Like a Forever Wandering Bird

by AislinCeivun

Merlin is coping with living after the events of Camlann. With time, he realizes that the 'living' part is actually a lot more than what he'd bargained for. (Merlin/Arthur pre-slash; full summary inside)

2. That ravelled thread, he disentangles

2.

That ravelled thread, he disentangles

.

The first time Merlin sees her again, he stops dead in his tracks and can do nothing but stare and stare.

He is at the Northern tip of Albion, in a quiet, highland town. Merlin hasn't been staying here for long – ten, maybe fifteen years – but he believes that he has already explored everything that could be discovered within these mountains. Today however proves him to be wrong.

He came up to the hill to collect some herbs for the elderly woman who lives next to him in a small cottage. She is suffering from severe headaches and nasty pimples that appeared on her arms completely out of the blue, so Merlin offered up his help. He never thought of himself as a physician (not now, not ever), but recently he's started taking on patients with various troubles and diseases. Gaius would be proud of him, Merlin thinks. Apparently not all of his teachings went wasted after all.

Merlin's got an armful of plants and flowers by now which he puts carefully into his basket, but when he's about to leave, he thinks he hears something – a quite puff of breath that sounds impossibly loud in his ears, followed by an unnervingly sharp pull at his chest. Merlin puts the basket down and straightens, looking around with narrowing eyes.

He feels it again, then: a strange curling in his gut and his magic prickling under his skin. But he doesn't feel threatened, so after a moment of hesitation he starts walking to where his instincts lead him. When the mouth of an enormous cave appears in his sight, he stops.

Merlin thinks he knows this feeling. It's familiar – intimate, even –, something which he hadn't experienced in a long, long time, aside from when he was visiting Avalon. He probably shouldn't be this careless, but curiosity makes him reckless.

He starts walking closer to the cave with slow steps and says in a loud voice: "Show yourself."

For a moment, nothing happens. Then a long, miserable yowl cuts into the air and a sad pair of sky-blue eyes emerge from the darkness of the cave.

Merlin freezes. Gasps. Stares.

"Aithusa," he breathes out finally.

The creature lowers her head, quailing, and glances up at the warlock guardedly. She lets out another whimper, and tries to make herself scarce under Merlin's quickly darkening eyes.

"Aithusa!" Merlin's angry shout echoes long in the mountains, and the dragon shivers visibly at the strength of his voice. Merlin is shivering, too, but he does that from wrath. "How dare you… I thought I told you I never want to see you again! I told you to leave!"

Aithusa whines and shakes her head, and tries to make herself even smaller. Merlin knows he was the one who told the dragon to show herself, but he doesn't care – she should've known he doesn't want to see her, she should've stayed there and never come out… because she brought so many almost-forgotten memories and grudges along with herself that Merlin is almost drowning in the sudden wave of emotions.

The stupor leaves him. He runs to the creature who lets out a scared yelp, and he shoves his fist into her side so hard that Aithusa cries and tips. Merlin is panting hard while he steps back and pulls out the small stick that rests on his belt, and he's glaring deadly while he restores it back to its original form. The white druid staff shines under the sun as Merlin lifts and points it right at the young dragon.

"Why did you help Morgana?" he roars, sixty-or-so years of pent-up frustration and agony finally bursting out of him. "Why did you have to make that sword for her?! If it wasn't for you, I could've healed Arthur's wound! If it wasn't for you, Morgana would've never made it that far! You… YOU!" His eyes turn angry gold, the staff flashes magic, and Aithusa lets out a painful howl. "I wish I had never hatched you!"

Merlin's chest feels tight. He was so happy when he didn't fail saving the egg from Borden… He was so happy when he brought the little dragon to life – he cried and laughed, and he could have sworn Kilgharrah did the same. The Great Dragon said that she boded well for Albion…

"You weren't supposed to betray us!" Merlin chokes out.

He lifts his arms again to end this, to end all of this… but when he points the staff at the whimpering dragon, he makes a fatal mistake: he looks into her eyes.

Aithusa's huge blue eyes are wide with genuine fear, and she's trembling and shivering so hard that her deformed self looks even more miserable. And when she stares at Merlin desperately, he can feel her fear in his own body while her thoughts are trying to reach his mind frantically. Merlin bites on his lip and clenches his hands, but allows a tiny opening to his mind which is entered immediately by the dragon's consciousness.

:: Merlin! ::

Her voice is high-pitched, desperate and fearful, and it's resonating long inside Merlin's head. He swallows, but keeps his guard and does not lower his staff.

:: Merlin, I am sorry! I did not want Arthur to die! ::

The warlock almost laughs at that. "Just what did you think she was going to do with the sword? Tell Mordred to slice apples with it?"

Aithusa trembles at the bitterness in his voice, but doesn't break eye-contact. :: I only wanted to make her happy. ::

"Happy! Why would you've wanted Morgana happy? She was–"

:: My friend, :: Aithusa interrupts him quietly. :: She was my friend. She was never anything but kind and caring to me. ::

"Well, you're alone with that," Merlin spats.

He knows it's not exactly true – the old Morgana, the good Morgana was a really kind person. If she held onto that side of her personality only just a little bit, if she showed that to Aithusa, maybe Merlin could understand why she sided with the witch.

But that does not justify her actions. She was just as responsible for Arthur's death as Morgana and Mordred was.

:: Let me show you. ::

Merlin blinks at the request, but doesn't have the time to oppose because fragments of mental images start flashing in front of his eyes – memories which are not his own.

He sees it from Aithusa's point of view as Morgana opens her eyes after he (no, not he; Aithusa, Merlin corrects himself) has healed her wound. There is awe and wonder in her eyes, and she looks after the dragon as he-she flies away.

Morgana strokes the dragon's head gently. She's whispering sweet words to the air around them, and the look she gives him-her is absolutely beautiful.

Morgana screams and tries to protect Aithusa when they're attacked. He-She wants to help, too, but he-she is too young – cannot use fire yet. One man takes him-her down brutally and forces him-her to the ground. Morgana screams Aithusa's name. Suddenly there is a dagger at his-her throat and the dragon hears one man saying that if the witch doesn't give herself up, he will cut Aithusa's neck. Morgana cries and complies.

Morgana hugs him-her close as they bind them, and she won't release him-her until they chain her hands up to the side of the well so they can't touch.

It is terribly dark and cold inside the well. The only warmth Aithusa feels is coming from Morgana's eyes whenever she looks at him-her. She says that everything will be alright, that she will make them pay. Aithusa whimpers, and moves closer to the woman.

The dragon whines in agony. His-Her body is growing rapidly but there's not nearly enough place, and it hurts, it hurts blindingly. Strong, fierce Morgana is pleading to their captors, but they only laugh. Aithusa nuzzles close to the cool body of the witch, and tries to suppress the pained tremors rushing through his-her body.

They make Aithusa drink liquid fire. His-Her throat burns like hell, like his-her chords are melting and he-she shrieks and whimpers and squeaks from pain. Morgana tries to ease the dragon's suffering with her magic, but she is too weak for it to really work. She curses and swears at their captors while crying.

Morgana strikes like a beautiful, deadly viper. They're escaping. Aithusa has to rely on the witch; he-she is crippled for good. The dragon wants to will Morgana away and not be the reason of their re-capturing, but she says that she would never leave him-her behind.

Aithusa knows that he-she is deformed and ugly and disgusting – nothing a dragon should look like. But Morgana still says he-she is the most beautiful thing she's ever seen in her life.

"Enough…"

Morgana wakes up in the middle of the night, screaming. Aithusa hurries to her side, like he-she does every time she has a nightmare, and puts his-her head into the woman's lap for comfort. Morgana is trembling wild as she hugs Aithusa to her chest…

"I said, ENOUGH!"

Maybe their mental connection makes Aithusa feel Merlin's emotions, too, because the memory fragments are abruptly coming to a halt. The warlock falls to his knees next to the staff he hasn't realized he'd dropped, and grips his tunic above his desperately thumping heart.

He closes his eyes and tries to get rid of the images he'd seen a moment before as if he was Aithusa herself, but he discovers that it is impossible. He'd seen those memories from first hand and what's more – he'd lived the dragon's feelings. He knows that Aithusa genuinely loved Morgana, and he knows… he knows that the feeling was reciprocated.

Maybe Morgana was not so burnt out as they all thought she was. Apparently, she still had the capacity to love (buried deep, deep inside), and she aimed all that remaining affection to Aithusa.

Merlin doesn't know what to think, what to feel anymore. He wants to detest Morgana, he really wants to, but he finds it impossible after experiencing Aithusa's memories; after he was reminded of why was he so fond of the gentle lady from the castle during those first years at Camelot.

He doesn't notice Aithusa approaching until she is right in front of him. She has grown a lot, Merlin discovers now that he lets himself observe. She's bigger than any horse now (Merlin would reach up only to the heel of her wings standing) and she is a bit stronger, she could probably carry someone on her back with ease. Her unfortunate form has improved a bit in the years she's spent in the wild, but it is clear that she will always bear the deformations the cruel captivity had caused in her body.

:: I know she did many wrong. I did not agree with many of her decisions. She was not perfect. :: The azure eyes are sad, deeply sad. :: But I loved her all the same. ::

Merlin keeps his eyes strictly on the ground as he speaks. "Leave."

