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Chapter Text

“Did you not hear mister? Camelot’s taken the territory round ‘ere. The King and his knights are coming down to visit. Said something about clearing out the nearby forest.”

“Oh? Are they?”

“Yeah, the King doesn’t travel much no more, bit of a shock if y’know what I’m say’n.”

“I thought the King of Camelot enjoyed a hunt.”

“Oh no, mister, not after that big funeral they had. He don’t go out much more. My mum says he goes mopey.”

Merlin turned and walked away.

***

Arthur walked alone through the woods, and Merlin followed behind.

He had never thought it would be such a hard thing to do, in times of old he would follow Arthur anywhere he went, but then, of course, Arthur knew Merlin was alive.

The forest stretched on.

He had only come to this particular woodland once, when he had come to help the town physician pick some herbs. They were so different from the ones he was used to that he spent the first candle mark walking around blindly, and the second begging for a pair of gloves to protect his hands.

He quit the next morning. He seemed to be getting better and better at doing that.

Arthur let out a long breath, and Merlin pressed himself into the back of a tree. Why did he come here? Why did he not leave as he had promised himself he would if Arthur ever found him?

For two years Merlin had stayed away, and at the first lick of sunlight, he gave up completely.

Hello Arthur. I wish I could say I didn’t miss you.

He knew Camelot had declared him dead, had considered going to his own funeral even. It seemed too macabre.

Merlin had been told it was an impressive celebration, worthy of a knight even. Not even all the jesters and acrobats in the world could convince him so. Even the brightest of afternoon’s seemed dipped in darkness, now.

Arthur was approaching a lake that Merlin had never seen before, and he fell heavily to his knees. Merlin winced, before remembering it was not him who would have to scrub the stubborn dried mud off.

He hadn’t even handled armour in the years he had been gone. He doubted he still remembered how it was done.

Arthur seemed stiff, and Merlin hoped to the triple goddesses that he wasn’t enchanted. He could not take up his destiny again.

He would not make it out alive.

And neither would Arthur.

“Hello, Merlin,” said Arthur, and Merlin froze. He can’t have seen him. Even if he did, he would never assume it was him.

Merlin was dead, and if he was dead, he was protected. Camelot never went searching for dead men, especially those gone for over two years.

“It’s been a while. I…am sorrowful for that. It has been a long travel, and I have not seen lakes for longer than even that. You always loved them, when you were alive. God knows why, you never even wanted to swim in them.”

Merlin felt faint.

“It’s…been hard, although I suppose you know that. God knows, if you can even hear me, but I have to believe that you can. I have to believe I will be able to see you again. I thought I knew loneliness, I thought I knew suffering, but even when you are now gone, I still hope you are happy, wherever it is that one goes.”

Merlin couldn’t take this anymore. He felt tears build up behind his eyes, and his face burned in shame.

Arthur wanted a dead-man alive.

And, really, was there ever anything he would not try and give to him? 

Arthur had not stopped speaking, but Merlin was moving. He walked around the side of the woodland, nearby where a large rock formation would block him from view.

Merlin stepped into the water, desperate not to slip on the loose mud beneath him. He had a plan, or rather, the shallow, mad ravings of one.

He would never even consider doing something else.

The water froze his skin, and his clothes weighed him down. And still, he walked towards Arthur’s praying stance.

“Hello Arthur.”

He didn’t know what else to say.

Arthur’s head shot up like something had hit him.

“Merlin?” His spoke as if in some kind of disbelieving hope, rising to his feet on shaky legs. He took a step forward.

“Don’t touch the water!” The words broke free from Merlin’s mouth before he could stop them.

Arthur froze, like Merlin’s words were a deadly command that he must follow, or risk something far, far worse.

“Are you here? Are you a ghost come to haunt me for every wrong I have committed in letting you go?”

In a less serious situation, Merlin would have rolled his eyes.

“No. No! I’m not a ghost, well, I don’t think I am. I’m a…water spirit.” An image of Freya came to mind.

At least this magic had some rules he was familiar with.

“A what?”

“Water spirit! I’m not technically living,” that was true, he would always say he was surviving more than anything else, “But I’m here! And I can hear you too, always can actually. Just thought you might want me to pop in and say hello.”

“To say…hello?”

“Yeah, I’m not really that strong though, so I have to leave soon.” That was true as well. Merlin was a weak, weak man. A weak traitorous man, who couldn’t even protect the man who he once considered friend.

Not even from himself.

He closed his eyes and cast an invisibility spell.

He waded out of the water to Arthur’s horrified shout. It rang through him and in that moment, Merlin thought he might die from the terror of it.

This was a man in pain. A man who had grasped something he had wanted, and it had fallen from his white-knuckled grip.

He had it now. A missing man who came back from the dead.

Maybe it would give Arthur some comfort if he knew his prayers were being heard, being understood by a dead man.

A cruel, dead man.

***

Merlin had thought he was not going to do it again.

He had drummed it into himself. He had the self-control. He would not run to Arthur, allow himself to be addicted by that feeling of forbidden sunlight, the desperate joy he would never be allowed to have. That monsters like him couldn’t have.

He couldn’t see that toothy smile, the radiant joy and laughter that filled his wrinkled eyes (eyes that had such deep circles and lines, such that he had never seen on his old friend when he was a younger man).

Damage that even two whole years should have been unable to perform on his face.

As far as they were concerned, he was dead. Dead as a doornail, dead as the rat Merlin had made into a stew.

“You’re such an idiot Merlin, how could you possibly think that was a good idea? He would have gotten over it eventually. Like your plan was originally.” Merlin talked to himself a lot these days, being as he had started moving again, the woodlands feeling far more safe than the nearby villages. Just in case Arthur stopped by for a ‘quick but necessary’ visit and found Merlin on land. As in, not left forever haunting the watery depths of Albion.

And alive, that too.

He knew he had messed everything up. He could only hope not to see Arthur kneeling over and praying in front of his wash basin, thinking he was talking to his old manservant. Maybe asking him to fix the ripped corner of the bed-sheet, from the mice that always came around at this time of year.

The King of Camelot should never be debased in such a horrid way.

Merlin didn’t know if that made him want to laugh or cry.

Both, probably.

He had taken to wearing the exact same outfit everywhere. Just in case. He didn’t think men-who-haunt-lakes typically had a spare change of dry clothes.

A rampaging echo sounded through the woods. Hooves beating, deathly screaming and a deep, dark growling. And Arthur Pendragon’s voice screaming over it all.

The man came in to view in a furious battle of wings and claws.

The knights were running, and a griffin was chasing them. Merlin’s blood had turned to pure ice. The knights were going to die, and nothing Merlin could do would save them.

Unless.

Merlin knew he should not interfere.

He wasn’t going to, until he caught sight of Arthur’s face. Arthur looked…like a man who had already died. Perhaps he remembered their last battle with the creature, and the fact that the only person who could defeat one was not with them.

Why would they travel without Lancelot?

He didn’t know what to do. The spell he had once used for the lance had been forgotten long ago, and he racked his memory for something that would save the knights.

Lance tackling Merlin down.

The Griffin leaving.

“EorÞwæstm wágþeorl.”

The earth cracked behind the knights feet, just beyond the line of trees. Run that way. Please.

And run that way they did. As Merlin hoped, Arthur had spotted the newly constructed ravine (that ended up as more of a bog than anything else) and led the men downward. They had already abandoned the horses a while ago, and they only had their own lives left to save.

The men slipped down the mud ducking their heads and sitting in the muck. They had only just been covered in time.

As he had hoped, when the Griffin came out it looked from one side to the other, before it huffed and ran off in the other direction.

Merlin could not stop himself.

The Knights were facing away from him, pressed into the side of the ravine wall.

Merlin splashed into the swamp with all the grace and elegance of a rampaging dragon.

All their heads snapped around and Merlin felt so exposed, despite his modest garb.

“Are you all insane? What were you thinking? Were you even thinking?”

As it turned out, swamp ghosts where rather allowed to say anything that they wanted with minimal consequences.

“Merlin. You’re back.” And Merlin just felt annoyed at the warm, happy look that came over Arthur’s face. He wasn’t allowed to be warm and happy, not when Merlin was screaming at him.

“Yeah, well, I can’t stay long. Not enough energy if you know what I mean.”

Arthur took a step forward and Merlin held out an arm, “Don’t step in the bog!” Give me my space. I can’t be close to you. Not now, not ever.

Arthur took a quick step back, realizing his mistake. The rest of the knights followed suit, some half climbing onto the sides of the muddied cliff. Despite it being outside of the inner circle, none of them seemed particularly surprised that he was here.

As far as he remembered from Camelot, despite everything, people spontaneously coming back from the dead was not exactly common.

“Only you would choose a bog of all places, Merlin. You’re covered in mud!”

