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It was, all in all, a thoroughly average day when Arthur came back, much to Merlin’s dismay.
He was busy calling some friends—or, the closest thing he had to friends besides Leon, which were bookshop coworkers that thought he was a doddery old fart—when Noah audibly choked. He'd been calling "Emerson" because Merlin had established himself as the resident Arthuriana expert, and Noah was visiting the Celtic Festival in the backwater town Merlin had established himself in. While Merlin did everything he could to avoid the festival, that didn't stop people from calling him up to ask questions about its accuracy.
“Christ, I think a guy took a swim in the lake," Noah said, holding back a laugh.
Merlin froze. “Er, Noah, what lake?” He had to double check. Very unlikely that, out of all the muddy lake waters and past all the lakes on the way to, from, and in the festival, Noah was at-
“Lake Hunith. I haven't left the festival, if that's what you're asking."
Shit. Merlin, who had been lounging on a couch and reading Slaughterhouse Five, shot up. It was probably some idiot who’d plunged into it because of the heat. “I- I mean, yeah,” Merlin said, already finding his traitorous brain running off into a dozen different directions. “Just wondering. Tell me, what’s happening there?”
“I think the man’s one of the actors,” Noah mused, and the entirety of Merlin’s stomach dropped into the fucking ground. He stood up. He hadn’t felt anything, but maybe-
“Christ, he’s just gotten out of the water with- with a sword!”
Merlin felt the whole ground shift underneath his feet, like a vertigo induced trip. Perhaps he had taken some bad mushrooms. That would explain the dots that danced in his vision.
It was like all the magic in him, latent for decades, had suddenly begun boiling. The points pricked against his skin, separate little lights of energy. It wasn’t painful, per se, in the same way it wasn’t painful to step into a warm room after being out in the cold. It was as if an old part of himself was abruptly becoming less numb.
“Noah- I-“ Merlin, for a single moment, wished he was talking to a real friend. Noah wasn’t a real friend; he was barely an acquaintance. Merlin then remembered the one true friend he did have. “Text me what else happens here, yeah? Certainly interesting. I'm heading that way. You alright to stay there for 50 minutes or so?"
“Yeah, of course, but- I think he’s speaking old Gaelic. Why the bloody fuck is he speaking old Gaelic?”
Merlin cancelled the call, and, with trembling fingers, he called up Leon.
“Merlin?”
“He- he’s back,” Merlin replied. He took in a deep breath. “I’m taking the car. Get back from Arizona now.”
Leon hung up immediately. They’d both been alive long enough to understand each other’s intricacies, so he knew Leon was already booking a quick flight to England. In fact, in a terrifying, nightmarish way, Merlin probably knew Leon better than he knew Arthur. The difference was that Leon was like his brother, and Arthur was… Arthur.
Oh God. Merlin went to his car, starting it and resisting the urge to magically speed it up. He’d kept in touch with magic through the small things, but it all wanted to burst out of him in one moment— that wasn't a good combination with a motor vehicle. He knew technology was particularly finicky from experience.
He’d changed. Merlin had changed. It was going to happen— it’d been 1500 years. This version of him looked 50 years old and was a doddery old bookseller at a random shop in a small town. Would Arthur even recognize him?
It didn't matter. Merlin pressed his foot to the gas pedal. Leon was in Arizona, and that left Merlin to do this, which gave him no excuse to be a coward. He began to navigate towards Avalon.
Merlin had named the lake after his mother when he’d bought the property in the 1800’s. It’d been passed down through his “family” (himself and occasionally Leon), but he’d never named it legally. Avalon was a bit on the nose- he’d used Lake Hunith instead.
When standing by the lakeside, about 200 years ago, on the annual holiday of Arthur’s passing, he’d drunk a bottle of wine with Leon.
“I don’t think I remember his face fully,” Merlin murmured. “I mean, I’ve used magic to keep the memories on paper, but it’s… it’s not the same.”
Leon took a sip. This was the one time of year they were allowed to mope and be miserable about being immortal. Moping any other time of the year was a sign of extreme distress, the type where they each took each other to a completely isolated spot to let out some rage. “I’ve forgotten how Gwen looked like when she smiled,” Leon said. “And Percival’s laugh.”
“I do remember Gaius’ eyebrow of shame.”
Leon laughed. It rang across the misty lake. “He’d love to hear that.”
Merlin sighed, and he began to do the one thing he always tried not to do: be honest. “I… I think I’d give it all up for Arthur. My memories of my friends, this country, my magic-“
Leon placed a hand on top of Merlin’s. “I know.”
“And it wouldn’t even work.” Merlin chuckled. “It wouldn’t have kept him alive if I had moved the heavens and earth. I tried.”
“I wonder if I'm lucky, to never have been in love,” Leon mused.
“Nah, not lucky.” Merlin took another swig of wine. “Not unlucky either, though. You just… are.”
Merlin would’ve been lucky to not fall in love, though. His love bent and broke a lineage; it failed a prophecy. Yes, Merlin thought morosely as he stared into the misty grey lake. Yes, it would’ve been best if he had never fallen in love.
Throughout the centuries, Merlin had only been able to leave England if he’d known Leon was there. His rules had been consistent— he could only be a short flight away from the lake at most, and, when he lived in England, he’d always tried to be less than 2 hours away, just in case. Arthur was the center of the universe for him, after all.
It hadn’t even fully been for Arthur's resurrection at a certain point, though. Merlin had- he hadn’t given up, but he’d stopped believing with his full heart at some point. It’d started to simply be a grounding point for him. No matter how much time passed, when he was in England, he was only 2 hours away from what made him himself— from Arthur and his past.
His house, this lifetime around, was about 45 minutes away from the lake. Those were the longest 45 minutes of his life.
Merlin haphazardly parked his car and ran over to where Noah was, dumbstruck on a bench. He jumped up as he heard the car stop.
“There you are! I called you five different times, you know that?”
“Phone was- threw it in the backseat,” Merlin replied absently, waving a hand. If he’d had his phone on him, he would’ve obsessively checked the news for information on Arthur. Better to get there in one piece and not have the difficulty of explaining why a man in a car crash had no lasting injuries. “Where- did you follow him? The man?”
“I mean, he ran off into the woods once the public swarmed him,” Noah said slowly, and Christ, of course that has been what had happened. Merlin began to run off, tossing his keys to Noah.
"Park the car in a garage near the shop, yeah?" Merlin said breathlessly. "And- and just tell Patricia I won't be there for a bit."
“Emerson, where are you going?”
“DON’T LET MY CAR GET STOLEN!” Was Merlin’s only reply as he took off into the woods.
Merlin had attempted to abandon Camelot when Arthur had died. He’d actually successfully stayed away for a good few weeks and begun to make a life for himself as a hermit. All in all, he probably would've made a decent one with all his nonsense— he was only stopped by Gwen in the end.
His door was unceremoniously kicked open by a bunch of knights. Merlin, who’d commandeered an abandoned old shack, hopped to his feet and flung them to the far side of the forest with just a hand wave.
Gwen hadn’t flinched, though. She just looked straight through him.
“Oh.” Merlin put his hands down. “Gwen, I… I don’t…”
“It’s alright, Merlin,” she said softly. She walked closer. Her eyes were red-rimmed and somewhat puffy. “Gaius told me.”
Merlin swallowed. He nodded once, stepping to the side to let her in. “I mean, I’d tell you to have a seat, but the only thing I got is my bed.”
Gwen gave a watery smile. “I’m used to worse.”
Merlin stared at her, sitting down. No one would’ve known she’d grown up a poor blacksmith with her posture, her dress. Only Merlin could tell because he knew- he had known her, once upon a time.
“I came her to tell you that…” Gwen took a deep breath. “You’ve been officially pardoned for any magical acts. It’ll be what keeps you safe until I make magic legal.”
Merlin, at this point, fell onto the bed next to her. “I- what?”
“I know that’s not why you stayed away,” Gwen said, “but I thought you should know.”
“Gwen, that’s…” Merlin searched for the words. For the first time in weeks, he felt genuine emotion well up in him. “Thank you.”
Gwen smiled back. She looked a bit more real too. “It was the right thing to do. Arthur-“
The room fell silent. Merlin picked at the fabric of the cloth she was sitting on. Gwen swallowed.
“Arthur taught me statecraft early on,” she said, voice thick with tears. “I’m just glad I can use it to help a friend.”
Merlin nodded. He kept his eyes on the blanket.
“Merlin, I’m here to ask you back.”
He shook his head rapidly. The good part about losing your second half was that he was finding it far easier to be a cold-hearted bastard now. “Nope. Won’t do it.”
Gwen raised a single eyebrow. “Truly? No matter what I ask?”
“Yeah, 'fraid not.” Merlin swallowed past the lump in his throat. “I’ve- I failed you all. I failed Arthur. I don’t think I should be let back in.”
“This is your punishment, then? Living out alone?”
Merlin opened his mouth to say something, some rebuttal, but Gwen cut him off first.
“Because I would do anything to live like this, I promise you.”
Merlin hesitated. For a moment—for the past few years—he had forgotten his friend Gwen. Everything had gotten sucked up into his devotion for Arthur, especially when Mordred became a fixture of the knights. Now she was here, still strong, but on the brink of collapse, and Merlin was being told to do something, to actually help.
“I…” Merlin blinked. He took Gwen’s hand. “I’m sorry, Gwen. What do you need me to do?”
Gwen looked at him. Her posture relaxed a bit. “For starters, I need you to talk to Gaius. He’s been worried sick about you.”
Merlin winced. He’d… everyone was dead. Arthur was dead, Gwaine was dead, Elyan was dead, Lancelot was dead— it was easy to forget people like Gwen and Gaius still existed. “I… alright. I will.”
“I also need a court sorcerer. Considering you’re the most powerful one in the lands, I thought you could help me choose.”
Merlin sighed. He dropped his head against Gwen’s shoulder, noticing her shock, but she still leaned into it. For a moment, they were both young servants again, not the people with the fate of a kingdom on their shoulders. “I don’t deserve any of this, you know. Arthur would be alive if I hadn’t-“
“But he’s not,” Gwen said simply. “And I need whatever friends I can. Leon’s told me I should be a bit more selfish. This is me doing that.”
Merlin choked on a laugh. “Yeah, actually, I’ve got to agree with Leon there.”
He sat there with her for a moment. For a few minutes, he could’ve convinced himself it was 10 years ago, ignoring the fine fabric on her shoulder, the different room, Merlin’s changed muscles. “I’m sorry, Gwen. For Arthur. For… leaving you.”
Gwen smiled again. It was still a small, watery thing, but it gave Merlin some hope, and that was precious enough in of itself. “I forgive you, even though I know you won’t forgive yourself. I just need you to be with me as I learn to- to rule alone.”
“You won’t be alone,” Merlin replied, standing up and taking her by the hand. “I mean, I know nothing, but I think Leon has at least one good idea in that head of his.”
Gwen laughed. Merlin shoved past the wailing thing in his chest and ventured forward for his friend.
It took about 30 minutes of Merlin wandering the forest—what passed for a forest these days, at least—for him to find Arthur.
Arthur looked the same. Or, well, he didn’t look completely like what Merlin remembered at first, but Merlin stared at him for a second longer, and it all snapped into place. The hair; the chain-mail; the eyes; the way Arthur was sitting morosely on the ground, his gaze as determined as ever; it all added up to the same portrait he'd been trying so desperately to keep clear for a thousand years.
Merlin walked up slowly. “Arthur?”
Arthur’s head whipped around, and a true look of relief spread across his face. “Merlin.”
Merlin fell to the ground. His knees hit the earth, and he felt the trees shake in response. He tried to scramble to get up, pushing on his palms, but Arthur was quicker- of course he was. Merlin was a wreck.
“Merlin,” Arthur repeated, and Merlin clung to his forearms and pulled himself up, bringing Arthur in for a hug. Damn Arthur and his emotional repression—one thing so influential it’d stayed over 1500 years—Merlin was going to hug his friend.
Arthur didn’t freeze, to his credit. He dropped his sword and hugged Merlin back.
Merlin knew he’d start sobbing later; for the moment, he was too awestruck. He could feel the warmth of Arthur under his hands. His blonde hair brushed against Merlin’s nose. Merlin took in each breath, and he could feel the grass growing and the flowers blooming because of the magic radiating from him.
“Merlin,” Arthur repeated. He continued to speak in a garbled noise that Merlin abruptly realized it was Old Gaelic.
He’d compensated for that much at least— re-learning languages was a favorite pastime for Merlin. It made him feel a little bit less like a living fossil and more like a wizened historian, if Merlin could ever get away with calling himself "wizened." “Sorry, repeat that,” he said slowly, leaning back to stare into Arthur’s eyes.
“Where are we?” Arthur asked. He wasn’t shaking—too well trained as a knight for that—but Merlin could sense his fear. He’d always been able to. He reached up a hand to cup Arthur’s jaw.
“Sorry,” Merlin muttered as Arthur nearly flinched back. “Being touchy, I know. It’s just… been a while.”
Arthur blinked. “How long?”
Merlin attempted a wobbly smile. It broke down quickly, and he found himself sobbing into Arthur’s chest instead.
While Merlin was, only in the loosest of definitions, a human by nature, he’d found most human coping strategies helped him too. For example, hobbies. He'd become very good at making hobbies his outlet for joy over the years.
Merlin was only human when he was enjoying himself— he became the great and powerful Emrys in times of need and, more aptly, misery. Learning to write and paint and draw and joust had all been great ways to keep himself a person. With painting, he'd begun to understand portraits and how to identify their age and style. He knew art history, knew how paint aged and how that changed hues. That meant when he'd seen the portrait of Leon in a very new painting, face the same as when Merlin had last saw him, Merlin had known something was up.
Merlin had steeled himself for an adventure that ended with a descendant, some man that just looked identical, but it ended up being far easier. He'd asked who the person in the portrait was, and he'd learned it was a self-portrait of a man willing to be hired. Merlin, who had built up a decent amount of gold by then, had found the address and entered a small cottage to see Leon right in front of him.
You,” Merlin whispered. He stepped closer to Leon. He’d known, in the back of his mind, that Leon dying made little sense for a man who’d had the Cup of Life, but he’d been too busy mourning everyone else. It was better not to question since it'd always led to disappointment.“Oh, thank god.”
Leon smiled. It was small and cautious. “Merlin?”
“Yeah.” Merlin laughed. “You got a drink here?”
It took about 4 hours for both Merlin and Leon to share how they’d discovered their own immortality. Leon had been murdered by a pack of bandits. When he’d woken up exactly 24 hours later, laying in the same spot, he’d been so worried he’d fled and never looked back.
“To face Gwen and Percival, knowing I’d outlive them…” Leon grimaced. “I don’t know how you did it.”
“Gwen strong armed me into it, that’s how,” Merlin muttered. “Frankly, over the last 80 years, I haven’t had many friends, so I’ll guess we’ll just have to figure this out together.”
Leon nodded solemnly at that. While Merlin hadn’t ever been incredibly close with Leon—he missed Gwaine the most out of the knights sometimes, simply because he’d never gotten to say goodbye—Leon had been a grounding figure. He’d been someone he could trust. Merlin was aware enough that, if his immortality continued for another 80 years, he’d need that sort of thing.
And it did. Merlin lost his mind a few times, hallucinating Arthur or Gwen or Hunith or Gaius. Leon preferred to try suicide through increasingly painful and macabre ways instead of hallucinating when it got too much for him. It never changed the fact that Merlin always, always worried Leon would one day stay dead.
“What even is Albion’s greatest need?” Leon lamented one night. They were both tipsy and vigorously becoming drunk on very expensive wine— one thing immortality hadn’t stolen from them.
Merlin scoffed. “Frankly, I have no clue. My destiny was supposed to be keeping Arthur alive, so forgive me if I doubt it now.”
Leon smiled softly, and he bumped his shoulder with Merlin’s. “It being right or wrong doesn’t change the fact that we’re here, Merlin. I think we should try and make the best of it.”
