merlin's body felt heavy, but he knew he was standing. His feet were on flat ground. He took in a deep, shuddering breath, and cracked his eyes open. "Arthur?"
It was his bedroom.
Not his bedroom in Gaius's chambers back in Camelot, but his bedroom from the year 2001 in London. It was his flat, with the blue and black bedspread, tattered curtains, band posers, and superhero action figures form his childhood years on his still cluttered desk. Equations and the like were scribbled all across in the papers in his handwriting, and Merlin knew without thinking that it was his homework assignment, the last one he had been given by his professors before disappearing forever.
It was as if no time had passed. As if the last ten years of his life had never even happened, as if it was all just a dream.
But it wasn't, because Arthur, dressed so horribly out of place here in his chainmail and red cape, with a trickle of scarlet running down one of his arms.
"Merlin, what's going on?" Arthur's voice was demanding, but also just the slightest bit frightened. Merlin didn't trust himself to open his mouth; he just sank down onto his bed – his bed! – In numb shock. "Merlin, answer me. What the hell was that?"
"Magic," Merlin said emotionlessly. "I did magic."
"What? Merlin, you didn't," Arthur looked at him with a touch of exasperation now. "What really happened?"
"That's what really happened. I'm a sorcerer, Arthur. I've always had magic, and I've always used it for you. Just for you. I protected you since the day I arrived in Camelot. Arrived from here. This is the twenty-first century. I was born more than a thousand years after you. And now we're back again and I don't know why."
"Merlin?" Arthur was worried now; he even reached a hesitant arm out to touch Merlin's shoulder as if comforting him. "What are you on about now?"
Merlin, knowing that Arthur would never believe him without proof, lifted up a hand and without warning, his action figures began to dance across the room in a frantic frenzy, and his Merlin's hand returned to his side, they fell to the floor with mundane finality.
And there. His greatest secret was gone in a flash.
Just.
Like.
That.
"How – Merlin – I – Take me back!" Arthur's confusion and disbelief turned to anger as he glared down at Merlin, who had not yet stood back up yet. He wasn't sure if his feet could manage it without collapsing under his weight. "Take me back to Camelot right now!"
"I can't," Merlin said morosely. "I'm sorry, Arthur, but I can't. I don't know how we got here. I just wanted to keep you safe. I had no idea this would happen. I'm so, so sorry."
"That's not good enough!" Arthur was furious, pacing about now, Excalibur swinging at his side, and this was Merlin's two worlds finally colliding into one, because Arthur was here in his life now, his real life, and Merlin had no idea how he was supposed to react. "How did you get to Camelot in the first place? Did you come there to kill me?"
"Arthur!" Merlin was so horrified he jumped up and spun his friend's body to face him. Arthur's stance was predatory, and he looked at Merlin like he had never before seen him. It broke Merlin's heart. "I would never. No, I don't know how I got there. I was experimenting one day, and I was somehow transported back in time to you. I always thought I was named after Merlin, I never even imagined I was Merlin!"
"Named after?" Arthur was breathing heavily, his face only inches from Merlin's.
"Everyone grows up knowing the myths of King Arthur, Queen Guinevere, the Knights of the Round Table, and the sorcerer Merlin," Merlin couldn't believe these words were coming out of his mouth, and apparently, neither could Arthur, for he was looking more and more shocked by the second. "I just never thought it could be me. But it was, and I came to Camelot not knowing what was happening, or where I was, and then there was you and I just…I had to stay."
"So you only stayed with me because you couldn't find your way back here," Arthur gave a bitter laugh tried to shove him, but Merlin caught his hands with his own.
"No! I stayed because of you, Arthur," Merlin didn't let go. "I stopped looking for a way to get back because I knew I wouldn't ever leave. That I would stay with you forever."
This stopped Arthur. His hands fell back to his sides, limp as he looked across the tiny expanse of space between the pair of them, his eyes full of anger and overwhelming sadness and also maybe a bit of hope. "But – here. Didn't you have a life here?"
