'Long Live Us'

Merlin woke with a start, flinching awake and sending the thin blankets covering him to the floor. Arthur had just entered the living room, disrupting his friend's deep sleep. "You're awake" the King remarked casually, slumping on the chair opposite the one Merlin was curled up in moments before, sleeping peacefully for the first time in ages, with no nightmares to plague his rest. "I am now." Merlin had given up his bed for the King, sleeping instead on the chair with only a thin grey blanket to keep him warm, not that he minded in the slightest. He was still just so glad his friend had returned. In waking, he found there to be an extra blanket at his feet, and wondered if it had been the King himself who had put it there. Probably not though, he thought, - he'd probably just forgotten getting it the night before. Little did he know that it was Arthur who had woken in the dark hours of the morning; saw his friends sleeping in the cold then realizing Merlin had yet again selflessly given up his comfort for him. Arthur had considered waking him let the warlock go back to his own bed, but the boy had been sleeping so peacefully, Arthur could not find it in his heart to wake him. So instead, he had gone to the cupboards Merlin had been sorting through the night before and found another blanket, silently covering his friend with it before returning to the bedroom like a shadow.

"What time is it?" Merlin asked, shifting in his seat until he could see the clock on the far wall. 5:30am. The numbers glared back at him, Merlin rubbing a hand over his tired eyes as they adjusted to the hazy dawn light. "Bloody hell Arthur, why did you get up so early?" he demanded, looking over at his friend and noticing the King was being uncharacteristically quiet. "It was dawn; do you not wake at this time anymore?" At Camelot, there had been no clocks; therefore the only concept of time they possessed was through the rising and setting of the sun. Arthur did not realize that these days, people did not get up so early. "It. . . doesn't matter" Merlin could not be bothered to explain it to Arthur, opting to instead make himself a strong coffee and deal with the ungodly hour as best he could. After five minutes, splashing his face with water, busying himself in the kitchen, Merlin came back to the living room. "Here" he put another cup of tea in front of the King, having made the decision that Arthur and coffee was not a good combination. "Thank you" Arthur spoke more quietly than usual, not even looking at Merlin as he took a sip. He seemed off, or at least deep in thought, and both were uncommon so Merlin began to worry. Especially when he noticed that Arthur had changed into the hideous clothes from his drawer, something the Arthur he knew would be too proud to do. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing" Again, the old King spoke with a disjointed, flat voice.

"There is no need to lie to me – something's obviously bothering you."

Arthur sighed at this, finally meeting the sorcerers gaze. "I've been remembering things" Arthur started before pausing.

"Things from the other world?" the sorcerer asked.

"Yes." Merlin, having no answer to this, fell silent. He had never been to, or seen, the other world; it seemed likely that he never would. To live for so long without dying was both a gift and a burden. He did not understand what it was like to die, so he wouldn't pretend to. It was patronising when people did that: pretend to understand your pain when really, they have no idea.

"People visited me sometimes" Arthur spoke, but his voice shook. It had been a terrible place, the other world. He had been distant even there, away from everyone else, separated. Now he knew it was because he too was waiting. There was a plan for him to return, so until then he could not fully enter the spirit world. He could see them all, everyone he had once known: Guinevere, Leon, Gaius – all who had passed into that world. But they could not see him. He had yelled at them, but his cries fell on deaf ears; tried to touch them, but his hands had passed through them like smoke. Eventually he had come to accept it. It had been hard, to see them but not be able to be with them. That's when the visits started. "They spoke to me about you."

"About me?" Placing a hand on his chest and sitting up eagerly, genuine surprise plastered all over his face, Merlin felt his interest ignite.

"Yes," they held each others gaze intently now, "they spoke like you-"

"Like I what?"

"Like you weren't a complete idiot" Arthur said dryly as Merlin chuckled. "They spoke of you like a hero, Merlin. Like you held the secrets of the world and all the stars." Merlin looked confused now, leaning back in his chair.

"Me?" he asked, shaking his head, "nah, it can't be me. I'm useless, remember?" He joked, but Arthur remained serious, not even cracking a smile.

"Yes Merlin. you. They said they had known you in life but they called you by a different name."

"Emrys?"

"Yes, how did you know?" Arthur was surprised; his eyebrows raised high upon his brow. He had thought that Merlin would have no idea what they said about him.

"It is what the druids once called me" Merlin admitted, "they told me things in the old days about my destiny." The King looked thoughtful - it made sense. "So, your name isn't even Merlin? You kept so much from me, old friend." Looking rejected, Merlin guiltily dropped eye contact, ashamed even though it was his lies that protected him.