She's so close now that he can feel her warm breath against his skin. She touches her nose to Merlin's arm for a blink of a moment before breaking their connection. The constant, gentle buzz fades away in Merlin's mind as Aithusa opens her wings and flies away lubberly.

Merlin thinks he probably should have said that one word in the dragon tongue. He should have ordered Aithusa to never come back, to never appear before his sight again. But he didn't, so there is a fat chance that someday their path will cross again.

Merlin thinks he probably shouldn't feel relief over that thought.

---

He spends his one hundredth birthday alone in his hut. It is surreal and ridiculous and painful. Merlin feels terrible. He sips from the cheap spirit he got from a neighbour, and loses himself in the hot feeling of alcohol running along his throat.

He is in his old form. It's easier like this, in this body, to bear thinking about his age. About how many more years are still waiting for him. About why does he have to do this at all.

"May the gods grant you strength", Iseldir said once. Merlin laughs a bitter laugh, and downs his drink in one swallow. He supposes he could do with a bit more strength right now.

It's a quiet evening and later, a quiet night. Sleeps avoids him, and by the time the sun rises, Merlin decides that he won't be celebrating his birthday anymore. Perhaps he won't be keeping track of his age, either.

It's easier.

---

Aithusa hasn't left the mountains, and Merlin doesn't feel it in himself to be upset about it. When he sees the dragon from afar flying awkwardly one day, he feels some strange gratitude, which he puts down to Aithusa being the only presence from his previous life, his reminder, his memento… his kin.

Later, when he is yet again up in the hills musing in silence about everything and nothing all at once, he startles to feel a familiar tingling inside his body. Merlin looks around once, twice, and sees nothing, but then a light buzz starts poking gently at his mind. The warlock closes his eyes for a moment to debate on whether to let the invader in or not… but before long, he finds himself opening the mind-channel without hesitation.

Aithusa's consciousness fills his head and it's as if she was right there beside Merlin.

:: You didn't leave, :: he says in his head before Aithusa has a chance to speak.

The dragon is quiet for a moment, as if to consider her words. :: No, I did not, :: she replies finally. :: I felt as though you needed me here. ::

Merlin chooses not to comment on the answer. :: Will you come out? ::

:: Only if you allow me to. ::

Silence. :: Come. ::

Aithusa stumbles out of her cave, and five minutes later she's lying beside Merlin on the fragrant grass. They do not look at each other, and neither of them speaks. When it's time for Merlin to leave, they change a quick, tense nod before parting.

Merlin figures it's a start.

---

He's not sure when the meet-ups with Aithusa became a weekly occurrence. Merlin acknowledges the pattern only when a blind man could not deny it for any longer.

The routine feels safe and comforting in a rather odd way. Once a week, Merlin visits her in the mountains where they stay together until Merlin has to go back to the town or Aithusa decides it's time for hunting. Some days they talk for hours, other days they just circle around in the woods without saying anything. Plenty of months pass, and Aithusa is not so guarded around Merlin by now: she's calm and relaxed for most of the time, and the warlock in return loses the bitterness he'd always carried with himself during their meetings.

Aithusa is nothing like Kilgharrah (and she doesn't speaks in riddles; a fact for which Merlin is eternally grateful), yet she has a certain air around her that often reminds Merlin of the Great Dragon. Maybe it's a characteristic of their species?

:: I looked up to Kilgharrah, :: says Aithusa, reading Merlin's thoughts. :: Even before you called for me, I felt his presence in my egg. He was strong and wise, and the short time I have spent with him has forever marked me for life. If you find me resembling him in any way, I am glad and honoured. ::

Merlin's happy with the turn of the conversation because it provides an opening for him to ask one of the questions that has been bugging him for a long time. "Why did you two part ways?" He looks at the dragon trailing beside her, and decides on confessing: "I was really angry when I found out he was not with you. I thought he abandoned you, and that's why you stayed with Morgana instead. I wanted to confront him about this, but…"

He doesn't need to finish. Merlin feels the gentle push in his mind, and he recalls Kilgharrah's shattered look from their last encounters, the way he bid farewell to Merlin – and Aithusa watches those memories along with him.

The dragon looks sorrowful. :: He would have never abandoned me. We got on well; he fed, taught and protected me. When my wings got strong enough, I started taking lessons in flying. After the first week, I always flew alone until one day I found a wounded woman. She was magic, I felt it, and thus decided to heal her. When I went home to Kilgharrah, I told him about it. :: Aithusa closes her eyes and through their mental connection, Merlin can feel her shame, her guilt, her pain. :: I have never seen him like that before. He was furious. He told me that she was evil and I was not to cross path with her ever again. He shouted about destiny, your destiny, and that I have endangered everything you and he have worked on… ::

It is strange hearing this about Kilgharrah. The only time Merlin saw him truly angered was when he told the dragon after the incident with Nimueh that he will never set him free. He had always known Kilgharrah to be as calm as the druids, and Merlin could imagine how frightened the young Aithusa must have felt when hell broke out. From Aithusa's point of view, he had to admit, saving a wounded woman who was more or less kin to him through magic was a caring and merciful act. She couldn't possibly understand the consequences…

:: I was terribly confused and angry with him, :: Aithusa continues. :: We fought and I fled. I flew around the forest for days, and hid my presence from him. Then I found the woman again. She had seen how small I was, how I couldn't hunt yet, and she captured a young stag for me with her power. I often met up with Morgana after that. :: Aithusa's look softens at the memory, and Merlin feels the warmth that fills her heart. The emotion however changes to pain soon enough. :: And then we were captured. Years passed, and I knew that Kilgharrah must have believed me dead. I am sure that he thought I was killed by a bigger animal in the forest, that he felt guilt upon failing to protect and guide me. After we escaped… to be honest, I never wanted to see him again. ::

Aithusa stops walking and downs her head. Her whole fragile form screams of shame, and Merlin instinctively reaches out and touches her head in a calming gesture. Aithusa leans into his touch with her eyes closed.

:: Not because of him but because of myself. I respected him, I looked up to him. I did not want him to see me being this pathetic, disabled and ugly. I did not want him to see me and feel disgusted for sharing kinship with me. And I also did not want him to think that my condition was in any way Morgana's fault… It was enough that she herself thought that. :: She opens her eyes, and Merlin can see the raw feelings shining behind the azure orbs. :: It was better that he thought I had died. I hope he never found out about me; I could not bear the shame. :: She shakes her head slightly. :: Has he ever spoken to you about me after my hatch-day? ::

"No."

:: Good. ::

They arrive at a sunlit meadow. Merlin sits onto a cliff and Aithusa lies down beside him. When her head comes to rest on his lap, Merlin tenses, but he relaxes after a moment and puts his hand over her forehead. She must be used to doing this (from what he'd gathered about her life with Morgana, Aithusa probably misses the physical contact), but it's all new to Merlin, especially with a dragon. Kilgharrah was, well, never one for touching. Hell, he'd always fussed the few times when Merlin asked him to carry him on his back, growling that he's a dragon and not a common horse.

Merlin smiles at the memory which is then followed by hundreds of others. He misses his old friend, he realizes. He briefly wonders if Aithusa does, too.

:: I do. :: Merlin nearly jumps. Aithusa was clearly picking on his thoughts again. :: He was the last of his kind, great, wise, impressive and mighty. I am glad that I was granted the chance to know him and I will be forever shamed that I was not able to live up to the expectations he had placed on me. ::

"What do you mean, the last of his kind?" Merlin teases lightly. "What are you then, a lizard?"

Aithusa shakes her head in a slow motion. :: I have no right to call myself a dragon for it would degrade all my ancestors. Let them and onlythem be those powerful magic creatures that mankind will remember forever, and me the minor side note that everyone will forget within a blink of a time. ::

Merlin is shaken by the bitterness present in her voice. He strokes his hand across the top of her head and says: "Don't talk about yourself this way, Aithusa. Everyone is important, you included. You have made some bad decisions… but I, too, did." He thinks about Morgana, the old, caring Morgana who was frightened and in need of a helping hand which Merlin denied of her. "Kilgharrah was always been going on about destiny and laid-out paths. Maybe this is what was planned for you."

:: This? To disappoint my last kinsman, fail to save my only friend and cause pain to the Dragonlord who brought me to life? :: Her voice is bitter and self-disgusted. :: And now you are stuck with me as the only person who you can share your immortal life with. For the rough ten hundreds of years I have, that is. ::

Merlin's breath hitches and his body jerks tense. He has suspected, of course, maybe he was even aware, but to have it spelled out to him in such an abrupt way is… overwhelming. He has to swallow a couple of times to calm himself down after the initial shock.

So… immortal, is he. He's not dying. He's not dying for… how long, exactly? Eternity sounds far too long.

He notices Aithusa watching him, and so Merlin does his best to appear nonchalant.

"Hey," he says, and he's relieved to hear that his voice is not quite as shaken as he feels, "you're not half bad for a long-time companion." He smiles at the dragon and to his relief, the tension and heavy sadness leave Aithusa's body.

:: We could cross the sea, :: she says suddenly a few minutes later. Her blue eyes are full of intent. :: I am not as weak as I may appear. I could bring us both across to the mainland and then you could explore new countries, new cultures. I know you have been thinking about it. ::

"Well, yes, I was, but…" Merlin stutters, taken yet again by surprise. "Are you really strong enough for it? I could take a ship or something, and you wouldn't have to strain yourself."

