As the World Comes to an End

“I miss you too, Merlin, but this lake is bloody freezing.”

Merlin laughs and shakes his head, and he's shocked to find that he's crying for the first time in decades; until this moment, he thought he'd cried all the tears he could. He stands up and reaches out a hand. Arthur smiles and takes it, lets Merlin help him to his feet. Together, they trudge to shore.

It's September, but the sun has barely risen and it's cold. They climb out of the lake and stand shivering for a few seconds before Merlin thinks to do something.

“Drÿg.”

A warm burst of air washes over them, and in an instant they're both standing by the lake dry as can be. Arthur lets go of Merlin's hand and feels his clothes, gazing down at them in awe, and Merlin wonders briefly how Arthur will react to such a direct use of magic.

When Arthur looks back up at him, Merlin is shocked to find that Arthur looks, of all things, put off.

“Merlin...are you telling me that all those nights we spent wet and freezing in the woods, all you had to do was say one word and we could have been warm and dry?”

“Ummm...yes?” Merlin bites his lip, trying not to laugh at the look of consternation on Arthur's face.

Arthur stares at him for a few seconds. Then, without warning, he smacks Merlin on the head.

“Clotpole.”

Merlin laughs in relief as he rubs the back of his head.

“Yeah, I missed you too.”

Arthur smiles at Merlin, and before he knows what's happening Merlin feels himself being pulled in for a hug. Arthur wraps his arms tightly around him, and Merlin hugs him back. It's a simple gesture, but considering they've only done this a handful of times, it speaks volumes. Neither of them says a word as they stand on the shore of Avalon and hold each other close, and neither of them really has to, because they both understand.

Finally, Arthur pulls away, patting Merlin companionably on the shoulder.

“So, how long was I gone? Twenty years? Thirty?”

Merlin's heart crashes into his stomach.

“That's...that's how long it felt for you? A few decades?”

Arthur frowns as he loses himself in thought. “It didn't...I'm not sure. I remember you came to me, and you made me a promise. But I don't remember much after you left. Just flashes here and there. It can't have been that long, can it?”

Merlin falls silent, which seems to be enough of an answer for Arthur.

Arthur pulls his hand away from Merlin's shoulder. “Merlin...how long was I gone?”

Merlin gulps. How can he possibly tell Arthur that he's been gone for nearly two millennia? “Arthur...maybe you should sit down.”

And for the first time that Merlin can think of, Arthur does what he asks without protest. He sits down on the ground hard, and Merlin can just see the gears turning in his head.

“One hundred. Has it been a hundred?”

Merlin kneels next to him on the ground and replies, “More.”

Arthur's eyes grow wide. “Two hundred. It can't be more than that.”

“Arth-”

“Okay, three hundred. Surely it can't be much longer than that.” Panic is starting to seep into Arthur's voice, and Merlin can't bear it.

“Arthur...it's the year 2512. You've been gone for almost two thousand years.” Merlin is grateful that Arthur agreed to sit, because the look on his face makes it clear that he would have crashed to the ground otherwise.

“Two...two thousand years?”

Merlin wants to say something, but he has no idea what could possibly help in this situation. In the end, all he can do is nod.

Arthur shakes his head, and Merlin watches as tears rise in his eyes. “No,” he states emphatically, as if one can make it true by simply saying it.

Merlin watches helplessly as Arthur stands, walks away from him, and begins to pace. It's a nervous habit Arthur has always had, born from too many sleepless nights and too much stress, one that has always made Merlin feel useless. He watches Arthur pace now, mumbling quietly to himself, until he can't stand it.

Merlin gets to his feet and slowly approaches his king. Arthur pauses only when Merlin rests a hand gently on his shoulder and whispers his name. Arthur turns away toward the lake, trembling slightly under Merlin's touch.

“Merlin...that promise you made to me. Please...tell me that you....” Arthur trails off, unable to finish his thought, but Merlin knows what he wants.

He replies gently, “I kept my promise to you, Arthur. I didn't live alone. I saved lives, I helped people. I did what you asked me to do. I met a lot of people in two thousand years, Arthur, and I loved some of them as well as I could. But none of them were ever you.”

Arthur bows his head in response and turns to face him. “Merlin..what happened to Camelot?”

Memories flood Merlin's mind, and he smiles sadly as he answers, “Let me show you.”

...

After Gwen's death, with no true heir to the throne, Merlin tries his hardest to keep the kingdom together. He becomes a good mentor to the man who takes the throne next, and for awhile Merlin finds himself hopeful for Camelot's future. But then the king dies unexpectedly, of a disease Merlin finds himself powerless to cure, leaving his wife to rule in his stead. The Queen, always jealous of how close Merlin and her husband were, goes against Merlin's council and marries a monster of man who becomes the start of Camelot's downfall.