"I am Merlin. But I am also known by other names, some you may know, some you won't. No matter what I'm called - I'm still me" He pleaded.

"So you are the Emrys Morgana feared so much?" It seemed strange to the King that it was Merlin who had caused so much trouble for Morgana, whom he knew to be extremely powerful. Merlin nodded. "She never knew it was me until the end, I always hid myself from her. It was Mordred who revealed my secret in the end."

"He knew?"

"He always did, and so did others. I'm sorry they had to lie to you but they did it with the best intentions."

"Who?" Arthur did not seem angry. He was looking at Merlin; learning more about his friend than he had thought there was to know. "Gaius knew from the start. Lancelot helped me too, there were others, but you would not remember them."

"Lancelot? He was a traitor in more ways than one, it seems"

"No!" Merlin raised his voice, "Never. He was a shade, Arthur, a spirit conjured by Morgana. It was never him with Guinevere, he was not himself. He had no choice." Merlin thought of his other friend sadly. Lancelot was a good man; at least now Arthur knew it. "He never betrayed you."

"Then I treated him badly." Even Arthur appeared remorseful. "But I was trying to tell you something – the visitors! Merlin, they told me such things about you. Great things . . . and terrible things."

"Who were they?" Suddenly, Merlin sprang forward in his seat, eyes widened. There were but few who knew enough of him to tell these things.

"Merlin?" Startled at the change in his friend, Arthur became reluctant to answer.

"What were their names?" The warlock persisted, fire in his eyes.

"The first was a man, that Dragon Lord we met when the Great Dragon escaped. He called himself Balinor, and he told me that you were waiting." Merlin's face was strange now, a sort of strangled sadness he could not express. "Then there was this girl. Her eyes were so sad." Merlin knew it was Freya without being told. "Then another man, Alator. He spoke of you with such esteem, like you were all he believed in. The last visitor I received was no man or woman, but the Great Dragon. It was he who told me it was time to come back." Finishing his story, but not in full, Arthur regarded his friends face. Merlin looked both happy and deeply sad, a conflicted emotion halfway between dead and alive. Despite it all, Merlin was glad to know his loved ones were still watching over him even now; the thought comforted him.

"Who were they?" Arthur asked. The visitors had told him many things about his friend: his deeds, his heartaches, stories of things he'd done. But they never said what they were to him. Arthur had a million and one questions, but this is the one he chose to ask. "It doesn't matter now," Merlin said, "they're long gone."

Five hours, a problematic bus journey, a traumatized shop assistant and several minor injuries later, Arthur stood in front of Merlin fully dressed in new clothes and clearly more comfortable. It had been an eventful day; Arthur's first shopping experience proving to be more difficult than expected. But now he stood dressed in jeans that actually fit, a plain white t - shirt and a red hoodie. They had gotten him multiple versions of the same basic shirt but in different colours and a black jacket for colder days. Arthur just seemed happy not to be in the huge orange tee shirt anymore.

"Better?" Merlin asked, laughing at Arthur's glee. The trouble of the shopping trip suddenly seemed worth it.

"Fit for a King" Arthur jested. It was nice to have moment like this, when all that mattered was laughing. The mid-morning sun streamed through the window, pooling in the small room. Safely back at Merlin's cottage, the morning's dark talk seemed far away. The other world and its inhabitants didn't matter, for they had succeeded, a small success, but a success nonetheless. Sometimes, you just have to take your victories where you can.

"Merlin" Arthur poked his friend in the ribs, and for the second time that day, the sorcerer was prematurely woken. Groaning, he rolled over in the bed to the source of his irritation, hair mussed up from hours sleeping. "What is it?" he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. From his place lying on his stomach, a sideways Arthur frowned at him. "Wake up" the King said forcefully, poking Merlin again. This time, he fully woke; jolting up in bed as he concluded something was up. "I'm awake, I'm awake!" he protested as Arthur made to hit him again.

"Good," Arthur said, "You had better make some more of that 'tea' – I have to tell you something." Nodding, Merlin walked to the kitchen, clicking the kettle on. He shivered, wishing he wore more than a thin grey t-shirt with blue pyjama trousers. He found Arthur in the living room in his usual chair, and starting a fire quickly using magic to warm them, he turned to his friend, mug in hand.