Merlin looked down in that moment, and realized Arthur was right. He felt a familiar spark of annoyance within him, and only then did the familiarity of that feeling make his face melt into something resembling a smile.

“It’s not the first one you’ve found me in. Besides, someone has to control your ridiculousness, or would you rather I appear in the ditch you ended up dead in.”

“I am the King, Merlin.”

Merlin didn’t know what to say again, once his anger had faded.

And when another knight slipped further into the mud it gave him a reason to just vanish.

Merlin had never been so uncomfortable as when he left the scene under a rather terrible invisibility charm. Those types of spells were always unpleasant, feeling rather like somebody was compressing down every individual area of your body in a tight sleeve. It also didn’t help that he was coated in wet, cold mud that crunched in his shoes and clothes, all while rubbing against some significantly more…inconvenient locations.

He would not do that to himself again, he owed it to Arthur and he owed it to himself to respect that. Maybe they would all assume that his spirit had finally found peace and moved on, to some unknown and better place.

He just had to have some level of self-control.

Easy.

***

“Hello Arthur.”

Merlin nearly laughed as a completely nude Arthur rushed out from behind the changing screen, and grabbed for his sword. When his head snapped around, finally seeing just who it was that invaded his chambers, a huge grin spread across his face.

Merlin had sprawled himself out, fully clothed, inside Arthur’s bathtub, and was rather regretting it. The dumb grin on his face told a very different story.

“I…was not aware that my bathtub was a large enough space for you to appear in.”

“Neither was I, honest. Bit of a surprise on my end too.”

Arthur walked carefully around the tub, still completely nude, and went to pull up a nearby chair before he paused.

“Will it send you away if I touch some of the water you have chucked around on the floor?”

“Don’t think so,” Merlin thought quickly, “It’s mostly just the stuff I hang out in, I think.”

“You think? You haven’t tested it?”

“How could I? I’m not actually always here.” That was true as well, Merlin was not, in fact, always in Arthur’s bathtub.

“Right. Yeah. Of course.”

Arthur sat in the chair, and Merlin could not help but stare at him.

It was almost strange that the sight of a nude Arthur was painfully, comfortably familiar. He had seen it everyday, and Arthur’s over-inflated vanity was something he had sorely missed. He raked his eyes over Arthur’s torso and strong neck, unsure of when he would ever be able to see them again.

He had promised himself that he would not come back. That he would not see Arthur’s face again, to face his destiny and throw it away as if it meant nothing.

He had lasted almost a full month.

Until of course, he felt something shift in the magic around Camelot.

Arthur, the magic screamed, in trouble. Well, at least, the Arthur bit was true. Merlin had long-since begun to think of anything that involved Arthur as trouble, and as such could be forgiven for the hasty decision making.

Besides, he couldn’t take the wind screaming at him anymore.

Arthur seemed quite unsure of where to put himself, once he was in Merlin’s premises. He leaned forward as if to lie against the side of the bath but decided against it.

“How’s Gwen?” Merlin decided to ask, trying to break the awkward silence that had befallen the two of them.

“I don’t know Merlin. I really don’t know.”

Merlin started at that.

“I thought you were going to get married by the spring? I may not be the most present of creatures, but I’m pretty sure spring happened a while ago now.”

Arthur let out a long sigh, and a look of pain crossed his features.

“You know Merlin, I would have thought that even at the bottom of the Lake somewhere, you might have heard the news. Guinevere and I…separated over a year ago now. A few days after your funeral, actually. She…that is to say, she was enchanted to kiss Lancelot.”

Merlin drew in a shocked breath.

“I banished her at first, of course. I didn’t know what else to do. We figured it out eventually afterall, some sorceress confessed that she had aided Morgana with the spell-work. The short of it is that I invited her back to Camelot, but…we both decided that we were simply not right for each other. Besides, the spell, in it’s description showed who her true feelings were for. It wouldn’t have worked if she truly, deep down in her very soul, loved me.”

Arthur sighed and ran a tongue over his lips.

“And neither did I, I suppose. I loved her, but I never recognized that she was enchanted. I just felt that I had nobody I could trust.”

Arthur looked directly into his eyes. Blue on blue, as blue as the sea.

“I think you might have seen it, Merlin. You always did, I suppose.”

A rush of lukewarm water went straight up his back and stuck his threadbare shirt to his skin. Merlin fought against shivering.

“Yeah, I suppose I was.” Merlin gave a crooked smile, knowing that Arthur did not want comfort, but wishing he could give it anyway. It was almost like, without physical touch, he had no idea what he was doing. “So, I assume you’ve not been looking for someone new then?”

“Merlin!”

“Yes, Sire?”

“If you were actually here, I would tell you to get out.”

Their eyes caught contact then, seeing the pure ridiculousness of the situation: Merlin fully clothed, lounging in Arthur’s bathwater, and Arthur confessing his deepest feelings starkers to a ghost. They peeled into laughter, Merlin staring straight towards Arthur’s face, and Arthur looking up at the ceiling as he always did. It felt so very, horrifically normal.

“What? I do have a vat of hot oil somewhere, I’ll have you know!” Arthur said, pulling himself together. His eyes twinkled, the inner sunlight that escaped into his hair had returned. Merlin let out another chuckle at the reminder of that old conversation. It seemed so long ago. Perhaps years was a long time, but not now. Not anymore. Still, Merlin knew exactly how Arthur wanted him to respond.

“You’re blushing!”

“No, I’m not,” Arthur deadpanned, before ‘subtly’ rubbing a palm over his cheek.

“C’mon Arthur, in all the time I knew you, you always were after somebody. I mean admittedly you were enchanted for most of that and I only think you won a few of them, but still you desired.”           

“Merlin!”

“You know, you keep saying my name over and over again as if you are hoping it will mean something different each time.”

“Well, maybe it will. Perhaps one of these days you will realize that even strange water spirits need to be useful, and learn how to tapdance. Or perform a comedy routine. You never know how useful that skill might be in the future.”

“To do what?”

“To remind everyone that your still the same fool that…disappeared a few years ago and not some mystical creature who they must leave offerings for.”

“I don’t know about that,” Merlin said, adding a dramatic pause in the middle, “One of my theories for how I’m able to be here is the amount of offerings and signs of love people leave.” He gave another cheeky grin. This, this was easy. Not just talking to Arthur, although that was easy too, but how what he was saying was still the truth, or at least part of it was. He had done this entire dance for many years, unsure of how much to lean into the truth and playing off Arthur to get his desired result.

He could do it without guilt now.

Arthur leaned forewords, finally, and again went to touch Merlin. To slap a hand on his shoulder, before he pulled back.

Merlin was glad. His whole ruse would go straight down the toilet if Arthur forgot himself for just a moment. Every boundary he had put up would be dashed, and Merlin could never be upset about it.

Because it was Arthur. It was all Arthur. It was just the way they worked as friends, even if Merlin had thought he had forgotten. Constantly pushing each others boundaries, never admitting it, but striving to shape and make the other into a better person. And, at least there, Merlin knew he had succeeded. The man in front of him now, the King, was the furthest thing for the twenty-one year old bully he had met on his very first day.

“Is that so Merlin? It seems to me like somebody is getting a little greedy.”

Until Merlin had left Camelot he forgot how often Arthur used his name, but even this seemed a little excessive. It was almost like Arthur was constantly reminding himself exactly who he was talking too.

“It’s not being greedy if it works. And your one to talk with your…” Merlin gestured at Arthur’s nudity, “fancy robes and golden crowns.”

Arthur looked down at himself.

“Neither of which I am currently wearing. So, I must assume you value my king-hood so greatly you see it on me wherever I go.”

“You are such a prat.” The insult slipped off his tongue, easier than he had remembered. Was he not supposed to be keeping Arthur away from him? Was that not the entire reason Merlin had told him not to touch the water?

“If anyone here is, as you crudely put it, a prat, then it must be you.”

“Why must it be me?” Merlin said, sinking back further into the water, in an attempt to move his sore leg from were he had so carelessly positioned it.

“Because either you are clearly hallucinating, or your dip in the lakes have entirely frozen what remained of your brain.”

“I still have a brain!”

“How do you know that? I wasn’t aware spirits had organs of any kind really. They are usually pretty see-through. Of course, you would make yourself difficult enough to be the exception.”

“What can I say? I live to please.”

“Not even once in your life.”

Why did the earth call for him so? Send Merlin to Arthur’s side so desperately? There seemed to be no wrongs worth righting.

None that Merlin didn’t know about, anyway.

“Has your new manservant been taking care of you?” Arthur looked away.

“I didn’t get another one,” Arthur said plainly. Merlin stared at his face, eventually following to where his eye-line pointed.