“Hm.” Merlin stared into the fire. “I guess we should,” he replied once the fire flickered to make the shape of Arthur’s face.
Arthur had to console him for God knows how long before Merlin was able to speak coherently.
“I- I’m sorry,” Merlin kept replying in varying languages—Dutch, Gaelic, English, French—and Arthur had just held him tighter. He’d even said the same words back, and that- that had kept Merlin crying for a bit longer.
Merlin wiped off some tears, hiccuping a bit. “Christ, I’m crying like a child. Leon would be proud of me.”
Arthur stared at him blankly. Merlin then remembered he hadn’t spoken in Gaelic. He repeated the sentence.
Arthur frowned, but some relief spread across his face. “Leon is here? What about Gwen?”
Merlin bit his lip, letting the pit sink in his stomach. That was partially why he’d cried, after all— once Arthur arrived, that meant Arthur would wake up in a foreign land with only two of the people he’d ever known. “Only me and Leon,” Merlin said. He was proud of how his voice only cracked a bit. “It’s- it’s been a while, Arthur.”
Arthur leaned back. He kept his hand in Merlin’s shoulder, seemingly only now seeing just how different Merlin finally was. “How long?”
“1,500 years. Give or take.”3
Arthur stared. He shot up and began to stumble back.
“I-“ Already, tears were streaming down Merlin’s face again. “I’m so sorry, Arthur. I’m so sorry.”
Arthur shook his head, but he stopped moving. “How? I don’t- that’s impossible. How did we-“
“I know,” Merlin said miserably. He stood away from Arthur. He knew that, when Arthur got in a particularly bad mood, he preferred to be alone and think. Since Arthur couldn’t quite be alone in this new world yet, Merlin would instead have to give him some space however he could. “I know.”
Arthur stared at him. Merlin wanted to laugh as he realized he’d only ever seen Arthur that horrified once before-- when he’d realized Merlin had magic. This was worse, though, because there was even more fear.
“…Alright.” Arthur nodded slowly. Merlin felt a soft, sad smile spread on his face. Clearly Arthur was trying to be a leader again; he was keeping a calm head in a trying time. Merlin wouldn’t try and overwhelm him too much. “Is- where do you live, now?”
“It’s a-“ Merlin took a deep breath. “Where I live is very far away, but I have a spare house nearby." It'd mostly been a depository for his personal library for the past 40 years or so. He'd probably never leave it now— he'd have to figure out how to sell his flat. That was a later issue. "It’ll be dusty, but we can make do. Is that alright?”
For the first time in 1,500 years, Merlin saw Arthur’s signature scoff. He wanted to cry again. “A second house- are you now a noble, Merlin?”
“It…” Merlin sighed. “It doesn’t work like that anymore. I’ll show you. Just… follow me.”
Merlin extended a hand. Arthur was clearly worried, and hesitant, and he looked at Merlin in doubt, but he still took Merlin’s hand.
The wind whistled in the direction of the cottage. A couple birds chirped. Merlin tried not to feel guilty that, with a lonely and confused Arthur, he was the happiest he’d felt in about a hundred years.
Merlin, after being told so by Leon several dozen times, had tried to learn how to live his own life. Specifically, he tried to live a life not determined by Arthur and the prophecy. He was, predictably, very bad at it. He’d eventually had to settle with a goal of having a good, non-Arthur related day once every decade— that seemed to be the most consistent way to stave off breakdowns.
(Merlin’s breakdowns meant the ground split in two. Merlin’s breakdowns meant a small, localized earthquake. When Merlin lost control of his magic, he could pulverize a dozen houses and turn people into dust. He’d only truly broken down about 3 times in the last 1,500 years, a number he was very proud of. Leon, the ass, was at 2, because he just had to be better than Merlin at literally everything.)
As time had gone on, he’d realized he thought about Arthur in some capacity every day since he wasn’t allowed to move on. “Getting over it” was fine and dandy with an actual dead person, but Arthur wasn’t dead. He’d come back. That meant Merlin was stuck in a perpetual stage of grief, knowing he could never fully let go of Arthur, and feeling like a betrayal whenever he partially did so.
So, the goal became a day—one whole day—where Merlin didn’t think he had been happier in Camelot. One day not fully tinged with grief and nostalgia, just regret that Arthur wasn’t there to enjoy it too.
He’d gotten decent at doing that. Some real ones to remember were the opening day of the bookshop he’d held in central London for a while. People had poured in, and he’d helped a child find a book. She'd gotten starry eyes when she'd seen the Alice and Wonderland book cover. Another was when he’d gotten his doctorate through university of Edinburgh— these were Merlin-focused moments that were only sad because he wished Arthur could be there.
In the dark of night, when he was completely and utterly alone, he’d thought about what could’ve been better: moments in Camelot that would’ve outranked those days. There were a couple, but they were just moments. Days in Camelot had been strenuous and exhausting work, full of lies and secrets and Merlin desperately trying not to die by an enemy within or outside the castle. Overall, his days now were more fulfilling in content, in what he did.
But he missed his friends. He missed Gaius. He missed Arthur. No good day seemed to hide that.
Merlin kept an arm around Arthur as he led him to the cottage he’d kept near the lake. With the flick of a finger, the room cleared of dust and brightened up with light.
Arthur stared at him.
“Oh.” Merlin flinched. “Sorry, I’ve gotten so used to-“
“Don’t be,” Arthur interrupted. Like he’d always done, he said it with a certain self-important air. It was a testament to Merlin’s love that it made him smile softly instead of flick Arthur’s head for being pompous. “You- you should’ve always been able to do that. In Camelot.”
Merlin swallowed past the lump in his throat. When he’d remembered Arthur, it’d been easy to forget certain things- one was how much it meant whenever Arthur was truly genuine. Merlin found himself tearing up again. “I- thanks. We should focus on changing you out of your clothes, though. Can’t have you catching a cold after being brought back.”
Merlin very much said that as a joke, but he could feel his brain whirling at high speed already. If Arthur was back, what had caused it? Why now? Could he do anything to-
“Merlin. You’re thinking far too loudly.”
A startled laugh escaped Merlin. Instead of hugging Arthur again or, even worse, falling to his knees to profess his love, he decided to remove the chainmail. “I can always count on you telling me to shut up, sire.”
“Am I still king?” Arthur asked. Merlin’s hands fumbled the clasp. It was taking him longer than before, now that there was a 1,500-year gap in practice. “Albion, is it-“
“It’s different,” Merlin interrupted. “But yes, there is a royal family, so I think you can still…”
“So you don’t know much at all, really.”
Ah, the very familiar feeling of being irritated with Arthur.
Even Merlin’s endless fondness for the man wasn’t stopping him from gritting his teeth and saying, “No, I don’t, Arthur. I didn’t even know when you’d come out of that damned lake!” with a bit of a hiss. Arthur had just gotten back, and he'd found one of Merlin's more easily pushed buttons, the one that made him panic at the idea of failing the prophecy again, of not leading Arthur again, of having him die and have Merlin nearly alone for 1500 years again.
Merlin threw off the top of the chainmail while stuck on that final thought. It fell onto the hardwood floors, scratching them and screeching against the friction.
Arthur blinked. He softened again, and shit, Merlin's state must’ve shown from how he was shaking. “I don’t think throwing my clothing at the floor is going to help you much.”
Merlin laughed again. He let his hands linger as they went to remove Arthur’s shoes. “No,” he said. “No, I suppose it won’t.”
Merlin had helped Gwen rule until the day she’d died, primarily as her court sorcerer. If he’d had his way, he never ever would’ve talked about Arthur. Gwen was determined otherwise.
Gwen was far too clever, that was the issue. She never strong armed someone into something, but she learned to quickly but kindly convince them it was in their best interest to agree with her since she was the far more reasonable one. It was, unfortunately, usually true.
Gwen had been kind enough to try and subtly suggest talking about Arthur. Usually over a good dinner when both her and Merlin were pleasantly full of food and wine. Merlin, as subtle as a brick wall when he wanted to be, had always turned the issue around. Gwen had responded with a similar attitude after her 4th attempt.
She and Merlin had gone to the graves of the knights. While not all their remains had been buried there, having a gravestone was… helpful. For most of their dead friends, at least.
Merlin muttered “forbaernan,” and he lit a candle. It was a dark night, cloudy but warm enough that he only needed a jacket on top of his normal outfit. He placed the candle on top of Lancelot’s grave. Gwen sniffled a bit.
“I really do still miss him,” she murmured. She put her hand to her mouth. “I thought I’d be over it by now, but…”
Merlin didn’t say anything. He looked towards the distance instead, in the direction of the lake. It almost seemed to glow gold with the candlelight.
“What about you?”
Merlin blinked. He looked at Gwen. “Sorry?”
“Where do you put your grief?” she asked. “I’ve tried everything, and it doesn’t seem to work.”
“I don’t…” Merlin’s mouth thinned. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “My work, I guess. Helping Camelot. But- I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone as much as you loved Lance-“
“Merlin.” Her voice cut like a blade. “I asked you not to lie to me again.”
Merlin swallowed. His heart pounded. He’d promised her, promised her after 5 years working as her best advisor, that he wouldn’t lie to her face. She understood why he’d hid his magic; that didn’t change how bad it'd be to have an advisor prone to lying.
There was nothing political about the request, though. Only personal. That was probably why Merlin opened his mouth and truthfully muttered, “I- his room. I still find time to tidy his room.”
Gwen smiled again, and she leaned on his side. “I think I should do the same for Lancelot. He didn’t have a room, but he told me about his favorite work of mine. I’ll keep it clean, make some more.”
Merlin chuckled. “First queen to spend free time as a blacksmith. You’re a legend, Gwen.”
Gwen laughed, tucking her nose into Merlin's arm. Merlin tried not to feel to grateful.
“Gwen, you have to know I-“ It felt insufficient. He started again. “I was never going to try and hurt you or Arthur, and-“
“Merlin.” Gwen paused for a second. “I… I think I’m glad, really, that you loved him so much. That you still do. Because I always felt so worried that- that Arthur never had anyone who put him first.”
Oh, Gwen. Merlin clutched her closer.
“And of course I loved him, I was his queen, but-“ her breath hitched for a moment. “I would’ve given it all up for Lancelot. I would have. And I didn’t want Arthur to always be put in second place.”
Merlin tried to be reassuring, rub his thumb over Gwen’s shoulder. “He… I don’t know if Arthur told you this, but I told him magic had no place in Camelot.”
Gwen froze.
“Yeah, crazy, I know,” Merlin said with a laugh. Even after 5 years, he was still finding secrets to unload. “I said it 'cause magic was going to kill Arthur. Mordred was going to kill him, and if I said magic wasn't allowed, Mordred was supposed to be stopped. I- I didn’t care if the people of Camelot suffered if it meant Arthur stayed king. I just… I just needed him alive.”
Gwen knocked her shoulder against Merlin’s again. They sat in silence by the grave for the rest of the night.
Merlin had spent enough time avoiding the cottage by the lake that it was, thankfully, not very modern at all. He’d kept a wood-fired stove, fireplace, and there was a lack of TVs or tech. Only the plumbing and the lighting would be necessary to teach Arthur in the immediate future— he could hide the laptop easily enough.
“And this isn’t magic?” Arthur asked, eyes tracing to the lamp that he turned off and on.
“Yeah, kinda like how Gaius’ ailments weren’t magic, even if you didn’t know how they worked.”
Arthur shrugged. “This is a very different from his awful-smelling ailments."
Merlin realized he'd forgotten that detail. it stung a bit, but lots of things had fallen through his mind in the years. “Still. You get the point.”
“I think I do.” Arthur turned to Merlin again, and Merlin was hit again with a wave of longing. Arthur was in a pair of spare breeches and a shirt, and they were a bit small, meaning the shirt was tight to his chest and the pants a bit high. “And the clothing?”
“It’s… clothing is very different,” Merlin settled in saying. “Women—and men, honestly—show far more of their body.”
Arthur nodded slightly, clearly appreciating even the idea. “Do you have a cot for me?”
“Just one bed here,” Merlin said slowly, waiting for a moment of Arthur exclaiming I shouldn't have to sleep with a servant in a house this big, MERlin, but Arthur's face sagged in clear relief. “‘Fraid we’ll share it.”
Arthur gave a small scoff. It didn’t hide how much more relaxed his posture was. “If it’s truly the only option.”
Merlin smiled a bit. “I’m afraid so.”
Arthur opened his mouth to make another remark; he hesitated. “I… I am glad you’re here, Merlin.”
Merlin’s breath hitched. “I’m… I’m glad too,” he admitted.
Arthur smiled— a small, crooked thing. Merlin smiled back.
He led Arthur to the bedroom. It had been a tiring day for both of them, but only Arthur was able to fall asleep within minutes. Merlin spent most of the night staring at Arthur and biting down the words I love you with all his might.
Merlin woke up to the sight of a sleeping Arthur. He felt his heart double in size.
Gods, he’d missed him. He’d known he’d missed Arthur, but he hasn’t really remembered properly. He hadn’t remembered a lot of things; the exact tilt of Arthur’s smile, his accent as he spoke, the way he’d always scoff with a slight raise of an eyebrow- Merlin was cataloging all of this, not letting it escape him one more time.
He got up, feeling his muscles twinge and ache in protest. He first went to his drawer where he'd kept the few artifacts from Camelot since Arthur's death.
Most of Camelot had been buried, or given to museums, or disintegrated— keeping everything would've been the road to even worse madness. Merlin had kept a few things, though. One of Gaius' old notes about poultices; an early forged work of Gwen's; a pottery shard from a broken dish of Gwaine's; the metal pendant Arthur had given him under a love spell. Merlin just stared at all those things, feeling far too old for his own good.
He realized it probably wasn't the smartest thing to continually harp on the past anymore, now that his ghost had come back to properly haunt him as he'd wanted, so Merlin closed the drawer quietly. He reached for his phone to start taking notes and compartmentalizing his next steps. Abruptly, Merlin realized he didn’t have a phone anymore- he’d given it to Noah. His car was with Noah too.
Shit. Merlin got up, trying to run to the kitchen and grab something to wake up. He kept the bedroom door open so Arthur would have a clear view of him, just in case.
Noah was a good kid, but Merlin had just given his phone and car keys to a coworker with no explanation. To Noah, it must’ve been like Merlin was acting bizarre. Well, it wasn't like- he had been. Merlin had been acting completely and utterly bizarre.
Merlin headed to his laptop and signed into his email. Noah had, thankfully, realized the laptop was still accessible.
Hey Emerson! Hope you’re alright. Seems you’re… doing something. I parked your car overnight (I will ask you to pay me back for that, I’m afraid) and have your phone. Do you just want me to drop it off? I'd just need you to send your address.
Merlin groaned. He quickly sent an email—some excuse or other to allow him to have a few hours to himself and Arthur—and officially sent in his resignation as well. Patricia would be glad- she'd been on his back about how he "deserved a good retirement" since he definitely had "considerable savings." He'd at least get some peace, this way. With a self-satisfied sigh, he went back to the bed.
“Arthur?” He jostled the side of Arthur.
“Mrmph?”
Merlin chuckled fondly, remembering the many mornings he’d had to physically drag Arthur out of bed. He’d been so heavy, all muscle and bones, warm enough to sear into Merlin's skin.
“Leon’s coming- Leon is arriving soon, idiot,” he said.
“What even is that nonsense language,” Arthur muttered into his pillow.
“Oh. Er, English.”
“English?” Arthur sat up, and bloody hell, he looked so beautiful in the morning light, hair ruffled. “Who uses English?”
“The citizens of Albion. Kind of.” Merlin swallowed, seeing Arthur’s confusion. “Look, can I give you- can I use some magic? It’ll give you the ability to speak English.”