:: I will be fine, :: Aithusa states firmly. :: I, too, feel trapped in this land. Everything is changing here, but we are not tied down anymore. We can leave, learn… and one day, return. ::

Merlin considers the dragon's words for long minutes, but deep in his heart he knows that he has already decided.

"All right. Let's leave." he agrees, and his heart feels lighter immediately. He adds, "A month from now on. I have to shut down the life I lead here before we go."

Aithusa nods. :: A month from now on. ::

---

That month flies away with surprising quickness. Merlin is nervous and excited, and for most of the time, he can't believe he really is leaving Albion. No matter which country he travelled to, he was always home in some ways but now – now it will all change. He'll step his feet on a land completely different from this. But that's good. Change is good. He needs it.

He tells the townspeople that he is returning to his hometown in Elmet. He bids farewell to those who were closer to him and sells his house. He doesn't have many belongings, but he gets rid most of them anyway so that he won't burden Aithusa more than necessary.

On the day of their departure, the sun shines brilliantly over the fields as if to wish them luck for their new journey. Merlin puts his hand over Aithusa's nose as a way of greeting and she closes her eyes and pushes against the warlock's palm. They've became quite comfortable around each other. Merlin doesn't forget about the events of the past but he has come to realize that holding grudges is not something they can afford when living an immortal (or just a veeery long, in Aithusa's case) life. They make mistakes, they get angry, and they get over it. There's no other way to bear being alive.

He fits onto the dragon's back easily even though she is still much smaller than what Kilgharrah was. She says she will reach her final size during the next thirty years, with the rate of her growing gradually slowing down. Merlin wonders if she will ever reach the grace the Great Dragon has always had, or if the woeful abuse which she had to suffer during her first years had really changed her for good. She looks better, fuller, but she's still quite fragile, and Merlin cannot help worrying about her. He's sick to the stomach whenever his thoughts wander to how Morgana must have felt when she had to watch Aithusa's torturing from the first row.

Merlin shakes his head and pushes the depressing thoughts away. Maybe the dragon can see something on his face however, because in the next second, ahe reaches for Merlin's mind.

The warlock quickly clears his head before allowing Aithusa to connect to him, but apparently he couldn't push all the thoughts away.

:: Are you still musing about Morgana? :: she asks, and Merlin is relieved at the light tone she speaks with.

"Yes," he confesses. "Well, I don't really know what to think anymore. Sometimes I get the feeling that if we had just sat down once without trying to kill each other and talked for a while, things perhaps wouldn't have turned out to be this messy." The dragon does not comment on this, and Merlin supposes he has to establish his opinion on the matter by himself. He can't help asking, though: "Do you think about her often?"

:: Every day. ::

Merlin only nods to that.

Taking off is messy and awkward, Aithusa not being used to Merlin's weight and Merlin to the dragon's size. He worries for her, but she gets the hang of it after a few uneasy strokes. Aithusa flies up high so they cannot be seen from the ground, and after circling a bit above the well-known mountains, she heads to the German Sea.

Merlin gets glimpses of her emotional state through their connection. He feels her joy, her worries, her happiness. He also feels the melancholy thoughts that still linger in her mind about Morgana.

"She would not be happy to see you being like this with me, "Merlin says without thinking.

He wants to kick himself for being this stupid, but Aithusa just huffs lightly. :: No, she would not. :: She blinks up at Merlin teasingly. :: She would push you down so that she could take your place on my back. ::

"Oh! She wanted to fly with you?"

:: She dreamed about it. Sometimes. ::

He can feel her pang of grief just as clear as she can feel his awakening curiosity. He doesn't dare to ask, but Aithusa saves him the trouble.

:: No, I never could talk to her. Our captors damaged my throat beyond healing, so I was already mute by the time I could have started speaking. My mind on the other hand was not yet strong enough for making a full mental connection. We can do that only after twenty years or so into our growth. :: She stops for a moment and Merlin listens to the even sound her wings make with every stroke. :: But sometimes I could reach out to her. Sense her emotions, the focus of her thoughts, her dreams… And I suppose she felt mine in return. ::

Merlin remains silent for some couple of minutes. "Well, you're a lot better than Kilgharrah was. He never even asked for permission, he just entered my mind whenever he felt like it. "

Aithusa lets out a soft laugh, and Merlin can tell that she's grateful for the change of topic. :: Well, he certainly had some strange manners. ::

Merlin laughs, and the smile is still there on his face when they reach the sea. It's huge and deep blue and brilliant, and he cannot take his eyes away from it. He'd seen it plenty of times, but never from this high – never like this.

:: Beautiful, is it not? ::

:: Yes! :: Merlin shouts with all his soul, overjoyed.

He swears he feels Aithusa smiling, but before he could gather his thoughts, the dragon motions backwards with her head. :: Take a good look at the island, Merlin. We will not be seeing it any time soon. ::

Merlin does as he is told and turns back. The land of Albion is already decreasing in its size rapidly, getting smaller minute by minute in the warlock's sight. The image of green fields and grey mountains burns into his retina, and Merlin doesn't doubt that he will be feeding on this mental image until he lets out the last of his breaths. In front of Merlin's eyes, his beloved homeland melts together with the thousands of memories it carries and he thinks of his life, his friends, his mother, his mentor, his King…

And he cries out into the wind.

He can feel Aithusa's presence caressing his mind and his soul, and he's grateful beyond words for the silent comfort she gives him. He forces his eyes away from Albion and looks forward, at the endless blue of the sea.

Goodbye. I will return.

---

Leaving Albion is not an easy decision, but one Merlin is glad he had made. He feels light and content in a way he hadn't felt in a long time, and even when Aithusa parts with him, saying that she has her own journeys to make for now, Merlin stays optimistic.

During his long stay on the mainland of Europe, he spends one and a half hundred years exploring the grand Frankish Kingdom. He's been refining the art of changing his body to appear as though he was aging since his time in Deira, and by now he can say that he's doing it brilliantly. The empire is astonishingly huge and exciting, and Merlin travels from one province to another, absorbing knowledge about culture, language and arts. He is saddened to note that magic is slowly fading away from the lands as time wears on, but he knows that he cannot change the course of the world. He no longer displays his magic in front of the public; he keeps it to himself because this way it is much easier to pass as an insignificant traveller whom no one pays attention to.

Later, he moves on and spends one lifetime travelling around the Middle East. The climate and the land are rather different from what he's used to but he enjoys the journeys immensely. He can't really blend in with his natural appearance so he uses the slightest of charms and glamours to make himself resemble the wandering clans he encounters. Their languages are difficult, but since he already knows quite a few others, he gets the trick of them after some years. (It also doesn't hurt to have his magic subtly interpret for him and for the locals.) While travelling even further to east, he learns about Islam and Hinduism just as he learnt about Christianity back in Francia; he finds them interesting, even if he keeps his old religion fiercely in his heart.

---

Merlin meets with Aithusa again in Bengal, while he's staying at the Pala Empire. He is guarding live stocks when he feels the familiar tingling on his skin and the gentle pushes against the barriers of his mind. For a second he freezes, but then he recognises the warm feeling that always dances under his skin whenever he's around his spiritual sister.

He opens his mind eagerly and almost deafens immediately from the happy shout that echoes loud in his head. :: Merlin! ::

The warlock laughs and looks around, irrationally hoping to catch a glimpse of the white dragon somewhere in the air. :: Aithusa, you're back! Where are you? ::

:: Close. :: He can hear the smile in her voice. :: Come out to the barren at night? ::

:: Is that a question? ::

He hears her laugh clearly this time. :: No. I will be waiting for you. ::

She cuts their connection and her voice disappears. Merlin's heart is beating excitedly and he can hardly wait for night to fall.

When they finally meet at midnight, Merlin rushes to her side and hugs her head which she lowers for his sake. Aithusa has reached her final size at last: she has grown up to be nearly as huge as Kilgharrah was. Her look is still a bit battered and she still holds herself awkwardly, but gone is the bony thinness of her form – she's filled out, all long limbs and fine curves. Her wings are much larger than Merlin remembers (well, the whole dragon is much larger than Merlin remembers), and her head has lengthened, too. Her large blue eyes however are just as brilliant and clear as they were in the past, and right now they're shining warmly at Merlin.

:: You look different, :: Aithusa observes.

Merlin strokes the dark beard he's recently started sporting. He currently has the appearance of a man in his early forties. "Yes, well – I fancied a bit of a change."

:: This kind of facial hair is definitely not for you. Otherwise, you look fine. ::

Merlin chuckles, and lets his arm drop. "You, too. Tell me about where you were?"

And she does. They talk for hours, and Merlin doesn't even notice the sun breaking until Aithusa points it out for him. He goes back to the town he's living in for now after they set a date for their next meeting.

They often meet during the next year, and when the time comes again, Merlin leaves with Aithusa and not by himself. They agree on going back to Albion for a short time (Merlin spends a week by the Lake of Avalon while Aithusa flies through the island), before heading for north where they spend roughly fifty years in each of the Nordic countries.

Merlin is happy that Aithusa is back with him, but it's getting more and more difficult to hide her. She is aware of the problems her size causes, and does not like it one bit that she cannot fly freely whenever she wants. She tells Merlin about how she met two ancient dragons – the very lasts of their kind, surely – in the Chinese Empire while traveling around the Far East, and how she didn't need to hide this much while being there. She tells Merlin that people respect dragons and magical creatures there, and that the land still harbours magic within its grounds, unlike the places Merlin had stayed in.

