Merlin's legs moved convulsively of their own accord, nearly forcing him to obey the impulse that had arisen within him—to leap to Arthur's side and assure himself that the man standing upon the dais was flesh and blood and not one of the sorrowful phantoms that had haunted his dreams for the last fifteen hundred years. Arthur's jaw trembled as if he were on the verge of tears, but he began speaking again with a considerable effort. He looked questioningly at Merlin, whose eyes flashed golden as he wiped the memory of each person in the hall of the last thirty seconds.
"Four years ago, I entered this greatest of all institutions of learning as a naïve child," he said, his voice becoming raw with emotion. A single nonverbal long-distance vision charm proved to Merlin that Arthur was no longer reading the words printed on the page he held. "I thought and spoke with the misconceptions and the prejudices that my previous life had instilled within me—sometimes turning away from what was true and good because it was easier to believe it an evil lie, lest I should have to confront all the misdeeds I committed in the past."
Merlin glanced quickly around the room, feeling his lips quiver at the words…the words Arthur was projecting directly to him, as if willing him to understand. Some of the students were whispering among themselves, wondering when the boy—who seemed to his classmates to be nothing but kind and courageous—could possibly have committed any misdeed large enough to reference in a speech. The people in the first few rows were bent toward Merlin himself, attempting to scrutinize the guest who was commanding their valedictorian's attention. The warlock frowned and uttered a subtle notice-me-not incantation, breathing out in relief when their heads turned back to the stage.
"But coming here, and immersing myself in such a rich experience of human history and character—" A few students laughed as if at a pun, and Merlin guessed that Arthur must be some sort of history major. "—has taught me that the story of a single person—whether ordinary or great—can alter the course of history. One man—one woman—can sway the future with an act that might be seemingly insignificant, and foster a change that humanity will feel for eons to come. All of you have learned this lesson—and all of you, I am sure, mastered it sooner than I did—and will go out into the world, more prepared and eager to help your brothers and sisters with every passing day. No matter how large or small your impacts may be, the world will be a better place for all of you in it, and no one is surer of that than I." At these words, Arthur's throat choked up, and Merlin heard some answering sniffles behind him.
"Congratulations, Oxford's graduating class of 2011."
Arthur was met with a thundering wave of sound as every chair was pushed back and the entire congregation rose to its feet, every person clapping until their palms were numb and screaming until their voices were hoarse. Merlin burst into tears, unashamed, as he saw a gang of young men—was that Lancelot?—bear down upon Arthur, hugging him, thumping him on the back, and shaking him in a display of brotherly affection, such as Merlin had seen between the knights of Camelot so many lifetimes ago. He pressed four cool fingers to his eyes, trying with all his might to calm himself.
Arthur gently brushed away his friends, who bounded off to harass other classmates, and came slowly to the first row of chairs. He tilted his head slightly, suddenly aware that he could not look straight at the warlock—Merlin must have cast some sort of spell. With a flick of the dark-haired man's fingers, the haze had lifted, and only the sorcerer himself sat there in the scarlet-draped chair, clutching a tasseled program so stiffly that his fingers had gone pale. Arthur sank into the seat beside him and took hold of Merlin's wrist.
"Merlin. Look at me."
Merlin raised his eyes to his dearest friend and threw his arms about his shoulders, breaking into sobs anew as he heard Arthur's voice. Arthur hugged Merlin just as tightly, never relinquishing his grip until Merlin's breathing evened out.
"How long have you known you were back?" asked Merlin, desperately trying to regain his composure. Arthur pulled a silk handkerchief out of his sleeve and handed it over.
"I've always known," said Arthur quietly, casting a glance over his shoulder to make sure no one was within earshot. "When I was a child—it was like waking out of a dream. But I remember voices telling me not to worry, and that I'd find you again sometime in this life. And so I tried not to worry, and I waited. Have you always known, too?"
"I never died, Arthur," said Merlin, exhaling heavily. "I've been waiting all these years for you, and I almost gave up hope that you ever would."
"You mean…all this time?" Arthur was stunned. "Merlin…what about Guinevere?"
"Gwen married again, ten years after you died," said Merlin, wondering what Arthur would feel about that.
"Thank heavens," said Arthur, smiling