Arthur was staring towards an offending pot of stew that had been placed on his table. Merlin paused. If Arthur had been planning a warm bath, why would he have ordered a hot dinner now?

Perhaps he simply was not hungry? Under times of great stress, sometimes it would take something beyond force to get Arthur to ingest anything.

Arthur’s stomach made a noise that would have been a rumble, but his venomous glare down at the offending bodily function made it muffle itself. Or perhaps it was the annoyed huff that he made.

“Arthur, you’re not eating.”

“Well spotted Merlin. No, I’m not, even with you technically here, you’re still gone. This was your favourite…before. The cook keeps bringing it to me. I think she thought it would help.”

Merlin stared dubiously at the pot of what was clearly a very dull stew. The cook always forgot to add the pepper when he was not there.

“It wasn’t. My favourite, that is.”

“Oh.”

“My favourite’s a specific type of cheese and bacon tart the kitchens used to send us on very special occasions. Like your birthday, or your coronation.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Apparently not, no.”

Silence fell between them. Awkward silence that had never been there in the older days when they were nothing but master-and wilfully disobedient servant. Merlin had to fix this; he knew he had to fix this. Because Arthur should never have that look on his face.

The King stood up, straightening his shoulders in an attempt at regality, which he somehow pulled off just as well as if he had paired it with a crown and ladled himself a bowl of soup. He made his way awkwardly across the room and sat back down, spoon in hand.

Merlin was only slightly unsure of why Arthur was so stiff. He was almost positive he had not seen Merlin’s eyes fixed on his behind.

He made no movements to actually eat any of it.

“So, what’s it like Merlin? Living in the water, that is. Your hair does seem shockingly dry, despite the rest of you being rather on the wet side.”

“I’ll eat if you will.”

“Merlin, in case you forgot your….well, you’re…” Arthur gave an uncomfortable looking shrugging gesture.

“Half-dead? Yeah, but I’m sure I can make it work, look. Float some across to me, just…don’t touch the water.”

“Will that work?”

“Think so, but then again you can never truly know these things so sure, in fact it could banish me from this realm all together.” Gaius would kill him for making these rules up as he went along.

Instead of relaxing Arthur as he had expected his childish remark to do, he seemed to tense, knuckles going white as he pressed into the sides of the bowl. He hesitantly leaned forward, clutching only the top of the bowl with his fingertips.

The bowl of stew was awkwardly pushed towards Merlin, landing against his soggy neckerchief. Merlin honestly couldn’t decide if the warm water of the bath or the cold of the lake was preferable when fully clothed.

Merlin picked the bowl up and lifted the spoon to his lips, trying to make the movement casual. Water spirits probably didn’t have a need for food in the same way that human beings did. Merlin, however, had not eaten anything since he had set foot for Camelot under the cover of night, two days before hand.

“Well, what are you waiting for? A deal’s a deal.”

Arthur smiled again, looking at the strange sight. In another situation he would probably be making fun of him.

However, in this situation, Arthur reached around and poured himself another bowl of stew, sitting back down in his chair. Merlin only grinned as Arthur awkwardly used the hot bowl to attempt to cover his modesty, and immediately regretted it.

Merlin finally spooned the stew into his mouth. He fought against moaning at the warmth, flavour forgotten in the name of hunger.

“How does that taste?” Arthur had his old bemused grin on his face, and Merlin ached at the warmth and familiarity of it. This was the real Arthur, not the one he put on for anyone else. Not even the one he was when he was truly happy, just the way he was when he could finally relax and feel safe.

“Not really much of anything. Warm though.”

“Suppose it would be. Being…not really here and all that.”

It was only then Merlin realized how little Arthur wanted to say that he was dead.

“It’s still your turn.”

Arthur gave another grin, and spooned the stew into his mouth, groaning at the flavour.

“King’s don’t take turns, Merlin.”

“Well, we always have. Don’t see why we should change now.”

Another joyful grin. “No, neither do I.”

Arthur gave a long swallow, despite no food being in his mouth.

“I’m glad you’re here, Merlin.”

“Yeah, me too.”

They sat in a comfortable, warm silence for a while, the only sound being the two of them loudly chewing at the stew. It was still, as Merlin praised himself, rather bland.

Occasionally Merlin winced as his clothes squished in the water, glad as ever that he had remembered his neck-down silencing charm.

“Arthur?”

“Yes Merlin?” Arthur’s voice was soft, warm and sweet. Sleepy, even.

“You have stew in your chest hair.”

***

Sneaking out the window the previous night had been the hardest thing he had ever done. Not only did he feel like he left something terrible and unfinished behind, but he was sodding wet and very nearly fell down the side of the tower due to the extra weight.

It didn’t help that he had to knock out the guards at the gates anyway.

However, the next night he could not help but travel back to stare at a sleeping Arthur.

To his shock, Arthur was not sleeping, but instead bathing in what appeared to be a brand new, smaller tub. As Merlin stared around the room he saw Arthur’s original bath, still filled with water, and pressed against the other side of Arthur’s table.

Almost alike he was hoping Merlin would be able to join him for dinner.

***

Merlin had known he would return to Arthur again, but he didn’t know when.

The next time he saw the knights, they were tracking through the woods, ready to face off against a group of Lamia who had been traced to a nearby mountain range.

Merlin hated it. Lamia didn’t usually work, or even live, together in groups. They didn’t usually stay in the mountains, being descended from a breed of snake that lived by woodlands.

Everything about this screamed ‘Trap!’, just like every other mission they had been on. And the worst thing was, Arthur was coming with them. And nobody seemed to have worked out how much trouble they were truly in. Sure, Arthur had gone on other dangerous trips without Merlin before, but never had he gone to something that was so obviously deadly, to face off against a group of creatures whose primary method was manipulation.

Safe to say, as soon as Merlin heard the news, he made chase. He had been camped inside the hollowed-out middle of a large tree trunk, and it was easy enough to move everything back onto his pony and set off.

He didn’t even have time to un-pack his saddle bags.

You left your destiny behind.

Why does it still haunt you so?

He found all the men parked next to a running stream, making camp. A few had already set off to find food and firewood. The single rabbit they had caught roasted on the fire. The carving was terrible, and Merlin could only assume that Arthur had tried to do it himself.

There wasn’t a servant in sight.

But there also wasn’t anything blocking the stream that he couldn’t sneak behind. He would have to use magic, and the thought of that rocked him to his core.

Maybe they will be pleased enough to see me they won’t notice the golden eyes when the spell is removed.

Merlin positioned himself in a nearby clearing.

“Heoloþhelm.”

He shivered as he moved himself towards the stream, finally allowing himself to look at the men. Arthur was there, a grin on his face, and stress in his eyes. Leon. Gwaine. Percival. Elyan. Lancelot.

He didn’t know if he could talk to them all at once, and yet he must.

In the name of sunlight, he must.

He sat to the side of the stream for a while, a little afraid of touching the cold water.

“I was not that weak against her last time!”

“No, because you weren’t even there, she decided you were not worth her time!”

“I was kept behind!”

“And yet you still ran into her.”

“You’re one to talk, she took you out first!”

Merlin waited until their mock argument sped up, until the loudness of their laughter and yells would block out the sound of the water splashing. The cold, rushing water seeped up Merlin’s legs and hands, all the way up to his torso. He stood frozen, breathing deeply in and out.

Hello Arthur.

He pushed against the current of the stream, moving as fast as he could in the direction of his former friends. He had never known them to set up camp so near a stream. It was a good thing that it flowed towards the knights instead of away.

He almost fell over, more than once.

“Cyþan.”

Gwaine jumped as he appeared.

“Hey everyone,” Merlin lifted an arm and waved awkwardly, “It’s been a while.”

The knights moved seamlessly, it looked as if they had been practicing it for a while. In full armour they all stood up and came to kneel next to the river.

“Merlin, mate!”

“Hello, Merlin.”

“Merlin!”

He hated every happy word. Hated how they didn’t sound with betrayal.

His faced fixed into a toothy grin, and he awkwardly tried to find a sitting down position and dug his hands into the mud to make it look like he was comfortable and not about to be thrown down the lake.

He was entirely convinced that most water spirits were not affected by the environment they were in.

“Took your time, didn’t you Merlin?” Arthur had moved to sit with the others, but he lay back, relaxed. “I would poke you with a stick, but it would probably count for too much human contact.”

“Hey! Be nice, hello Merlin. I’ve missed you old friend.” Lancelot always had the kindest things to say, and the gentlest tone in which he said them.

“Hey Lance, I’ve missed you too.”

“Only you could pull of a back-from-the-dead trick, couldn’t you?”

“Well, you know me, always doing the impossible.”

“The improbable, more like,” Gwaine slid in.

“That too.”

