Rage. Hopelessness. Sorrow. All aided in the sinking of Merlin's heart as Arthur took his last breathe, his eyes on some pointed figure in the sky and the light dimmed in the cautious eyes. His feelings built up, swarmed around his heart, caused the tears of frustration. Not when there were other ways. The prophecy he had tried for so long to deter had come to fruition. All at once, it came crashing down around him. He had failed. And there was no one but himself to blame.
The body Merlin dragged around now was not his Arthur. No, Arthur wouldn't have been so accepting of his friend's magic. He hated magic, knew it was evil. Still, it didn't stop his somewhat morbid fascination with it. Merlin almost smiled at the memories. Magic had been proven to continuously kick Arthur in the butt, knocking him unconscious, trying to kill him. But, it had also protected him for eight years.
He stopped mid-step. Eight years, he reiterated as he saddled Arthur back to the horse, curious of his pale demeanor as he studied the corpse. Had it really been eight years? The coming of the Once and Future King had been one told numerous times yet, he only reigned eight years? Then, what was the point of hoping for his return? Besides the policies Arthur had put in place, the good he did.
Merlin straddled the horse, lifting Arthur so the other rested his back against Merlin's chest. He rode the horse full gallop towards Camelot. Another situation that proved his King was gone. He would have insisted on remaining on the battlefield with the rest of his men. It was Merlin's stubbornness and defiance of that prophecy that had led Arthur to die in his arms. His own fault.
Trying once more to defy it, the tears subsided for rage to control him. He called for Kilgarrah in the language of old, hoping to plead with the Great Dragon again. He sprawled Arthur in front of his mentor, on his knees, the tears falling freely. Kilgarrah said no and told him that he was the magic for which Arthur needs to return. But, Merlin knew of no spell to bring the dead back as they were.
He rested Arthur on a raft, having wracked his brain for any other way, and let Avalon take him. Surely the waters would know how symbolic this day was.
The day he returned to Camelot was the day Merlin became a ghost. He felt trepidation, fear, worry from the same eyes that he read the blame. But, it didn't matter. Arthur's voice was always behind a corridor or behind his door. More than once had Merlin opened it, ready to wake the King only to find it empty. He traveled the same paths as he did when Arthur was alive, stunned to find the other no where.
Time moved quickly and slowly. Sure enough, Gwen revealed a new ring. Merlin scrunched his nose. "Too soon, too soon."
"What is too soon, Merlin?" Gwen had asked.
"My dear Gwen, he's only been dead two or three months at the most."
Sweet, gentle Gwen. She shook her head so slowly, tears brimming her eyes as dawn broached her brow. "No, Merlin. It's been six years."
"No… No, no, no." He laughed mirthlessly. "Arthur was here yesterday. Don't you remember his brood? His royal pratness sitting at that very desk?"
He turned to prove his point, discovering the desk no longer there. Only for it to come crashing over him. He gripped his heart, breaking past breathe. She was right. Still, she pulled him into her arms and held him against her shoulder, rocking as his breaths became ragged.
It became obsession all too quickly. He poured over the books Gaius left for him. What is the use of magic if I can't use it when I need to?
He barely noticed anymore. Gaius passed. Gwen left. The castle all but empty. Aithusa came and went. Camelot became a tale. Yet, Merlin only noticed the minor changes that pertained to himself: his cataracts, the age spots on his hands dried with the pages he flipped through.
Within his books, he found other answers. Sources of his friends' mysteries and pasts that came through. Like the Griffin that had come and Gwaine's friends that had come to join them. Still, nothing about resurrection.
Ten more years. Merlin could feel the pain in his upper back from hunching over his research, his eyes wary by the candlelight. Gwen had white streaks in her hair, wrinkles and age spots on her hands and face. Her new husband (and, by new, at least ten to twenty years) was a bit on the bigger side. Again, he could only think of the times he teased Arthur about his weight. Still, he noticed that she loved again, the smile on her face the same as when she'd smile at their King. He shook his head at her, trying to keep from her sight. She followed. "Merlin! It's nice to see you out of doors."
"Yeah, well… Love watching you fawn over –"
"Watch your mouth." He heard her threat.
"I'm sorry that your love is swift." He threw daggers from his eyes.
"That's not fair."
"No, what's not fair is Arthur is gone."
"Merlin…" She tried to reach for him. He stepped away from her, the hurt still in his eyes.
"How can you love another? Unless you never really loved –"
"Merlin." Again the warning. He avoided her gaze, sure he'd be in trouble if he met it. "You are not yourself."
"I'm not the same as I once was, that is true. But, to say that I'm not myself is hardly right. You haven't visited. Absorbed in your love affair while I try to resurrect the only thing that made sense."
