Work Text:
Arthur died in the 5th Century CE. At least, that’s what Merlin thought. It was so hard to know for sure.
Every time he closed his eyes, he could see Arthur’s face become more and more blurry as the years passed. His lips, that Arthur had kissed once (and only once, before his death) grew colder every year.
Merlin would visit Arthur’s lake once a month. He’d tell him of the goings on in Camelot, and about all that’s happened since he had gone.
The years passed. People died.
Gwen was the last one to die of them all. Her and Leon’s son honored her passing well.
But the years kept passing, and Merlin would not grow older.
By the time he was reaching his 100th birthday and still looked like the same young man who walked into Camelot all those years ago, he knew death was never going to come relieve him like it had done to everyone else he loved.
It seems Magick was a curse after all…
~ ~
The Five Kingdoms had fallen.
No empire can stand forever. Merlin knew that. But maybe…maybe it can be saved? Albion can still be saved.
Arthur just needed to wake up.
He didn’t wake up that time.
~ ~
The land was being invaded.
It gets invaded what feels like every century.
Millenia from now, these invaders will be known as Saxons. As Vikings. As Normans.
They invade the land, kill the natives, take what they want.
Surely, this is what wakes Arthur, right? He will rise, he will protect the land from these invaders and establish the once great Camelot.
But Arthur still did not return.
~ ~
Merlin told stories to people who would listen.
Stories about Great Kings, Noble Knights, and Magic.
The children loved his stories of magic the most.
Merlin’s favorite stories were always about Arthur.
(He still hadn’t come.)
~ ~
They’re burning witches.
It’s the start of the 15th Century CE, and they’ve started burning witches.
They’ve started burning his friends .
Merlin saved as many as he could.
He couldn’t save them all.
(He was never able to save them all.)
Magic was dead.
Uther would be happy.
(Arthur still had yet to return.)
(
Was he ever going to come back?
)
~ ~
Science was the new magic. It was time to adapt, before he was inevitably left behind by the new world.
Merlin dipped his fingers into as many sciences as he could. He’d always loved learning, after all. It would be something to keep him occupied as he waited for Arthur’s return.
Medicine was still his favorite to study.
He made friends in these science fields. Some would grow to become great names one day.
But those friends still died.
Merlin tried to avoid making friends.
He still waited for Arthur…
His next visit was coming up. A visit would be nice.
~ ~
Merlin lived between bookshelves at libraries and among the exhibits of museums.
He used his magic to travel the world, learning what he could. He always returned to Arthur once a month, like he’d promised. He never broke that promise.
He loved sharing his knowledge on the Dark Ages (the age where Arthur had lived, but there was nothing dark about Arthur).
He also loved sharing his knowledge about every science he could name.
Many people knew him as a well educated and traveled man.
Very few knew him as a heartbroken soul, waiting for someone who may never return.
~ ~
Once in a century, Merlin finds someone who reminds him so much of Arthur, that he can’t help but fall in love.
But their hair is the wrong shade of blonde.
Their eyes aren’t his shade of blue.
One was a woman, but she had Arthur’s smile.
He saw Arthur in every single one of them. And he let his heart hope, even the smallest bit, that his king had finally returned.
None of them were Arthur. None of them would ever be Arthur.
~ ~
November 1940.
Bombs rained down everywhere the night before.
Merlin looked out into where there had once been a lake.
Arthur was never going to come back.
~ ~
21st Century CE.
The year 2000 had arrived.
Had the time really gone by so quickly, and yet so agonizingly slow?
Merlin wished he was dead.
He wished he had killed himself all those centuries ago.
Then he’d be by Arthur’s side.
…
“Arthur,” Merlin’s dripped onto the soft grass below his cheek. There was no longer a lake, only a grassy field. The lake had disappeared with the bombings back in World War 2.
“Arthur, why did you leave?” He sobbed. “I’m so alone. I feel so alone…”
The sun was setting beyond the horizon. A bottle of his expensive gin was empty beside his head.
“Everyone’s gone, but I’m still here. Why am I still here, Arthur? Why can’t I be dead with you? With all of you? I miss my Mum. I miss Gwen. I miss you. Gods, I miss you so, so much Arthur.” Merlin turned onto his back, staring up at the changing sky. “Why haven’t you come back yet? Albion needed you. England needed you. I need you.”
Merlin groaned. “I need you, Arthur…”
The sun had completely set, and the full moon was bright on his pale face. It made him look like he was glowing.
“Well why didn’t you just say so?”
Merlin opened his eyes. When had they closed?
He heard a voice. A familiar voice that left his chest aching. But oh, he had closed his eyes hadn't he? It must’ve been a dream then.
“Merlin, you idiot! How much have you had to drink?!”
Not a dream.
Merlin sat up and looked to his left. There, under the moonlight, was a man. A man with blonde hair, blue eyes, and the build of a warrior. He was wearing chainmail armor, and there was a sword tucked to his side. Magic radiated off of him in such a way that Merlin sobered immediately upon feeling it.
“Arthur?” He choked.
“Who else would it be?”
Merlin scrambled to his feet, taking the two steps he had to to get closer. His eyes trailed up and down, taking in every detail. Memories that he thought he’d forgotten long ago raced through his mind.
Yes this man, this man in front of him. It was…
“Arthur.” He breathed out. Tears once again began to stream down his face.
“Yes Merlin, it’s me.” Arthur smiled. “It’s been a long time.”
“You…YOU ABSOLUTE DOLLOPHEAD!” Merlin shouted, smacking the blonde. “WHAT TOOK YOU SO LONG?! DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY YEARS I’VE WAITED FOR YOU! YOU-YOU CLOTPOLE DONKEY FACED PRAT KING–!”
Merlin continued yelling and crying as he smacked Arthur on the chest. Arthur gave him a moment to cry before he cupped the raven-haired man’s face and pulled him in for a kiss.
It was one Merlin had waited for for a long, long time.
~ ~
When Albion's need is greatest, King Arthur shall rise again…
But the prophecy never stated that Albion could be a person , as well as a place.