Arthur sat to the side as Merlin spoke to the Knights, laughing like old times, and sitting in silence as Gwaine re-told a tale of greatness that involved a tavern maiden, an oddly shaped dragon and ‘the human equivalent to an ogre’.

Percival followed that story up with Gwaine setting his socks on fire.

Leon piped in with the tale of how he was harassed by a hornet nest.

Lit by the flickering firelight, all Merlin could do was laugh.

The rest of the knights packed it in eventually, moving all of their things a little further down towards shelter.

He and Arthur were left quite alone, as he was the only one who hadn’t moved.

Strange. Arthur was usually the first off to bed. Maybe they had agreed earlier that he was on watch, before Merlin got there.

“Of all the things I’ve faced, I’ve never been worried about dying.”

“I don’t think you should, now.”

A long silence ran between them, their eyes catching in the flickering light of the fire.

“Sometimes you do puzzle me.”

“You never fathomed me out?”

“No.”

“Well, I’d always thought that if things would have been different, we could have been good-great friends, even.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“That is, of course, if you weren’t such an arrogant, pompous, dollophead.”

Arthur snorted, face stretching into a grin and his eyes met the floor. Arthur always looked away when he laughed, like he was afraid someone would see and get them both in trouble.

Even as the King, he could never let that behaviour go.

But, as his face straightened into a serious look, Merlin knew that a much graver conversation was coming.

“I’ve not done this without you before, Merlin.”

Merlin had to think to himself for a few minutes before he worked out what that even meant.

“You have the Knights. Besides, I have seen and heard of you going into other missions.”

“Nothing like this. Your aimless chatter was surprisingly easy to adapt to, and, in all honesty, I miss the light heartedness before a battle.”

“You looked pretty light-hearted to me.”

“Can you see out of the waterbed Merlin? You know, when you’re not…” Arthur waved a hand at Merlin.

“Um, sometimes?”

Arthur rolled his eyes and leaned backwards. And then, he grinned.

“I could get one of my Knights to carry a basin of water onto the battlefield, up a clifftop. Force you to come with me then.”

“Even after leaving the remnants of my past behind, you would still force me into the fight?” Merlin could not say he was dead. Somehow that lie was just too far for him.

“You’re such a wimp, Merlin.”

“I may be a wimp, but at least I’m not a supercilious prat.”

“Watch it!”

“Seriously, Arthur, you are going to be fine. You might be walking straight into a trap, but you are still a courageous Knight and King. You don’t need to prove that to anyone, least of all me.”

“I know that.”

Merlin nodded and they both lost eye contact and looked away. Merlin was starting to feel very wet, his entire arm and both hands and legs being completely numb.

Merlin swayed, feeling the tidiness take over his muscles. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Arthur reach out a hand to hold him up, and he flinched. Both men froze.

“Sorry,” Arthur grumbled out, pulling his hand back, “Forgot.”

Merlin picked up the conversation again quickly after that, determined to keep Arthur’s mind off whatever had just happened and to keep him positive and relaxed for the next day.

When Arthur first made his next joke, both men seemed to revel in the easiness of it.

They broke into chuckles, wheezing as they so typically did.

If Merlin had not been freezing to death in a stream, he might have thought that they were almost normal in that moment.

This could be it. This could make sense for a final visit.

Water spirits don’t have that much strength, they rarely appear in corporal form, something Gaius surely would have explained to them. He could just stop…say his goodbyes.

It could all be blissfully over.

He walked off later that night.

***

Merlin had thought he was done. The men had come back alive, and there didn’t seem to be any kind of active threat towards them that Merlin would have to warn or defend against. When had he picked up his destiny again? Let it follow him as he swore it would not?

But then he saw Arthur, sitting quite alone by the little pond.

The other knights had originally been with him too, but upon talking to Arthur again, they had all shrugged, got on their horses, and left entirely. Something about supplies. And, once he saw that, he knew he could not leave Arthur defenceless and alone.

Night had fallen now, and still Arthur sat sadly in front of the pond.

Silent, staring off into the distance.

And then, Arthur spoke. “Merlin.”

Merlin shoved a hand over his face, convinced that Arthur had heard his breath, or maybe even his rattling heartbeat.

“You know, Merlin, since you first appeared again, I’ve not prayed to water as often as I once did. Or, at least, I shouldn’t find the need too. But now, knowing if I speak my words to any water, I know you hear, and I just can’t help myself. You must have had a good old laugh at me whispering into my breakfast drink or bathwater, if you are even aware of such things. Your dollopheaded enough that I wouldn’t expect you too.”

Arthur took a long, quiet breath. “I wouldn’t expect you to, but I do ask you to come to me tonight. I have never directly asked such a thing to you before, but for some reason your face provides me with…something. And knowing you are there and just can’t talk back it’s…almost torturous. But I suppose it must be worse for you.”

Arthur’s eyes had heavy rings, and they seemed to be flickering shut. Even his words seemed slurred, like he was so tired he was ready to pass out. And yet, he could not allow himself to do so, not when there was a slim chance that his goal would be achieved.

It was obvious what Arthur was hoping for. The edge of the pond went around a little thicket of bushes. It would be entirely possible when Arthur was not looking to sneak in there.

The pond was murky, cold, black, and full of a mix of algae and snot, but Merlin rather thought he could risk it.

And so, by the trees, Merlin waited.

“Do you feel lonely when I cannot speak to you? I have tried to encourage others to do it too, but…I soon realized it would probably be overwhelming. And Leon pointed out you never said you could hear the others. Only me.”

Merlin waited as Arthur stood up.

“I will be right back Merlin; I just need to gather some firewood.”

And, as soon as Arthur was in the trees, Merlin made his move. He stepped forward, ditching his cloak under cover of darkness and shoving it under a bush. He winced as the leaves rustled, but, if he heard, Arthur did not come back.

Merlin closed his eyes and stepped into the lake.

It was cold. Colder than cold, even when he had ascended mountains on his trials, was it ever this cold and all consuming. The algae was, to put it plainly…revolting and Merlin could only wince as it brushed against his clothing. His top floated up to his waste, until he jammed his belt down lower on his stomach.

He felt like bugs crawled all over him, and fish swam between his feet. He cursed himself for ever coming up with this as a cover story, for he had simply forgotten at the time that he hated naturally occurring water.

At least, when he was in it.

“Merlin?” He heard a crashing of wood from nearby, and a figure was running towards him. The smile on Arthur’s face had returned.

“Hello, Sire, it’s good to see you too,” Merlin grinned, trying to look relaxed and not like he wanted to cry from the sheer cold.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” said Arthur, kneeling by the edge of the pond, “I did ask you to come, after all.”

“I suppose you did.”

Merlin watched as Arthur pulled another face. It was a very remarkable ‘I have a question that I am unsure whether or not to ask it’. Arthur had never used that expression with him before. Merlin wanted it gone.

“Whatever it is, you can just say.”

“Do you get cold in... wherever you really are?”

“I don’t feel a whole lot of anything anymore.” Emotionally, Merlin thought, that was probably true. However, he was already fighting back the nerve to shiver and clash his teeth.

“That sounds…horrific.”

“It’s not all that bad. A little lonely,” Merlin said, thinking back to Arthur’s previous comment, “Very wet, too.”

Arthur rolled his eyes.

“Have you heard from Gwen recently?” Merlin asked, throwing all pretences of shyness to the side.

Arthur reached around into his bag and pulled out two apples, one of which he tossed to Merlin. It splashed in the water behind him, and Arthur only laughed as he made a mad grab for it. When Merlin looked back up again, Arthur had a strange look on his face. Almost like he was thinking of something incredibly, world-ending-ly important.

“If I got married by a lake, do you think you could come to my wedding, or would I have to bring a water basin by the isle?” Merlin nearly jumped at the dramatic turn in the conversation. Had Gwen and Arthur come back together, as the prophecy said they must?

“Are you planning on getting married soon?” Merlin swallowed.

“No, but maybe someday. I have too. I can’t imagine you not being with me.”

“According to Camelot, I am rather dead Arthur. I hardly think I could receive a wedding invitation.”

“Now that Merlin,” Arthur said, gesturing through a bite of apple, “Is just plain wrong. Sure, you are registered as dead, but everyone knows about your little…water appearing trick now. Besides, I told you that already.”

Merlin was almost completely convinced that he hadn’t told him that, up until the point he remembered the whole load of rubbish about, ‘when you speak to the water, I can hear you’.

Merlin was going to say something in return, but Arthur interrupted him.

“Stay here Merlin.” Then Arthur stood up and walked off.

“Where would I go?” He was answered by silence, and the icy breeze attacking his torso.

To Merlin’s confusion Arthur was rustling around in the nearby wooded area. He was gone for so long Merlin considered disobeying around outright walking away, before Arthur came back, arms laden with some kind of contraption made of bended sticks and thick rope.

