A/N: If Merlin was mine, 5x13 would have gone very differently. In other words, I don't own Merlin.
ANTHI35: You requested Freylin. This has hints of it, but I'm 99% sure this isn't at all what you had in mind, so I'm posting another story with a lot more in it with a more satisfying - hopefully - conclusion. However, it doesn't really fit well into this anthology. I'll be posting it separately under the title "Lady". It's part of my "Emrys" universe. If you haven't read that one yet, it would be easier for you to understand if you did. If this setting doesn't satisfy, let me know.
. . . . .
Arthur wasn't sure what he'd expected of Avalon. Some pretty fields maybe, or something magical.
He hadn't expected the memories.
They weren't his memories, not exactly. If they were anyone's, they were Merlin's, but he didn't see events through the warlock's eyes. Instead, he hovered like a ghost, viewing events from an angle he never had before.
He wasn't sure he liked what he saw.
Honestly, what had Merlin been thinking?
Oh, it wasn't the dragon that upset him, not really. It was the other stuff. The "I'm-going-to-go-on-a-suicide-mission-to-save-the-prat-who's-been-yelling-at-me-all-week-and-threatening-to-banish-me-every-other-day" stuff. The "By-the-way-you-killed-my-girlfriend-and-thought-a-headlock-would-make-me-feel-better" stuff. Or, worst of all, the "I-didn't-want-you-to-feel-alone-when-your-father-died-because-I-know-first-hand-how-that-feels" stuff.
Not that he would ever tell any of that to Merlin, of course.
What really got him though, was how obviously terrified Merlin was of being caught and executed. Admittedly, for most people it would have been a fairly rational fear, but after seeing Merlin take down bandits, monsters, and the undead, Arthur honestly had to wonder what terrors the Camelot guards had for him. Especially considering how often he managed to break out of jail. Seriously, those cells were worthless. Arthur hoped Merlin had told Gwen that.
The memories ran out eventually. They were replaced with other, more recent, things. Things that could only have happened after his death.
He wasn't alone in watching. Others stood with him. Lancelot. Gwaine. Balinor. Elyan. Freya.
It was painful, watching those left behind grieve. It was even more painful watching them die, one by one, but that was almost better, because that meant they'd be joining them in Avalon.
Gaius. Leon. Hunith. Percival. Gwen.
Merlin didn't join them.
That was agonizing. He could feel him out there, anchoring them to the world, preventing them from truly moving on. And he could watch him grieving.
Sobbing alone in the middle of the night with no one left to come and comfort him.
Standing helpless as Camelot faded and fell.
Watching as Merlin grew ever more isolated as magic grew rarer and rarer.
And maybe just a tiny bit of jealousy when Merlin started to move on a bit. It didn't feel right to watch him go on adventures with someone else, even if the situation was entirely different.
Outlaws weren't Knights, and that supposed "Prince of Thieves" didn't have a drop of royal blood in his veins.
Of course, when they died too, and Merlin was left alone again, he would have given anything to take it all back.
He learned to just be thankful after that, whenever Merlin allowed himself to have friends for a while. They watched his adventures with bated breath . . . Well, bated breath, banter, and various betting pools. Gwaine was there, after all.
He was glad, for Merlin's sake, when he found a sorceress who shared his curse of immortality, they all were. But it hurt too.
Freya, for the obvious reasons, although she got over it the quickest, surprisingly enough. The rest of them, though, kept thinking the same thing: I should have been there.
I should have been there, teasing him with Gwaine. Gwen should have been there to elbow them both in the stomach and tell him something sweet. The Knights should have been there to band together and tell her that if she broke his heart, she'd have them to answer to, because Merlin had suffered enough, thank you very much.
They should have been there.
Gwaine should have been there to pester them into naming one of their sons after him. Gaius should have been there to help him when he worried that he'd outlive his own children. Gwen should have been there to help with the births and be all five children's favorite aunt. Arthur should have been there, to spoil them rotten with presents while pretending he was doing no such thing and to tell them stories of how their father, the mighty Emrys, had tripped over his own feet. Percival should have been throwing them in the air and carrying all three daughters at once. Gaius, Hunith, Balinor . . .
They should have been there.
Merlin was happier, though. That was something.
That didn't stop him from going down to the lake sometimes, though. He'd talk to them, even though he had no idea they were actually listening. Sometimes he'd cry, other times he'd rant, and sometimes he'd act like it was just a normal conversation, complete with imagined responses. Those tended to be both amusing and infuriating, and they tended to end with Merlin calling him either a prat or a dollophead.
Merlin's children snuck after him once. After that, sometimes they'd come and talk to "the people in the lake".
The creepy thing was, sometimes they got the feeling they could actually see them. At least two of the kids had gotten the seer gene, and all have them had magic in spades.
And, thankfully, the longevity one.
The world changed. Time stretched on.
Then things got interesting again.
Not that what happened before that wasn't interesting, it was just Dorocha breaking through the veil and dragons coming out of hiding and an army of skeletons marching across Asia was more interesting.
Modern society collapsed. Merlin and other magic users prepared to take a stand.
And that anchoring sensation got stronger and stronger, until suddenly, they found themselves standing on the shores of the lake.
Unfortunately, an Afanc was standing there too, but you couldn't be picky about such things.
"Hey, princess, you know how you were supposed to restore magic?"
"Yeah?"
"I think that's already been taken care of."
"Shut up, Gwaine."
The Afanc charged. They rushed to meet it, Arthur at their head, Excalibur in his hand. They charged with all the fervor of people who have felt helpless for far, far, too long and were finally allowed to do something about it.
The Afanc never knew what hit it.