A hundred years after Gwen's passing, Merlin can't bear to watch the death of the kingdom he and Arthur had worked so hard to build, and so he sheds the old man, becomes himself as he was when Arthur knew him, and he leaves.

Centuries after Arthur’s death, he meets a woman who reminds him how to love. She loves him for who he is, reminds him that he has so much to offer the world, and he falls for her. He grows old with her, never telling her that he has magic. She dies in his arms, and as he weeps, he sheds the old man once more and moves on.

She gives him the courage to leave what’s left of Albion and see the world. He watches civilizations rise and fall. Watches countries grow and flourish. He finds causes, fights in wars.

In the early 1200's, Merlin finds himself in Ireland, and it's there that he meets a brave young man named Matthew. His courage, his kindness, and his strength remind him so much of Arthur that Merlin wonders at first if it's really him come back after all this time. But in the end, they get along too well, and though Merlin knows that this man isn't really Arthur, he tries to forge the same bond.

They're allowed ten glorious years together, fighting side by side. Then one night, Merlin wakes to what feels like his heart being torn out of his body, and he's on his feet before he even knows where he's going. He reaches the tavern just in time to see a man rip his sword out of Matthew's chest. The man and his five companions are dead before they hit the ground. The woman they had been attempting to rape when Matthew came by to help her runs away in terror. Merlin holds Matthew's body in his arms and screams his anguish to the skies, but Kilgarrah is long dead and there's no one to answer him.

Merlin builds a funeral pyre for Matthew, and as the fire soars into the night sky, Merlin gathers his few meager belongings and starts walking. It's not until he passes by the Crystal Caves that he realizes where he's going. In the year 1232, Merlin finds himself in Camelot for the first time since he left so long ago. He wanders through what is left of the town, and then the castle itself. A few towers remain standing here and there, a few walls and turrets, but Camelot lies in ruins. Merlin stops at what he remembers to be the stairs leading into the castle, and he sits down on them and weeps.

When he awakens the next morning, tears dried on his face, he finds himself with a strong resolve, the likes of which he hasn't felt in a long time.

He places a powerful spell on the castle, one that leaves him drained of energy but feeling accomplished. Camelot will remain untouched by time, untouched by human hands and weather. Camelot will stay as he has found it for as long as his magic will hold. Because Merlin knows that Arthur will return someday, and he wants him to have something of his old life to visit.

But as he turns to go, another idea comes to him. He walks until he finds the clearing where he and Arthur faced off against Kilgarrah so many centuries ago. And there, in the woods next to the clearing, Merlin builds a small cottage.

It's not much, but it doesn't need to be.

In the years to come, Merlin returns often, staying for weeks, sometimes years, at a time. He strengthens the spell on Camelot and works on his cottage, filling it with mementos of the changing world. Each time he returns it gets a little bit easier. Though he still remembers what it was like to wander those halls after Arthur's death, after Gwen's death, in the days of tyrannical rule, he also remembers the good times. Drinking in the tavern with Arthur and the knights. The day Arthur was crowned king. The night Arthur gave him his mother's sigil.

Merlin clings to the good memories as tightly as he can, and whenever he visits the Lake of Avalon he sits on the shore and whispers new stories into the air, hoping the wind will carry them across the water to Arthur.

But he only tells him the good stories, because the bad ones are just too painful.

...

Merlin's made the journey from Avalon to Camelot many times. Dozens, hundreds, he's lost count over the years. On foot, it usually takes three days.

As they walk, Merlin begins to tell Arthur about what happened in his absence. He starts with the early history of the world after Camelot fell and works his way through time. Covering 2000 years of history is no easy feat, and Merlin knows he's leaving things out, but Arthur listens attentively, absorbing everything he hears.

When Merlin begins to talk about lands outside of Albion (which Merlin explains is now called England), Arthur's eyes widen. He explains that he never really thought about how there could be a world outside of Albion. Merlin talks about time spent in Europe, South America, Asia, and Africa. He talks about the wars, but he also talks about the happier things: rising civilizations, an explosion in knowledge about science, art, philosophy. Arthur is most interested in hearing about the Renaissance, the Age of Enlightenment; those times when man learned and evolved and made beautiful things.

Merlin's just finished discussing (or rather gushing about) Shakespeare when they need to stop and try to find some food. The land they've been traveling through for the past few hours is unpopulated, still heavily forested. Merlin has become a much better hunter in the years since Arthur passed, and he manages to snag them a rabbit and find some berries and nuts.