Arthur frowned. He fully sat up, clearly waking up at this suggestion. “I…”
Against his will, Merlin’s heart sunk a bit. He knew better than to think Arthur’s hatred of magic was gone by now. However, it would’ve been really nice. After 1,500 years, he’d imagined this time with Arthur as a restart— the time he could use to truly be with him as Merlin, the sorcerer, not just the person he’s pretended to be.
Arthur nodded slowly. “Yes. I think- I should see you use magic more often. It’ll help me adjust.”
Merlin could hear the olive branch being offered; he smiled. “Course. I just need to-“ he reached his hands out.
Arthur leaned forward, his eyes fluttering closed. Merlin’s mouth dried a bit. Instead of letting himself think about that, Merlin gently placed his fingers on Arthur’s temples and murmured some more Gaelic.
“There you go. You can speak English now,” Merlin said, leaning back before he said (or did) something foolish.
“Is this the language you were speaking?" Arthur blinked. "Oh, gods, it is. Very odd.”
“Of course your accent transferred, you prat."
Arthur frowned. “What?”
“Even in English, you sound all- posh. Uppity.”
“I am not uppity,” Arthur said with a sniff, clearly trying to understand what uppity meant. Certain words didn’t translate one to one from Gaelic to English, and Merlin knew it’d be a bit of work for Arthur to figure it all out.
Merlin snorted. “Sure you aren’t. Want some food?”
Arthur scrambled out of bed, pushing past Merlin, who yelped as he got shoved. “Yes. I am starving! Seriously, Merlin, where are your manservants? This is an actual house you own."
“Got magic, remember?” Merlin walked to the kitchen and waved a hand; the plates and forks gently floated out the drawers and set themselves in he table. Arthur even got the fancy silverware because Merlin’s magic was as gone for the man as him. “I can clean it all up with a thought.”
Arthur cleared his throat. He seemed a bit overwhelmed with the magic, staring intently at Merlin’s eyes. “Er. I see.”
“Are you overheating?” Merlin put his hand to Arthur’s forehead. “You’re a bit pink, and-“
“No!” Arthur pushed his hand away. “I mean, no, I’m not. Just… still waking up. Yes. You mentioned breakfast?”
Merlin, thank goodness, had been on the pro-health and personal garden kick for years. He had no excuse to go to the grocery store and buy shitty donuts when he could make the plants in his garden grow at twice the rate. He took out his jam and the bread he’d bought—hopefully not too processed for Arthur—and began to get to work.
“So. How is Leon possibly alive?”
“He drunk from the cup of life, and it was a more… permanent thing than we’d thought.” Merlin turned to his tea kettle; it was already boiling since he was making tea for Arthur. Whenever he’d tried to make tea for himself, his magic hadn’t even been close to that thoughtful. “He can die, but only for one day. He kind of just… gets up. Afterwards.”
Arthur wrinkled his nose. It was an expression Merlin has associated with Arthur's disdain for the less noble knights; he hadn’t remembered it occurred with general dismay as well. “That sounds horrible.”
“We’ve learned to manage,” Merlin said with a shrug. He poured Arthur a cup of tea and slid the bread over. “He doesn’t age, either, so he tends to wander a bit.”
“But you do.” Arthur pointed with his butter knife. “How are you not- not a shriveled raisin?”
“Er.” Merlin blinked. He’d completely forgotten that he currently looked around 50 or so. “Yeah, but I can reverse it.”
“Will you?” Arthur looked hopeful, and Merlin felt insulted—he looked quite good for his age, thank you very much—but then he remembered this was essentially another alien face for Arthur. He’d never seen Merlin even reach 35; an older Merlin was another foreign thing.
“Oh, yeah, course.” Merlin stood up, moving to the patch of sunlight near the window, and he let the rays hit his face. With each pinprick of warmth, he imagined his skin reforming, gaining collagen and merging and his hair regrowing and-
“Merlin,” Arthur choked out.
Merlin whipped his head around. Arthur was now pale white, and he’d dropped his knife.
“Oh, Christ.” Merlin rushed to Arthur's side, letting his knees slide on the varnished wood floor. “Was that too much magic? I get it, I under-“
“No, sorry- I don’t-“ Arthur let out a laugh. He turned to face Merlin. “It’s just… it’s really you.”
Merlin felt his worry ebb away and be replaced with sadness. He tried to give a smile. “Yeah. It’s me.”
Arthur’s face wobbled, shifting between determination and stark fear. “My kingdom’s gone, isn’t it.”
Merlin swallowed. “It is, sire.”
“Gwaine and Gaius and Gwen- they’re all-“
“They’re all gone,” Merlin said softly.
Arthur let out a wounded noise. Merlin could see it all hit him at once, the complete and utter loneliness he was about to experience. Merlin pulled on Arthur’s hand gently; Arthur folded onto the ground and leaned into Merlin’s shoulder.
“I’ve got you,” Merlin said softly. Arthur began to choke on a sob. He’d always hated crying, hated even more making a spectacle of it. It’d been Uther’s fault, of course. Merlin rubbed a hand against Arthur’s back. “I’ve got you, sire.”
Leon and Merlin had, over the years, gotten very good at discussing and not discussing certain things. Leon had never asked Merlin what specifically he’d hallucinated; Merlin never asked Leon who he’d missed enough to try and chop his own head off.
It was a testament to Leon’s patience that he waited a whole year into their immortal adventures before asking Merlin about Arthur.
“You’ve gotten into literature,” Leon remarked, watching as Merlin transcribed what little he could into his personal notebook. He’d learned better handwriting, and how to conjure a notebook from an animal skin and some wood bark. He enjoyed writing very much. It was as magical as painting was, but it- it offered him some reprieve painting didn't. It was also, crucially, far quicker to jot down a diary entry than paint the grand paintings he wanted to do.
“Yeah. Poetry, actually.”
Leon choked on a laugh. “Right, poetry. Of course.”
Merlin frowned, turning to ask what was so funny, and then he blanched. He vividly remembered Leon catching him and Arthur one night.
“Oh, that- we were actually- it wasn’t poetry-“ Merlin babbled.
“I’m aware,” Leon said drily. “Your greatest skill was never subtlety.”
Merlin wanted to sink into the ground.
“I didn’t even believe you two weren’t together until Gwen told me,” Leon remarked, adjusting his blanket. They were on a nature hike- him and Leon had decided to adventure together until they grew sick of each other. It was good to have companionship, at least, and nature was almost always consistently beautiful.
“Oh.” Merlin swallowed. “No, we never- it wasn’t like that.” He stared into the sky, and he found himself instinctively trying to make a constellation of Arthur.
“Because he loved Gwen.”
“Yeah.”
“Not because you didn’t want it.”
“I can’t-“ Merlin sighed. He decided to pick at the grass instead; it was an even better way to not look at Leon. “That’s not the point, Leon.”
“Then what is the point?”
“That, as much as it might’ve seemed, Arthur and I weren’t fucking,” Merlin said exasperatedly. He rolled the piece of grass into a tiny ball. “I don’t want you to believe something that wasn’t true. Not when-“ not when all we have left are the memories.
“Merlin.”
“What?”
“Did any of the knights ever tell you what Arthur did when you went missing for that one day?”
Merlin blinked. That was an odd topic change. He finally turned to face Leon, who was looking very kind but very, very serious. “Er. No, they didn’t.”
“He spent the entire day arranging different platoons to find you. He literally told Gwen he was too busy looking for you. I think his specific words, when she failed to help him dress properly, were ‘I want Merlin back, where is he.’” Leon laughed, and it reminded Merlin to take in a breath.
“Oh.” It sounded very weak to Merlin’s ears.
“The point to that is…” Leon smiled. “Even if you two were never truly together, I think your bond was one of the few things Arthur would sacrifice his kingdom for.”
“I…” Merlin swallowed. “I’d never want him to do that.”
“Just like he’d never want you to kill for his safety,” Leon reminded him softly. “It doesn’t make it any less true.”
Arthur had moved to leaning on Merlin’s side by the time the doorbell rung. Even though Merlin felt deeply, deeply guilty about it, he could say this was the most physical contact he’d had with Arthur in a 24-hour span ever. That was… nice.
“Shit,” Merlin cursed in Gaelic. “Arthur, just-“
“Leon, I assume.” Arthur stood up. “I think I would like to meet him too.”
Merlin nodded slowly. “Al-alright.”
Merlin walked over to the door, looking through the peephole to see. Leon wasn’t too disheveled, but he definitely seemed panicked. It was a good sign, though— who wouldn't be panicked meeting an undead friend?
Merlin unbolted the door and opened it, allowing Arthur to step forward.
Arthur looked at Leon smugly as Leon’s jaw dropped. He was pretending he hadn’t cried 10 minutes earlier, the turniphead. “I heard you were the only knight brave enough to venture into this realm.”
“Arthur.” Leon flung himself into Arthur, knocking Arthur fully off balance and onto his ass. Merlin cackled.
“Gods, you two are awful,” Arthur grumbled, but Merlin could see how tightly he was clutching Leon’s shoulder. “Leon, get off, I am going to suffocate.”
Leon sat up, but he punched Arthur’s arm for good measure. “Merlin really was… you’re here.”
“I am.” Arthur’s face grew a bit more somber. “Merlin told me how long it’s been, and he gave me the ability to speak English. It’s… how much else has changed?”
“A lot,” Leon said solemnly. “But I think speaking English is a good start. I can’t speak Gaelic anymore, I’m afraid.”
Arthur’s face fell. Merlin understood that horror. Their first language had been their method of communication, the way he’d learned to say Arthur’s name. Changing only to English was… letting go of one of the few grounding points.
Arthur shook his head, clearly trying to ignore that feeling of being un-moored. “Where do you live?”
“In… in a mythical place discovered hundreds of years after you died. To the Britons, I mean.”
Arthur blinked. “What.”
It was at that point that Merlin realized the first step of learning about this new world was getting Arthur a map.
“So all of Albion is- is that?” Arthur exclaimed later. He tapped the British isle. “That’s it?”
“I’m afraid so.” Merlin fought to not grin as Arthur boggled at the size of the world. “And it’s called England.”
Arthur scowled, but he nodded and sighed. “Fine. And Leon lives...” he moved his hand to the US, right around Texas. “Here.”
“Little bit to your left, but yeah, basically.”
“The world is quite big now, sire,” Leon said. “Everyone speaks different languages too.”
“I did expect that,” Arthur murmured. “Alright. So, our word is far larger than I had thought. What else should I know?”
Leon and Merlin exchanged a glance. Leon meaningfully glanced at the closed laptop.
“He is not learning how to use a computer,” Merlin said.
“Compute? That means math, right?” Arthur snorted. “I don’t want to use math. Good decision for once, Merlin.”
“Later, then,” Leon said, tabling the discussion. “We need a cover story. Especially for you disappearing on your coworker, Merlin. He called me.”
“Oh, Christ,” Merlin exclaimed, his face falling into his hands.
Arthur frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I- a colleague of mine told me that you’d gotten out of the lake.” Merlin stood up. “Actually, now that you’re here, Leon, you should know I've resigned from my job. Arthur’s your long lost brother, and he’s been stuck in the woods since he was 8. How’s that sound?”
“I would not get lost in the woods,” Arthur said incredulously.
“Yeah, but Noah won’t know that.” Merlin raced to the door, barely slipping on his shoes. “Just- give me an hour. And Leon, get him to the basement library, yeah?”
As Merlin slammed the door behind him and began to run out of the woods, he vaguely heard the words “but I don’t want to read.”
The good news was that Merlin didn't actually need a car or any transport to get places. He could teleport himself somewhere if he'd been there frequently. He hadn't done that when driving to find Arthur because his brain had been rattling at a high frequency in his skull, and he didn't want to fuck the spell up. Thankfully, he was mostly normal at this point.
Merlin closed his eyes and felt the magic shift around him, almost eager to be used— being around Arthur had brought it out of hibernation, it seemed. It only took him a minute to appear right outside the shop.
Merlin went to the parking lot across the street and found the car there, unlocked because of course it was. Thank the gods he had magical wards around it. He reached inside and took his phone.
"Noah?"
"Emerson! How'd you open the car door?"
Merlin pitched his voice down a bit, making it somewhat rougher. "You left it unlocked."
"Oh." Noah, at least, sounded sheepish on the phone. "Sorry?"
"It's- it's fine." Merlin pinched his nose. "I'm calling you to tell you I'm resigning. That I have already resigned."
The phone was silent for a moment. "Sorry, you're what?"
"Moving to the woods, actually, fun fact." Merlin grabbed some of the paper he'd always kept in his car— he was the type of person to write everything down on paper, not online. "Leon's brother just got rescued from the woods after being stranded there for 15 years."
"Are you joking? I really can't tell if you're joking."
"Oh, I'm not." It was a good thing Merlin's life was insane enough that this lie was easy to do. "I'll put you in touch with my nephew- his name is Merlin. He's already on the way to the shop."
"Merlin like the wizard?"
"Like the bird." Merlin grinned. He always liked that excuse. He finished writing the note and began to head in the direction of the bookshop, lanyard in tow. "I mean, you can always contact me, but I'll probably be preoccupied getting Arthur readjusted to the modern world."
"You're- you're not seriously calling me up and telling me this as a goodbye," Noah said incredulously.
"Yeah, I am." Merlin paused. He'd known how temporary their relationship was—all of them were temporary as an immortal—but Noah hadn't. Noah was a regular young adult. "Listen, Noah, you were a fantastic coworker, even when you weren't smart enough to hide that you vaped in the bathroom on your breaks."
"Hey!"
"But family is… it's family." And Arthur was his family; Arthur was his everything. "Call me later if you'd like, yeah?"
"Alright." Noah sounded vaguely stunned. Merlin did suppose that this would shock nearly anyone who wasn't like him. "Goodbye, Emerson."
"Bye Noah." Merlin hung up, and he walked into the old bookshop.
Noah was staring at his phone, heading the cash register. His eyes snapped to Merlin.
"Blimey, you look like-" Noah shook his head. "Wait, are you his nephew? Merlin-The-Bird?"
"Guess he mentioned me." Merlin grinned, offering out a hand. If Merlin was about 1,500 years younger, he would've been slightly disgusted with how casually he lied and tricked people. Merlin wasn't that young, though; Merlin was old. Merlin knew that this person would be dead soon, and so all the lies felt like fleeting mischief, like staying up late as a child. "He's busy helping Arthur, so he sent me out to turn in his lanyard and resignation note." He slid both across the table.
"Oh my god." Noah stared. "Patricia even told me not to worry about him, but I thought it was- was sick leave or something. He actually wasn't joking."
"Nope," Merlin said, popping the last syllable.
"Okay. Alright." Slowly, Noah took both the items, and his shocked eyes never left Merlin. "You look just like him."
"Big ears, I know."
Noah laughed. Merlin had always found humor was the best way to deflect any possible suspicion. "Yeah, his ears are massive. Not to be nosy, but-"
"You want to know why my uncle disappeared out of nowhere?"
Noah nodded vigorously.
"His close friend's brother, Arthur, disappeared about 15 years ago," Merlin said, spinning a lie from nothing. He had always enjoyed telling stories; it was just bad luck that meant he had to pretend those stories were truth. "He lived in the woods a bit, then got amnesia, sent to a hospital. Only recently was his next-of-kin found, Leon. Leon brought Arthur over to M- Emerson's house. I think he's crashing there for a bit."
"And you're Emerson's nephew?" Noah said slowly. "He's never mentioned any siblings."
"Yeah." Merlin searched for answers to this discrepancy; an altered version of the truth came to mind. "My mum—his sister— died a while back, and my dad left after I was born. Wouldn't be surprised if it was a sore subject for him."
"Ah." It seemed to be enough of the truth for Noah. "So you're, what, helping Arthur adjusted?"
"He's my age, so, yeah." Merlin shrugged. "Not to be rude or anything, but Emerson can be a bit… removed."
Noah snorted. "Yeah, that's one word for it. Good luck getting all that sorted out."