They visit Iceland but leave after a few years. They spend some decades in the Duchy of Bavaria of the Holy Roman Empire before moving to south, to the Hammadite Kingdom. It's burning hot and only the greatest of spells could make Merlin blend in with these dark-skinned people, but he enjoys his stay nonetheless. Aithusa leaves him again, saying that she can't stand this climate, but she comes back to Merlin at least once in every half year. Whilst traveling around the continent, Merlin learns how to ride camels, marvels at the beauty of pyramids and digs himself into the local's ancient culture and religion.

When they return to Europe, Merlin has to re-explore it completely because even the places where he had stayed for decades have changed. He lives in Little Poland for a while, then in the Kingdom of Hungary, followed by Bulgaria and the Roman Empire.

He is residing in Athens when the Great Plague breaks out. This is the first time in centuries that Merlin uses his magic to its full extent. He moves along with the disease and tries to help as many people as it is within his power, but it's not nearly enough. He can't meet up with Aithusa nowadays, not even at nights, but she connects their souls for most of the time so they can at least feel each other.

:: You cannot heal everyone, Merlin, :: she tells him someday. She is far from the warlock, her voice sounds distant, but the sorrow she feels pangs in Merlin so strongly as if she was beside him. :: This is bigger than you. ::

Merlin does not answer. He wipes the sweat from his face and turns to the young boy who's barely breathing on the floor beside him. He knows he shouldn't heal directly unless he wants to be discovered, but it pains him to no end to see all these suffering around him.

The Black Death is spreading everywhere, though, and Merlin can't keep up with it any longer. He wants to send Aithusa away from the range of the disease, but she does not listen to him. :: If I leave, you will undoubtedly do something terribly stupid. ::

Two nights later, they meet up for the first time after half a year. Merlin tries reasoning with her ("Look, you don't have to worry about me. I'm immortal, aren't I?"), but when he fails with that, he is forced upon using his Dragonlord power.

"Aithusa," he roars in the ancient dragon tongue, "I order you to leave and go to a place where the Black Death cannot reach you – and I forbid you to come back here before the disease passes!"

Aithusa looks at him with fire in her eyes. Merlin hasn't used his Dragonlord power on her since the day of Camlann, and she no doubt thought that they were well behind it. Merlin feels guilty, but he knows he has to do this in order to get his friend to safety.

The dragon takes a step towards Merlin and towers above the man, making him tense up with nervousness.

:: You want me to be safe. I understand. :: Merlin almost sighs in relief, but then he notices how her ice-blue eyes have turned positively freezing. :: But you, too, must understand that I also wish nothing else for you. ::

Before Merlin could say another word, Aithusa knocks him into unconsciousness with her strong tail.

By the time he wakes, they're half way across the Black Sea. Merlin gasps and yelps, only to have the wind swallow up the sounds, but at least it makes Aithusa notice that he has come round. She carries the man in her arms, sharp talons digging uncomfortably into Merlin's back and wings slapping icy air into his face with every stroke.

:: You could not have remained unconscious a little longer, could you? :: she asks flatly.

:: Aithusa, don't you dare– ::

The dragon breathes on him, and Merlin feels the unnatural pull of darkness against his eyelids even before he could finish the sentence.

She surely repeats this act a couple of times after that, because when Merlin opens his eyes the next time (feeling like as if he'd just snored over a decade) they are on a lawn surrounded by enormous trees, among which a medium-sized, odd-looking wooden shrine stands.

The air smells really clear and the earth makes Merlin's magic prickle under his skin, and it's as if the whole forest is singing to him, welcoming.

"Where… Aithusa, where are we?" he demands, heart thumping hard against his ribs.

:: In Japan. ::

"In Jap… Wait, what, you've brought me across half the world?" He feels for the ground; he thinks he might faint. "After I told you I won't leave!"

:: I had to. You were destroying yourself. :: Aithusa lowers her head so they're eye-to-eye. :: You were not sleeping, you were not eating. It was devouring you, seeing all that death around you. ::

"But at least I could help them! I–"

:: There is no use in helping a fragment when it destroys your whole! :: Aithusa hisses angrily. :: The plague is not stopping and you cannot save millions of people! I know it hurts to watch – it hurts me to watch – but you have to bear with it. This is life! ::

Merlin clenches his hands so hard that his nails are digging into his palm painfully. "Take me back," he forces through his gritted teeth.

Aithusa inspects him with narrowed eyes for a long moment before shaking her head. :: You ordered me to go away from where the Black Death can reach me and do not return until the disease passes… therefore, I can do no such thing. ::

"But I never said you could take me with you!" Merlin shouts, desperate.

:: You never said I could not, either. ::

He groans at that, and punches his fist into the ground in frustration while the sky starts clouding and rumbling with rapid speed above the two of them.

:: Oh, stop with the hysterics. :: Aithusa rolls her eyes. :: I am sorry for betraying your trust, but I did this for you. Had our roles been reversed, I am sure you would have done the same. :: She opens her wings, ready to take off. After she watches Merlin in silence for a few seconds, the fire finally leaves her eyes. :: I will be close to you. Call for me when you feel ready. :: With that, she flies away.

Merlin stares after her for a long time.

---

He spends more than sixty years on the Japanese islands after that. At first he thinks about taking a ship back to west, but after cooling down and opening his mind, the country absolutely mesmerises him. It is one of the strangest lands he has ever set foot in: its language, its people and its culture – everything is completely different from what he has experienced before. There are samurais and temples and kimonos and all kind of amazing things, and Merlin sometimes almost forgets that he didn't come here on his own accord in the first place. There's tension in the air with the on-going fights for authority between the Northern and Southern Imperial Courts, but he can manage a mostly peaceful life here.

Merlin meets an elderly priest, Nobuyuki-dono, while stumbling down the mountain a day after Aithusa leaves him. The old man is standing at the gates of a large temple when he notices Merlin coming out of the forest – and at the sight of the warlock, he bows so deep in front of Merlin that one could have dinner on his absolutely horizontal back. He starts murmuring then, and even though he sounds calm and nice, Merlin considers running back to the woods for a long minute before he lets himself be invited into the temple.

The man keeps on talking to him respectfully, clearly oblivious to the fact that Merlin doesn't understand a thing he's saying. (Merlin suspects that the strange-sounding fumetsusama probably means him, since the old man keeps saying that word whenever he lifts his eyes to meet Merlin's.) They are far inside the building when Merlin finally has the chance to subtly mutter the spell that has always helped him overcome language barriers.

"… been awaiting you arrival, Immortal-sama," the priest continues. "We are honoured to have you here within our walls. Since last new moon…"

But Merlin can't hear what he's saying anymore because shock clenches at his heart and squeezes it so hard that he very nearly forgets to breathe. Immortal, that's what he called him – but how does he know? No one ever knows about him, it has been this way since the day of Camelot…

":: You mean you have been aware of your true name for as good as a century and never even realized the significance it holds? ::", Aithusa asked him once during their first year together, with sparks of mirth in her eyes. ":: Emrys means immortal. It is what you are, just as what you will be. It is your origin as it is your purpose. ::"

"You know, you start to sound dangerously like an old friend of mine who was always speaking in riddles," Merlin said, unamused.

They never talked about it later (Aithusa wisely leaving the matter at that after realizing how uncomfortable Merlin was with the whole topic of his undying), but the warlock had learnt with time that the druids were not the only ones who had been foretold of his, well, arrival. Ambrose, Emeric, Khalid, Athanasios, Anirvan, Eilis, Chiranjeevi… Different names of different cultures, all for a single one person.

The Japanese, as Merlin learns, calls him 'Fumetsu no Watarimono' – the Immortal Wanderer. Nobuyuki-dono shows him a handscroll painting of a large mountain, above which a serpent-like dragon in the colour of snow is winding on the night sky. "The White Dragon has been witnessed flying over Mount Hiei many centuries ago," the priest explains. "Saying has it that whole forests came to life whilst the dragon passed, and spirits sent word to the priests that the Immortal One will come to our land someday. Last night I felt this mountain awaken, and spiritual energy has been stirring strongly within the earth ever since your arrival."

If by spiritual energy he means magic, Merlin is certainly feeling it, too.

After his initial discomfort over being found out subsides, he starts to enjoy himself rather immensely. Nobuyuki-dono resembles a kind hearted grandfather, and while Merlin still does not feel comfortable about being treated with this much awe and piety, he warms up to the residents of the temple; all of them are really nice and helpful to him despite clearly not being used to strangers. But the children are definitely the best. Nobuyuki-dono's eight-year-old grandchild, Satoru, quickly befriends the warlock, and he is the only one who's willing to call him by his given name.

"It still must be 'Fumetsu-sama' when the others are here," the boy says whilst marvelling in the sparkling lights that Merlin has charmed into the air. His gleeful expression takes Merlin back to the days of Rheged where he spent his free time making children happy with these small displays of magic, and he smiles, absorbed in memories. "Or else they will scold me."

Merlin assumes that if he'd managed to get used to being called Lord Emrys, he'll do with this Japanese variant, too.

He spends twenty-or-so years with them in the temple complex before leaving to explore other parts of the country. Nobuyuki-dono passed away long, and by now Satoru himself is a grown-up man.

"I hope that you will return here someday, Merlin," he says with a bow and a smile. Merlin bows back, and squeezes his friend's shoulder before leaving.