After lunch, they continue walking, and Merlin tells Arthur more about the history of the world. He tells him about America, the battles they fought for their independence, and the internal struggles they fought to become the country they wanted to be. He tells Arthur about how he fought for the Union in the American Civil War, and how more than half a million people were dead by the end of the country's bloodiest war.

Arthur grows quiet for awhile after that, and as the sun starts to set they walk in silence.

“Half a million people dead. I didn't know wars could be so bloody.”

Merlin laughs bitterly. “Believe me, that's nothing.”

Arthur stops walking and looks at him. “Half a million people is nothing?”

Merlin pauses. “The past five hundred years haven't been...easy. I'm sorry, Arthur.”

Arthur shakes his head. “The world sounds so big, Merlin. I had no idea.”

“I know,” Merlin answers quietly. “It's a lot to take in. Maybe we should stop for the night.” So they find a cozy clearing and settle in. Merlin helps Arthur remove his armor without thinking twice, resting Excalibur against a tree, just like old times. They gather firewood, and when the fire is built, Merlin lights it with magic.

He remembers the first time he did this in front of Arthur, and he looks up to gauge his reaction. This time, instead of looking hurt and disappointed, he smiles at him, and Merlin feels his heart clench at the almost fond look on Arthur's face.

They lie down to sleep close to the fire. Merlin wears the cloak he had on when he was called away from the castle ruins, but Arthur has only his old clothes. After ten minutes of listening to Arthur shift, Merlin whispers a quick spell. The King is snoring peacefully.

...

When the sun rises, Merlin goes into the woods and manages to kill another rabbit using his magic. After all these years, killing with magic still makes him a bit uneasy, but as they need to eat, he overlooks it. He returns to their camp with the kill and begins to prepare it, waiting for Arthur to return.

Half an hour later, the rabbit is roasting and Arthur comes out of the woods hefting a crudely crafted spear and dragging a small deer behind him. He drops the deer at Merlin's feet.

“And that is how you hunt. Two thousand years and you're still terrible at it, Merlin.” Arthur smiles smugly at him, and the look is so familiar Merlin can't help but laugh.

After they've cooked the deer and eaten their fill, Merlin wraps up as much of the deer meat as he can in his cloak and hefts it over his shoulder. Then they continue their journey to Camelot.

As they walk, Merlin tells Arthur more about the history of the world. As he reaches the Age of Enlightenment and the Industrial Revolution, the land around them begins to change. They pass by abandoned farms at first, which give way to small villages. The villages are empty, like ghost towns, and Merlin leads them past slowly and quietly, as though he's paying homage to the people who used to live there; to a way of life that no longer exists.

Their feet hit a smooth path outside one village, and Arthur's not sure what to make of it. Merlin explains that it's a road, paved smooth to make it easier for people to travel. They walk along the road, on the outskirts of a large town, and Arthur points out things he doesn't understand. Telephone poles, light posts, steel buildings, the list goes on. Merlin does his best to explain them. When they find an abandoned car on the side of the road, Arthur eyes it warily.

Merlin decides it's time to stop for dinner.

As they eat more of their deer, Merlin tells Arthur about telephones, electricity, steel and plastic, airplanes, cars, computers, and spaceships. He explains it all in terms he thinks Arthur will understand, but he's not surprised when Arthur says it just sounds like a lot of magic to him. Merlin assures him that it's not magic, but science, and while Arthur believes him, it doesn't make it any easier for Arthur to accept that people can fly, or talk to people on the other side of the world, or land on the moon.

Hours later, Merlin's just finished talking about how man was in the process of attempting to terraform Mars so it could support life when Arthur tells him to stop.

Merlin smiles understandingly. “I know it's a lot to take in. Sometimes I look back myself and I can barely believe everything that's happened. The world has come a long way since you were King of Camelot, Arthur.”

“Yes...I'm getting that,” Arthur replies tiredly. “I wish I could have seen it, Merlin. I wish that we....” Arthur looks down at the ground quietly, but Merlin knows what he wants to say. He wishes they could have seen it together, too.

Merlin looks down at the ground, lost in painful memories. “I know. It was amazing. All of it. And now it's all gone.”

“Merlin.” Arthur touches his chin and gently lifts his face up. “What happened to this world?”

“It's...it's a long story, Arthur. I don't think-”

“It's all right,” Arthur says quickly, letting go. “I understand. It's getting late. We should find somewhere to stay for the night.”

And with that, they head into the town.

...

The town is eerie in the dark. Quiet, empty buildings. Cars lie abandoned everywhere, as if the world just picked up one day and moved on.

“It's like a ghost town,” Arthur says quietly, and Merlin shivers slightly. He stops next to a broken down fountain.

“Merlin?” Arthur looks back at him in confusion.

“We did this.” Merlin says it so quietly that Arthur almost has trouble hearing him.