“I started on this earlier when I saw the pond, but I ended up being rather…sidetracked. All your fault of course.”

Arthur dumped the pile of sticks and rope on the ground.

“How is it my fault? You certainly were not working on it when I arrived.”

“Your idiocy fills the surrounding area. You must have infected the water.”

“I think it did that quite by itself,” said Merlin, looked down dubiously at the pond scum that pressed horrifically into his clothes. Arthur threw his head back in a laugh.

“Yes, I suppose it did, didn’t it?”

Arthur had knelt down by the edge of the water and seemed to be fixing the pile of sticks and rope together like a barrier. They sat in silence as he attached the ends to nearby bushes.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to stop you splashing me when I fall asleep.”

Merlin gave him a strange look. The barrier was long, yes, it covered almost half of the pond. And it was thick, enough that if Arthur fell against it, it would not break. But it was incredibly short. If Merlin wanted too, water could have easily been thrown over the top.

It seemed like an awful lot of effort for something that would have no clear payoff.

Something smacked Merlin in the face and he had a horrid moment of panic before he realized it was his old bedroll. He stared down at the thing, already damp with water.

“Sire?” Barriers Merlin, remember your barriers.

“Just lie it down on the shallow end, nearest the…fence.”

Merlin did as such and was pleased to find it mostly bank with very little water. Enough that he could lay down and comfortably prop himself up on the bedroll, without too much fear of it floating away.

Arthur was arranging his bedroll too, pushing it right against the other side of the barrier.

Oh.

Oh.

“Don’t think too much about it Merlin, you’ll hurt yourself.”

A toothy grin came over Merlin’s face.

Arthur struck a nearby fire, thankfully far enough from the wood and fabric that he could fall asleep comfortably without risk of burning the campsite down. Merlin could not be sure from his half-propped position (his legs had already started to go numb) but he rather thought he heard Arthur running fingertips over the wood.

“It’s been a long day, Merlin. A long week even.”

“I suppose it has, yes.”

“What do you know? You’ve been at the bottom of a Lake somewhere, probably don’t even have a sense of time. Well, you never did, but I can only assume that it’s worse now. Especially since I haven’t spoken to you since the last time, we saw each other.”

“My entire…existence doesn’t resolve around you, y’know.”

“Nice try, Merlin.”

“I rather thought it was, yeah.” Arthur chocked on yet another laugh, one that reminded Merlin so strongly of better times. So reminiscent of the time after Arthur had ‘killed’ the dragon. When Arthur had lain back and laughed like he had no problems in the world. Merlin always wanted him to laugh that way. He pushed himself up a little higher to see his friend, wincing as his frozen arms tried to hold his weight.

“Well, you would, wouldn’t you?”

Merlin splashed him with some water over the barrier. Arthur threw a handful of mud back over the other side, and Merlin chocked on it and brushed it from his eyes.

“You are such a prat.”

“You know, nobody else ever uses that insult.” Merlin knew that very well, and he had experienced many different kinds of shock when he arrived in Camelot. The word had been…not common in Ealdor, but certainly not unique either.

“Makes it special then, doesn’t it?”

“To you, perhaps.”

“And my mother, she always hated when I used slang.”

“So did my father.” And Merlin was struck by how much Arthur had changed in the years he had been away, how…open he was about things that he never used to speak of. Clearly, Merlin leaving had done him as much good as he had hoped. And that…that hurt. Even though he knew that, anticipated that, hoped for that. It still felt like somebody had stabbed him straight through the chest.

He felt selfish. But he always had known, Monster’s like him didn’t deserve to be meaningful to others in such a way.

Even now, Arthur was borderline clinging on to him, in the best way he could. Merlin knew he would be able to fade away into the background again, loose himself in the flow of travel and adventure and new magical cultures and practices.

And Arthur would be able to let go again. He knew he had treated Arthur terribly; the man did tend to cling onto those who he assumed to be truly loyal. Merlin knew leaving him a second time would break his heart. But if he really knew, even now, all of the terrible lies Merlin had fed him.

Lies he still felt no guilt for. Not anymore.

Or at least, he didn’t for the newer ones. The older ones lived inside him somewhere, long beaten down and clawing at his insides. He remembered that longing he felt after he learned a new spell he had worked so hard on, that feeling of wanting to share his achievements with Arthur the same way his King would with him.

But…that would not be the way Arthur reacted. And Gaius would give him another warning. He had only wanted Arthur’s approval, and he hated the way that made him think. The idea that he even wanted Arthur’s approval when he was doing something so inherently horrifying should have shaken him to the core.

They lay in silence for a long while, the sounds of the forest and crackling fire keeping them company. There was something so peaceful just lying there with Arthur so nearby, just out of sight. Soon, Merlin was even struggling to keep his eyes open. He knew he couldn’t fall asleep, that he would drown and be caught in his lie. Another one of his monstrous lies.

Merlin listened carefully as Arthur numbly shifted position and made some light grumbling in the back of his throat.

It was a tell-tale sign that Arthur was going to fall into slumber soon. Merlin had learned years ago that this was the best time to ask anything, if you wanted a real (mostly lucid) answer.

“Why did you keep around a spare bedroll?”

“Felt wrong to leave it. Like we were just abandoning another part of you. Couldn’t do that. Not ‘gain.”

“But, to you, I’m dead Arthur.”

“Only mostly.”

Then, Arthur’s breaths evened out, and he was asleep.

Merlin felt bad sneaking away. He left the bedroll in the pond, allowing the water to drag it completely under and stain it with green. It would be completely un-salvageable.

He didn’t dry off his wet clothes. He rather thought he deserved to feel the rashes burn their way into his skin, until the sun decided to heal him again. It was sun that got him into this mess anyway.

And he only vaguely noticed that Arthur had never actually told him what happened on the mission.

***

Merlin couldn’t help it. The next night, he travelled back to Camelot, climbing up towards Arthur’s window and gently opening it with magic. Arthur was not taking a bath this time, nor was he eating.

Instead, Arthur lay, quite still, upon his bed, golden hair splayed on his pillow. Face as calm and sweet as it had been the night before when they slept side by side.

Merlin noticed dumbly that the bathtub that had clearly been set aside for him had changed once again.

Instead of being by the table as it had been, it had been pushed almost right to the side of Arthur’s bed, close enough that if Merlin had been there he could have reached up and taken Arthur’s hand in his. The back of the bath had changed too, some kind of leather padding having been attached to the back, to the point it would have been comfortable to stay in for long periods of time.

Almost like Arthur was hoping Merlin could sleep with him again.

***

Merlin awoke in a cold sweat to the feeling that his world was collapsing around him. But he knew it was not his panic, or at least, not his originally. 

He dressed in his “river” outfit the fastest he had ever done. He had to get to Arthur. Something was horribly, terribly wrong and Merlin had to fix it. Because he knew what that feeling was, the further he went away from his destiny the stronger the bond grew (almost like it was trying to force them back together) and this panic belonged to Arthur.

He didn’t know where he was going, or how he needed to get there.

Stumbling out into the woods, he raced in the direction of his old pony, tacking up with the fury best representing a madman, and rode into the night. Take me to him, he begged the universe, let me help.

Merlin’s eyes were blurry, his heartbeat raced in his chest, and he felt almost like a man dying because he didn’t know what was going on, and the fear had not left his body. His blood was cold in his veins. His palms were sweaty.

Still, he raced on.

Branches hit at his face and brambles scratched at his arms. His legs shook against the saddle. His heart rattled in his chest.

Tears rolled down his face.

He felt the entrance to Camelot castle before he saw it. He had only been back a couple months ago, when he had stared through Arthur’s window, but the same sensation rested over him. This was home. He belonged here.

He could not stay.

Merlin leaped of his horse and tied her to the tree. Just out of sight. He rattled around in his saddlebag, trying to find his black cloak he had used to sneak in last time, but he had forgotten it in his race. There was no way he could sneak past the guards and into Arthur’s spare tub. His eyes darted from side to side, how could he do this?

Leon. Leon was on guard, rubbing a hand over his tired face.

Leon was on guard right next to the moat.

Merlin was not graceful, he rushed up to the bank - sliding down the mud as he went - and threw himself into the water.

“What is it? Who’s there?”

“Merlin!” he said, coughing and poking his head out of the water. He had forgotten to put on his spells and his whole body shook in the cold.

Leon bent down, practically on his hands and knees. He made a move as if to reach out and hug Merlin, like Arthur had once done, and yet he held himself back at the last minute. Merlin could still remember his musky smell, the scruff of his beard against the back of Merlin’s neck. He wished he had not known to pull away.

“Merlin! It’s really amazing to see you. It’s been a while.”

“It’s good to see you too, but that’s not exactly why I’m here.”