"I'll need it." Merlin gave a wave. He'd, at least, resigned successfully. That was one major success. "Best of luck with the bookshop, yeah?"
Noah nodded. Merlin shut the door.
It seemed Leon had given Arthur some range on the library, as Arthur had 5 different books opened near him when Merlin stepped downstairs.
Everything changed as time progressed. Books did too, but it was a more stable change. There was always something grounding about reading, about having images come to life from the letters on the page. Merlin, whenever he'd gotten particularly nostalgic, had recorded his adventures as best he could as novels. Arthur hadn't found those—thank gods, Merlin was a bit free with his feelings in those—but he had three books on the history of England and two books about electricity sprawled on the floor instead.
"Merlin!" Arthur looked up, grinning. Merlin had to stop himself from fainting on the stairwell because of the relief that coursed through his veins. Even though he'd only been gone an hour, not seeing Arthur for that time had been suffocating. Only now did it feel like he could breathe. "When trying to find an insult for you in this new language, the best one I could find was nerd."
Merlin choked on a laugh. Gods. "Yeah, that- did Leon tell you that?"
"I did not," Leon remarked from the back of the room. He was setting up an age-restricted Google account on his phone. Merlin sent out a thank you to Leon mentally for remembering to add an age restriction. Arthur did not need to see modern day pornography by accident. "I know better than to anger you by now."
Merlin hummed. "Good." He sat down by Arthur, close enough so that their knees brushed. "Electricity, then?"
"You told me it wasn't magic, so I'm trying to understand how." Arthur frowned. "It's… confusing."
"Arthur, I've lived for 1,500 years, and there's still plenty I don't get about the modern day. I promise you, it's… a lot. Too much for one man to understand."
A shadow fell on Arthur's face from the reminder of Merlin's age—whether it was guilt or fear, Merlin didn't want to know— but it disappeared quickly as he picked up the other book. It was open on the Battle of Hastings. "This says the Normans won a battle."
"They did."
Arthur scowled. It was, frankly, a bit adorable. "Rubbish."
"I know, but that's a while back, Arthur. More important stuff to focus on now. Like figuring out why the hell you came back." This was something Merlin had wanted to avoid, but, as an immortal, he'd learned the priority of focusing on things as soon as possible. If he put a task to the side, that usually meant a couple of decades until he picked it up again. He couldn't risk that now.
"Did you feel anything odd? When Arthur was resurrected, I mean," Leon asked. When both of them looked at him, confused, he said, "I mean, I assume this is magic related, and Merlin is magic. Understanding his innate reactions may help."
Arthur blinked. He'd probably forgotten the extent to which Merlin being "the greatest sorcerer to walk the Earth" meant something.
"I felt… like my blood started moving again." It was hard to describe that instant moment of joy, of complete awakening. "If I hadn't gotten the call from Noah, I wouldn't have known it was Arthur-"
"Noah?" Arthur said sharply.
Merlin blinked. "Er. Coworker at the store."
Arthur, who'd quickly begun to scowl, smiled again."I knew you weren't a noble— you work for someone! A bookstore, though? I had assumed you made all these books with magic, but is there even more?"
Merlin, very quickly, realized he had to explain the invention of the printing press.
"So anyone can have books now," Arthur said flatly.
Merlin shrugged. "Pretty much, yeah. There are these things called libraries- big stacks of books that can be borrowed by anyone who lives in this country."
"Even peasants?"
Merlin swatted Arthur on the back of his head. He knew it was truly an issue when even that moment of self-absorption from Arthur was something he felt fond of. "Yes, you dollophead. Peasants aren't really the same anymore. It's… you were king, yeah? And besides the crown, because you were king, you had the best stuff in the kingdom?"
Arthur nodded slowly.
"Now, whoever has the most coin has the best stuff, and that's more important. I mean, we care about the King in England-"
"Mostly," Leon interjected.
Merlin glared at him. He tried his best to ignore Leon's shouts of removing the monarchy. "Mostly, but if you have coin, you're up there."
"I don't like that," Arthur proclaimed.
"No, thought you wouldn't." Merlin sighed. "Still. we're nowhere closer to figuring out why the hell you're back."
"I think we may not know until it's vitally necessary," Leon said. "Until then, we just… get Arthur adjusted. Help him figure it out."
Merlin opened his mouth, and then he abruptly closed it again. How could he say actually, I need to know now so that when the time comes, I can break the laws of death and life and make sure Arthur never leaves me again? He couldn't. So he just sighed and nodded as well.
"Now, if we truly have all these books, do you have any on war?" Arthur asked, and Merlin felt himself groan from the depths of his soul.
Merlin had not labeled his feelings as love until the day he told Arthur there was no place for magic in Camelot. At that point, there had been only one explanation for his complete betrayal of his people.
Sometimes, Merlin wondered if his immortality was his punishment. Well, he didn't wonder— he knew. He knew, in his bones, that his immortality was the result of him always choosing Arthur over everyone else. He would always choose Arthur over his people; he would choose Arthur over himself. It was paradoxical, that his truly selfish actions were all focused on keeping Arthur in his life. He was his own person only if Arthur was near him. Otherwise, he was Emrys, the god of magic on the planet.
This line of thinking would commonly piss off Leon, so Merlin tried to keep it to himself. On his worst nights, the ones where he wasn't truly going insane but felt completely miserable, he'd find himself a blonde man and spend the night with them, just so he could stay up and look at the hair and remember Arthur. It was cruel. More than that, it was stupid. Merlin couldn't stop himself, though.
Merlin spent the rest of the day reading books next to Arthur. Once Arthur had realized Merlin would basically answer any questions he had about the book, he'd glued himself to Merlin's side, trying to figure out this modern world. Leon had taken pity on Merlin and gone out for groceries, allowing him to be attached to the hip of his king.
By the time dinner rolled around, Merlin dragged Arthur to read up in the kitchen with him so he wouldn't be out of sight.
"Really, Merlin, this basement is incredibly comfortable." Arthur groaned as he stood up, stretching his arms, and a sliver of his stomach was visible. Merlin's mouth went dry. He pushed it back, like he'd always done. "How is it always the same temperature?"
"Er. Air conditioning." Merlin grabbed Arthur's hand and pulled him up the stairs. Arthur was putting up a fight, so Merlin resorted to physically pulling him.
"I don't think the air needs to be conditioned for a fight," Arthur mused. "Does it mean something else?"
"Yeah. Words are… complicated."
"I'm not a child. I know that."
Merlin snorted. He waved a hand and, pulling stuff out of the fridge, began to dice some onions. "Could've fooled me."
There was silence. Merlin turned to face Arthur. Arthur's entire face flushed and he looked away.
"Oh." Merlin realized he'd used his magic to open the cabinet drawers. "Sorry, I can stop…"
"No," Arthur interrupted. "It's fine. I just… need to get used to it. That's all."
"Alright." Merlin hated seeing that uncomfortable, flushed look on Arthur, as if he was embarrassed, but he decided to not remark on it. Arthur hated being reminded of his weakness. "Leon, what's the dinner plan?"
"Chicken, mostly." Leon's face went from considering to joyful as he looked over to Arthur and grinned. Abruptly, Merlin realized he hadn't seen that smile from Leon in a while. He'd been lonely too. As much as Merlin tried, he'd never been a knight, never been in that band of brothers. Leon had missed Arthur as much as a normal person could've; Merlin was just incredibly not normal.
"I'm afraid to tell Arthur about the gym."
"Oh, don't you dare," Merlin said with a grumble, and Arthur immediately perked up. His one true love hadn't even been Camelot— it'd been pissing off Merlin.
"Gymnasium? A place to exercise?"
"Yeah. I think you'd fit in there."
"Oh, plenty well," Merlin said with a scowl. "I can already see him swanning and peacocking-"
"I do not peacock!"
"Peacocking as he brags about his macros or whatever the newest term is." Merlin elbowed Arthur at the table, and Arthur elbowed back. Merlin felt all of 25 again in that moment. "Leon, don't let him go to the gym."
"I won't."
"Awful. You're absolutely awful," Arthur declared. "How has one of my knights become more loyal to you?"
"I do what is best for you, sire," Leon said mildly, taking the diced onions and scraping them into the pot, "but what's best for you is also usually what Merlin thinks."
"Horrible," Arthur said again, leaning his elbows against the table to slouch. "I'm sacking you both."
Merlin and Leon exchanged a grin instead of saying anything else. "Of course, sire."
It took Arthur a few weeks before he snapped, before the weight of the modern world descended upon him again. Merlin had to give him credit; it was longer than he would've thought anyone could hold out.
It occurred when Arthur, on his newfound google search adventure, found records of "Arthurian Legends." Specifically, Lancelot and Guinevere.
"Merlin," he called out from the living room. His voice was strangled; Merlin paid only half a mind to it, mostly because Arthur had been that scandalized by the enormity of modern-day produce and how much meat a burger had.
"What?"
"Who is Galahad?"
Merlin froze. Shit. He'd lived with the legends of Arthur so long he'd forgotten that Arthur— well, he was from before then. He rushed over to the computer.
Already the tabs looked bad— Lancelot King Arthur, Lancelot and Guinevere, Morgause, Morgause sibling, Mordred dad Arthur???. Merlin cursed under his breath.
"Yeah, uh-" Merlin grimaced. "I tried to keep it mostly true. It quickly proved impossible."
"I've seen," Arthur said with a snort. He clicked on the last tab. "Really, Merlin, me as Mordred's father?"
"What was I supposed to do?" Merlin threw his hands in the air. "'Sorry, I know you're wrong because I'm an immortal wizard?' You barely believed me when I confessed to regular magic!"
"Because you're a fool," Arthur retorted back, but it was halfhearted. His eyes were already on the Lancelot and Guinevere page. "This says they ran off together."
Merlin blinked. "Well. You were there, Arthur. She didn't."
"Yes. I suppose so." Arthur's hand stayed on the mouse. Merlin couldn't see his expression. "But she would have, if he'd been alive. Merlin?"
"I…" Merlin wanted to say no, of course not, she loved you, but he knew you could love someone and hurt them nonetheless. Besides, he'd promised not to lie to Arthur again. "Yes, sire?"
"Do you have any training dummies?"
Oh, good, Arthur was going back to beating things up. At least it'd let some of his emotion out. Merlin sighed. "No, but I can in a moment."
"Excellent." Arthur stood up, almost causing the chair he was sitting on to be knocked over. He brushed past Merlin. "Don't dawdle, Merlin."
"Right, course not." Merlin rushed out to the lake.
He hated looking at that lake. However, with Arthur right there, and the lake full of life and flowers and trees, it was almost different enough for him to deal with. Almost.
Merlin waved a hand, feeling the magic nearly leap to his command and make the dummies. It'd always liked Arthur.
Arthur was still in very basic clothing— just a t-shirt and sweatpants. Merlin had ordered more clothing online in the end, realizing Arthur would end up complaining if he continued so wear stuff a size too small. He'd toyed with the idea of making it, conjuring up the old garments, but it'd be too realistic. He could only copy things he knew well, like the many training dummies he'd dealt with over a decade. He knew Arthur's wardrobe well enough, but the idea of holding a copy of his old jackets made something hot press against the back of his eyes.
Arthur grabbed his sword and began to lash out. He struck, again and again and again, causing the wood splinter and fall onto the grass. Merlin winced. He could see the rage-filled tears in Arthur's eyes.
Merlin stood there, watching. He didn't like seeing Arthur like this, but he hated not seeing Arthur more. It was almost pathological, his incessant need to be around Arthur all the time.
Arthur fell to his knees after a bit, after the dummies were thoroughly mangled and destroyed. He was panting. His eyes were red and teary.
Merlin slowly approached him. When Arthur didn't move to run away or hide his tears, Merlin stood by his side, standing above the fallen king.
"You know, Merlin, I sometimes think that, even with all the lies, you were the only one to stick by me." Arthur looked up, eyes cutting through his eyelashes. "Even Guinevere had someone she preferred. I think something's wrong with me."
Merlin felt something in himself break. Arthur's tone was so casual, and it hurt. Gods, it hurt. He fell too, letting his knees buckle and his hand move to Arthur's shoulder. "Gwen still cared for you, Arthur. So did Gwaine, and Elyan, and Percival, and-"
"But they all left." Arthur swallowed. He looked directly at Merlin. "Morgana left me. So did Agravaine. Do you know why?"
"I…" Merlin grasped for some truth he could share. "I really don't," he admitted. "I- I couldn't even leave you when you died, Arthur. I don't know how they could leave when you were alive."
The corner of Arthur's mouth quirked up. He looked a little less lost, now, a little less broken. He looked just deeply, deeply tired.
He stood up, brushing off the grass and dirt. He offered a hand to Merlin; Merlin took it.
"I think I needed that," Arthur announced, looking at the dummies. "Really, my form was going to fall apart if I didn't practice."
"The fact that you bashing some wood in is 'practice' always amazes me."
A startled laugh escaped Arthur. He looked back at Merlin, and there- there was a smile again. Merlin smiled back.
Arthur's face became- well, not solemn, but considering. He looked Merlin up and down. "You kept your promise, you know."
Merlin blinked. "Sorry?"
"You stayed the same." Arthur knocked his shoulder into Merlin's. "I thought I didn't know you that day. But you're still… you, even after all this time."
Merlin didn't quite know what to say to that. he didn't have to, though- Arthur headed into the cottage again, not saying a word. Merlin was left behind in the field, watching his king leave.
Leon had been a grounding presence for Merlin many, many times, but Merlin was able to call it friendship because he'd stopped Leon from breaking too. For instance; the death of Leon's first wife.
Leon had never loved anyone the way romantic love had been described, he'd been very blunt about that, but he'd cared for people and he'd always enjoyed pleasing them. So he'd become friends with a woman who he liked, and she liked him well enough, and if he married her, she'd be more safe and with a good friend on her side. So they'd married.
Merlin had known it was a bad idea. He'd doomed a kingdom from falling in love; being immortal and in love was an even worse idea. He hadn't said anything, though, mostly because one look was all he'd needed to convey his reservations.
Leon's wife was named Sefa. Sefa was quiet, and kind, but could hold a grudge better than anyone Merlin had met, including Merlin. She was always silently angry at the world for not being kind because she could be after everything, and that meant everyone else had no excuse. She had also been very, very reasonable, making it difficult for her to reconcile Leon's immortality with reality.
It'd taken a decade of Leon not aging for her to realize something was wrong. It took him dying of cholera and Merlin, after keeping him in a room for a day, showing off her fully alive husband for her to agree. She died about 6 years later from the same illness.
Leon had snapped. He'd been perfectly calm and quiet the day of the funeral, even helping bury her, but he'd disappeared overnight. He hadn't even left an address for Merlin to follow. Merlin, who had powers beyond any normal mortal, had found him in a couple of hours and approached.
In front of Leon was a sword. He'd sat by it patiently, and, when Merlin had arrived, he'd said one thing; "Can you still call a dragon?"
Merlin stared. He quickly realized the implications of Leon's request. "Leon, I'm not doing that."
"Hm." Leon laughed, but it was humorless. "So you're denying me this?"
"Yeah, actually, I am." Merlin sat down across from his friend, letting the sword stay untouched. They both knew it was a childish tool for them, but the act of taking it, of even pantomiming violence would show the true rage underneath."I can't kill you, Leon."
"Can't or won't?" Leon didn't even say this unkindly, the bastard. Even in his worst moments, he never tried to be cruel.
"Can't," Merlin said steadily. "I've never pretended I'm a good person, Leon. A good person would let you die. I- I can't do that."
Leon stared at him. He analyzed every square inch of Merlin, looking for a break, for something he could use to get his end.
Finally, he sighed. "Alright. It was a long shot anyways." The tension all broke in one fell swoop; suddenly, Merlin could stand, and Leon was himself again, not a ghost and a shell of a mythical knight.
"You are a good person, you know."
Merlin wanted to laugh. He did, but it wasn't nearly as choked off as it should've been. "I don't need a lie like that, Leon."