Arthur takes a few steps closer to Merlin. “What do you mean?”

“We did this. Mankind. We lost sight of what really matters: courage, chivalry, kindness...duty and honor. The things that used to matter, back when you were king and times were simpler. We got greedy. Started craving everything that was bad for us. Land, money, power. We ruined the world, Arthur. We did this. We-”

“Merlin.”

He stops babbling when he realizes that he's crying, and he doesn't know when he started. Arthur reaches out and brushes the tears off his face.

“There, all better,” Arthur says with a smile. “Come on.” He grabs Merlin's hand and leads him on.

They stop at one of the less decrepit houses. Inside they find more remnants of a technological age ended abruptly. Merlin shows Arthur computers, refrigerators, televisions, showers, and indoor plumbing. Shows him ovens that heat up food within seconds, microchips as small as pennies that can hold millions of terabytes of data, machines that can project images along entire walls and objects within rooms. Nothing works, but it's still enough to make Arthur's jaw drop, and Merlin can't keep himself from laughing at the look on his friend's face. Arthur rolls his eyes and smacks Merlin on the head, calling him an idiot for good measure.

In the bedroom, they find a dresser and closet full of clothes, and Merlin pulls out a few things for Arthur and himself. Arthur makes a face at the weird styles: pants that look tight and uncomfortable, jackets with hoods on them, and shoes that just look impractical. Merlin gives him a few pairs of pants, shirts, a hoodie, a warm winter jacket, and a pair of practical hiking boots he manages to dig out of the closet.

“It'll take some getting used to, but I think you'll like it. The hoodie is actually pretty comfortable.”

Arthur just frowns at the clothes Merlin has laid out on the bed, and Merlin sighs. “You don't have to wear them right now, Arthur. But we'll take them with us. I think you'll be glad for them eventually.”

In the end, Arthur nods, and Merlin packs up their new clothes in a pair of backpacks he finds in the closet and takes a set of clothes for himself. He leaves Arthur sitting on the bed and goes to the bathroom to change. Then he raids the pantry, but he can't find any salvageable food. Luckily he manages to find a stash of water bottles hidden in the cupboards, and he utters a quick spell just to make sure the water in them will be clean. He puts the water bottles in a duffel bag, then takes the remainder of their food out of his ratty cloak and stows it in there as well. Merlin removes the few important objects he has stored in his cloak pockets and moves them to the pockets of the jacket he took from the closet. Then he heads back to Arthur.

He finds the king sitting quietly on the edge of the bed, attempting to remove his armor.

“Here, let me help you.” Merlin removes the armor slowly, and Arthur whispers a quiet “thank you” when he's done. Merlin lays their new bags on the floor next to Arthur's armor. He removes his jacket and places it on the pile while Arthur leans Excalibur against the wall next to the bed.

Without a word, they crawl under the covers, and Merlin has just enough time to think that he could get used to being wrapped up in Arthur's arms before he falls asleep.

...

Merlin wakes in the middle of the night to find the bed cold and empty next to him. Instinct tells him to panic when he doesn't receive an answer, but he calms himself and reaches out with his magic instead. He senses Arthur sitting quietly outside the house, and he sighs with relief as he gets out of bed.

Merlin finds Arthur sitting on the stoop outside the house, staring up at the night sky with a look on his face that seems both awed and happy.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

He sits down next to him, and Arthur continues to stare at the sky as he answers. “No, not quite. They're the same ones I remember. The stars.”

Merlin gazes up and finds the sky clear and bright, full of stars that he hasn't really looked at in quite some time.

“So much has changed since I died, Merlin. But not the stars. It's...comforting. To think that despite all this time, there are still some things that don't change. They're like a little bit of home.”

Merlin smiles and reaches out for Arthur’s hand, taking it in his own. Arthur squeezes it gratefully and looks over at his old friend.

“They're still beautiful, too. Just like I remember. It's hard for me to think that people have been up there. Close enough to reach out and touch them. It must have been amazing.”

Merlin laughs, and he looks up at the sky. “It was.”

The warlock tells Arthur about the time he went into space. It was the year 2269, three hundred years after man first landed on the moon, and the US had decided to make space travel available to the civilian population. It was incredibly expensive, but he'd simply used a bit of magic to build up his bank account. Merlin usually balked at the idea of using his magic for financial gain, but this was something he simply hadn't wanted to miss out on. So he'd spent four glorious weeks in outer space, landed on the moon, and even been able to fly past Mars and see the work they were doing to terraform the planet.

“You can never really touch the stars, Arthur. They're too far away. Outer space is beautiful, but it's also big, and well, lonely.”