"I did," Merlin said. "This is my bedroom. I went to a university – that's a type of education. I was going to be a physicist – that's…well, that's kind of complicated to explain. But I had a family here, a mother, and friends. But you're more important than them. Instead of an absent father, I had Gaius. Instead of casual mates and fuck buddies – friends who have sex – I had you and Gwaine and the rest of the knights. Camelot was my home more than anywhere here ever was. And you're more my home than any place."
"Well, why did you bring me here now?" Arthur had sat down now, in Merlin's desk chair, and the sight of him surrounded by physics papers in full armor nearly made Merlin laugh. He sat back on his bed and faced Arthur.
"I didn't, I told you I just had to get you somewhere safe," Merlin told him. "Mordred was supposed to kill you there. I suppose…I stopped him. I defeated the prophecy. Not exactly in the way I planned, but still. You're alive, that's all that matters."
"No, that's not all that matters!" Arthur protested. "I have to get back, Merlin; I can't abandon my people like that. Can't abandon my queen and my knights. You have to bring me back."
"I don't know if I can," Merlin shook his head as his heart gave out to Arthur. He knew just how much Arthur loved Camelot, cared for her deeply and truly, his one true love in the world, just as Arthur was Merlin's. "I'll try, though. I'll try everything in my power."
"Merlin? Are you home?" A voice wafted from the other room and Merlin felt a tug at his heart, for the soft, lilting tones were ones he hadn't heard in so very long. His mother. "I brought over those books you wanted."
"I'm here!" Merlin called back, half-strangled, and Arthur's eyes snapped to his in an instant, assessing and curious. "Kind of busy right now, can I call you later?"
"Oh, do you have a boy over?" Merlin wanted to hit his head against the wall. He had nearly forgotten about his mother's unavoidable habit of embarrassing him whenever possible. He avoided Arthur's gaze. "I'll get out your hair, then. Will you be coming over on Sunday?"
"Of course, I always do," Merlin felt a pang in his chest, because technically, he had missed ten years of Sundays. "See you then."
He listened for a door to be closed, and the moment it was, Arthur spoke quietly. "You gave her up. For me."
"I'd give up anything for you, Arthur, you should know that by now," Merlin's eyes were fixed on the poster of the Smiths above Arthur's blond head.
"When you find a way to send me back, you should stay."
"What? No! Please, Arthur, I may be a sorcerer from the future, but I'm still your friend!" Merlin practically pleaded as his heart jumped out of his chest in frenzy. "You can't make me leave you."
"I thought you'd want to stay!" Arthur told him, eyebrows creasing together.
"Have you not been listening to a word I said?" Merlin wanted to cry, scream, shake some sense into a clueless Arthur. "I was born to serve you, Arthur. You're my destiny. You're everything to me and I don't want to live without you. I promise that I'll find a way to get us back. Us. You and me, Arthur. It's always been you and me."
I love you.
"You'll find a way to bring us back?" Arthur was obviously trying to control his emotions, for his face was contorting in odd ways as he scrunched up his eyes.
"I'll find a way," Merlin vowed. "I always find a way."
"But in the meantime…" Arthur trailed off and Merlin smiled.
"In the meantime," Merlin smiled. "I want to show you a couple of things."
It was more than a couple.
Arthur loved football.
Rugby, too.
He thought movies were fascinating, but wasn't a fan of Star Wars. He did like Star Trek, though, so that was still counted as a victory.
He loved the cinema and shopping malls freaked him out a bit, he had endless opinions about the state the government was in and seemed to find physics too complicated, a fact Merlin would tease him mercilessly about for the rest of time.
He thought Spamalot and Monty Python were ridiculous, and laughed himself silly at the Sword in the Stone, probably because of Merlin's beard. Merlin just smiled, though, and watched him chuckle along with the video.
And Merlin didn't ask him out. Because he was married and they didn't belong here, they were trying to get back to Arthur's life, to his wife, to their kingdom where they were king and manservant, friend and friend, would never and could never be anything more.
But when he kissed Arthur's forehead, Arthur didn't say a word.
He just leaned into the touch.