He has more or less perfected his knowledge about the culture, can speak the language rather well (though he still has trouble reading texts with difficult kanjis), has learnt calligraphy and is well educated in Shintoism and Buddhism – so Merlin is not troubled over how he will make his way in Japan. He travels around and never stays anywhere for long (thanks to which he doesn't need to bother with constantly altering his body), absorbing knowledge about everyone and everything, all the while helping those who are in need like some wandering monk. Common people usually give him hard looks (probably because his appearance is screaming of being an alien here, in spite of the traditional clothing he's acquired), but whenever he meets a priest around a shrine or a temple, they always seem to know immediately who he is. The deep bows he receives during his journeys never surprise him anymore.

As time passes, Merlin starts missing Aithusa dearly. He knows she is probably close (she had told him that much before), but he is also aware that he owes the dragon an apology. He came to realized that he really was destroying himself back then, and what Aithusa said was true – had their roles been reversed, he really would've done the same. He's not angry or upset anymore; the only lingering emotion he feels is regret over giving such a hard time to his best friend, his soul sister.

:: Aithusa, :: he thinks one day with eyes closed, mind opened wide. :: Aithusa, are you really close enough to hear me? ::

For some taunting moments nothing happen and Merlin doesn't breathe, doesn't dare to let his thoughts stray to what-ifs, and he feels stupid and foolish for driving Aithusa away… but then the well-known consciousness creeps into his head from far, far away and Merlin very nearly chokes from relief.

:: It took you long enough. :: Aithusa's voice sounds rather distant, but the smugness present in it couldn't be missed by a deaf.

:: I'm sorry! :: Merlin says, echoing Aithusa's very first words to him. :: I was stupid, all right? I know you just wanted the best for me. ::

:: That I wanted, indeed. :: The dragon is silent for a moment before letting the pleasure she feels upon finally connecting to Merlin flood the Dragonlord's mind. :: Wait for me at the place where we parted. It might take me a week to get back there. ::

And so Merlin returns to Mount Yoshino. The host of pink cherry trees are in full blossom, making the light breeze even more fragrant as it plays with the wind chimes of the shrines for as long as they all start tinkling delightfully.

The warlock does go back to the temple one last time. He is rejoiced to learn that Satoru is still very much alive, and he gives the man a heartfelt hug when they are face to face again.

"You look exactly like your grandfather did when I met him!" Merlin exclaims half-shocked at the obvious and unexpected resemblance, half-saddened at the even more obvious sign of passing time.

Satoru gives him a likewise half-joyful smile. "And you still never changed one bit." But then his smile becomes real and honest. "I'm happy you could come back."

They talk a lot during the next day, and when Aithusa informs Merlin that she'll be there by the following evening, he asks his old friend: "Have you ever seen a real dragon?"

The priest gapes with widened eyes and Merlin grins.

When Aithusa arrives, they are both waiting for her at the top of the mountain. She lets out a happy roar and Merlin rushes to her side, hugging her wide neck for all he's worth, while Satoru stands well behind them, a look of absolute joy and awe evident on his wrinkled face.

"God, I've missed you," Merlin sighs before lifting his head up to face the dragon's crystal blue eyes.

:: Well, even a few decades can feel much longer when we part ways while being cross with each other, :: she says in an as-a-matter-of-fact way, but Merlin swears he can hear the dragon purr. :: Who is your friend? ::

"His name is Satoru." The priest straightens at the sound of his name, as if he's just realized where he is.

"I am deeply honoured to have met you, O White Dragon," Satoru says with a bow so deep that Merlin wouldn't claim it possible for someone at his age.

:: O-Hakuryuu? Is that supposed to be me? What is he saying? ::

"What? Can't you… Oh! Oh, right, of course," Merlin stutters. He kept on speaking Japanese, just like Satoru, so no wonder that Aithusa got confused.

:: I am not confused, :: Aithusa states sharply, making the warlock jerk. :: And do not start fretting, Merlin! Every time I leave for a while and you learn a new language, you do this. If I was not connected to your mind so strongly I could not understand a thing you are saying, so bear with it or revert back to our native. :: A thought hardly springs into existence in Merlin's mind when Aithusa is already replying to it. :: And no, I will not connect to your friend to understand him. He is of no importance to me. I do not wish to enter his mind. ::

:: I hate it when you do this, :: Merlin thinks before saying aloud: "She greets you with pleasure, Subaru."

:: I said nothing of such. ::

:: But were you a lizard of just a bit more grace, you would have. ::

:: You are not exactly fit to educate me in manners, Merlin. And what kinds of inept thoughts are running through your head now, showing me to him? It is HIM that you are showing to ME! ::

Merlin laughs, and then Aithusa is laughing too – a rich, rumbling laugh from the depth of her throat –, and they can't seem to stop it even when they take off to the sky, leaving a bewildered old man looking after them with a smile on his face for as long as they disappear into the night.

---

They spend most of the fifteenth century in various states and cities of the Italian peninsula. Merlin lives in Sicily before leaving the island for Naples, followed by Rome and Florence. He spends most of his time in the latter; the city is full of life, arts and wonders, all of which Merlin enjoys thoroughly.

:: You mean you enjoy your lad thoroughly. ::

"Aithusa, shut up."

Okay, so maybe Merlin befriends a young man in his twenties, and maybe a couple of years later they decide that friendship is not all they are willing to give each other. But no one can judge him for finding some pleasure on the sheets, really. Having casual goes at sex are not exactly news to him (though it's sure that he was a late bloomer: Merlin doesn't doubt that if he ever confessed to anyone – which he absolutely won't – that he was well over two-hundred by the time he lost his virginity, they'd think him crazy), but this is the first time he lets 'casual' turn into 'continuous'. His heart is not in it for the long run (it can't be enough, never can be enough, Merlin thinks with a pang of grief), but he's quite fond of the lad and he likes spending time with him. Leo is incredibly sharp and great, all blond locks and brilliant eyes, head full of wild, wonderful ideas. They talk for hours in and out of bed; to the man's eager wish (besides various other things, he's also studying to be a doctor of medicines) Merlin teaches him about herbs and cures and, well, everything he knows about healing – and he in return learns about mathematics and arts from the man, all the while working on perfecting his feeble Latin knowledge.

They last for four years, and while Merlin still suffers from the melancholy stirs of the what-ifs and what-couldn't-bes of a long lost life that he does his best to push to the back of his mind, he's happy to have gained the friendship and affection of this remarkable young man. Life is still ruthless, however. One afternoon they're caught in flagrante by the elderly woman living next door, and before long, someone accuses Leo anonymously with sodomy. Merlin is really upset with the whole world and worries sick for his freshly charged friend-slash-lover, but this event causes the Florentine court to realize that Merlin is practically a ghost with no records, relatives or any kind of past, and thus he is forced to flee. Leo is quite understanding – he doesn't ask for explanations, just kisses Merlin goodbye and wishes him luck before showing him gently out of the house.

And so Merlin leaves Florence (but not before altering the neighbour's memories so she cannot be summoned in as a witness) and moves onto the Republic of Venice. For the lack of mounts and highland fields, Aithusa can't hide in this town so she leaves Merlin for a while and flies higher up at North. She is still close, though, close enough to connect their minds and while Merlin doesn't fancy much talking nowadays, he's grateful for the silent comfort and company the dragon gives him.

He's managing his life like he always did, but at the same time it's not quite the same and he is all too aware of it. He avoids people as much as he can and puts down his human connections to the necessary minimum. He does not have friends here, no one even knows him. Venice is one amazing place, full of canals and bridges and narrow alleys, yet Merlin doesn't marvel at the sights and landscapes like he did in Japan or all that preceded that.

:: It was high time you experienced this. ::

Merlin knits his brows at the sound of Aithusa's voice but does not cease scrubbing his muddy shoes sourly. :: Why, thank you for being so sympathetic. I love it when you try and fail to be nice. ::

Aithusa ignores the sour reply.

:: You never let anyone close to your heart, :: she says, voice resonating long inside Merlin's head. :: You are always kind and caring on the surface but beneath all that, you desperately cling to the sequestered, solitary life you have built up. That boy somehow managed to push past your self-raised barricades and touch something in you. That is what you can feel now, and as I stated a moment ago, it was high time. ::

Merlin doesn't say anything, just keeps on cleaning his shoes furiously. But thoughts are running through his head with no end, and Aithusa of course feels the absolute unnecessary need to address all of them. :: Yes, it is painful. Yes, I know that you are afraid of lasting human connections. No, you are anything but weak. I do not believe that the gods have decided this for you as a way of extremely cruel punishment for whatever imaginary deeds you think you have committed. You do not want to feel your heart? I am afraid you cannot help that, my foolish friend. Yes, I know that you hate it when I do this. No, I will not shut up. ::

Merlin throws the shoes to the wall and buries his head in his hands. Something tugs at his chest with breath-taking pain when he thinks about Leo, and Merlin remembers that this is why he never bothered with relationships. Then he remembers the reason he had closed off his heart in the first place all those centuries ago… and when his thoughts wander to a particular person whom Merlin did his damn best not to think of, there's no stopping it anymore – it's all coming back to him, all coming back. He chokes a sob and tries to push the memories back but he's desperately clinging to them all the same, not willing to let any of them go.

Beyond the precious memories, Merlin feels the tension and surprise in Aithusa at experiencing the thousands of emotions that flood him. She feels a slight regret for forcing this break-down out of Merlin but she believes that this had to be done. Merlin chokes again, and groans and sobs simultaneously.