"I'm not lying." Leon turned to him, and there was such brutal honesty in his eyes it made Merlin's hands tremble a bit. "I don't think an evil man could love people as much as you do."
Merlin swallowed. He pictured Arthur's face, the one he'd always made whenever Merlin hadn't hidden his cleverness under a stupid joke or a fake smile. He pictured Arthur in the people around him whenever he got particularly morose. "You'd be surprised."
Arthur spent a day in his room. He then spent a day on a walk in the woods. He'd promised Merlin he wouldn't go further than the woods, something Merlin only believed because he knew Arthur was already overwhelmed with the simple things in the cabin. After those two days, Arthur knocked on Merlin's door at the 3 in the morning.
Merlin startled. He'd never had the best sleep schedule—constantly running around in the middle of the night to save a prat's life would do that to you—but he wasn't used to others being up at this hour. "Er, come in."
Arthur shuffled into the room. He was wearing long flannel pants and a tight t-shirt, one that showed off a sliver of his hipbone. Merlin had to very purposefully focus on Arthur's words. "I don't want to be lied to anymore, Merlin."
Merlin blinked. He took off his glasses. "I haven't lied to you since you've gotten back."
"I believe you, but how many lies did you tell me in Camelot?" Arthur stood next to the bed. "I want to know."
Merlin thought about it for a second. "Hundreds, probably."
Arthur nodded slowly. "Alright. Tell me one."
Merlin decided to go with something harmless to start with: a way to test the waters. "Balinor was my father."
Arthur's face instantly shuttered. Regret coursed through him. "Gods. That's why you cried."
"Yeah." Merlin found it a bit difficult to recall his emotions that day. After such a long life, he found the absence of Balinor more important than the existence.
"I'm… I'm sorry."
Merlin was touched. Arthur sounded genuine, and he was certainly uncomfortable from the way he was fidgeting with a piece of the duvet. "It's alright," Merlin said softly. "I forgave you for that centuries ago." The centuries slipped out unbidden, and both of them winced at the reminder of Merlin's eternal age.
Arthur stayed at the foot of the bed. His gaze was probing. Merlin searched his memory.
"Oh. Uh, Lancelot knew about my magic."
"What."
"He saw it early on," Merlin explained. Really, there was no reason for Arthur to seem so irritated. Why was he even close to angry? "Saw me enchanting a- a weapon, I think? Maybe a poultice. All blurs together after a bit. Either way, he knew. That's why we were so close."
"Oh." Arthur flushed. "So- it wasn't like Guinevere?"
"What?" Merlin tried to figure out what the hell Arthur meant by that.
Arthur sighed, finally looking exasperated with Merlin. "Like Guinevere. She loved him, and I thought you might have as well, looking back."
Merlin stared. "You're joking."
Arthur rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. "I'm not."
"No, I wasn't in love with Lancelot," Merlin said slowly. He scoffed. "Gods, no. He just… it was a lot to carry around the secret sometimes. He was the one person who knew besides Gaius."
"Hm." Arthur nodded slowly. He sat down on Merlin's bed. "What else?"
They talked until the sun rose. It was a lot of small, tiny things Merlin had hidden, ones he'd felt were irrelevant or minor enough or so inoffensive and understandable that he knew Arthur wouldn't get truly mad. I got a pixie out and that's why your father became bald; the flowers for Morgana were cover for asking her about magic; obviously I cheated at dice and the mace, but I also used magic for cleaning your stuff a ton too. He'd reveal something, and then him and Arthur would descend into jokes and remembering the past. it was only when Merlin said I was secretly the Dolma that the pattern broke.
"You were what," Arthur said at the reveal.
"Oh, yeah. I was Dragoon too."
Arthur's face fell, becoming betrayed, and then Merlin remembered what had happened with Dragoon.
"I didn't- I didn't kill Uther, though. It was Morgana. I promise."
Arthur stared at him evenly. "I believe you," he said after a long, long second. "What else?"
"The dragon." It spilled out unbidden. Arthur's eyes widened, and Merlin felt himself steel with the certainty that this was the first of Merlin's many mistakes that Arthur would be truly angry about. "I- I was the one to set him loose. He threatened me into it, but-"
Arthur stood up from the bed. "That's enough," he said sharply. "Christ, Merlin, I don't-" He ran a hand through his hair. "Why?"
"He…" Merlin swallowed. "Do you remember why we wanted Balinor?"
"He was the last Dragonlord." Arthur blinked. "That meant you…"
"Yeah." This was still something that gnawed at Merlin, the absence of other magical creatures. "I'm still a Dragonlord after all this time, even though they're gone. I couldn't kill him."
"So you lied to me then too," Arthur said flatly.
"Yeah. I commanded him to leave and never return."
Arthur's face was like stone. He fell back onto the bed. "What else?"
Now Merlin was confused. He blinked. "You- you told me that's enough."
"Clearly I've only reached the tip of the iceberg," Arthur remarked, "so I suppose it's best to get it done with all at once. Now tell me."
Merlin, oddly enough, felt the need to challenge Arthur on this. He'd always tried to piss off Arthur; those instincts weren't even gone, after all this time. "I'm probably why Morgana turned, in the end," fell out of his mouth instead of anything truly reasonable.
Arthur's face fully fell. He stood up and barged out the room. Merlin winced at the slam of the door. It was deserved, but he didn't have to like it.
Merlin decided to stay in his room for a couple more hours. He read up on the current state of the world, trying to find some disaster that would explain how Arthur had come back. He couldn't, unsurprisingly. If anything had been straightforward in Merlin's life, Arthur wouldn't have been resurrected and Leon wouldn't also be immortal. He was just doomed to waiting for the worst moment and responding then.
After 3 hours, about 9 in the morning, Arthur almost ripped the door off the hinges as he opened it again. "Fine," he spit out. "Explain."
Merlin sighed. "She… she'd been meeting with Morgause for a while, and she'd already begun to turn, but I think what I did when the undying knights invaded was the last straw. Morgause had used her as the key to keeping them alive. I knew that because, even though I had magic, I was falling asleep too."
Arthur's eyes widened.
"So I poisoned her." This was a memory that was still vivid in Merlin's mind, another moment where he doomed his people and his king. "And, when she was dying, I threatened Morgause. That's how I got the people out."
Arthur was silent for a moment. He'd clearly gone out to attack some dummies from the sweat on his forehead, and he wiped it off. "How many times?"
"Sorry?"
"How many times did you save my life and I never knew?"
"Hundreds," Merlin replied instantly.
"You really still don't know the exact number, after all this time?"
Merlin shrugged. "Wasn't worth counting since it did nothing in the end."
Arthur fell silent at that.
"So." Merlin pretended the despair in Arthur's face wasn't because of Merlin's suffering, but that it was because of Arthur's own. "Want to hear more?"
"I do," Arthur replied instantly, "but not today. Not- not now."
"Alright." Merlin didn't say that he felt particularly cowardly because of this, but he truly had never wanted to tell Arthur any of this. He wanted Arthur to know about his magic, but not about the sacrifices. Not about the murders. This level of understanding felt like his skin was being flayed off. Merlin had gotten used to being unknown, not perceived— Arthur was forcing him to reckon with his utter devotion once more.
Merlin had, every once in a while, cataloged how Arthur had interacted with him, even after he'd married Gwen.
It'd been a bit of something stupid he liked to do. It wasn't good for him, or for Arthur, or for Gwen, but it'd been… his. Sometimes, Merlin liked to think about how much Arthur tended to glance at him, and care about him, and say nice things even when it was as difficult for Arthur to do that as to willingly stab himself. He thought about it, sometimes, and it was all too easy to see it add up to something as overwhelming and large as love.
Merlin wasn't stupid. He also wasn't nearly as unobservant as Arthur. But he did know, if his instinct was right, if the way he felt wasn't one-sided, that meant Arthur was betraying his father in one more way and there was something else for Merlin to reach out for.
So Merlin didn't.
Arthur recovered later that day— he went off to criticize Leon, and then read more books, and then harass merlin over the modern world, so it seemed to be alright. The next day, though, things were different— Arthur and Leon approached his room.
"Merlin," Leon said. "Arthur's been complaining about feeling trapped."
"Can you blame me?" Arthur grumbled. "I'm stuck in a cottage!"
Merlin scoffed, but it was a light thing. He shut his laptop. "So you want to go to a park, then?"
Leon sighed. "I…" He exchanged a look with Arthur.
"Leon said I should learn how to experience the outside world." Arthur sighed. "Truly, it can't be that bad, can it?"
Merlin blinked. He began to grin, and even Arthur looked startled. Merlin had been told he looked a bit like a cat when he grinned that way.
"It is that bad," Arthur said flatly when Merlin took him to the town center.
They weren't even in a public city, but with Arthur in tow, Merlin could see just how jarring it would be nevertheless. Both Merlin and Leon had had the privilege of slowly acclimating to the changing times. Arthur hadn't.
"Yeah, it is," Merlin said slowly, "just— stay by me and Leon, alright? And don't say anything. We're going into the bookshop. It shouldn't be too crowded there."
Bookshop, Arthur mouthed. His eyes kept on catching on a jogging woman in a sports bra and leggings in tow with a shirtless man; Merlin cuffed him on the back of his head for that.
"it's not my fault they-" Arthur exclaimed, but he cut himself off as they entered the bookshop. It seemed the array of books was enough to keep him in awe. Merlin was, in fact, a bit grateful for that.
"You're acting like a brute," Merlin shot back under his breath. He shook his head and readjusted himself since he was now, of course, a completely normal person in a bookshop. "Noah?"
"Merlin!" Noah waved. He paused when he saw Leon and Arthur. His jaw dropped, but he readjusted it quickly. "Is… is this Emerson's friend?"
"It is, yeah." Merlin gestured at Arthur. "He's still learning English, I'm afraid."
"So I can speak like this?" Arthur muttered into Merlin's ear. He was standing right behind Merlin, close enough that he could feel some residual body heat. From Leon's quirked eyebrow, Merlin was very visibly struggling with it.
"That sounds like Gaelic," Noah remarked.
"Er. Yeah. Kind of. Listen, Noah, I was just going to grab some books on King Arthur, and I thought Arthur should be out a bit."
"You're speaking about me as if I'm a dog," Arthur said, and even Leon understood simply from the angry tone of Arthur's voice.
"We're here with him to make sure he knows it's quite safe," Leon added, and he shot Merlin a grin when Arthur squawked.
Noah looked at the three of them. After the last 1500 years, Merlin and Leon had learned not to get embarrassed at all. It was quite useful in situations like these. "…right," Noah said slowly. "Fantasy section's just in the back."
Merlin nodded and tugged Arthur by the shoulder. "You are really are nowhere as smart as you think you are," Merlin remarked, and he was about to move on when Arthur stopped.
"Merlin. Is this pornography?"
Jesus ever-loving Christ. Merlin turned to see the old bodice-rippers they kept in stock with the men clutching swooning women. "You're not allowed to look at that," Merlin replied instantly, dragging Arthur with even more force. He even allowed himself to whack Arthur on the back of his head with his magic.
"There were even two men on the cover," Arthur mused. "I didn't know that was thing people would enjoy."
"Er. It." Merlin was flushing, wasn't he? Completely red, from head-to-toe. "Leon, would you mind explaining to Arthur how being gay works?"
"Considering I can't speak the only language he does, I would," Leon said. "But, suffice to say, some people choose to take comfort in other men all the time. It's not just for long journeys of knights anymore."
Arthur blinked. He shrugged and moved on, though. "Alright. Why'd he call my life fantasy?"
Merlin quickly realized that Leon had, perhaps, not been joking when he'd said Arthur was no stranger to homosexuality in practice, not just in odd feelings and glances. Merlin decided not to think about this lest he literally developed an aneurysm.
"Well, you are a legend, not history to these lot," Merlin said, grabbing a T.H White book. "Look over this if you want."
Arthur nodded contemplatively, and he began to thumb through the pages. Merlin bee-lined for where he'd kept his private stash of information as Emerson.
"Er, Noah?" Merlin asked, approaching the counter with his book stack. "Emerson asked if I could take these."
"Yeah, course." Noah nodded absently. "is it just me, or does that guy look…"
Merlin abruptly remembered that it was, in fact, Noah who had spotted Arthur in the lake. Maybe he hadn't though this out as much as he should have. "Er. It's not who you think it is."
Noah raised an eyebrow. "He's speaking old Gaelic too."
"He's. Well." Merlin searched for an excuse. "Emerson wouldn't stop talking about that guy you found in the lake, and I guess Arthur decided to mimic it."
"Arthur?" Noah repeated. Merlin wanted to sink into the floor. Really, had he always been this bad at lying, and him being old had just allowed him to pretend he was being cryptic? "His name is Arthur?"
"It's a common name!" Merlin protested.
"I'm not-" Noah sighed. "Christ, you're as weird as your uncle, I swear."
"He's not…" Merlin said feebly.
"No, he is. Incredible guy, but as insane as a bat." Noah sighed. "Listen, I'm not going to ask any questions, but you should get him speaking something that isn't Gaelic if you don't want the conspiracy heads knocking on your door."
Merlin did not say that he'd enchanted the cottage so that any unwanted visitors would find themselves suddenly busy. That would only further establish himself as a conspiracy-head. "Noted."
"And…" Noah looked Merlin up and down, considering, and this was why Merlin had always stayed above 35; it reduced the number of people that looked at him like he was a snack. "Emerson has my phone number if you need any help."
"Right. Course." Merlin nodded vigorously. "Thanks."
"Anytime," Noah said, with a hint of meaning, and Merlin was not going to touch that with a ten foot pole. He scurried back to Leon and Arthur.
"Merlin," Arthur said. He frowned at him. "why are you red?"
Merlin flushed even deeper. "Come on, let's just leave," He muttered, and he dragged Arthur out of the store.
"Was it that storekeeper?" Arthur said, far more insistently then he had any right to. "I didn't like the look of him. He was suspicious."
"He was not," Merlin said, affronted. He kept a hand on Arthur as he pulled him to the woodland path they'd taken to get to the city. He determinedly ignored the look Leon was giving him. "He's barely 25."
"I don't like him."
"You barely like anyone," Merlin muttered. "Leon, tell Arthur he's a massive prick."
"Why are you asking me?"
"because if I tell him that, he'll just call me incredibly idiotic, and it won't mean anything in the end. He can't insult you the same way."
"That's because Leon isn't abnormally thick and dull," Arthur protested, but it was less protesting and more of a lazy drawl that seemed to indicate he knew how pissy Merlin was feeling. "For example, he's smart enough to not insult me."
"Stupid enough, more like."
Arthur cuffed the back of Merlin's head. Merlin hid a grin that quickly became a scowl when he heard Leon's audible cough.
"Alright, you can go back to English," Merlin said. "Reckon Leon's had enough of being left out."
"I can't believe your cover story for me was that I was mute," Arthur protested, switching back. "Seriously, Merlin?"
"You don't know anything about the modern day," Merlin said. "You'd probably have said I was your manservant and asked where the servants slept for the store."
"I would not."
"Sure." Merlin grinned at Arthur's affronted look. "Listen, you can now learn all about yourself. That's what you want most, right?"
"I'm not nearly as vain as you think I am."
"No, you're worse." Merlin flicked a hand, and the door to the cottage opened up. "Come on, don't dawdle."
Arthur exchanged a look with Leon, and Leon stifled another laugh. Merlin used his magic to cuff the back of Leon's head at that.
Arthur read for a while. For the first 30 pages, he'd pop into Merlin's room to ask questions every other sentence. Eventually, Merlin sighed and said, "just read here so you interrupt me less," and Arthur had grinned. The slight torture of feeling Arthur's ankle brush his was worth that grin.
"They seemed to have mistaken you for Dragoon," Arthur said, sounding affronted. He was staring at the pages in utter shock.
"Makes for better work. Imagine how it would've sounded to hear the greatest warlock in the world was busy cleaning a prince's smelly socks."