Arthur smiles at him fondly. He removes his hand from Merlin's, then puts his arm around Merlin's shoulder. Merlin leans into the touch, rests his head on Arthur's shoulder.

...

The next morning, after a breakfast of deer meat, berries, and bottled water, Merlin gathers their bags together and finds Arthur staring at his armor. Merlin lets him alone for a minute until his concern outweighs his generosity and he approaches the quiet king.

“Arthur...you don't have to put it back on. You won't really need it in this world.”

Arthur stares thoughtfully for another moment, then shakes his head. He says slowly, “I know. But I want to wear it just awhile longer. Until we get to Camelot. I want to bring it home. It reminds me of a time when honor and courage and friendship were what mattered.” Arthur pauses, then looks up at Merlin, tears shining in the corners of his eyes. “It reminds me of what the world needs.”

“The world needs you, Arthur. That's why you're back.”

...

As they continue their journey the next morning, Arthur wants to hear more about how the world got “ruined.” He’s curious how a world that has cars and electricity and flights into space could just cease to exist. But he doesn’t want to push Merlin; he’d seemed so upset the night before. So he waits until they sit down for lunch.

As he chews on what’s left of their deer, Merlin begins to tell him about World Wars: wars so extreme, so vast that entire countries joined together to fight other countries. Wars that split the entire world in half. And he doesn’t just hear about one, or even two, though the second one is bad enough (six million people killed just for being different? Arthur can’t fathom it).

Then he hears about a bunch of small wars with a few radical countries that had such strong convictions in their beliefs that no one else could be allowed to think differently. The small wars led to a third World War, which ended in nearly half a billion deaths. The world took almost 300 years to recuperate.

And then people got greedy. The US was looking to colonize Mars, and the other world super powers couldn’t stand to watch them take over space when they were already too powerful for their own good (or so their logic went). In the end, the US and a few allies, including Britain, went to war with the rest of the world.

Greed, lust for power and land, and technological advances carried a destruction no one could have predicted or prepared for. Most of the world’s major cities were destroyed. World leaders were assassinated left and right. Governments fell apart, and people fled as far as they could to the mountains and countryside, where they waited it out.

By the end of WWIV, no one knew quite how many were dead; the ones who were left could barely begin to grasp the enormity of it. Merlin himself wasn’t sure, but he estimated at least half of the world’s population lay dead.

He suffered horrible nightmares for weeks, heard screams and watched people burn alive in his dreams. He returned to the Lake of Avalon and found it undisturbed. He stayed by its waters for a week, and eventually the nightmares stopped. Merlin lit candles and floated them across the water on crude wooden boats to mourn the loss of not just 3 billion lives, but a way of life that had once held such promise.

When Merlin’s done talking, he’s shaking, and Arthur pulls him into his arms without a word and just holds him until the tremors cease. Eventually, Merlin pulls away, his eyes still dry.

“We’re responsible for our own demise, Arthur. Greed, thirst for power, jealousy. We’re to blame. The people who lived here spread out into the countryside, away from the dust and the smoke that still clogs the air around the big cities. Nothing grows on half of the planet anymore. People live simply now. More like they used to in the days of Camelot. They live off the land, fend for themselves. There’s no electricity or running water. Most villages just live on their own, support themselves. No one’s really risen to seize power yet, though I know someone will someday. Man never changes. But for now, I think the world’s just trying to….”

“Heal.”

Merlin smiles bitterly. “Yeah.”

They sit quietly for a minute. Finally, Arthur speaks. “Well, I’ve come back for a reason. Maybe I’m meant to help the world rebuild itself.”

Merlin smiles. “I hope so. I can’t imagine anyone better suited for the job.”

Arthur beams at him, and the look is so endearing, so genuine, that Merlin feels his heart flutter, almost like he’s a teenager with a crush all over again.

“I’m glad you’re here, Merlin.” Arthur looks at him for a long time, and when he finally tears his gaze away he stares at the ground, and Merlin can see that he’s blushing.

Wanting to ease his embarrassment, Merlin smacks him on the back as hard as he can.

“Where else would I be? You never could get on without me, dollophead.”

Arthur laughs out loud, and it’s just like old times. Especially when Arthur calls him an idiot before shoving his face into the ground until Merlin apologizes.

...

They walk in companionable silence for most of the day. They pass a few more villages along the way, all deserted. Merlin explains that this part of the country stayed sparsely populated throughout the years. A few farms, small villages, nothing major. Merlin tells Arthur a bit about cities he hasn’t seen. Places where towers of steel climb into the clouds, cars clog up the air with smog and pollution, and the rich and poor live together.

"Where the rich get richer and the poor get poorer," Merlin puts it.