"I remembered something" Arthur announced as Merlin sat, curious now, but cautious. Why did something have to come along and ruin this happiness? Undoubtedly something would, for it was told that Arthur would return during Albion's greatest need. "What?" he breathed; a silent sigh escaping him. Just one day of peace before the storm came was all he got, one shining day with Arthur, shopping of all things, before events beyond their control were set into motion. "The Great Dragon," Arthur started, worried about breaking this news, for it was foreboding indeed, "he had a message for you. He called it the second great prophecy or something – does that mean anything to you?"

Merlin paled visibly. "Yes, I heard a prophecy once before and it ruined everything" the boy tried to bluff this as being casual, shrugging as he spoke, as if his heart had not just tripled its pace. "The dragon told me I had to tell you, only you. He said it was important above all else – I can't believe I forgot, and I apologise for that."

"What did he say, Arthur? Are you sure you remember it exactly? It's important"

"Yes"

"Are you sure?" Merlin had stiffened, back straight with tension. Analysing his King with a gaze so sharp it could cut.

"Of course I'm sure Merlin, unlike you, some of us don't spend so much time in the Tavern we forget our own names." Arthur said, exasperated. When the boy did not laugh, he became serious once more. "I remember every word – how could I forget? The sentences are carved into my mind; I think they shall remain there always."

"Let me write this down," Hopping over the back of his chair and nimbly running to a bookcase in the corner, Merlin grabbed a scrap of paper - an old envelope, as well as a book to lean on. Back in his seat, he reached for an old biro on the coffee table, scribbling a few lines on the sheet to check it worked, "Go on." Arthur paused for a moment, recalling the verses to his mind; then spoke clearly the second great prophecy. Afterwards, Merlin sat with a page of words and jumbled thoughts. Just as everything was getting better, things fell apart. Funny how life had a habit of doing that.

Arthur watched on, unsure whether he should talk: for a silence had fallen when the prophecy was spoken. It hung around them now like a heavy cloak weighing them down. His friend looked stricken, disappointed, like he had been hoping for something else. Arthur wondered what it must be like to have your life shaped by some force known as 'destiny'. It must be a hard life, one of intense pressure, and again he was filled with a new respect for his old friend. For what he had fought for, trying to prevent until the last second even though fighting a force no man could control was hopeless. Arthur figured the first prophecy was the one which had told Merlin of his death. Now, a new one seemed a daunting prospect. Nothing good would come of it. It read simply:

From the Ashes was born a flame in the west,

The hawk of may will fly once again,

And the tree of a man woke from his rest,

Into a new world, not one they left.

Through this cold place the noble hearted shall walk,

But the story not ended nor written in stone,

The one most loved in the shadows will stalk,

A kingdom rose, built on fate and much talk.

The darkness is rising to turn the sky grey,

The conflicted soldier to enter the fray,

New wings are forged in the sun of the East,

Leader of men, next to summoner of beast.

So it was foretold and these glory days blessed,

To decide if Camelot shall rise again,

Wise old Emrys will face his final test,

Lead the Once and Future King on his greatest quest.

"What does it mean?" Arthur asked finally, shredding the silence.

"I don't know yet" came the answer, a distracted one, as the boy was still musing the words, turning them over in his mind in the hope of making sense of them. If only it were that easy. "Nothing good, though. I'm guessing" countered the King.

"No," Merlin looked up this time, eyes alight, "It means danger and fighting and possible injuries and undoubtedly torture at some point and maybe poison and knowing my luck it will all happen to me and a whole lot of other bad news." At this, he stopped and grinned at the King, "It really is just like the old days." With sudden energy, the warlock leapt to his bare feet, stretching.

"We need to figure it out" said Arthur, stating the obvious. Merlin nodded, eyebrows raised thoughtfully. He was still playing it as a game. Pretending it was all alright when he felt like screaming. It would seem that even now he could not escape some 'destiny' set for him, no safe times, no good days. Sometimes, the world and fate made him want to tear his hair out. "Yes we do, but not now. It's late, go to bed, my lord - I'll take the chair again."

"Merlin"

"Go. You need your sleep; I know how grumpy you get without it!" Merlin pointed a finger, ushering Arthur to his feet and out the door.

"Merlin" the King said again, growing impatient at being pushed out.

"Arthur," the warlock mocked his friends tone "bed – now. We don't want an angry little King in the morning now do we?"

"Merlin!" Arthur threw his body weight, shifting so Merlin's hands fell from his arm. No longer pushing him out the door, the boy's face fell a little, before he picked it up forcefully. "Don't act like this is all okay." The King thought he knew enough of his friend now to tell that this was all an act. He was forceful but calm, like the sea before a storm. "It is fine, sire. I'll figure it out." Merlin protested.