"I say this because I love you." Gwen lifted his face towards her. "Arthur is gone. It's been nearly twenty years. Do you honestly expect me to believe our Arthur would want you to grieve for this long?"
"You wouldn't understand." Merlin whispered, collapsing into her frame. "We were two sides of the same coin."
Gwen smiled ruefully. "That's a term they use for soulmates."
She squeezed him slightly and turned away, the last time he would see her. He returned to the Lake where Arthur rested, a knife in his hand and vowed, anew, to watch the resurrection, to be the guiding hand that helped him to acclimatize to the changing world. No one had done Merlin mercy by telling him he was playing with dark magic.
In the tongue of the Dragon Lords, he called for Kilgarrah. To his surprise, Aithusa answered his call. She was not the same dragon he recalled. Her wing, though crimpled near the spine, grew large with spears that had pierced the patagium. Surprisingly still, Kilgarrah had taught her the old wisdoms before he had passed to the Great Cave.
"How much has changed?" Merlin questioned.
"Everything and nothing." She answered. "Time enough that people would hunt the last of my kind and use us for the scales to be purchased by Kings overseas. Yet, magic is not celebrated and wielders will burn."
"So, nothing has changed." He muttered to himself. "How am I to resurrect him if I cannot use magic?"
She nudged his shoulder affectionately. "Do not fret, Wizard. There are some that know the story of the Great Warlock and his loyalty to the Once and Future King. Look to the East."
"Where do I go?" Merlin asked, the wind starting to ruffle his hair as she started flapping her wings.
"Anywhere." She had the knack for Kilgarrah's final answers.
He traveled Albion first then to Ireland. His body, already old, hunched further still. Every portion of him shook as he traveled towards inner Europe and through Asia, gaining no other indication. Every time he used magic, he felt Arthur everywhere. Beside him, around him. He could hear the echoes of his voice, the eyes that sought him out in the dark with his torch. Time had not changed the young man he knew. At first, Merlin wept, pleading his life for Arthur's, insisting he shouldn't have died. Desperately, he found if he ignored the figure and concentrated on the spell, he could bring him back for good.
It wasn't until the twelfth century that Merlin first experienced the return. He had started to explore the Himalayans, staying with a few mediums that had pretended his request was viable for them. He had slept on his cot, gasping for breath. His heart thudded in his ears, a sudden pain working from his lower back to the upper, cracking here and there. This is it. This is death. He told himself as he felt a new draft on the top of his head. He felt cold, the warmth all but around him. But, if it were death, where was Arthur?
He risked opening his eyes, almost yelping at the sudden clarity. He sat up, expecting the sounds of the aged but finding that was no longer the case. His arthritic hands were smoothed and young again, the movements deft and quick. Panicked, Merlin looked for a connection, for someone to explain what had happened. He spent much of the time explaining he was the old man. Most dismissed that he was crazy. Only one asked if he would like to connect to the otherworld for an answer. He obliged, helping the man who would keep him grounded to this reality to the floor. He had just passed the brink of the veil when he was thrown back into his body.
Outraged, he clambered to his knees only to find the older having a seizure. He tried to calm him, asking for the words. It was no use. He stared at Merlin with eyes glazed over, a language barrier breaking the connection. Until it wasn't.
In the words of the Dragon Tongue that would sentence the man to a life in solitude, he could only speak one sentence. "Arthur Pendragon, Once and Future King, breathes again."
Merlin began his search anew, hope regained. But, as the years went one, he was sure that he had failed Arthur again. Once again, Merlin was a shadow.
The twentieth century had achievements Merlin predicted. He had been young during the first and second Wars yet, he couldn't find Arthur. Or, he muttered bitterly to himself while nurses and doctors swivelled around him, he was being patriotic to Germany. For a brief flash, he saw Arthur next to Uther. Hitler and Uther… He held a grin. Those two would have been friends.
Returning to the old man persona, he remained blissfully unaware of the gazes or the rumors around him. Still, it didn't help that he wound up in a hospital after suffering a 'stroke' on the side of the road. It baffled them that, with the severity, he hadn't lost any of his faculties and couldn't find any logic for why it happened. The only concise guess was that he had tried to end himself. He laughed at their attempts. As if he hadn't tried to kill himself before. He couldn't die. But, that didn't mean he couldn't feel the agony as his overly old heart had slowed its beating.
During his recovery, a nurse that reminded him of Gwen checked on him constantly, a pleasant smile on her face. "And, how are you today, Merlin?"
Even the way she spoke his name reminded him of her. How long had it been? He couldn't remember. "Much better."