“You want Arthur, don’t you?” Leon said with a sigh, making to stand up.

“No! Well, yes, Leon listen. The water told me that something was happening to him, and that I needed to help him. Can you check on him for me?”

Leon reached for his sword.

“Is the king in any danger?”

“I don’t…think so. Just please ask him if he is alright.”

Leon sighed again, long and tired.

“Of course I will Merlin, but just…stay here, he is going to want to speak to you.”

“He might not even be awake!”

“And if he is not, I will wake him. He deserves to see you, Merlin.”

With that, Leon gestured to another guard, and cried out, “Fetch the king!”

Leon sat back by the water’s edge.

He tried to strike up conversation a few times, but it felt like Merlin was standing on hot coals. Something was wrong. Something was wrong with Arthur and at any moment, a guard would cry out and the warning bells would sound.

Sorcerer on the loose!

Infiltrated the castle!

Tried to kill the King!

The king is…

A man approached them then, walking as though stiff and in pain, swaddled in a long, black cloak and hood.

Merlin was instantly on guard.

“Thank you, Leon.” Arthur looked horrid. His face was covered in what appeared to be tear tracks, and even in his thick, dark cloak he shivered like a man undone. Even in the darkness, he could see the scared look in Arthur’s eyes.

Leon bowed, and left.

Arthur very nearly collapsed by the side of the water, and Merlin almost made a call for help.

“What are you doing lollgagging in the moat Merlin?” Arthur attempted a mocking grin.

“Lollygagging? That’s a new one.” Merlin attempted to copy Arthur’s.

Neither seemed particularly successful.

“It’s been a while, Merlin. Too busy doing other water spirit things to come and visit your King?”

“No! No, I just…couldn’t bring foreword the strength to do it.”

“But tonight, you could?”

“You were…on edge. I didn’t want you to feel like you were alone.”

Arthur and Merlin simultaneously shivered in the cold night air.

“You couldn’t have just come to my room, could you? I told you we put the tub in there for a reason, I don’t particularly enjoy having a bath of ice water in my chambers if you don’t even want to use it.”

When did we talk about that? Oh. Merlin already knew he was screwed, but he hadn’t properly considered that Arthur thought that Merlin knew a hell of a lot more than he actually did.

“Not a lack of want, this is basically as far as I could get.”

They sat silently. Eyes looking deep into the others. They spoke in ways that words could never could, expressed affection that words would never dare. And yet, everything was cold, and everything outside their little bubble was as dead as a wilting flower.

“I don’t know how long I can do this anymore, Arthur.” Merlin didn’t mean to say that out loud. He really didn’t want to crush Arthur in that way, to rip him apart in a way he knew would be cruel.

“You are growing weaker,” Arthur spoke, finally looking away from Merlin’s eyes. Even his voice seemed to shiver in the cold.

Arthur’s breath hitched, and before Merlin knew it, his king was crying.

Arthur did not cry as Merlin did (loud with hysterical sobs and breathing), he cried with silent tears dripping down his face. Arthur cried once, twice before squeezing his eyes closed.

Merlin wished he could put his hand up, cup Arthur’s face and wipe his tears. Wrap his arms around his shoulders and hold him until the horrific sight was over. I care about you Arthur.

“Hey, hey Arthur.”

“Hey yourself, Merlin.” Arthur stared at the sky taking rough and deep breath.

“Arthur, why are you crying?” Arthur scrubbed a sleeve across his eyes, and Merlin realized for the first time that he was still in his nightclothes.

“Why do you think you big dolt?”

“Did you…not sleep well?”

“Of course I didn’t, you know I haven’t been. You can be so oblivious Merlin, I swear.”

The water was filling Merlin’s shoes, and his legs were numb, but everything he had was focused on Arthur. Arthur who was crying because he had a nightmare. Merlin had no idea what to feel. Arthur had not been attacked, as Merlin had originally thought, but he had been having a nightmare.

Merlin had never known Arthur to have nightmares. Not the night when his father died. When Morgana betrayed them. The night before…well. Arthur had always slept soundly, cuddled in on himself and lounging around like he was untouchable.

The Arthur he had known would never have shown weakness. It was like every moment he spent around him he realized that this Arthur was somebody quite different. Had his Arthur ever even existed?

Had Merlin been the one to destroy that good, noble, stoic man completely?

And he could only fix it using the one thing between them that had never truly been sincere - words.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Merlin didn’t even know why he asked, he knew the answer Arthur was going to give.

“I keep imagining how you died Merlin.” When Arthur did, in fact, answer, it nearly shook Merlin out of his boots. For the first time, he felt the numbness of the water. “I just…I know you are always there, and while slightly creepy it’s almost worse. I can speak to you, and you cannot talk back. Or, at least, most of the time. Something happened that left you stuck here. I did my research on spirits and ghosts who are tied to earth. From what Gaius explained to me, spirits who stay died horribly. So horribly that they cannot leave peacefully. Or,” Arthur paused and swallowed, “There is somebody keeping them there.”

Merlin was silent.

“Two scenarios keep coming to mind. Some nights I dream of you dying, screaming from whatever did happen to you. Other nights I remember that while you do talk to the others, you always appear to me. And, I can’t help but wonder…am I the one keeping you here? Are you stuck half-alive and half-dead because of me? I could hardly imagine living a life where I could not touch anyone. Where I was always conscious but almost never able to communicate. It sounds like torture Merlin.”

Arthur looked like he was going to cry again, but, as always, he pulled himself together.

“It’s not that bad.”

“So, it is me then, keeping you here?”

“Arthur, you could never make me stay anywhere I did not wish you. None of this is your fault, none of this at all.”

“So, it was the first one then.” Arthur never was one to let things go easily.

“In a way, you could say that.”

“What happened to you Merlin? What ties you to the lakes and pools of Albion?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“It will stop me imagining it.”

“Then…I guess you could say that I…when I left it felt like everything around me seemed hopeless and horrid. And cold. Kind of like this water is now. I wanted to hide, and never be found again. I guess I couldn’t let those feeling’s go.”

“You were always so happy Merlin.”

“Yes. Yes, I think I rather was.”

“If I could reach out to you, I would.”

“I know Arthur, trust me, I know.”

***

If he thought sneaking away from a sleeping Arthur was hard, actively sending him away was excruciating. No blade had ever pierced him so deep as when he told Arthur that he needed sleep, and that Merlin would have to leave soon anyway. He hated that Arthur had been making preparations to sleep outside the boarders of the castle, right in front of the moat.

Vulnerable and scared in the way that would be more suiting to a child than the King Merlin knew of him.

In the end, Merlin had to call another guard to lead Arthur away, and Leon had come back over to talk. He didn’t stay long. “I need to leave Leon. Say Hello to Gaius for me.”

Leon left first.

Merlin sloshed his way over to his horse. Every few seconds, even after they had cantered out of the boarders of the city, he felt that he was being watched, followed even. He was a traitor. Even when coming to help, all he seemed to do was prolong hurt. Arthur was having nightmares because of him.

Arthur had been fine when he just thought Merlin was dead. When he just thought Merlin was gone and knew that he was not being constantly listened too and haunted by the ghost of his sub-par servant and companion.

The story he had invented to protect Arthur’s piece of mind, to keep him from doing something far, far worse had only worked to destroy his old friend in the end. To think that Arthur was spending his time researching ghosts that never were.

Even when dead, everything Merlin touched seemed to end up destroyed.

***

The next time they met was blatantly ridiculous, in such a way that Merlin could not argue it with himself anymore. Arthur sat by the side of a shallow river, on a large rock that he had dragged over. Merlin half laid-half sat in the stream before him.

It was the warmest body of water that he had been in for this situation (excluding Arthur’s tub).

Arthur had not cried. Nothing had attacked him. He wasn’t starving himself.

Merlin had just…wanted to see him. Arthur had been right there in the forest, close enough to touch.

Merlin had been unable to resist.

And he knew this would be his final undoing. The only reason he had even survived their first separation was because of his immortality. He doubted even that could save him a second time.

“And Old Man Stevens keeps going on and on about some nonsense, The ‘Architectural Value of a Botanical Garden’. It’s the most over-run debate I swear, I just want to put that jousting pitch there. We really don’t need a set of florals in the town square!” Arthur was mindlessly reading petitions from his position on the rock.

It was a reminder of old times, when they would do exactly this while waiting by the fireplace, Merlin cleaning a suit of armour.

“And don’t even get me started on the new uniform the tailor wants to implement for all the staff - I said blue at first, but I am convinced it came out more teal than anything.”

Merlin was glad Arthur did not expect a reply. He always did this in silence, and Merlin wasn’t entirely sure which words would come out of his mouth if he tried.

“Why do our servants need a uniform anyway? We don’t need them to look good, we need them to be able to do their jobs and get things done.”