"But you don't have to do that alone." That stopped him in his tracks. Merlin struggled with himself for a second, before turning brightly to his King. "Thank you, my friend. I know that. But it is late, and with a new day will come hope. This riddle can be left till tomorrow." He smiled convincingly, so the King bade him a troubled goodnight then retreated to the bedroom. Arthur was no fool, but knew better than to push his friend. On the outside it was smiles all round, but he could see that his friend was scared. It was fitfully that Arthur slept that night, waking many times from restless dreams.

Merlin, once alone in the living room, closed the door, cutting the world out. He sat by the dying fire with the envelope of hastily scrawled words clutched in his lap, nervously biting the end of his pen as he pondered the meaning of the lines. They were important, he knew that, it was figuring it out exactly which proved the problem. With a sigh and sip of tea he set to work, noting down any meaning that sprang to mind. Hours later, when dawn had come with new light, he still had no solution. The only thing gained from the time was dark circles around his tired eyes; a feeling of dread firmly settled in his stomach. No further to an answer, he rose to stretch aching limbs, slipping into the garden for a break. He tended to his flowers, got some fresh air: fought the rising tide as best he could. Merlin wondered how long he could hold out before it took him.

"It's late," Arthur remarked as he strolled into the room, "the sun is well risen, why did you not wake me?" Merlin glanced up from his perch on the windowsill, where he had rested, watching the cars pass by. "You looked tired" he answered, brushing Arthur's questioning gaze off; he stood, throwing the envelope which he still held into the table. "So do you" Ignoring Merlin's nonchalant attitude, the King continued, "Did you sleep ay all last night?"

"Of course" Merlin lied.

"You can't lie to me Merlin, I'm the King"

"That's Sir Merlin to you"

"Recycling your jokes?" Arthur pulled a face, "now I know there's something wrong." Merlin rolled his eyes as he left the room.

The Warlock showered in ten spare minutes, refreshed by the cold water after sleepless night. After trudging to this bedroom, he changed into a clean navy tee with a blue and green cotton shirt thrown over it and a fresh pair of jeans. He ruffled his hands through his hair by way of organising it, quickly brushing his teeth before starting to make breakfast. It was as he returned, balancing two bowls of cereal in one hand, when he spotted it. Arthur had picked up the creased envelope the prophecy was written on; thoughtfully sitting, one leg crossed over the other, reading it again. It was quite by chance that in moving the envelope, he left the book Merlin had leaned on to write open to see. It was a book on Arthurian legends and their descents; the warlock had many in his bookcase simply because the stories made him smile, both at memories but also the absurdity of some of them. Also he figured they might come in useful someday - perhaps he was right. This book in particular was about whether there were any facts behind the myths, or their roots. Putting the bowls down abruptly, he grabbed the book and flicked through a few pages, looking for answers. "Found something?" Arthur asked, glancing up.

"I'm not sure yet," Merlin mused, blue eyes scanning each page for keywords from the prophecy, "But all of this" he waved the book "– it sounds like you're not the only one coming back."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean we have work to do. And we might be seeing some friends very soon" Merlin went to the bookcase and yanked out an armful of books to do with Arthurian myths, throwing a few in his friend's direction. Arthur caught them with ease, turning them over in his hands with a confused expression. "The books," he started, "they're about me?" At the strange tone of his voice, Merlin looked up. Arthur stood staring at the book in his hands like it might attack him at any moment. "They never forgot you, Arthur," the warlock said, coming over and placing a supporting hand on his friend's shoulder, "I told you there would never be another like you." The King looked up and Merlin smiled; never before had he seen Arthur look so humbled. They caught eyes, only for a second or two, feeling the enormity of their past rise again them like a wave. But, they had a prophecy to decode, so set to work quickly, dividing the books between them.

It had been maybe an hour or two in silence when Arthur called Merlin over, pointing to a page in a book called Fact or Fiction: the round table. "Look," the King said, a page about Sir Gwaine resting open on his lap, "listen to this, 'different spellings of the Knights name through time have lead to many translations or meanings, some of which being "the hawk of the plain" or more commonly, "the hawk of may"' The hawk of may, Merlin! It's Gwaine." Arthur's face broke into a smile, thrilled at the prospect of possibly seeing one of his Knights again. Even Merlin's lips curled into a slow grin, thinking of his dear old friend. It seemed he was finally getting his reward for years of being alone; he would soon be surrounded by friends from days gone by. He now sat on the leg of Arthur's chair delicately. "Gwaine" he said, mind reeling. "So the 'hawk of May' from our prophecy is Gwaine. All of the other things, they must refer to people we knew! Let's see-" Moving quickly, Merlin took the envelope from Arthur studying it in the new light. "What could the others mean?"