"They weren't that smelly," Arthur retorted, but it was absent, rote. "Why did you?"
"What do you mean?"
"You stayed my manservant the entire time." Arthur put down the book and looked at Merlin. They were sitting across from each other on Merlin's bed, Merlin leaning against the headboard, Arthur sitting with his legs folded and a book in his lap. He looked unfairly soft in the afternoon light. "Why didn't you… leave?"
"I told you, I was born to serve you." Merlin thought he'd been over this. "It- it wasn't an option for me to leave."
"It wasn't an option, or you wouldn't have chosen it?"
"Both," Merlin responded instantly.
Arthur blinked. He looked back at the book, his thumb flipping through the pages. "Thank you."
Merlin's head moved up from his laptop. "I'm sorry?"
"Those ears really are useless," Arthur grumbled, but he looked up too, and there was something very earnest in his eyes. It made Merlin feel as if he was the center of the universe, just for a second. "Thank you, Merlin."
Merlin blinked. "What for?"
Arthur kept looking at him, and then, his foot brushed Merlin's calf. He looked away. "Choosing me, I suppose."
Merlin swallowed. The moment was unbearably fragile, something far too emotional for Arthur and far too vulnerable for Merlin to handle. Arthur had been very good with the truth, but Merlin hadn't. Merlin had never been able to handle it. "'Course," Merlin said, and his voice was dry.
Arthur looked back to his book and continued to read. He didn't move his leg for the next hour.
Perhaps, the worst part was that Merlin eventually could understand Uther. He'd betrayed the magical community for the person he loved most too.
Something shifted that day. For the next week, every morning, Arthur would come to his room and ask Merlin to tell the truth. Merlin would reveal facts, the lies being unpeeled one after another until one was too much and Arthur stormed out. I wanted Mordred dead because I knew he was going to kill you. I kept your father alive because you cared about him, ignoring that he was killing my people. I told you that Uther hadn't known magic would kill your mother, and I was partially lying about that.
"Why?" Arthur asked. That one had been a surprise— Arthur had not leapt up, heading off to the training fields, but just stared at Merlin. "I would have killed him, but you stopped me."
"Why? it would've broken you, Arthur."
"And that was it?" Arthur just wouldn't stop staring. "He would've burnt you to death, and that's the all it took for you to stop me from killing him?"
Merlin blinked. "Do I really need a different reason?"
Arthur had stood up after that, but it seemed not to be out of anger. No, he seemed confused. He'd stayed out training for 2 hours straight, after that.
Merlin felt unsettled by it, as if Arthur was beginning to realize, so he went to the only other person he could really talk to.
"Leon?"
"Yes, Merlin?" Leon had taken to painting again, and he'd made his room a veritable mess with palettes and canvases. He seemed to be painting Camelot from different angles.
"Does Arthur ever talk to you about Camelot?"
Leon set down a brush. "All the time, actually. He remembers it far better than us, so I've been using his memories to make these."
Merlin nodded. Arthur seemed keen to avoid all discussions of Camelot outside of Merlin's poor decisions. "Good. That's- that's good."
"If I had to speculate, he's probably not talking about it with you because he feels guilty."
Now that— that was a surprise. "Guilty?" Merlin repeated. "What for?"
"He was supposed to be your protector, Merlin," Leon said softly, "And it turned out you'd been secretly saving him all along. I think he never wanted you to feel that burden."
Something clogged up Merlin's throat at that. He fled the room quickly after, and he stared at the old pendant all night.
The closest Merlin had gotten to telling Arthur that he loved him was when Arthur was dying.
That'd been the final moment. Arthur's bloodless body, weak and failing, had been in his arms, and Merlin's mind had just repeated you need to tell him, you need to tell him, you need to tell him.
But Merlin had been hiding secrets for over ten years. With his first one stricken bare—or, the one that mattered the most, the one that made him spiral into the thing he was 10 years later—he'd clutched onto it. He kept it close to his chest.
Sometimes, Merlin worried whether or not he was anything more than secrets.
Merlin was able to successfully avoid Arthur for about 7 more hours that day. Unfortunately, they were living together in a small cottage, meaning it was easy for him to be cornered.
"You've been avoiding me," Arthur said. He was reading a new book in the kitchen. He'd definitely been hiding out there for a while; his book was almost finished.
"Have not," Merlin said weakly.
"Goodness, your first actual lie to me in this new world." Arthur placed the book down, smiling a little bit. "I'd be impressed if I wasn't annoyed."
"Alright. Maybe I am." Merlin shifted. "We have been joined at the hip for the last few weeks. Maybe I was tired of you."
Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Was that the reason?"
Merlin hesitated. "No."
"Then why?"
"Just- just leave it, Arthur," Merlin said tiredly. "It's my fault."
"That's how I know something is wrong, then. You admitting that." Arthur placed his book down and walked over to Merlin, who was still hovering in the doorway. "Fess up, Merlin."
Merlin ran his tongue against his teeth. "You're taking this far too well. All the- the secrets."
Arthur snorted. "Seriously? You're angry that I'm being nice?"
"Not angry," Merlin said, "just- waiting for the backlash, I guess. I don't know how long you're going to stay nice about it, so I'm trying not to remind you that…" that I'm one of the many people that betrayed you, in the end.
Arthur sighed. He looked a bit exhausted for a moment. "I'm not angry at you, Merlin," he muttered. "God knows why, but I'm not. I just can't be."
"'Can't?'"
"All you did was sacrifice." Arthur stepped in closer. "I thought I was your friend for nearly a decade, but you were hiding away, and it- it broke you, you said. You let yourself suffer just to spare me. I can't hate you for that. If I hate anything, it's how little… how little I knew you."
Something in Merlin didn't- it didn't ease, but he realized just how core that was to him. It was like a bone being pushed back into place: equally painful, equally necessary.
"You knew me then, Arthur." Merlin swallowed. "You still do."
Arthur nodded, but he was still tapping his fingers against his thigh, clearly thinking. "You never told me how you've stayed alive so long."
"Ah. Right." Merlin waved his hands, creating sparkles of magic as his eyes flashed. "Simple as that, really."
"No other sorcerers were immortal."
"None of them were me," Merlin said with a sigh. He said it simply because it was true, but it didn't change that only as of the last week had it stopped being a curse.
Arthur's face was unreadable. Merlin never liked that. "You're never going to die?"
"Er. Well." Merlin shrugged. "I think- I might die when you do this time. If not, I'll just keep you alive somehow."
"What."
"Well, I stayed alive because you were going to come back," Merlin explained, and it had all been very reasonably told to him once, but it sounded far more intimate this time around. "Only difference was you were down in the lake and I was up here, experiencing it all in real time. I just think-"
Arthur's stare got more intense. He was definitely searching Merlin for- for something. "So it's my fault?"
Merlin blinked. Now he realized what the emotion on Arthur's face was; it was guilt. It was oddly heartwarming to see Arthur so worried about Merlin, but Merlin was going to dissuade that immediately.
"You egotistical ass," he remarked with a scoff. "Please, it's not as if you chose to be resurrected. Don't think everything is about you."
Arthur rolled his eyes, but he relaxed. "This is, in the most literal sense, completely about me. You've- you've been forced to live on in order to keep me alive in this bizarre time."
"Who said I was forced?" Merlin remarked with a smile.
Arthur frowned again. "Sorry?"
"Well. I would've chosen this anyways. You know that." Arthur's frown didn't disappear, so Merlin found himself further explaining. "If I'd been given this choice or regular death, I still would've chosen this, so it doesn't really matter."
"I'm sorry?" Arthur interrupted.
Merlin swallowed. It wasn't really vulnerability if it was something that any regular idiot could see, he reasoned with himself. Arthur was just a special type of idiot, one that needed things explained to him. "Because I would've chosen to spend more time with you."
Arthur flinched. He curled in on himself a bit. "I…"
"I'm sorry," Merlin said, and it was less apologetic and more regretful, "That's- that's definitely not what you wanted to hear." Because, while Merlin was head over heels, world-endingly in love with Arthur, Arthur just cared about Merlin.
"If..." Arthur hesitated. He had a pointed, frightened look on his face, one that had occurred very few times in his life. "If I made you suffer through this-"
"You can't control my actions," Merlin reminded him. "And think about it like this: wouldn't you have done the same for Gwen?"
Arthur froze. His eyes widened. Merlin felt his pulse beat in his ears once, twice.
"Merlin," Arthur said slowly. His hand kept on tensing and un-tensing, as if he was looking for a sword. "I loved Guinevere."
"I never said you didn't," Merlin rushed to say.
"Don't interrupt me," Arthur said testily. Merlin shut his mouth. Something difficult and electric was crackling in the air, and it felt far more dangerous than just the normal static that played in his veins around Arthur.
"I loved Guinevere," Arthur started again. "And even then, it would've taken all of me to choose this for her. And choosing this life, as you said, for me, is instinct for you?"
Merlin's blood ran cold.
"It…" Merlin swallowed. He had never, ever thought Arthur would learn or figure it out this way. "Yeah. Yeah, it is."
Arthur was silent. He looked Merlin up and down again. When he brushed past Merlin, not making a noise or sound, Merlin felt a bit like his ribs were being pulled out of his chest.
The good news was that encounter had occurred late in the afternoon, so Merlin could soon go to bed and have a bit of respite from the whirling oh god why did I do that in his mind. The bad news was he'd have to deal with it tomorrow.
Merlin sat in his bed, laptop on his legs as he looked into potential blood transfers. Arthur had reminded him how important it was to keep them alive together— he needed to better investigate his own immortality without risking his life like the last dozen times he'd tested it.
The door opened, and he could feel Leon's exhaustion from across the room. "You broke Arthur."
Merlin determinedly kept clicking on his laptop. "Not my fault this time around."
"He's googling the most inane things, Merlin." Leon sat down on the bed, shoving a phone in front of Merlin's eyes. Merlin squinted.
Love
What is love
What is love definition not song
Friendship vs love
Queer platonic
Queer
LGBTQ
Gay
Bisexual
Men gay
Merlin averted his eyes at the last one, but Leon scoffed a bit, so he looked back.
Swordfighting tips and tricks advanced
"Well." Merlin felt a bit better. "He's clearly doing fine if he's looking up swords."
"He's been practicing in the field for four hours."
Merlin's gut churned. That was… longer than it should've been.
"I told him why I was alive," Merlin muttered. "It's not my fault I'm-" he began, and then cut himself off because, in the most literal sense, it was his fault he was in love with Arthur.
Leon became a bit more solemn instead of enthusiastically worried. "I see. Are you thinking of doing something about it?"
"Doing something about it?" Merlin repeated. "What would I say? 'Sorry I'm in love with you, Arthur, my bad, tried to get over it for 1500 years, but I'll try again soon.'" Because really, he'd tried a bit, and it'd been impossible; Merlin wasn't going to try again and waste precious energy.
Leon rolled his eyes. "I don't know. Just- talk to him."
"Talking to him is what got us here in the first place," Merlin grumbled, but he shut his laptop and stood up. He understood Leon's general message. "Fine. If Arthur comes away and wants to train with a person because of how angry he is, that's your job, though."
"Noted," Leon said drily.
What Merlin had not seen in his years of service was a small, small list, but perhaps the most important one was the way Arthur had leaned in on the moment he'd died. The second most important was every moment there was without Merlin, but, by definition, that was impossible for Merlin to see. It did mean he never got to see just how much his own presence mattered to Arthur.
"You're scaring Leon," Merlin announced as he walked onto the field.
Arthur was a sight to behold. He'd changed into the few exercise clothes Merlin had bought for him, and they fit well. Too well, in Merlin's book. His mouth went a little dry at the way the sweat on Arthur's arms just somehow made them look even more kingly. Asshole.
Arthur huffed out a few breaths. He let his sword fall to the ground. "I'm training, Merlin."
"Nope. You're brooding." Merlin emphasized the R; he kicked at the dropped sword. "And Leon doesn't want you to brood."
"That's why you're out here?"
"I am also worried about running out of training dummies," Merlin said, eying the wooden piles of dust and scraps.
Arthur examined him. It was so precise, almost as if Merlin was a threat— except no, because Arthur's eyes were softening, not like he'd always done when meeting with other kings and legions. He was trying to understand Merlin, and he was also feeling unbearably fond.
The knowledge sent a sizzle through Merlin's spine.
"You love me," Arthur announced with all the gravitas of a king. The statement rung in the mostly empty field.
Merlin swallowed. He couldn't deny this one truth to Arthur. He nodded.
The side of Arthur's mouth quirked up. "That is very flattering."
"Shut up," Merlin sighed, and that caused a snort out of Arthur. The anxiety began to ebb at Arthur's childish grin. "No, really, shut it-"
Arthur's overjoyed laughter cut him off.
God, he looked so beautiful. Merlin felt his heart stutter in his chest. With the moonlight, with the stars, with Arthur's brow crinkled in joy, Merlin wanted to stop time. This was his true job, none of that destiny shit— it was keeping Arthur happy.
"I don't know what I did to deserve a manservant as poor as you," he said jokingly, but Merlin could hear something serious underneath.
"Probably whatever I did to deserve a king as stupid."
Arthur smiled. It was electrifying. He walked past Merlin, letting their shoulders brush. Or maybe causing their shoulders to brush- Merlin couldn't quite tell. "Come on, Merlin. Don't dawdle," he remarked as he headed into the cottage.
Merlin let the moment in the field linger, then he turned and watched Arthur leave. "Yeah, I won't."
Life continued on as normal after that. Well, it wasn't normal, considering Merlin was still a bit in awe of how Arthur was near him all the time, just consistently living his own life. not still dead. And Merlin was back to researching his own immortality, seeing what would happen with cuts and scars and bruises— he couldn't tell if anything had changed, was the thing. He'd always had mostly-kind-of normal healing unless it was fatal, and he could not test fatal things on himself just in case. He'd decided to order some old blood records drawn up just for comparison, but it was no longer his priority. He was too busy being distracted by Arthur's constant presence.
He didn't seem to want space, was the thing. Arthur knew Merlin was in love with him, and he knew, presumably, he always would be, but that didn't change a thing. Merlin and Arthur still spent the days side-by-side. Arthur would ask him things, and he'd answer, or Merlin would crack a joke and Arthur would lunge at him like they were 19 again, just boys tussling. Merlin wouldn't trade it for anything; he couldn't help but worry if it was temporary, though.
One thing Merlin could know for sure, however, was that Leon was getting… antsy. Arthur had been back for nearly a month, and Leon had always preferred to live alone, to have some of his own space. It didn't help that Arthur and Merlin tended to make each other more intense to the detriment of everyone besides each other.
"So. Leon," Arthur began one night. He was trying to learn to cook, of all things. Merlin found it hopelessly endearing. "You've dealt with Merlin all these years. Any wise advice?"
"Don't let him get too close, sire," Leon said seriously; Merlin swatted at him. "He's a menace in close quarters."
"That, I've learned," Arthur drawled, flashing a grin. Merlin wished he could do anything more than smile back, but he was only himself. There wasn't much he had in resistance to Arthur's grin. "But seriously, what have you been doing the last few- decades, I suppose?"
"Er. Living on my own, mostly. Exploring America." Leon's eyes shined, and Merlin held back a groan. Leon was obsessed with the mythology of America— specifically, of the Great Depression. he'd been there in person, and he spent most of his time trying to understand works like "The Grapes of Wrath" in his spare time.
"America? The loud one?"
"Yeah, the loud one," Merlin grumbled. "They're nuisances."
"No wife, though?"
Leon froze. He blinked a few times. Merlin was very, very aware of his own presence at that moment. "Er… no, Arthur. I was never particularly interested in that. At least, not the way you were."
"Ah. Right." Arthur stirred at the pot once more. He didn't seem completely unaware of how uncomfortable Leon was at the moment, but he was doing a very good job of acting as if it wasn't noticeable. "Merlin, taste this."