Arthur points out that Merlin seems to hate the old world he’s talking about. Merlin shakes his head and admits that maybe part of him does. But then he tells Arthur about the good things, too. Chances to learn and grow, families, equal opportunities for women and people of all races and backgrounds.

Equality in marriage.

It took a long time for people to get used to the idea of same sex couples, but changes in political policy in many countries helped pave the way toward acceptance. There was always some bigotry and ignorance to be found, but by the 2300’s most people had embraced the idea of “Love for All, Hate for None.”

Arthur smiles. “Back in Camelot, I never would’ve dreamed of a day when people could think like that. When you could be free to love whomever you chose.”

Merlin assumes he’s talking about Guinevere, as she was at first a servant, but he’s not entirely sure. He nods. “Man didn’t just evolve in bad ways, Arthur. We grew to do good things, too. I guess it’s just that…evil has a way of being more powerful than good.”

Arthur stops walking, and Merlin is forced to turn around. The look on Arthur’s face is hard to read, yet the tone of his voice when he speaks belies his bitterness. “The years have made you a cynic, Merlin."

Merlin shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Arthur. It’s just that-”

“I know. I understand that, obviously, how couldn’t I?,” Arthur replies hurriedly, taking a few steps closer. “It's just…what happened to the Merlin I used to know? The one who always believed that courage, kindness, and faith were enough to fight anything?”

Merlin feels tears rise in his eyes, and he can’t meet Arthur’s gaze when he answers. “He had to live for 2000 years without his best friend.” Before Arthur could interrupt, he rushes on, “Don’t feel guilty when you have nothing to be sorry for. If anything, it should be I who is sorry for not killing Mordred when I had the chance. And I’m not...weak, so weak that I can’t get over someone. But know this, Arthur, it wasn’t just that we were friends for eight years. It was why we were. The Fates, the Old Religion, kept pushing us together, no matter what dark forces were at play. You see? When you died, I lost that second half, I suppose you could call it. Although, a friend of mine often referred to us as ‘two sides of the same coin’. You were never just my friend. It was never simply duty that I stuck with you. It was destiny, and that’s why it was so hard for me to wait it out all these years. I always found somebody to keep me company in some form or another, but it wasn’t the same.” He looked like wanted to say more, to tell him all his secrets, but he stopped.

Arthur opens his mouth again, but Merlin holds up a hand. “You want to ask me about our destiny, what I used magic for, but now isn’t the time. Someday, I’ll tell you everything. I promise.”

“Merlin.”

“Yes?”

“I never, not for once, ever thought you were an idiot. Even when we first met and I hated your insolence...there was always something odd I could never quite put my finger on. I didn’t know it was magic at the time; all I knew was that this something explained why you so loyally served me. And more than that…” Arthur paused, uncertain.”

“Yes?” Merlin repeats.

“That wasn’t the only reason, was it? I feel like even without your magical abilities to fight alongside me or even this destiny you speak of, you would have found a way anyway. All my life, I never had a single friend who liked me for me - just those who either flattered me or used me as a tool, manipulated me. Most of the time, they were just scared of my father.” He laughs hollowly. It was Uther that made Merlin withhold his secret from him in the first place. Who wouldn’t in the face of execution?

Merlin replies, “I guess so. You weren’t really all that bad. Yes, you could be truly insufferable at times, but you always had a good heart. You still do. You loved Guinevere even when she wasn’t a noble, you defended Lancelot and Gwaine’s right to be knights, even though they were peasants and the latter was exiled, and not to mention you came back for me. A servant. You took your knights with you on a quest after your father explicitly forbid it. History has never seen a royal do all that you did.

If it means anything, Arthur, if I didn’t have my powers, I still would’ve fought with you. If living these past two thousand years has taught me anything, it’s that even without you, my destiny, I possessed the same hatred of idleness. Whenever it was possible, I allied myself with a cause, tried to do some good. It helped that there were people who were worth defending. People like you. Brave, noble, just.”

Now, it was his turn to blush. It doesn’t escape Arthur’s notice, though; and like Merlin, he lets it slide. Arthur coughs once in his hand before saying seriously, “I mean it. I’m truly glad that despite the betrayals left and right- my sister, my uncle - I had you. I’m forever grateful and that you managed to keep things running smoothly for as long as you could. That despite your amazing magic, you were fine with being my servant. You sacrificed your freedom so you wouldn’t have to put me in a position where I’d have to choose between my father and you. You risked your hide time and time again to protect me. And you never...not once, have you ever asked for anything in return. You put up with all of my ignorance...how can one man be so..special?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out all these years.” Merlin finally looks up and meets Arthur’s gaze. The two consider each other for a moment before turning away in flushed faces and sweaty palms. Merlin focuses on calming his breathing, confused as to why he must in the first place. But he really does know. He has feelings for Arthur (if his rising body temperature is any indication). Merlin knows he possesses strong emotion towards Arthur; he always did - he just didn’t know that it was love. He never really thought about it, because he didn’t need labels to measure his care for Arthur. It was obvious that he’d lay his life down for him in a heartbeat. But now that Arthur is here, Merlin needs clarification.