"The 'darkness' is obviously Morgana" Arthur guessed, not knowing any other enemy who could pose such a threat. At this, both men's shoulders sagged – neither wanted to face the priestess again. "Yes," said Merlin sadly, "I fear you are right. But what about the others, it can't be all bad news." He looked thoughtfully at the remaining lines for a moment. "The 'tree of a man' could be Percival" he said.

"Yes!" Arthur was enthusiastic, but one line in particular caught his eye. He nervously continued, "do you – do you think 'the one most loved' could be Guinevere?" Arthur wanted it so much to be her, for he had missed her constantly, like an ache in his chest he carried around with him every day. Seeing this desperation, Merlin tried to smile for his King, "I hope so." It would be good to see Guinevere again, for he felt that he had never really apologised to her. Plus, he had missed her kindness terribly, her sweetness helping make a day brighter on many occasions.

"So what now?" Arthur asked. It seemed that the riddle was unscrambled, but they still had no idea how to find their friends. This stumped even Merlin. "I don't know" he admitted truthfully, "but I think our quest may begin where it ended – Avalon." The mere mention of the place brought dread to Merlin's guts, creeping through his bones like a chill. "Avalon" Arthur agreed. They both stood, unsure of how to continue. Should they go now? Or would the prophecy complete itself if they waited? Sometimes, destiny came to you. Other times, you have to go looking for it. This was the latter.

"There's something I have to show you first" Merlin left the room, Arthur following him until they reached a small backroom the King had never been into before. The handle clicked as they entered, as Arthur took a shocked intake of breath. It was like a treasure trove. Inside the room, with bare brick walls exposed, was every artifact, sword, and shield from Camelot's golden age. Shields' bearing many a Knights crest decorated the red brick walls, displayed proudly, barely showing their age as Merlin had cared for them so well. Against the far wall stood a rack with dozens of swords hanging from it, each with a name tag of brass above it. Armour, still gleaming from years hard labour polishing rested in corners, only a light covering of dust to combat the illusion that they had just stepped back a thousand years into Camelot's armoury. "Merlin," breathed the King, spinning slowly in a circle to take it all in, "How did you get all this?" He stopped spinning to face Merlin, who had waited near the door with a thinly veiled joy on his face.

"With great difficulty" looking as he used to when Arthur praised him: awkward but proud, he continued "After I heard of Camelot's demise. . . I just couldn't bear the thought of it all being lost. I travelled back to Camelot to find it in ruin, being pillaged by a new invader. I used my magic; froze the army so that I would get a chance to walk through the citadel a final time." He paused, eyes averted and gleaming in memory. "There were too many memories, good ones, there to let it fade without saying goodbye. I just couldn't, let it all go, not this time. I couldn't" Breaking, the Warlock's voice cracked too much for him to continue. It had been horrible, to walk through the walls of his former home and see it falling, fading away from him like everything else had. He saw ghosts at every point, memories that haunted him. He couldn't bear to leave it completely – to be alone. With nothing left at all. "It's okay now" Arthur rested a comforting hand on his old servants elbow, and the boy looked up, shaking his head as if to clear it of dark thoughts. But the King noticed the clenching of Merlin's fists as the man struggled within himself. "I took what I could: the Knight's swords, armour, artifacts of importance from the vaults. I couldn't take it all, but I could make sure that at least some part of Camelot survived – I had to."

"Thank you for doing that" The King was genuine, pleased beyond words at being able to find some piece of the world he knew amidst the confusion and noise of this age. Merlin, bobbing his head, wandered over to the rack of swords. He had secretly stored Excalibur amongst them the night before, for fear of Arthur brandishing it at the shopping centre, but pulled it free now to return it to its rightful owner, knowing it may be needed before long. The King accepted it without words, so immediately Merlin carried on down the rack till he reached the name he was searching for. "Sir Gwaine," he read out the label hanging above the sword, unsheathing it, "I think it is time we gave this back to our friend."

Arthur smiled. "You kept them all this time?"

"I hoped that one day, they would be needed once more. I always hoped they would all come back."

"Then it is time your dreams were reality." Together, Merlin carrying Gwaine's sword, they left the room. Out in the cold light of day, they set off, side by side, down the road towards the horizon. "To Avalon?" Merlin asked, feeling his breath catch in anticipation.

"To Avalon."