His heart is thumping madly in his chest, all thoughts focused on one single person. The voice he'd believed to be long forgotten, the shape of blue eyes, the hands, the lips. Mouth shouting, mouth smirking, mouth gaping, mouth smiling at Merlin.

:: You are not waiting in vain, Merlin. You are not, :: Aithusa whispers to his unsaid questions, voice tight with sorrow. :: No, I do not know the answer to that… But I know it will happen. It will. Someday. ::

This is the first time in many centuries that Merlin cries – the first time he breaks down completely since the loss of his other half. Aithusa says nothing more for the whole time; she just stays with him, folding Merlin in the warmth of her consciousness. The next day they agree without words on not mentioning this incident ever again.

When the second Ottoman-Venetian war breaks out, Merlin leaves the warring state on the back of Aithusa. She doesn't need to ask where they're going.

They head for Albion.

---

Albion – or as they call it now, Great Britain – has changed just as much in the time Merlin had been gone as any other part of the world, but he feels it more intensely here at his birthplace. The lands which he used to know better than his palm now look alien and strange to him, but a small part, a small tiny part of them are still recognisable, making Merlin sigh with nostalgia. The people are different, the language is different, the towns and cities are different, too – but the forests and lakes and mountains are whispering to him, welcoming Merlin back like a mother would his child.

They have a hard time finding Avalon – the landscape is so nothing like how it was that they have trouble recognising it, but the lake itself is seemingly untouched by time. Merlin feels a lump in his throat when he gets off of the dragon and steps onto the shore of the lake for the first time in centuries, and his eyes are stuck to the faraway Isle so hard that he doesn't even notice Aithusa leaving. An eerie air surrounds the place, and Merlin feels relief and contentment all at the same time.

He drops to his knees in front of the lake and buries his arms in the water to the elbows. Coldness creeps into his arms, numbing his fingers, but he doesn't care about it a bit.

"I'm back," he whispers breathily, eyes never leaving the shining surface of the water. "Oh, God, I'm really back. How I wish you would…" He stops himself by biting on his tongue.

His heart hammers loud against his ribs, and Merlin closes his eyes. All the feelings he'd buried deep in himself for centuries are awakening and it's nearly too much, and yet far from being enough. Pretending to forget Camelot and the life he'd lead there was easy while travelling around the world, but here he can't keep up with the pretences. Here, he doesn't want to.

"I've been waiting for you for so long, Arthur, so long… Sometimes I feel like it will never end. If only I could know for sure that you really will be coming back! Perhaps I wouldn't feel this miserable then. You know I'm ready to wait for you a thousand more years – hell, I'd wait for you a myriad, if it's needed – but I can't help with what I'm feeling. I… I miss you so much." There, he'd said it. Merlin takes a deep breath to calm himself down, but there's no stopping it once he had started. "I make myself forget, I pretend that you never existed but I'm never able to do that for long. I can't help missing… Christ, look at me, saying these things – you were right to call me a big girl!"

Merlin laughs without a trace of joy in it. He pulls his arms out of the lake and sits back, glazing numbly at the Isle.

"Freya, give him back, all right? I don't care when you do it, just… just whatever happens, do it for sure."

He sits there fixed by the lake until Aithusa comes back for him. She doesn't ask anything, and doesn't make a comment, even when Merlin hugs her neck tightly for the whole time they fly.

---

Henry the Eighth is ridiculous. Merlin's right there in London when he is crowned, just like he's there when the King divorces from his first wife, executes his second, buries his third, divorces from his fourth and executes his fifth. After he marries for the sixth time, Merlin decides it's time to move on. It can't be healthy for him to forever keep on comparing the now reigning ruler of England to Arthur.

He travels around, re-acquainting himself with the land. He's embarrassed to note that his native tongue is not one people still comprehend, so Merlin has to start learning it nearly all over again. It's very strange, and he briefly wonders what he will do if he comes back to England again in the faraway future only to have the language changed again.

He settles down for a few years working as a tailor, and starts altering his appearance again. He sees a caravan of traders once, selling Japanese goods they'd just brought back from the Far East, and Merlin doesn't hesitate buying a small wind chime for old time's sake. He puts it above the door of his workshop, and delights in the sound it makes whenever a client comes in.

One day Aithusa's voice start buzzing softly in his mind. He feels some strange emotions coming from her which he can't grip, but before he has the chance to ask, the dragon says: :: I want us to go to Scotland. ::

She has never said before that she wants to go somewhere this directly. This is a first, and Merlin blinks a couple of times trying to understand the reason behind the words, but for once, Aithusa's mind is strangely guarded from him.

:: All right, :: he says finally. :: When would you like to leave? ::

:: Next week. ::

Again, not a request but a demand. Merlin frowns. He knows that Aithusa can feel his puzzlement, so he's even more surprised when she says nothing. :: Fine. I'll shut down the shop, and we can leave next week. Let me know when you're close and I'll go out to meet you. ::

:: Good. :: Silence, and then, :: Thank you, Merlin. ::

Aithusa doesn't contact him during the week and when they finally meet up one late afternoon she acts kind of distant, keeping her emotions strictly in check and out of Merlin's reach. When the man tentatively asks her however, she smiles and lowers her head to face the warlock. The azure eyes are filled with warmth and affection. :: Do not worry. All is just as it should be. ::

Odd reply as it is, Merlin can't wonder for any longer because Aithusa nudges him to climb up to her back. The warlock complies swiftly and a few minutes later, they take off.

It's well past sunset by the time Aithusa starts slowing down. There are small traces of human inhabitancy beneath them in the form of blinking light-spots in the massive darkness, but the dragon flies up even higher, taking aim at the nearby towering mountain and so the town disappears from their sight. It's quite cold this high up, not to mention the icy wind that slaps Merlin's face mercilessly with every wing-beat, so he casts a small heating charm to stop his members from freezing rigid.

Aithusa finally starts descending and after a few more minutes, she drops to earth on the summit of the mountain. Merlin climbs down from her and looks around bewitched, marvelling at the amazing sight.

It's like they're at the top of the world. The breathtakingly beautiful starry sky seems so close to them that Merlin feels like he could unhang the brilliant moon from it if he'd just stretch his arm out. A few grey clouds circle above them, shockingly close yet still very distant, and the scarce snow on the rocky ground gleams softly in the night, as if it was charmed to light the whole summit up for the visitors. For a moment, every thought leave the warlock's mind while he stands there stupefied among the sea of rocks, mouth agape, eyes wide.

By the time Merlin regains his senses, Aithusa has already lied down in front of him and now she's inspecting the man with amused glints in her eyes. :: I knew you would find this place nice. ::

"Nice?" Merlin repeats in disbelief, because really, this has got to be the biggest understatement he'd heard in his life. And that's saying something. "Aithusa, this is… it's… it is way more than 'nice'! It's… What is this place, anyway?"

Aithusa makes a gentle laugh at his eloquence. :: Beinn Nibheis. Its name is said to derive from 'beinn nèamh-bhathais' – a mountain with its head in the heavens. ::

"So… the mountain of Heaven, is it? Beautiful." Merlin looks around one more time. "I remember seeing it from far away when I lived around here before, but I never quite imagined it's like this from up here."

:: I, too, have seen it in my first years. With Morgana. :: She's silent for a moment. :: She found it beautiful. Said that the view from the top must be heavenly. ::

Merlin takes his eyes away from the jewel-like stars and looks back at the dragon. She hasn't mentioned Morgana since… well, since a long time ago. "And why did we come here now?" he asks cautiously.

Aithusa locks their eyes together then, and a heavy emotion springs into existence in Merlin's chest from the look of the azure orbs.

:: I have chosen this place for my Vigil Night, :: she says slowly, :: for my time has come. ::

"What? No!" Merlin is shaking his head wildly even before his brain has a chance to fully process the statement. Suddenly it all clicks together, her strange mood, her guardedness, this place… "No. Aithusa, no. No." And Merlin is practically pleading now. "No."

:: Merlin, you are well aware that no one can change the course of life and death. I am old, and my time has come. The only regret I have is that from now on I cannot be at your side. ::

"Please, Aithusa." Merlin can barely force the words out, his throat and chest feels so tight from emotions. "Please don't leave me alone."

Something breaks in him at his own words, shattering his heart into tiny little fragments. He remembers brushing the dying Will's hair, holding Freya in his arms, crying over the dead body of his father, looking long after Kilgharrah, sending Arthur off in the boat, holding Gaius's hand on his deathbed, sitting still by his mother's grave… and Merlin is suddenly scared – no, terrified at the thought of losing Aithusa as well.

The dragon senses his emotions. She moves her head close to Merlin and nudges the warlock with her nose. The warmth of her breath makes Merlin shiver and his heart ache all the more when he looks into the crystals of her eyes. :: You will never be alone, Merlin. Despite all I have committed against you and those dear to you, you still let me into your heart. As long as you keep that part of me close, I will not ever be truly parted from you. ::

Hot tears burn beneath his eyes, but Merlin doesn't let them burst into the surface. He tries to hold himself together and be strong, but his grief is already so deep that he has to grip Aithusa to not waver. There are no barriers between them anymore; he can feel the dragon's heart and soul as clearly as if they were his own. He knows that Aithusa is not afraid of dying. She's content and happy to have led a peaceful life with his friend and almost-sibling. She feels that the gods have forgiven her for the missteps of her first years – not for saving Morgana (she still believes it with all her heart that she was right to save the woman, and even Merlin is not sure he doubts it for any longer), but for not being able to stand up and smooth away the differences between the two sides. And he feels her sincere worry – for him. The only thing Aithusa fears is that Merlin will not be able to bear the loss of her.

