So... This is my first attempt at fan fiction. All constructive criticism is most welcome and, of course, appreciated! Anyways, here's a one shot. Hope you enjoy and thanks for reading! :)

Stay

Merlin swayed as the mist crept across the surface of the lake. The water was still, and the world was silent. He felt feverish, his eyes flicking from one section of the lake to another, but always back to the centre. The centre where those many years ago the gleaming sword Excalibur rose, held aloft by the hand of a lost girl he once knew.

"Freya…" he whispered, his voice penetrating the heavy silence. Suddenly, he saw it. Only a ripple, but it was gaining speed and power by the second. Through the mist he finally saw it, saw him. A figure was rising out of the depths, water cascading off of him. Merlin couldn't see him clearly, not yet, not through the ever-approaching mist. At last the man had risen entirely, and stood on the air above the lake, on top of the heavy mist itself. A faint glow that began in the water underneath his feet spread upwards, illuminating as it went. Merlin watched, breathless, as brown boots were seen clearly, the bottom of the chain mail, the armor. Merlin knew those boots. Gods knew he had endured their smell for years. And those polished silver links. Merlin's eyes roved over the spots from which the mist had been banished by the light. His face though, Merlin needed to see his face! Then he would know for certain. No more would he live this empty life, so unsure of his place in the world, a world that no longer needed him or his magic. Merlin watched hungrily, desperately, hoping that at last he would find peace. Finally, the man's shoulders were uncovered, and the red cape revealed. Still the light crept ever so slowly towards the head, to the one face Merlin had waited countless years to see again.

"Please…, Merlin whispered, "Please…please let it be you…", a mantra in his head. His eyes darted to the side as movement caught his attention. Out of the mist behind the figure's shoulder, a pale hand moved, followed by a sleeve-clad arm. It stopped, resting on the man's shoulder. With a jolt, the hand pushed him firmly, and the man staggered forward, the light finally reaching his face. Merlin mouthed his name, unable to bring to words the joy he felt.

"Arthur!" he cried. Then again, "Arthur!" He repeated the name over and over, sinking to his knees, unaware of the tears that streamed down his face. "Arthur," he sobbed, "Is it really you?" Merlin wanted so badly to believe he was here, his Arthur was finally here, but he couldn't let himself be broken again. There had been too many false returns. He couldn't take another one, another struggle to mend his heart and to just keep enduring. Merlin had always had his hope; it was the light that kept him alive, but as the months and years and centuries had passed, he found the darkness of despair increasingly overpowering. He was afraid, as he was every day, that at last he had reached his breaking point. Not that he was whole, or had been since that day. But he had been able to live, to retain his sense of curiosity and justice, and to still find things beautiful in the world around him. Now, he had almost nothing, and the spark that was his life was always in danger of guttering out. And so Merlin cried and tried not to hope, tried to prepare himself for the almost inevitable failure of Arthur's return. Vision blurred, he watched as Arthur walked towards him, waiting for him to be snatched away. So concentrated was he on preparing his poor damaged heart, that he hardly realized that Arthur stood before him until a hand clamped down on his shoulder. Startling, Merlin looked up, hardly daring to hope, into the eyes of Arthur Pendragon.

"Is it you Arthur? Is it really?", Merlin choked out. He shut his eyes against the sight, unable to bear the pain his disappearance would bring. "I can't live anymore if this is another cruel trick. I don't want to."

There was a soft thud as Arthur collapsed on the ground in front of him.

"I'm here Merlin, I'm here, old friend, it's me, it's me, it's me…" he repeated as he gathered Merlin into his arms. Merlin brought his arms up, holding on with every intent to never let go.

"Merlin, look at me", Arthur said softly. Merlin focused on the warmth from the hand cupping his face, the arm encircling his body, the presence that he could feel with his own hands. Slowly, he opened his eyes, and was met with Arthur's soft smile and silent tears. The world around came back into focus in a rush of sounds as Arthur spoke.

"I'm here to stay."