"1500 years later, and I'm still being ordered around," Merlin muttered. Leon barked out a laugh. He took Arthur's spoon from Arthur's hand and tried a bit.
"Is- is it good?" Arthur looked genuinely worried, as if there was anything close to wrong with the flavors blooming on Merlin's tongue.
"No, it's-" Merlin smiled at him. "it's actually really good. Didn't know you had it in you."
Arthur relaxed. Merlin ignored the way Leon was staring a hole into his back.
"You're rather miserable right now."
Merlin raised a single eyebrow at Noah. He was the new hire at the store, and he had taken to annoying "Emerson" like it was his job. "I'm an old man. It's my right to be miserable whenever I want."
"You're 50."
"Old enough." Merlin continued to sort the Arthuriana. "Did you mean anything about that statement, or were you just trying to be rude?"
"Not just rude, but…" Noah blew at his bangs, letting them flutter a bit. "You've been… off these last few weeks. I wanted to ask if there was anything you needed."
Damn it, but Noah had noticed. Arthur's death anniversary was coming around. Merlin heart warmed a bit at the sight of Noah's worry, but it was always weird to be noticed. "Well. I'll be taking next Friday off, so don't be pissy about it when you actually have to deal with customers."
"What customers?" Noah muttered, but he waved off Merlin before Merlin could go on a tangent. "Yeah, yeah, got it. Is… I hope it goes alright. Whatever it is."
"Anniversary of a passing," Merlin said. Even this late, he couldn't help but say it with some gravitas. Perhaps it was because, for Merlin, he had never left Camelot— he was still at the lake. There was no way to grieve if you were waiting for them to come back. "My… my partner's death."
"Oh." Noah blinked. "I'm sorry about hi- them."
Goodness, everyone knew he was gay. "Thank you, Noah," Merlin said quietly. "He was a good man, and I want to give him the day off as he deserves."
"Sweet of you to do." Noah scratched at the back of his neck. Like all overconfident young people—like Merlin, once upon a time—he was uncomfortable with any amount of earnestness. "I'll make sure no one raids your Arthuriana section."
"Much appreciated," Merlin said gravely; he only let his mouth twitch a bit to show his humor.
Merlin was busy transferring money from his bank account—the one associated with Emerson, at least—to "Emmett's" when Arthur barged into his room again.
"Leon's leaving," he announced.
Merlin blinked. He hadn't quite thought about how Arthur would feel about that. "Oh. Er, yeah, I'm not surprised. Sorry, Arthur, but he's been alive long enough that he tends to get annoyed with being stuck in one place."
Arthur huffed out a breath; he took his usual spot at the foot of Merlin's bed, legs crossed. "He just told me."
"Yeah. I…" Merlin swallowed. "I know he's like a brother, Arthur, but-"
"Are you going with him?"
Merlin stared. Arthur looked genuinely worried, God help him. Merlin had to hold in a laugh. "I mean, unless you leave, no."
"So… you're staying here?"
"It's my house."
"Merlin," Arthur snapped, clearly actually worried. Merlin decided to take pity on him.
"I'm not going anywhere, you prat," he said with a sigh. "Not unless you tell me to leave."
Arthur blinked a few times. He looked at Merlin's face, his chest, back to his face again. He stood up abruptly. "Right," he said; it sounded a bit garbled. "Good. I don't- you're not allowed to leave."
That was clearly Arthur-speak for please don't leave. "You can't just keep on ordering me around," Merlin protested, "I'm not your actual servant anymore!"
"You're not. Allowed," Arthur insisted again. He shut the door behind him with a slam.
Merlin shook his head, but he found himself chuckling fondly, much to his own disapproval. He picked up his phone to text Leon.
How long will u be out on your trip??
Month prbly?? Maybe 2. We'll see where I go
have fun
Merlin pocketed his phone. Maybe he could get him and Arthur to visit Leon for a day after he left— that'd cheer him up.
"Merlin." Gaius looked him up and down, as if he'd seen a ghost. "You're back."
"I am, yeah." Merlin swallowed. He'd really been an idiot to think he could stay away from Camelot long— now that he was back, the guilt was swallowing him whole. Gaius' eyes were nearly teary, just like Gwen's, and he looked so much more fragile. Merlin had never wanted to think of Gaius as fragile in his whole damn life.
Merlin looked at the rooms he'd grown up in, the rooms he'd learned magic in, the rooms he'd betrayed himself and everyone he loved in. It was an odd feeling, to see something so unchanged be completely different in his eyes. "I… I'm sorry, Gaius."
Gaius inclined his head. He looked so tired. "I would have preferred a goodbye," he said quietly, "but I cannot fault a man with a broken heart."
Merlin blinked a few times. Sometimes Gaius would say something, and he'd be all of 19 again. "I- yeah. Yeah." He went to the bench and sat across from him.
Merlin stared out the window for a moment. He could feel Gaius' gentle patience radiating off in waves. It made him want to talk, of all things. "Gwen's said she's going to make me court sorcerer eventually."
Gaius cracked a half-smile, the first positive emotion he'd shown. "Did she?"
"I've also been pardoned."
That got Gaius to properly freeze. "Truly?"
Merlin nodded.
"Goodness." Gaius sighed deeply. "That's- you have no clue how incredible that news is, my boy."
"I'd- I would've thought she told you."
"I asked her not to approach me until she was sure you would return." Gaius looked up again, and he grasped Merlin's hand gently. It felt infinitely more withered then when Merlin had seen it first. "I certainly didn't expect her to bring you back."
Merlin felt boxed in. He felt trapped. He pushed past it, squeezed Gaius' hand, and said, "well, she's very persuasive. Going to be an incredible queen on her own."
"That she will," Gaius murmured, his face becoming pensive. "She- she held the funeral for Arthur earlier."
"I…" Suddenly, the room was all too large, all too full of the ghost of Arthur— Merlin wanted to dive into a hole, or, at least, go into the lake and just see Arthur again. "I thought she would."
"And I know it's not his body, just as you do," Gaius continued, "but it may be… soothing to see his grave."
It wouldn't be. A grave meant nothing when his body would get back up again, when the grave was temporary. There was no grieving for Merlin— there was only getting up every day and hoping it would, miraculously, be completely different from the next. "It… it might."
Gaius smiled kindly at him, and Merlin let himself cry, just a little bit.
Leon finally went on his adventure a week later. He, presumably, had a few words with Arthur, but him and Merlin parted as usual. They had gotten used to this song and dance; Merlin would greet him goodbye, stuck in one place, while Leon went out to find something worth his time.
"You're not going to do anything about it," Leon said quietly as Arthur investigated Leon's car (he didn't trust the things, and seemed to think looking them over would stop them from killing the people inside them), "but he's been thinking about you. About..."
"About what?" Merlin said with a sigh. He leveled Leon with a look; we both know what you're trying to say, and I can't get myself to even try and address it because it's ridiculous.
Leon raised one eyebrow back; it's not ridiculous, you've both been attached at the hip, and any continual ignorance on your part will make things more difficult.
Merlin scoffed, breaking eye contact first. "Fine. I'll- I'll think about it."
"Good."
Merlin had been lying, of course— he was going to instead devote himself to finding out if there was any rhyme or reason to why Arthur had come back. Arthur didn't like this, protesting that it would be "evident at some point if it wasn't already," but Merlin wasn't going to take chances and let Arthur die on his watch again.
From what he could see, there wasn't anything happening. Nothing major was going on in England, and Arthur was supposed to unite all of Albion specifically. Merlin had also gotten far more contact with people like Kilgarrah in these situations, so, unless some magical figure tried to reach him, he was going to assume there was no imminent doom. He was going to look into completely normal ways to transfer his life's essence into Arthur's instead.
He had to do this sneakily, of course. Both Leon and Arthur would've protested, but out of the three of them, Merlin was the warlock. They couldn't do jack shit about it unless he let them. And Merlin wouldn't— he would be transferring some of his immortality and invulnerability to Arthur if he still had it, which Merlin worried he did.
Since he didn't want to be stopped, he didn't tell Arthur. This all backfired wonderfully when Arthur went into his room at 3 am while Merlin was drawing blood.
"It- Merlin!" Arthur gasped. Merlin tried not to flail in his bed too hard, considering he had a needle in his arm.
"What?" Merlin snapped peevishly. "Can't you see I'm busy?"
"I- I can see, but what the hell are you busy with?"
"Stuff."
"Stuff," Arthur echoed. He sat down across Merlin. "You're not allowed to lie to me anymore, remember?"
"I'm certainly allowed privacy."
"Yes, when you aren't- aren't draining your blood like leeches are still a thing." He sighed again. "I know that's not an effective way to treat medicine anymore— I read the books."
Arthur had, in fact, read multiple books about viruses and disease after he'd asked how the hell the world population had grown so much. "I'm- experimenting," Merlin answered. "Trying to see if my magic and immortality is in my blood."
"Alright." Arthur nodded slowly. "Why?"
"Because I don't actually know if I'm immortal anymore." Merlin capped off the vial he'd filled and cut the tourniquet with a knife; he began to bandage up. "I mean, I assume I am, but better to check. Hold my blood, will you?"
Arthur stared at him in confusion, but he did as asked.
"I have some of my blood before you came back, and I have enough connections to the science department at Edinburgh to test some things," Merlin began to explain. He put the bandage on his arm comfortably, grabbing the blood vial back. "I know what to look out for. If it comes back that I'm not immortal, then we'll know!"
"And if you are?"
"Then I make sure you are too."
Arthur stared at him. "That's your priority?"
"I'm not staying immortal just for you to die again." Merlin swallowed as he felt the dread begin to rise at the mere idea. "I won't."
Arthur nodded slowly, and there seemed to be something approaching understanding in his face. "Alright. Are you done with your- your blood, then?"
"Yes, I am, you twat," Merlin said with a sigh. He waved a hand; the blood vial began to float into the downstairs fridge. Arthur's ears still went a bit pink at the sight of magic, but he'd definitely improved over the last four weeks. "What do you want?"
"I need to talk. With you."
Merlin snorted. "What, at three in the morning?"
"I knew you were awake, and I was awake, so I figured it would work," Arthur said stubbornly.
"Course. Don't know what I expected." At least Arthur looked a bit chastised, even if Merlin felt innumerably fond instead of angry. It was still good to see that Arthur trusted him at any level, wanted his insight at any level. "What do you need, Arthur?"
Arthur bit the inside of his cheek. He shifted on the bed slightly; something a bit more serious began to form on his face. "I… I never could imagine my future without you," he began to say slowly, "Which is why I'm so sorry you had to go on without me."
Merlin couldn't help but choke a bit at the sheer earnestness of that statement. Arthur seemed to be gnawing on something, suffering with an idea, and it looked as if Merlin was the person he went to for it. It was… nice.
"And," Arthur continued, "I've realized I never said much about. You know. Feelings, back in Camelot, especially since I thought you were just my daft servant when you were secretly my protector."
"I was—and still—am your daft servant, Arthur," Merlin said. It came out fonder and softer then he would've liked. "I mean, I won't wash your socks now, but when- if you decide to be king, I'll be by your side, like I've always been."
"But that's the point." Arthur huffed out a breath. "I don't want you below me. Frankly, you're more deserving of a knighthood than anyone, and that includes Leon, something I wouldn't say lightly. You should be- at my level."
"Oh." For all Arthur was a self-conceited, arrogant prat, he could be so kind. "I… thank you, Arthur, but it… I couldn't be a knight."
Arthur's mouth made a slight smile. "Because they're too stupid for you to be one?"
Merlin snorted. "Well, yeah, that, but I'm not pledged to your name or your crown. I'm pledged to you."
Arthur's breath audibly caught.
"And-" Merlin swallowed past his fear. Arthur hadn't been upset with him before, when he'd said he was in love, and Merlin wasn't going to lie to him— not when Arthur asked him not to. "And I don't think a knighthood expresses that."
Arthur's gaze was unreadable. He swallowed, nodded slowly, and said, "There's- there's more than one way to pledge yourself to a person, you know. Not just knighthood."
"Besides marriage?" Merlin said with a scoff. "I'm not going to accept a promotion, I'm afraid, not if it means-"
Arthur made a cut-off noise, as if he was struggling to dislodge something at the back of his throat.
Merlin froze. He laughed a bit hesitantly. "Arthur?"
"You-" Arthur gnawed on his cheek again, and then- and then he did the strangest thing; he took Merlin's hand. Arthur's hand was warm, and callused, and Merlin couldn't stop staring. "I never told you how much I needed you, back in Camelot, because I think I didn't know. I know now, Merlin, and I know that I'd- I'd take your hand any day."
"Christ," Merlin murmured. His mouth had gone dry. "Arthur, are you- are you proposing to me?"
"If… yes." Arthur's ears were fully red now. "I am. I guess."
"You guess?"
"well, it's 3 am and I haven't actually courted you and I technically don't exist," Arthur retorted, getting Merlin to laugh real and properly now, "So I don't know how much it's worth, but I am."
"It's worth… it's worth a lot." Merlin swallowed again. Are you sure, he wanted to ask as this incredibly vulnerable version of Arthur watched him, guarded only in the smallest of ways. How could you possibly love me? He wanted to insist.
"And-" Merlin's voice had clogged. He swallowed past it. "The magic, it doesn't-"
"I don't care about that," Arthur said as if it was obvious.
"And my treason."
"I am the king, you know." Arthur smiled a bit. Merlin's heart tore against his ribs. "I decide if things are treason or not, and I've pardoned you. Very graciously, I must add."
Merlin knew he was supposed to respond with his own joke, his own rebuttal, but his brain just couldn't do it. He was too busy fighting off some urgent fear in his bones to run, to get away.
"But I don't," Merlin begun, and his entire body was shaking, he was convulsing violently as something horrible and terrible tried to get out, "Arthur, you don't understand, I'm-"
"You told me everything, didn't you?" Arthur looked at him so damn calmly. "Or is there more left?"
Merlin wracked his brain, but there wasn't anything. Nothing substantial, at least. Arthur knew about Merlin's magic; Arthur knew about Merlin being in love with him; Arthur knew about the awful, horrible things Merlin had committed in the name of that love.
"So I think I'm more than informed enough to make a decision," Arthur said patiently. He had never been patient in his damn life— why was he starting now?
"I can't-" Merlin tried to breathe. It worked marginally better this time. "I don't understand."
"Well, it's very simple. I love you. I think."
"You-"Merlin wheezed. "You think?"
"No, I know," Arthur squeezed his hand. He sounded both unbearably annoyed and fond at the same time. "I know I love you, you idiot."
Merlin didn't really have a good response to that; he decided to launch himself into hugging Arthur instead.
He was so damn warm. Arthur had always been a hearth, in Merlin's mind, a place of joy to go around and hang out— Arthur had been his home, even when he'd been gone. Arthur said a soft "oh," as Merlin fell against his chest, but he quickly put his hands around Merlin's torso and clenched him tight. For the first time, Merlin considered that Arthur didn't want him gone any more then Merlin wanted Arthur gone.
The thought terrified him.
"What brought this on?" Merlin murmured into Arthur's neck. Arthur shivered and brought him in even closer, however that was possible.
"I don't know." Arthur shrugged—or, at least, it felt like a shrug—and moved his hands up to Merlin's hair. He touched his hair so delicately. "I- I may or may not have realized it when I thought of you leaving with Leon, and- and it all fell into place, I suppose. I knew I'd cared before, it just…"
It just. Merlin didn't know how the sentence ended, but that didn't really matter so much. "I know the feeling," he said instead since that was true.
"I know," Arthur said firmly. "I- I know," he repeated, a bit quieter. "I love you."
"I love you too," Merlin said instinctively, "I mean, you knew that, obviously, but-"
"It's still nice to hear."
"I… yeah."
Arthur was silent for a moment. His hands shifted, moving down so that he gripped Merlin's torso. He shifted back—something Merlin wanted to protest—but it seemed just to be so he could watch Merlin. His eyes were wide and curious, studying Merlin as if he was the only thing in the world.