"You still look good," the warlock says quietly. He sounds terribly hoarse. "Kilgharrah looked really battered when he came to bid farewell to me. You don't. Why do you have to go?" Pathetic. He can't even bring himself to say it out loud without feeling like being strangled.

:: My late master was well beyond our natural lifespan by the time you met him; his destiny has required that of him in order to be able to guide you. He was centuries older than a thousand years – very-very old even with the reckoning of my race. :: Aithusa's eyes flutter closed for a second, and she leans into the touch of Merlin's trembling hands. :: I am different. I have felt my calling and I am ready to leave the world of the living. I have many years behind myself which I have lived to the fullest, and I was fortunate enough to be able to share them with you. :: She looks into Merlin's eyes and he can see the gentle smile on her face. :: For that, I thank you, my brother. ::

Merlin feels like as if his heart is being ripped out of his chest.

"I don't want you to leave," he whispers, broken.

:: And I do not want to leave you, :: Aithusa answers sincerely. :: But I have to. And you have to be strong, Merlin. For me. For Arthur. For your dream. ::

Merlin closes his eyes and lets Aithusa wrap her wings around him, folding him into her embrace. He hugs her back tightly, and forces the question out of himself in his cracked voice, "What's a Vigil Night?"

:: It is the departing ritual of my kind. When our natural passing time comes and we feel our calling, we chose a place with special significance to us and keep wake there, slowly putting every part of our body and mind to sleep. This way our soul and magic will not break out into the open air and dissolve but pour back into the earth and merge with it, becoming one with the very essence of nature. ::

"Sounds nice." Merlin clears his throat, and lets Aithusa's calmness sooth his worries and fears away. "So this is what Uther did, then? By killing dragons who have not yet reached their natural passing time, he made sure that their magic would disappear?"

:: I do not believe he was aware. We rarely ever talk about our ways to humans. :: Pride flickers in Merlin's chest at the statement. Clearly, he is above the classification. :: But yes, he did that. Kilgharrah has told me all I needed to know about it: unimaginable amount of magic disappeared from the world during the Great Purge, and this is one of the main reasons why magic has started to diminish. Humans do not possess the ability to give it back to the earth, and those magical creatures that do have nearly all became extinct. ::

"If so, then what will happen? Will magic eventually disappear from the world?"

:: No. You cannot make magic disappear completely just like you can't make the sun stop shining. It is part of the world we live in, and it always finds its way to keep on existing. Right now, it survived by concentrating all of itself in a single being. :: Aithusa looks pointedly at Merlin, and after a few silent seconds the warlock gasps in understanding.

"You can't mean that!" he exclaims in disbelief.

:: Oh, but I do. And I think that deep down you have always known it, too. The origin of your unthinkable powers, the cause of your immortality – you became like this so you can serve as the sole living vessel of magic, Merlin. You keep magic alive and magic keeps you alive. It is as simple as that. ::

"It's anything but simple!" Merlin bites at his lip, feeling faint at this sudden revelation about his 'curse'. "What about Arthur? I thought my destiny was to stand by his side, not to be the storing bin of magic!"

:: Do you think that we have only one purpose in life? It was your destiny to aid the Once and Future King, and you have fulfilled that splendidly. This is why magic chose you – this is why you have become who and what you are now. You were a promise of something even greater during your years at Camelot, Merlin, and then you truly became 'Emrys' for good. ::

:: Are you talking about the Crystal Cave? ::

Aithusa looks deep into his eyes. :: Yes. You are aware that you were not immortal before you stood into the light in the heart of the Cave. However, you were the child of magic: strong and brave, and so magic placed its essence in you. Every cell of your body pulses with magic – you share breath, you share heartbeat. And one day, you will give it all back to the earth. ::

Merlin swallows, trying to comprehend it all. He remembers Balinor's words form that day, he remembers the strange yet familiar feeling that filled him under the light of the crystals. He really has known all of this somewhere deep down, he supposes.

"So one day I will die?" he asks then hopefully. "I won't be immortal forever? One day I will die and all the magic in me will return to the nature? But you said that humans don't possess the ability to–"

:: You are no ordinary human, Merlin. Never were. You are magic itself – therefore I am giving myself to you with death. ::

And back to the current situation. Merlin's heart still aches at the thought of his friend dying, even though he more-or-less accepted its happening. But accepting doesn't make it a bit easier.

He sits on the rocky ground beside Aithusa and leans into her body, happy to feel the warmth that spreads from her hard scales. "So can I keep a Vigil Night, too? When my time comes?"

:: If you choose so. Would you like to? ::

"I think I would," Merlin replies with closed eyes. It's really peaceful like this, feeling Aithusa breathe against his body, listening to the even sound of her heartbeat. "I definitely would. I'd go to somewhere nice… Somewhere like this place. You choose well. I like it here."

:: I like it, too. It feels close. ::

Merlin doesn't need to ask what or whom she's feeling close to. It's pretty obvious, here, at the summit of a mountain that has its top in the heavens.

They sit in silence after that for most of the night. Aithusa lays her head onto the ground and closes her eyes, only communicating through the emotions she shares with Merlin. Merlin shows her his memories about the old Morgana as a gift, for which he knows she's extremely grateful, and when he runs out of those, he shows memories about Arthur, Kilgharrah, Gaius… everyone in Camelot. He hasn't let himself being this nostalgic since he left Albion, but now it feels oddly comfortable to just sit there on the hard, rocky ground with Aithusa under the beautiful stars that sparkle like scattered jewels on the black canvas of the sky, and do nothing but smile and laugh and snort together, reviving all they've lived to tell.

But time does not slow down even for a second, and the closer it gets to dawn, the more restless Merlin becomes. Aithusa on the other hand is as calm and peaceful as a lake would be on a warm, sunny springtime day. She hasn't been moving for some time now – Merlin thinks that maybe she's not even capable of that anymore –, she just blinks up lazily at the warlock with a serene expression on her face.

:: I have to cut off our connection soon, :: she says quietly when the first pinkish rays of the morning sun starts breaking the night sky. :: Magic is leaving me. But I must ask you one last favour, Merlin. ::

"I know." Merlin fixates his eyes on the ground, not trusting himself to look into the azure eyes of his friend. He knows it fully well what Aithusa means; there are no secrets left between them, not after spending the whole night being so deeply connected.

Dragons usually keep their Vigil Night alone. The only reason Aithusa has brought him with her is that she needs Merlin to do one last, final thing for her. One last thing, which will no doubt break Merlin's heart – because really, even thinking about it leaves a terrible heart-wrenching feeling behind his ribs.

:: I am sorry I have to ask this of you, :: Aithusa says, and the sincere regret is evident in her voice. :: But I can ask no one else. ::

"I know," Merlin repeats, finally lifting his eyes. "I understand. Don't worry."

Gratitude and fondness make Aithusa's eyes soften as she flashes a small, gentle smile at Merlin who puts his right hand on the dragon's head and strokes the snow-white scales absent-mindedly. His throat feels tight, burning, but he forces himself to stay composed. The situation is not exactly new to him, he's done this before – but it never gets easier. With Arthur, he spent every minute in desperate denial; with Gaius, it was just sadness and grief pulling at his heart throughout the night. Now, however, now Merlin can't keep the fear of being left alone away from his thoughts, and he knows that he's terribly selfish for thinking like this.

:: Oh, Merlin, :: Aithusa sighs, and Merlin freezes, his petting hand coming to a halt. :: Only you would think of such rubbish. You are the most selfless person I have ever known. ::

:: The only people you have really known are Morgana and I, and, well, maybe Mordred. It wasn't exactly a tight contest, :: Merlin thinks automatically. It should feel stupid, joking at Aithusa's deathbed, but the light chuckling the dragon lets out at his words makes it all right.

The sun peaks the top of its head over the horizon, and in that exact moment Aithusa tenses, fixing her eyes strictly forward. Her pupils narrow and she looks like as if she's watching something, but even though Merlin follow the route of her eyes, he sees nothing aside from the dusty rocks on the ground. Panic grips hardly at his chest. "Aithusa?"

The dragon still looks at the invisible something, blue orbs moving in swift, tiny motions, but her body relaxes and she lets out a breathless, happy yowl. :: Oh, thank the gods! Thank the gods! ::

"What? What is it? Aithusa, what happened?"

:: The gods have granted me the chance of giving you a farewell gift, my friend. :: A brilliant smile blossoms on her face, sharp teeth shining in the faint light, and suddenly Aithusa seems like melting into satisfied happiness, every trace of tension evaporating from her body. :: I can see it as clearly as if I was there. It is a warm, sunny day with a light summer rain. Birds are singing loudly above your head while you stand on a large bridge unlike anything I have ever seen. You stand there and look pensively at the lake… That is when you saw him for the first time. :: Aithusa's smile softens, and Merlin can feel his breath hitch. :: You fail to recognise him at first. That is not a surprise, for he is not like how you used to know him. But when realization dawns on you, you start stuttering and hammering like a village idiot… I see you will never grow out of that. He calls your name even though he does not remember you. But he will. With time. Oh, just look at that. :: Aithusa laughs, happy beyond measure, and all of her feelings are so clear and honest that the hammering heart of Merlin fills up with hope to the point of overflowing. :: That, my dear brother Merlin, is the widest smile I have ever seen in my life. ::

Merlin hugs Aithusa's neck and buries his head into her shoulder, choking and sobbing, head way too messy to form one coherent thought, never mind a sentence.