They speak at the same time.

“Arthur.”

“Merlin.”

Laughing nervously, Arthur says, “Okay, I’ll go first. King and all.” He grins.

“Right, of course. Prats before powerful warlocks.”

Arthur lets out another one of his rare, full-sounding laughs, and Merlin smiles so hard, his eyes crinkle and his ears stick out even more (if that was possible). “Well,” he says, “Oh, powerful warlock, tell me something.”

Merlin shrugs. “What?”

The next words make his heart pound so fast, it could’ve lept right out of his chest.

“Do you love me?” Arthur summons his courage and looks straight into Merlin’s eyes. His expression is unreadable, but his eyes are filled with uncertainty. And longing.

Merlin doesn’t believe that there are any words in the hundred languages he knows that can be enough. So he does something rash, bold, and perhaps, completely out of line for a servant. Good thing he isn't anymore. Before all his bravery wilts, he leans over and kisses Arthur.

And not that he had spent any time imagining how it would be, but still, it was everything he could hope for. Sweet, gentle. Minty from the morning’s toothpaste. Lazy, because Arthur knows they have all the time in the world.

All around wonderful.

My other half is finally here.

...

The pair sits in the humble backyard of a decrepit, abandoned house. Merlin lights a fire with a quick “Forbearnan”, trying not to instinctively hide the tell-tale golden flash in his eyes. Even with his long-kept secret unveiled, Merlin still finds it hard to believe that the man before him is actually Uther’s son. Shaking himself out of his thoughts, the warlock tells Arthur what happened in Camelot after his passing. He tells of how he didn’t return for a long time, and how Gwen accepted him when he did. When he tells Arthur how Gwen eventually married Leon, Arthur smiles and says he’s grateful that she found someone.

He tells of how Leon passed away and how Gwen passed five years later, leaving no heirs. He tells of the young man who took the throne after her death and showed such promise. As he tells Arthur about the fall of Camelot, of how powerless he was to stop it, Arthur grows quiet. When he finishes the story with him leaving Camelot in despair, Arthur gets up from the fire and walks away.

Merlin allows him a few minutes alone. Then, he rises and approaches him tentatively. Arthur’s staring up at the sky when Merlin puts a hand gently on his shoulder.

“Is there anything left, Merlin?” Arthur asks quietly.

With a deep sigh, Merlin replies, “Not much. Parts of the town and the castle are still there. In the early 13th century, I went back and I…I put an enchantment over it. To protect it. I thought that…well, I thought you’d like to see it one last time. Just to, you know….”

“Say goodbye. That’s..very thoughtful of you.” Arthur reaches up and wipes his eyes. When he looks back at Merlin, he looks stronger somehow. “We should get some sleep. I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be a long day.”

...

The next morning, after a quick breakfast, they finish their walk to Camelot. It’s only about a two hour journey, and they make it in silence. Arthur looks deeply lost in his thoughts, and Merlin walks quietly beside him. As the walls of Camelot finally come into view, Merlin reaches over and takes Arthur’s hand, bracing them both for the somber sights ahead.

The lower town is in ruins. Houses torn and burned down, buildings collapsed. Merlin is just able to make out where he knows the tavern used to be, and he can’t help but smile at the memories of Gwaine’s raucous antics and bawdy tales. He was always the most lively of the Knights.

Arthur smiles at the vacancy, too, but for different reasons. The tavern was where Gaius always told him Merlin went whenever he was looking for him. That and “collecting herbs”. Of course, those were lies.

Despite the bitterness creeping in, Arthur continues to hold his friend’s - lover’s? - hand tightly, looking around sadly at the once proud city now reduced to so much rubble. Getting closer to the castle, piles of wood become piles of stone. Few buildings remain standing, and those that do are due only to Merlin’s spell.

Arthur stops at what used to be the castle walls, and Merlin notices how he starts to shake. Camelot was, after all, where he’d been weeks ago in his mind. Being dead, Arthur missed the passage of time. Seeing everything in ruins was more than simply surreal to the king.

“Arthur…we don’t have to-” the warlock began to say.

“No.” Arthur says, firm, “I need to assess the area.” His tone is suddenly commanding, the one he used with court officials; it left no room for argument. And it’s the first thing Arthur’s said all day, so Merlin just nods.