Our servant’s. We need. Damn Arthur for trying to make him feel included and happy. For trying to make him feel some semblance of the word normal.

“What do you think about it Merlin? You were a bad enough servant as is, and I doubt that a uniform would have made that any better. It probably couldn’t make it worse either though.”

He wanted Merlin to talk. To be included.

“I don’t know. I don’t think they are going to be thrilled, but it’s common enough in other kingdoms to make sense, I suppose.”

“That’s what I was thinking, Merlin, just said slightly worse. I don’t think we need them, and surely red would be a better shade than blue for Camelot? Blue, or teal I suppose, leans much more sea-like. More Nemeth than Camelot.”

“I agree Sire.” Arthur nodded at him before continuing on.

“And, of course, there is that princess from Cornwall trying to court me, Merlin. The nerve! I admit, I might not have the most experience in that area, but it does not make me a blushing maiden. I can be romantic.”

“You might like a bold woman, might balance you out a little bit. I noticed you liked that kind of thing before.”

“Don’t be ridiculous Merlin, I’ve obviously already turned the woman down. I could hardly stand her. I made it perfectly clear that my heart and interests were captured by another quite different than herself.”

Gwen.

“Oh?”

“Yes, yes of course,” Arthur’s eyes caught Merlin’s again. “Someone so kind and…not necessarily beautiful…but-”

“Don’t let them hear you say that,” Merlin interrupted and Arthur’s eyes gleamed.

“Hush, Merlin, as I was saying - are not what I would call beautiful, but I have begun to so value that time. It lives in a precious space in my head, you understand? Even if the circumstances are a little…odd.”

Arthur took a deep, shaky breath, as if trying to drum up his nerves. Merlin knew Arthur well enough to know that before he had been driven by a mix of adrenalin and passion that so frequently took over Arthur, and now the nerves had kicked in.

“So, what do you think?”

“Can I expect wedding chimes anytime soon?”

Arthur seemed to grow incredibly excited at that notion, laughing wildly before he spoke.

“Only if…well, they are willing, if you catch my drift, although I suppose with things as they are it would be a little complex to make it work. But I do think I could come up with something.”

“I am sure she would be willing, even if the end of your previous…arrangement did not end as planned,” Merlin said, trying his best to be supportive when he felt that the ground was going to swallow him whole.

“She?” To Merlin’s confusion, Arthur seemed baffled.

“Yes, Gwen of course?”

“Oh, well, I doubt that will be happening any time soon.” Merlin looked at Arthur confused, entirely sure he had blanked out and missed a part of the conversation. Did Arthur have somebody new that Merlin didn’t know about? Merlin cursed himself, once again, for giving Arthur the idea with the water.

“Ah, of course, sorry.”

“Is that all you have to say.” Arthur voice sounded gruff, and he tensed.

“I…think so?”

Arthur let out a breath and relaxed. Merlin thought he heard him say, ‘I knew he didn’t understand’, under his breath, but he wasn’t quite sure.

“Alright, then, now, on the debate with the guild of armour polishers…how is that a guild, you interacted with them a few times didn’t you.”

And, just like that, their conversations were back to normal.

“I did yes. Nice people, even gave me a little certification that I was good at it.”

“Did it have the words ‘in jest’ at the top?”

“You know, I don’t think it did. You just don’t like that I am better at it than you.”

“I’m the King of Camelot, why would I bother cleaning my own, or anybody’s for that matters, armour?”

“I don’t know, maybe you decided you were actually responsible for your own mess.”

“Merlin!”

“Hey, you’re the one relaxing in bandit territory. I wouldn’t be surprised if we got attacked sitting here!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin.”

“Out of the two of us, I rather think that you are the ridiculous one.”

“I’m not named after a bird.”

“I’m not a complete prat.”

“On that, we disagree. Completely and utterly. Especially since you so often seem to miss the blatantly obvious, in your face, things.”

“Like what?”

“Romance.”

“Romance? When have you ever known me to do anything with romance?”

“My point exactly.”

“Now you’re just making stuff up!” Merlin pointed an accusatory figure.

“And if I am? What are you going to do about it, water boy?”

Merlin splashed him.

Arthur dramatically tumbled off his rock, laughing in a great, throaty way. Merlin could of sworn he said ‘Utterly ridiculous’ between his chuckles.

Their conversation faded back to its relaxed way when Arthur sat back down. He pulled out the slips of parchment that he wanted Merlin’s opinion on (for some reason) and continued to read aloud the struggles of his people. From the petty, ‘My friend is a farmer that owns a cow, but I helped birth it and now I want some of the milk’ to the utter heart-wrenching ‘My husband has slept with another woman, and my family will not give me permission to leave him.’

The woods behind them rustled. Arthur jolted, head darting behind, just as an arrow flew past his head and into the stream.

Arthur and Merlin stared at each other for a long moment before Arthur dove for his sword. 

“I did tell you!”

“Don’t get cocky!”

Five men raced out from behind the trees, dressed in filthy clothing and brandishing knives and bows. And the fight began.

Merlin didn’t know he could feel any worse about a moment in his life, than with Arthur fighting and him just…sitting in the open. Vulnerable and unable to do anything helpful.

“Visiting your lover boy, majesty,” said a particularly nasty looking man with bits of yellow crust on his face. Arthur did not respond, focusing on knocking the man to the ground.

Please don’t get hurt. I can’t come out of this water to save you or carry you to Camelot.

If you die, there will be nothing I can do.

“He is he’s!” said another man. “Sword on the ground too, what if he betrayed you, huh?”

Merlin could see Arthur getting angry and he wanted to rush over to him, to beg him to calm down and think of this logically. His face was red. His teeth were drawn back in a snarl.

And yet, they fought on.

Merlin couldn’t help but notice something strange, it was almost as if the bandits were trying to step away from the fight…and towards the water. 

“But we can make ‘im go away, can’t we highness?” said the rat-faced man, the grin on his face making Merlin squirm.

Arthur gave a look of horror, before the bandit stepped into the river. It seems the rumours had fallen further than Merlin had ever thought they could. And there was only one decision Merlin could make.

The quick-cast invisibility charm hurt badly, and not in a physical sense.

Especially so when he heard Arthur’s pained scream of his name. It sounded almost like a hysterical sob. I’m sorry Arthur. I care about you so much; I could never live with the guilt of you knowing I lied.

What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.

The sound of Arthur butchering the men followed him all the way back to the small cabin he now called home.

***

Merlin wanted to cry that night. He really thought he would, staring up at the thatched ceiling that had lain over his head for weeks. This was the longest he had ever stayed in one place. The closest he had been to Camelot.

And yet, he still did not feel safe enough to cry. Even when the misery and loneliness felt like it was going to eat him whole, he sat in dark silence. He did everything to distract himself.

He lit a candle and tried to read.

He put on a coat and went picking for herbs.

He lit the fire with trembling hands.

He even spent a while massaging his scalp and lightly scratching his own hair, before he realized that Arthur used to do that. Merlin thought bitterly to all the times he had been so miserable and that made him feel better. Had he just wanted the comfort of Arthur?

It was funny really, that Merlin had thought so long that he could just leave Camelot behind.

He couldn’t even leave behind the image of sunlight.

And it was only later he jolted awake, after falling into a shallow sleep, a repetition of words in his mind.

The Prince’s Lover Boy.

***

It was a beach day when Merlin came to Arthur again. He really had thought he was done, having being handed a perfect excuse to be well and truly dead. And yet, Arthur always had a way of surprising him.

This beach was the closest he ever really came to revisiting some of the adventures he had sworn to leave behind. All those promises just seemed so…meaningless now. Emptiness that rang inside him louder than a dragon’s call. This beach was, after all, the same place Merlin had first truly thought Arthur was dead. The place where they faced down the protector of the Unicorns and came out half starved, but alive. It was a lot larger than the first time he saw it, and a large part of it stretched out in long dunes of grey sand.

It was never sunny around here.

Merlin dared not come outside disguise, but he hardly thought the cloak and hood was enough to cover his face. To cover the monster within him and keep it under wraps.

But Arthur was on that beach.

His blond hair flew in the wind, and his long white shirt was thin and blew out behind him in the wind.

Merlin knew that he should leave, that he should walk away and disappear into the void.

But he couldn’t. Not when he could hear Arthur’s voice. He had somehow never expected to see Arthur talking to the water again.

“I know, I know I am being ridiculous. I feel ridiculous, like the dollophead you always said I was. I don’t even know if you are still here, or there, or wherever you usually are.”

Merlin slipped behind a rock and hid his cloak. The sand squished beneath his boots.

“I feel awful about it. And I know I have said that before, but if a bandit of all things killed you again while we were talking, I will never forgive myself.”