But the dragon understands. She lets go of the vision and looks at the wretch of a man by her side, wide azure eyes shining like two marvellous gemstones. :: Hey. :: And she nudges her nose softly to the warlock.

:: Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, :: is the only thought that can still exist in Merlin's mind. He's not even hugging but clinging to Aithusa now, and he probably couldn't be moved from her if his life was at stake. "I… I'll miss you so much." His voice is throaty and cracked from sobbing, barely comprehendible, but at least it makes it all the more heartfelt.

He can feel the soft beating of Aithusa's heart against his own, the warm blanket of her body heat, but when her consciousness abruptly disappears from his mind as if cut by a knife, Merlin chokes out a grief-sickened moan. It feels empty and strange to be completely alone with his thoughts and emotions, and it hurts him almost physically to not have his spiritual sister's calmness sooth his broken soul. Aithusa is probably too weak by now to maintain their connection, and her absence feels wrong and alien, like being separated from part of himself. Merlin hates it, and the feeling makes him sob all the more.

The rising sun paints beautiful patches of brilliant orange and burning red onto the sky, bathing the motionlessly lying Aithusa in shining golden light. Merlin looks at her, takes in how the once pathetically deformed dragon looks positively divine in the morning illumination, and he comes to a sudden realization.

"I named you Aithusa," he starts rasping as soon as he finds his voice, "after the light of the sun. I didn't fully process the meaning back then. It was just something that sprung into my mind in the moment, and it felt right so I went with it. Later, I thought it was fitting; how Arthur was the Golden King, the sun of my life… and I assumed that you would be to the aid of Arthur, that you'd help him build his perfect kingdom once magic was allowed back… but then nothing turned out the way I wanted it, and I felt stupid for giving such a name to someone who'd rather help my enemy than me."

He strokes and pets the top of Aithusa's head as a way of showing that he doesn't mean those words anymore. Aithusa does not look at him guilty or embarrassed: her eyes are clear and still, only the briefest wonder present as to why Merlin is telling her that.

"But then the war happened, and I was left with no home. I began this crazy, solitary wandering around the world which seemed like it would never end, and one day, you showed up. And after that, I started to understand." Merlin takes a deep breath before leaning forward until his forehead touches Aithusa's temple. He can feel the faint puffs of her breath on his skin, the gentle rising of her side, and he finds comfort in those little movements. "I realized that you were never meant to be a light for Arthur. You were meant to be a light for me – to make the roads of my lonesome journey shine."

Aithusa closes her eyes, smiling as she leans into Merlin's touch. She looks peaceful, serene, and Merlin briefly wonders if Kilgharrah had also ended his Vigil Night with a similar expression on his face.

"And, you know, I think you were exactly that for Morgana, too," he adds then on a sudden impulse. "In her world with nothing but darkness, you were the only light for her lost soul. You kept the side of her which was untouched by evil shining… and I think she was grateful for that. I am grateful for that." Merlin closes his eyes and press his face as close to his friend as he can, tightening his embrace. "See, you are a wonderful dragon, Aithusa; great and wise, just like your mentor was. I think he'd be proud of you."

He feels Aithusa breathe a sigh, her heart thumping loud against his before eventually slowing down. Merlin sucks his lower lip in to stop himself from crying out again, but he can't help the hot tears that fill his eyes so much that he can barely see anything. The only thing he can make out from the world is a huge, snowy white patch, clear and flawless as the purest of pearls.

When he finds his voice at last it's nothing more but a hoarse whisper, but he wills himself to keep smiling, to keep smiling as he lets her go. "Thank you for being here with me."

Minutes later, Aithusa's heart stops beating. Merlin feels the exact moment when life leaves her body, and when that happens, he can't find the strength in himself for any longer to hold back the tears that burn his eyes from inside like liquid fire.

He presses his forehead to the motionless dragon, and cries.

---

By noon, Merlin's tears dry up. He stands on the very edge of the summit of Beinn Nibheis, looking down at the seemingly endless fields and faraway towns. Behind him, there is a strangely shaped boulder among the sea of smaller rocks – something that looks strikingly like a petrified form of a dragon.

Merlin takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. He has done it; he has fulfilled that last, painful request that Aithusa had asked of him. It's not like he doesn't understand fully well why it was absolutely necessary to do this. But it was still painful beyond measure.

He left nothing for future visitors to find. Every part of her became one with nature, just like how she wanted it.

Well… almost every part.

Merlin resists the urge to touch the snow-white pendant that hangs from a leather lace around his neck, safely hidden under his dark brown doublet. He'd been feeling for it countless times in the past few hours – he must put a stop to that now.

"Sleep well, sister," he says quietly, glancing one last time at the oddly shaped cliff.

Fortunately, not touching the scale all the time does nothing to reduce the warm feeling that radiates to Merlin's chest from it.

It's quite a comforting discovery.

---

Living in the world without his sole companion is hard. It feels empty, lonesome and long; time seemingly moves in a terribly, terribly slow motion. Years that used to fly away within a blink of an eye now drag on endlessly and Merlin suffers through every waking moment of the slowly passing days, weeks and months. He's already forgotten how this feels – he's already forgotten what life was like before he reconciled with Aithusa. He keeps reaching out with his mind for her absent-mindedly and every time he realizes that she's not there anymore, Merlin sinks deeper and deeper into depression.

Since he figures it can't make things worse, he goes back to Avalon. It' a stormy day with cold, heavy winds but the pour evades this place for some reason.

"She's gone," is the first thing Merlin states in front of the Isle. And the second as well. "She's gone. What should I do now, Arthur? Freya?"

But the lake remains silent.

The warlock walks to the very edge of the pool, stopping only when the tips of his shoes are already touching the water. Icy wind strokes his cheeks, making his already cracked lips numb from cold but it feels good, feels oddly, unbelievably good. He touches his fingertips to his face and shivers at the chilling coldness that radiates from them. His whole body is frozen and rigid…

Merlin is walking forward without even realizing it. One step, two steps, three steps… by the time he notices where he's heading, he's in the water up to his mid-thighs – yet he doesn't stop. Chill runs through every part of Merlin, making his members numb but blood is boiling hot under his skin, and he feels it. He shivers hard when the icy water reaches his neck and a little part of him actually dies when the surface closes up above his head.

Maybe I'm not even really immortal, he thinks while walking even deeper inside. Maybe I'm just not aging. Maybe I should have done this centuries ago.

But time passes, and Merlin is still breathing. The dancing bubbles of his breath sprang up to the surface like hundreds of shining pearls and that sight sobers Merlin up. He looks around, perplexed, as if he's just noticing where he is.

He's standing inside the lake. Good gods!

Merlin blinks hard, and the water feels funny on his eyes, but he doesn't mind it. He looks around again with wide eyes, jaw falling agape because everything that's holy, what had he done?! Should Aithusa know about this, she'd no doubt…

The quick hammering of his heart quickly dies down at the thought as Merlin reminds himself that no; Aithusa won't say anything because she's dead. Dead like Arthur. Dead like everyone whom Merlin has ever loved.

:: Oh, Merlin. ::

Merlin snaps his head up, eyes searching frantically for the source of the voice. He can see nothing, nothing at all, but the water suddenly feels much warmer around him than how it felt a moment before, and the gentle flow envelops him, caressing like a loving hand would…

And then there really is a hand – a creamy white, fragile one followed by a long, slender arm, a swan-neck and a smiling rose-mouth… The spirit warps her arms around him in a tight yet tender embrace, long brown tufts of hair floating in every direction while Merlin's heart swells and his mind goes numb. He can do nothing but stand there, let the wonder of a being kiss him on the corner of the mouth and look down at him, sad eyes filled with worry and sorrow.

:: Be strong, my dearest, :: Merlin can hear in his head.

He wants to say something – ask, plead, demand – but Freya, beautiful Freya just slowly shakes her head and puts one finger between them like it was a shield. :: Go. This place is not for you. Not yet. ::

With a last sad smile at Merlin's direction, she's gone as quickly as if she'd just dissolved into water.

Merlin keeps standing there at the bottom of the lake for a long time, not moving an inch (and if he were to secretly hope for another dead spirit to show up abruptly in front of him, well, there's nothing wrong with it, right?) but after seconds and minutes and maybe even hours pass without anything happening, he accepts defeat.

He stumbles out of the lake and sprawls on the shore, not even bothering with drying himself. The surrounding woods are not as isolated anymore as they used to be, there are villages and smaller towns getting closer and closer as time goes by, but this place, this shore is still Merlin's sanctuary. So he stays there until he finds temporary peace.

Come next noon, he knows he behaved idiotically. Arthur and Aithusa would probably lash out on him terribly for attempting what he attempted. Merlin can't be that much of a fool from now on.

There is no place for self-pity and depression, he decides. He still has a purpose in life, and he must do everything in his power to fulfil that purpose or else he will not deserve to have his dream come true. Aithusa has given him the biggest gift Merlin could ever hope for: the reassurance that his waiting is not in vain. He must prove to be worthy of that gift.

He has to make sure that his long wait won't roll by meaninglessly.