He froze. Was that his voice? That croaking, weak sound? For a thousand-year-old Warlock, it should sound commanding, powerful. He shrugged to himself. "And you, Gwen?"
The nurse rolled her eyes at him as she fluffed his pillows. By now, even if her name tag said Jennifer, she and the other staff never tried to correct him. No, Merlin convinced himself, she knows she's Gwen. It'll always be her name. "I'm all right.
Another nurse, this one he called Morgana, rolled in his roommate, Gaius. Except, this wasn't the kind man he knew in Camelot. No, this one was bitter, old and angry who yelled at any girl. Or man. Gwen smiled sadly at Morgana as Gaius turned towards Merlin.
"Goddamn kidney stones are hard to pass." Gaius' look alike shouted, his eyes narrowing in Morgana's direction. "And, the women may be easy on the eyes but, they are some of the d-"
"Malcolm, medicine." Morgana commanded, not bothering to look in his direction.
"Why doesn't Jennifer do it?" Gaius shouted, preparing to work himself into a fit. "She's not a dolled up, stupid…"
Merlin covered his ears, his heart going out to Morgana. Even in this life, she had someone demeaning her abilities. Regardless, Merlin loved these nurses and hated his Utheresque doctor. Still, Gwen and Morgana switched places. As Angelica (Morgana, Merlin fixed) slid out the bedpan, he took her arm and gestured her closer. She leaned in, her ear hovering above his lips.
"Don't listen to Gaius. You're amazing and you do a wonderful job." He knew it wasn't completely true but, she smiled. Talking was difficult for him. He smiled to himself as he thought of the times it had gotten him out of trouble. Or in trouble, depending on the situation. He made himself sad thinking about it.
"Thanks, Merlin." She whispered back, squeezing his hand.
"How's Leon?" Merlin rasped, trying to remember the name of Morgana's fiancé. He knew that it wasn't that but, he couldn't be bothered. Morgana shook her head.
"Leon's fine. Working but, we're trying to get pregnant. I know, it's not traditional…" On and on, she prattled. Merlin briefly wondered if Morgana had done so in the years' he had known her. Of course, Arthur was his main priority.
Merlin drifted to sleep with a dream and woke to a nightmare. Uther or, as others referred to him, Dr. Bates, stood over him, reading his chart. He gave him a snide smile that sent shivers up Merlin's spine. The scariest, evilest man I ever met, he thought.
"Well, Mr. Merlin, you're doing fine." He crossed his arms over his chest. "But, you must keep down these excitations to a minimum. Your pulse is weak… I say, a couple more days and you can go to the day room."
This is not a life. Merlin narrowed his eyes as he watched Uther closely. Had he not known the man's habits in past lives, he would have ignored him. But, he did and he knew that Uther was in a power position right now. Still, he righted himself, the shadow of his billowy cape silencing Merlin's protests. "No, the other pills, Jen."
"Father." A new voice whined. Merlin furrowed his eyebrows and paused on the blonde-haired boy, no older than seventeen. Though muscular, it wasn't in the showy way WWE had portrayed their fighters. Blue eyes that looked green in the right light. He opened and closed his mouth, examining his arms. Not Arthur… But a dead ringer, he concluded.
"I'm working, Henry." Bates replied, writing a prescription.
"Can I go yet?" He was pouting, Merlin knew. If it had been Arthur, he would have stayed nearby and waited.
"I've told you a million times, it'll look good on job applications and transcripts. You want to be a politician, yeah?" Bates encouraged, finally examining his son. Merlin gritted his teeth.
"Yeah but, not a hospital. It's full of death."
"We'll go when I'm done, okay?" Uther cut the little jerk off midsentence. For once, Merlin agreed with Uther as the doctor left the room followed by the nurses. Henry sighed and sat next to Gaius, slumping in the chair. Gaius roused from his sleep, smiling at Henry. Merlin raised an eyebrow.
"Has Richard been?" Gaius asked, stretching.
"Another week, Grandad." Henry answered. "Why can't I live with you?"
"I'm old."
"So's dad."
"Then, I'm ancient." They shared a grin. Merlin grew bored, snapping his head back when he heard his name.
"Anyway, now you know. He's nice but, he'll die before I go." Gaius grinned as Henry waved. "Happy birthday, Once and Future King."
Henry laughed as Merlin blinked. This little punk? The one who ignored his dad's wishes? No. "Grandad, can't I have a new nickname?"
"No new names. I can barely remember the old ones." He insisted, dismissing the youngster.
Henry checked his watch before waving again toward Merlin. "Nice to meet you."