"You're blushing," Arthur commented.
"Am not," Merlin blatantly lied. "And it's- if I was, it's your fault anyways."
"My fault," Arthur echoed absentmindedly. One hand had moved to fall against Merlin's cheek and the thumb was lightly resting his mouth. "Right. Of course."
Merlin felt as if he was rocketing at a hundred miles an hour. Merlin felt as if the whole world had ground to a standstill. Most importantly, he felt very annoyed as Arthur began to delicately lean in, because of course the ass had to be the one to initiate the kiss.
Arthur was shaking too, at least; Merlin could feel him trembling when they kissed. Merlin leaned in and offered his support, grasping Arthur closer by the shoulders and keeping him steady; Arthur gasped a bit into his mouth, and Christ, that was a heady feeling. Merlin could've killed giants with that feeling.
Arthur pulled away slowly.
"I didn't realize the extent of it in Camelot," Arthur said slowly, "and by the time I did, I loved Gwen, and she- Merlin, she was so much to me. She was everything I wanted to become, everything I wanted to strive for, and you were… you were you. You were always there. I just assumed you'd never leave, I supposed, and decided to take more."
The words "I wouldn't have," tumbled out of Merlin's mouth before he could stop them. "Left you, I mean," he clarified. "I never would. I never did."
"And I was given… a second chance, and Gwen's been gone for long enough that I think I can move on, and I don't think I should be stupid this time around." Arthur smiled at him, gently, and Merlin's— well, Merlin felt a shock race up his spine. There was something so warm in Arthur's eyes. "Don't want to descend to your level, for one."
"You ass," Merlin breathed. He let himself fall into a hug with Arthur instead of slapping him.
Arthur was warm and solid in his hands, and Merlin abruptly realized they'd last hugged right before Merlin had broken down in the forest. This was different, though.
"I'm not good at this," Arthur said quietly in his ear. "I- It's as easy as breathing to you, but I'm not- It may take me a while."
"Oh, Arthur." Merlin leaned back; his hand cupped Arthur's jaw. He could almost feel his magic floating out of his veins, almost feel it rewire the world around him. "We have all the time in the world."
It was a thoroughly average day in Camelot when Arthur got doused with a love potion and, as a consequence, wouldn't stop trailing Merlin around. Merlin's answer to this was hiding out in Gaius' quarters with Arthur there.
"Merlin," Arthur groaned, clearly vying for his attention once more. "You're not listening to me."
"Sorry, sire," Merlin said, very much not sorry. He was too busy reading a magical theory book to respond. If only Gwen were here and not out with Elyan somewhere in the town. She'd be back in a few hours—the queen couldn't be gone for long, after all—but it was still a few more hours than Merlin would've liked.
"I'm reading a poem."
She'd been gone 4 hours, counting from that moment, and another 4 were on the horizon. Merlin sighed and shut the book, turning around to face Arthur. "Alright, what awful poem do you have now?"
Arthur's eyes shined with delight and really, it was only because Merlin was as good person that he'd never bring this up again. Not because he would secretly treasure the way Arthur's eyes looked as Merlin turned to him, or how this made him feel more validated than his time in Camelot ever had.
"It's from… some fool or other," Arthur explained, not even able to read poetry while under a magical influence. "It doesn't matter. What matters is that I've heard its the best poem to court a lady with."
"I'm a man."
"I am very aware," Arthur said; his eyes seemed to catch on Merlin's neck, his shoulders. Merlin could see his pupils grow. "I… yes. You are. However, you're a girl at heart with your emotions, so this should work fine."
Christ. Merlin couldn't take this anymore. He decided to give in and, with a wave of his hand, sent Arthur into a magical sleep.
"Alright, you idiot," Merlin said, moving Arthur's head from the book it'd fallen on. "Let's see if this works."
True love's kiss didn't necessarily need to be Arthur's true love— it just needed to be someone truly in love with the affected. Something about magic being able to latch onto the "actual" love versus the enchanted cause and effect. Either way, it meant that Merlin placed a short, quick kiss on Arthur's lips, and stepped out of the way before he could think too heavily about it.
Arthur shifted in his sleep a bit. Merlin nudged at his shoulder. "Sire?'
"Mrhm… Merlin?" Arthur grumbled. He looked up at him. "It… what time is it?"
"12 in the afternoon," Merlin said promptly, only enjoying Arthur's affronted gasp a bit. 'You were poisoned, sire, and so I brought you into here and saved you with Gaius' poultices."
"Oh." Arthur shook his head. "My head does hurt."
Probably because your head fell against the hard wood table. "Definitely the poisoning," Merlin said.
"Right." Arthur groaned again. "Good to see your thick skull is learning anything from Gaius, though. Keep this up and maybe you'll actually be of use."
"I am of use!"
"Convince yourself of that, of course." Arthur stopped relaxing, and he reached for his pockets. "Wait. Did I lose the-"
"This?" Merlin held up the metal necklace. Arthur had handed it to him that morning, saying something about his mother and heirlooms, but only then had Merlin realized Arthur was still strutting around shirtless as if he was trying to impress someone, and he'd already been acting odd. From there, it had been his priority to de-enchant Arthur.
"Er." Merlin shook his head quickly, stepping closer to hand it off. "No, I was looking around your room for what might've poisoned you and I saw this had fallen. I- I thought it might be important, so I was going to hand it to you."
Arthur stared at the metal piece. Something very loaded was in his face. "…you can keep it," he said finally. His tone was unreadable as he turned around. "If you'd like."
"I-" Merlin blinked. "Sure, I mean. Thanks?"
"It's nothing," Arthur said gruffly. "Now go pick out herbs for Gaius or whatever you do to help him."
Merlin rolled his eyes at him, but he pocketed the metal anyways and left. It wasn't the first time Arthur had given him something—as the manservant ot the prince, he'd gotten nicer clothes and a few good perks for his room as well—but this had a weight to it. He couldn't just pawn it off, and he also felt like he couldn't just show it to anyone.
In the end, Merlin kept it in his room until he left the castle. After that, he kept it around his neck, and then he kept it near him at all times. It was a gift from Arthur, and that meant he'd remember it until the end of time.
When Arthur woke up, it was to Merlin's bony elbow in his chest.
Christ. Arthur resisted the urge to groan, only offsetting it by letting himself put his head in the crook of Merlin's neck. he wasn't nearly as bony as he used to be, of course, but certainly bony enough, and Arthur liked to complain.
It was odd, how warm Merlin's body was; Arthur had been expecting something cooler for no particular reason. Probably because Merlin had been harping on and on about his immortality and inhuman nature. As if he wasn't the most human person Arthur had known.
Arthur didn't quite know what to do with Merlin's most recent worry. it was, in essence, quite reasonable—Arthur had been gone for 1,500 years because of death—but Arthur didn't want the rest of Merlin's waking time taken up by it. In all honesty, Arthur didn't want to be immortal either. He wanted him and Merlin to live a perfectly fine life and then, eventually, die. He couldn't tell Merlin that, though, not when he was still panicking over Arthur's potential death again. He'd just convince Merlin eventually that the here and now was more important than a future potential death, and that Merlin needed to relax just a bit.
Arthur shook his head a bit. It wasn't pleasant to think of this stuff so damn early in the morning. What mattered was this— he'd slept with Merlin, finally, and it'd been fucking amazing. He'd do it again soon, and then again, and then again. Very few things could stay unpleasant with that sort of mindset; it was almost like he was in his first few weeks of marriage, what with all the hope and elated joy. Not that Arthur would let Merlin know he was responsible for it; he couldn't let Merlin's ego grow any more.
"You awake?" Merlin muttered. Arthur ignored him and let himself breathe into Merlin's neck, ignoring Merlin's "That tickles," and instead falling limp.
"Arthur. I know you're awake."
"Barely," Arthur grumbled. Merlin laughed; it was far brighter than it had any right to be considering the time of day.
"It's almost 10, Arthur, you should get up." Merlin didn't move at all, though, which showed Arthur how much he was enjoying a lie-in. If Merlin really was upset at him being like an octopus, he'd push him off. Arthur was very contented by that line of thought.
"Do you still have my mother's sigil?" Arthur asked quietly, now that he was awake enough to comprehend things like his marriage proposal. He'd fucked that up, certainly, but it been mostly worth it considering how Merlin had melted in his arms the night before.
"Er." Merlin froze. "Your what?"
Suddenly, with a cold dose of shock, Arthur realized that Merlin hadn't known. The absolute buffoon. "Merlin." Arthur shot up in bed (and here Merlin sighed a bit forlornly, so point one for Arthur, he did like staying in bed), "The sigil? The one you found when I was poisoned or, more likely, under some spell?"
Merlin's face blanched. "That was- you—" he shot up in bed too, and Arthur got a lovely glimpse of his bare chest again. That was very much appreciated, even if the situation was idiotic. "You never told me it was her sigil!"
"I thought you'd known," Arthur hissed out. "Why do you think I let you keep it?"
"I don't know!" Merlin said—well, yelled, practically—as he threw up his hands in frustration. "You were feeling nice for once in your bloody life?"
"Because it meant you were-" Arthur stumbled over the word mine; it lodged instead into his tongue before he could say it. "Meant you had a token. Of mine."
"Arthur, a sigil was as- is as good as a proposal."
Arthur didn't say anything. "Well, clearly not since you didn't even notice it."
"Oh my god." Merlin tutted under his breath, and he switched to Gaelic; for a moment, Arthur felt his heart lift out of his chest for a moment. "I would've kept it on my neck then."
"Shut up," Arthur grumbled
Merlin's eyebrow twitched. "I say something nice and you tell me to shut up?"
"It's- it's out of character," Arthur protested rather more feebly then he meant it. Merlin had gotten up and started to rifle through his drawers; Arthur just sat and watched. It was good to watch Merlin exist nowadays, now that there was no one to watch him do exactly that. Before, Arthur would've been a prince, then a king, with lecherous eyes— now he was just Arthur.
Or, well, he felt like he was just Arthur. Merlin kept looking at him like he was still worth admiring. Arthur didn't really know what to do with that.
"Here it is." Merlin held up a light black string with the sigil. On Arthur's end, it had only been a few years since he'd accidentally handed it over, but it still made his heart rush rather ridiculously at the sight. "This is…"
"My mother's," Arthur said. "Gwen- she had an old ring of hers. One my mother loved, according to my father. But I thought the necklace was…"
"It is," Merlin murmured. His eyes almost sparkled in the morning light. they began to glow, and god that would always be mesmerizing. Now that he- now that Arthur had said he had feelings, he wouldn't have to hide how much awe he felt in regard to Merlin.
The necklace began to glow, and all the tarnish was slowly removed, nearly dusted off, and the chain became a nice metal one. Merlin let go, and the necklace floated, floating up and then slowly falling onto his neck.
"how do I look?" Merlin asked. He sat on the bed, his back lit by the morning sun, his hair tousled, his eyes still sparkling. Arthur didn't know what to think or even say. Here was this miracle of a man, some magical sorcerer, and he was acting as if Arthur was the most importantly person in the world. It was ridiculous. A literal god, basked in sunlight with bruises on his neck, and he wanted to know what Arthur thought.
"Fine," Arthur said. It didn't even sound too much like a lie. "Stop smirking, your face will get stuck like that."
Merlin didn't listen and, instead, fell onto the bed to push Arthur back down. "Asshole."
"I was being nice," Arthur protested, a complete and utter lie. "It looks awful, really. I have no idea why I even tolerate you."
"Of course you don't," Merlin said, voice absolutely suffused with fondness, and Arthur tried not to feel like he was preening. Merlin ran his hand up and down Arthur's spine. "What would you like to do today, sire?"
"Well." Arthur propped himself back up on his forearms. "Call Leon using that magical box, for one-"
"It's called a phone, Arthur."
"Magical box," Arthur interrupted, grinning as Merli began to scowl, "and then go out to that garden area-"
"The forest."
Arthur scoffed. No such thing as wild forests nowadays. "Barely a forest. Then I'll make dinner, and you'll do all the work of finding a deacon to marry us."
Merlin choked on air again, but he got over it quickly. "Right. Yes. That."
"Scared, are you?"
"No!" Merlin obviously lied. His face became a bit vulnerable. "Just- I can't believe I agreed to marry you."
"You should realize how lucky you are," Arthur said as haughtily as he could manage. Merlin began to scowl again, which just made Arthur all the more pompous. "Really, Merlin, you must remember how many marriage proposals I had when I was Prince and king,. The fact that I want you is absolutely-"
Merlin was too busy smothering him with a pillow for Arthur to finish that sentence.
"Get off me," Arthur yelled into the pillow. It sounded more like grofme with the feathers in his face. Merlin lifted it after 10 seconds and Arthur was left flat on his back, sputtering out bits of fabric.
"You're an awful manservant," he declared as if it was anywhere near true, "and I can't wait until I'm rid of you."
Merlin's stupid smirk began to climb across his face. "Of course, sire, but that was not what you told me last-"
"Shut up." Arthur covered Merlin's mouth. "No, really. Shut up. I said nothing."
Merlin continued talking, probably something about Arthur's numerous and somewhat soppy declarations the night previous, but Arthur just shoved his palm against his mouth harder. He then realized there was now a far more efficient and pleasurable method to shut Merlin up.
Merlin did stiffen a bit when Arthur kissed him, probably out of shock. He responded quickly enough that Arthur didn't really begin to worry, but it was still ridiculous, how good this felt. How whole he felt.
"You were trying to shut me up," Merlin murmured into Arthur's mouth. Arthur had somewhat forgotten all of that business in his haze of dopamine (modern medicine was stupid and bad, but Arthur had found himself browsing through those books on occasion).
"And it worked."
"Barely." Merlin got up again and began to dress in his modern outfit. Arthur hadn't really known what to make of the modern-day style originally, not when it'd separated him even more from his time right before this, but he found he didn't mind it now. Merlin from Camelot and Merlin now were two completely different people, just as Merlin when he first arrived was completely different from the Merlin that had held Arthur during his final moments. The different style of dress just cemented that. "And I think we're really already married, honestly."
"Pardon?"
"I mean." Merlin gestured to the room. "We live in the same house, eat the same food, got 'consummated' last night—"
Arthur felt his cheeks flush red.
"And," Merlin continued, grinning as he saw Arthur's blush, "The sigil is basically a ring. Better than a ring for me."
Arthur nodded slowly, trying to understand what Merlin was saying. He'd gotten himself all prepared to have to go on some form of quest to prove himself to Merlin, but he'd forgotten that Merlin was oddly enamored with Arthur, warts and all. He'd never been a fan of pomp and circumstance— why would that change now?
"Good." Arthur nodded. It was still so weird to just say that he liked Merlin. It was terrifying as much as it was… nice. "Good."
"Can you say anything beside that word?"
"Shut up," Arthur retorted on instinct.
"Ooh, four words now," Merlin muttered, "how impressive."
He flashed a cutting smile at Arthur, and Arthur found himself nearly overcome with some odd sense of tranquility. Not tranquility, maybe, but complete and utter realization that this was all he really wanted in life from now on. His father was gone, and so was Morgana, and Merlin stood in front of him after everything. Merlin had battled life and death, gone through hell and back just to stand by Arthur's side when he'd been forced to drag himself out of that fucking lake. There was nothing else Arthur needed to satisfy himself; he'd reached his goal.
Arthur found himself grabbing Merlin and dragging him into bed, desperately trying to communicate whatever this consuming, wild feeling in his chest was. he hadn't felt anything like it since when he'd fallen for Gwen.
"Goodness, I don't-" Merlin broke it off. "You alright?"
"Merlin," Arthur said slowly. "Do I look alright?"
Merlin looked at him. His eyes began to soften, his hand moved up to trace Arthur's cheek, and he smiled as bright as the sun, and he leaned in for another kiss.
Yeah," he said quietly. "Yeah, I think you do."