Merlin slipped off his blue neckerchief in favour of the red one that he now carried everywhere. For this exact situation that he truly wanted to believe he would never face again. He was wearing a different tunic, but it was similar enough in colour that he doubted Arthur would notice.

“Everything feels cold without you. I thought I had dealt with your death fully years ago, but I don’t think I ever really did. I ignored it for so, so long. And then when you came back it was like my world was light again, and just the fact you could hear me all that time. It felt like everything I had ever worried about had been fixed overnight.”

Merlin looked down at his feet. He really shouldn’t do this. Interrupt Arthur’s coping strategy with an explanation that while he was still half-alive but would not be coming back.

But Arthur needed him. He could make something up. Something would work.

“I was never a quiet man, especially not with you around, but everything seems dead silent now. I forgot I could hear the animals in the fields and the dull sound of the water pump from my room. And even that sounds ridiculous, but even our one-way conversations seemed to make the space alive again. And now I don’t even know if we - or I, I suppose - are having them anymore.”

Merlin was crawling on his hands and knees behind the rocks, edging towards the water.

“This is the only place that makes me feel somewhat alive anymore. With the sea rushing the way it does, I can almost imagine that it is you talking back to me. And I suppose it was in a way. I was just too damn blind to see it.”

Merlin half swam and half paddled out behind the rocks, before standing up and walking towards him.

Arthur froze when he spotted Merlin, and his whole face softened. In that moment Arthur seemed to glow, but not with the brilliant sunlight Merlin had always associated him with. This was the glow of the early morning blaze when it came over the mountains, filling the world in soft light. The shadows on his face seemed to stretch at the same time as the haunted look and wrinkles seemed to melt away.

“Hello Arthur.”

“Hello, Merlin.”

Merlin moved to sit by the rock, submerging his body up to his chest in the water.

“You’ve been gone for a while.”

“Yes. I have been, yes. I’ve been…tired.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“I don’t suppose you have any reports for us to go over today, do you?”

Arthur guffawed, throwing his head back with his laugh. Merlin hated that he would be the one to crush it straight from his face.

A wave went up Merlin’s back and licked at his sides.

“Not today, unfortunately, although I will take note of it next time. I am sure you will enjoy the ones based around which kind of slop we should ethically be feeding our pigs. In fact, it would have been helpful when I was working on that ridiculous speech about swords.”

They both laughed awkwardly, before it devolved into a deeply uncomfortable silence.

“Merlin?”

“Yes Arthur?”

“You look like you want to say something. Spit it out, will you?”

“I’ve been thinking. Arthur. Look, I…don’t think I can do this anymore. I think I am ready to move on.”

If Merlin had thought he had seen Arthur horrified, afraid or desperate before, nothing compared to this. The panic that crossed his face cut Merlin straight to the core, and seemed to rip his heart straight out of his chest.

“You can’t!”

“Sire.”

“I won’t let you!”

“Arthur, please-”

Arthur held up a hand, face scrunched in such a way that Merlin was almost convinced he would see him crying again. Merlin would rather drown himself now, or reveal all his secrets, than helplessly watch that happen again.

Arthur held himself together. Merlin just about managed to do the same.

“I know it’s wrong to keep you alive Merlin, not when you’ve been in this horrific in-between for however long, but I can’t let you go. Not when I finally have you again.” Each word that Arthur spoke seemed more and more pained. It was as if they all burned his mouth and came out bitter on his tongue. And Merlin almost thought he could hear Arthur’s thoughts slip into his own mind. How could you do this to me? Why must you abandon me? Why must everyone abandon me?

“You don’t really have me Arthur, I’m not really here.”

“You are to me.”

“I didn’t take you for a sop, Sire.”

“I’m not. Of course I’m not! But you can’t just tell me you are going to die and just...go!”

“I said it before, Arthur, according to Camelot I am already dead.”

“Don’t leave me.”

“It’s my time to go.”

“You deserve so much more, Merlin, so much more time.”

The we deserved more time went unsaid.

“Unfortunately, it is not really you choice, Arthur.”

“Then take me with you!”

Merlin stopped.

“I…Arthur-Sire…I-”

“Please, please Merlin. Say yes.” Please, Arthur, don’t do this.

“No, Arthur.” There is so much he did not know, so much that Merlin had never explained. Arthur could never come with him. Arthur was a king, he could never leave Camelot. He could never even begin to imagine the king coming with him to pick up herbs or volunteer to manage a herd of sheep.

“C’mon you absolute idiot. C’mon.”

“No.”

“Do you want me down on my knees and begging like a desperate maiden?”

“I don’t want you begging for anything. You’re being impulsive. You belong in Camelot, Arthur.”

“And you don’t? You told me so many times that it is all my decision. That it all should be my decision. Who I marry, the kind of King I am. The kind of laws I bring into my own kingdom. This is my decision…I don’t want to be alone anymore Merlin.”

“Arthur, you are not alone! You have the knights, and Gwen and any number of ladies who would be thrilled at your attention. What happened to all those people you spent time with before I came along?”

“You are my best friend, Merlin. And I want to stay with you.”

“You can’t Arthur.”

“Why not? I am sure we could figure out a way to do it, even if it’s not today. I could appoint somebody else to rule Camelot.” Merlin had to fight to hold in his pure panic at the words coming out of Arthur’s mouth.

“Trust me, Arthur, you don’t want to end up where I am.” Deserted from all those you know, alone. Constantly moving. Never finding a home. Endless periods of silence to come to term with the lies.

Merlin couldn’t even remember the last time he had been hugged; his shoulder been touched in something other than a rough shoulder-brush in the street.

There is no way he could ever abandon Arthur to that fate. Not his golden, sunlight King.

“Then tell me what it is like living in the oceans. We have seen you can hold things, if they are placed in the water with you. It stands to reason we could touch each other.”

“It’s lonely, Arthur.”

“And we would be together.”

“It’s cold.”

“You already are, what’s both of us?”

“It’s draining and exhausting and horrible. I can’t even remember the last time I felt anything that bordered on physical contact with another person.”

“And, it could be all those things, but then you wouldn’t be alone. I would rather spend eternity in torment with you by my side, than another day in this ‘Golden Age’ that I apparently live in alone.”

“I said no, Arthur.”

“And I say yes.”

“That’s not how this works!”

“I am the King!”

“And this is not a discussion.”

“I am the King and I demand it to be one!”

“People who live like I do don’t have to listen to King’s anymore.” Merlin was almost shouting now, and Arthur was doing so in kind. “Do you not see? We would drive each other insane, never have a moments peace. You don’t know what it feels to live my life, and I really, really don’t want you to.”

“That’s not up for you to decide!”

Merlin sagged. Nothing he said was going to convince Arthur. Nothing he did was going to make a damn bit of difference.

“I need to go soon, Arthur.” His voice had become calm and quiet.

Arthur jolted out of his skin.

“You’re not going, going, are you? I told you, as your master I forbid it!”

“No Arthur. I will be back,” Merlin said, giving in, “But not for a while. I’m too tired to do this now.”

The waves brushed over his back, and the blamed the salt in the air for the tears in his eyes.

“Turn away, Arthur.”

“How come I can never see you go?”

“Turn away.”

“Do you swear it to me. That you will come back?”

“I swear on my mother’s life.”

And, for the first time in as long as Merlin could remember, Arthur did as Merlin asked.

And although Merlin had told himself many times over that it had been the hardest escape, the hardest time he had cast the invisibility spell nothing seemed to compare to walking off that beach. He walked slowly on the tip of his toes along the sand, careful not to leave any tractable footprints. And when he reached a nearby field, over the tops of the cliffs, he broke into a run. A run to a place he knew not what.

***

Merlin had been unable to resist visiting Camelot again after that. It had taken him weeks to pluck up the courage, but he did. I did not leave you Arthur, I would never just abandon you forever. As much as I might wish I could.

When he peered through his window, knee scraped from scaling the building, his heart froze in his chest. The room was lit with flickering firelight and a candle that still rested upon Arthur’s desk.

The room was trashed, papers and clothes and a tray of old food still on one of the tables.

But one corner seemed perfectly maintained. The little area around Merlin’s bath (when had he begun referring to it as his own? Nothing in Camelot belonged to him anymore) seemed pristine. Right above it, someone had placed a framed painting. Of Merlin.

But not just of Merlin, this thing was elaborate and clearly specially commissioned. Merlin held onto the ledge with knocking knees as he stared.

The painting depicted a cliff, and at the top lay a blond man in armour. A dark horse - Llamrei, as far as Merlin remembered her. The blond knight - Arthur - leaned over the cliff, hand reaching down towards the bottom. And, in the sea, hand fiercely clasping Arthur’s was a dark-haired boy with high cheekbones, who almost seemed to melt away into the water.

Merlin didn’t know what else to do other than jump and run.