He ran off. Merlin laughed to himself. That little punk, the Once and Future King? Arthur would be turning in his grave.
Merlin felt the agony before consciousness had roused him. He found himself clutching the bedsheets, sweat pouring down his face. Oh, Death. Where the hell you've been all these years? As he roused, he recognized the pain, gasping as he clutched his chest. He bit his lip, his body convulsing as a tingling sensation ran through his arthritic fingers and up his spine. The hunchback posture straightened with a loud crack, leaving him immobilized. The machine beeped rapidly as his strained heart tried to right itself, growing stronger.
After what seemed to be an eternity, he slumped into his bed, panting as his fingers pulled out the needle. They were nimble enough to do so. He sighed, the familiarity overtaking his senses. He needed water, the glow from his own form illuminating the room. Gaius snored on as he straightened.
Standing he reached his toes for the first time in years. This time had been more painful, he decided. His body had begun the next course of action as his mind worked on a plan. He would not lose Arthur. Not this time. How'd he find him? He hadn't any success prior. Running a hand through his hair, he started down the halls. "And, what are you doing out of bed?"
He scowled, hating the tone of her voice. At least it wasn't Jennifer or Angelica. He turned. If memory served, this was Elena. Yes, that blonde hair and clumsy demeanor. Merlin felt a twinge of guilt. Still, his powers caused the tingling in his hands, the familiar glow of gold surrounding him. "You will find me a change of clothes. Merlin has passed away. His body resides with the coroner. All paperwork and body were destroyed in a fire you are to create."
Elena furrowed her eyebrows, eyes glazing over as Merlin instructed her. With a nod, she set off on her task. Merlin slipped through the doors, using magic to remain undetected and unlock one of the many car doors. He slipped inside, locking them again. He a place to sleep and something to eat. Then, he could plan.
Merlin slipped into a motel room, an empty bag of chips next to him. He sighed. Arthur was sixteen or seventeen when Merlin met him. So, he'd have to enroll in school. But, if he called himself Merlin, it would be a dead giveaway. No person had that as a last name. Unless he claimed that Merlin at the hospital was his grandfather. But, how many schools were in the country? Even if Arthur was in this country, the chances of finding him would still be slim.
Merlin sighed and leaned back. He had become too old to sit still and listen to another youngster talk about the days he had already lived. His hand clenched into a fist, pain shooting up his arm. He examined it, trying to recall the last time it had hurt that badly. Almost never. He pinched the bridge of his nose. What did that mean for him?
He sat up, one eyebrow raised as he considered all the possibilities and landing on one explanation: Arthur was near to him. Quite possibly, he had already been introduced to the prat. And, he was younger…
Not that little punk! Merlin screamed inside his head, hearing a window break from afar. He ignored the cries and the search for the vandal, his head pulsating. It was the only thing he could think. Arthur had found a host and Merlin was sure it was Henry. Which meant he needed access to the internet and there was one computer. He walked his way down and gruffly asked the girl on nightshift. Thankfully, the girl hadn't cared what he needed and allowed him to use the computer, her eyes on the tiny screen she used to text her boyfriend. Merlin typed in Henry Bates. Within five links, he found what he was looking for. A school name featuring an interview with the prestigious Henry, a senior who had done more than any of his classmates.
Thanking the girl, Merlin returned to his room. Even if it wasn't Arthur, Henry would become a powerful politician. He'd, at least, be a link to the Knights of the Round Table – perhaps another Galahad. Which meant he'd have to be around him all the time.
The hospital would be easy enough – they'd call. That would be his first step. But then, what would his name be? And why didn't he visit his grandfather?
Hunith needed him. That was the lie. Hunith… Merlin felt another course of guilt. He hadn't attended her funeral. He was drained after using more magic than he had used in three years. He thought about his story some more. Instead, his mind tried to remember his mother. Was she disappointed? Did she understand?
Focus. That shushed the thoughts. What could his name be? Now, kids took the name of their fathers. He wasn't completely lying if he were to say he were Taliesin Emrys Balinor. A dark train started. He snapped himself out of his thoughts, staring at his reflection in the television. Yes. You are Taliesin. You are sixteen. Son of Balinor and Hunith.
Bull. Merlin chided, pinching the bridge of his nose. He could have laughed at himself but, the last time he held conference with himself, they locked him in the nut house. At least he'd have Arthur.
A/N: It's been a LONG time since I worked on this fic. I've given it a lot of thought and decided to explore one avenue of Arthur's return. I will explain when I get to the last chapter but, I will be adding technology failing Merlin, Arthur starting to keep secrets from Merlin and, of course, Madam Shalott. Those who have read this before know who she is, others do not.