The next hour is spent treading the ruins. Small sections of the outer walls, towers, and main castle still stand, but most of it has been destroyed by the war that ended Camelot and the passage of centuries. Merlin points out where the stables used to be, the training field, the tower where he lived in with Gaius.

At last, they reach the main stairs leading up to the castle. The upper floors are all gone, including Arthur’s room, but Merlin explains that this portion of the castle, including the throne room, hasn’t been touched nearly as much by the elements. He asks Arthur if he wants to go inside, assuring him that the spell he’s placed on the castle will keep them safe. Arthur nods and follows him up the stairs.

As they walk down the hallways, Merlin can only imagine what’s going through Arthur’s head. If it’s anything like what Merlin’s thought when he returned here so long ago, then Arthur must be picturing hallways full of sunlight, bright tapestries, and stone statues. He must be picturing people moving briskly: servants, knights, men, and women going about their day.

Arthur looks around at what little is left. Sections of the walls and ceiling have caved in, and the castle is bathed in sunlight. Plants grow up the walls, statues lie broken, tapestries eaten by moths and insects.

It’s eerily quiet, and Merlin shivers. Arthur stops next to him, pulled from his trance, and he gasps, tears rising in his eyes. He whispers Merlin’s name, and he sounds so lost that Merlin feels his heart break. He turns to Arthur and grasps his face gently between his hands. “I’m right here.” Merlin assures. Where else would he be?

Arthur feels a harsh stirring in his gut. Camelot was his home for his whole life, and it is gone. When he sees the throne room, Arthur is somewhat eased at the beauty. The ceiling has fallen in completely, and the room is wide open to the sky above. A few resilient trees have pushed their way up through the ground, and the air is full of the sound of birds chirping. Most of the furniture in the room has been obliterated. But where the throne used to sit, a large tree has burst through the wall and eaten through the floor, and it stands tall and proud at the end of the room.

Merlin smiles. This part of the castle has always amazed him. It’s the one part where Merlin has altered his spell slightly. Here he has allowed the trees to grow and the birds to sing. He finds the throne room more beautiful now in a way than he did in the days of Camelot.

He looks over at Arthur to gauge his reaction, and he’s pleased to find that he looks happy.

“It’s beautiful, Merlin.” Then, his happiness gives way to confusion. “Where’s the Round Table?” Arthur inquires.

The warlock was waiting for that question. “Well, I was unsure it’d fit once the trees and such grew in, so I shrunk it. Let me undo it.” Merlin lifts the spell, bringing to light the legendary Round Table, the ultimate symbol of equality and justice.

The wood was grayer than ever, but Arthur could still see its majesty. Arthur closes his eyes briefly and when he opens them, he sees the faint outlines of the council’s most beloved members: Leon, Elyan, Percival, Gwaine, Lancelot, Gaius, and Guinevere. And his heart swells with pride at the thought his wife, his Queen, had carried the tradition, and that Merlin had become part of the Court. Maybe it was worth it, after all.

Slowly, Arthur unsheathes Excalibur and raises it in the air. A slight breeze blows in, making the red cape billow behind him. The sunlight makes his armor and blade gleam.

God, you’re magnificent. Tears prickling in his eyes, Merlin shouts, “Long live the King! Long live the King! Long live the King!”

... 

For nearly two hours, they sit at the base of the big tree, and Merlin tells him stories of Camelot after Arthur’s death. He tries to tell him only happy stories, though many of them seem inexorably sad. Arthur recounts some of the better times they spent in Camelot. Going on hunts, fighting dark creatures, arguing over how Merlin was a terrible servant. Those were the golden times.

Finally, Arthur stands, dragging Merlin to his feet, numb from the prolonged sitting. He faces the tree and says, “Thank you for bringing me here, Merlin. It…it means a lot to me that you’re here. It’s as if, even though Camelot is gone, a small part of me still feels like I’m….” He pauses, then turns to Merlin and smiles at him fondly. “Like I’m home.”

Wordlessly, Merlin reaches out and pulls Arthur into a tight hug, and neither of them lets go for awhile. When they do, Arthur takes off his cloak and lays it gently on a low hanging branch of the tree. The golden dragon waves softly in the breeze, and the sunlight glinting down sets it aglow.

Merlin whispers a few words, his eyes glowing gold like the dragon. The cloak shimmers for a second, then returns to normal. “There. Now time will not touch this, either. The last sigil of the Once and Future King.”

Arthur laughs. “The what?”

Merlin can’t keep the grin off his face at the memory of Kilgarrah. “It’s just something an old friend said to me once.”

Arthur shakes his head. “Always a mystery, Merlin. Come on, let’s go.”

...

They exit the castle to find the sun high up in the sky. Back outside, with the majesty of the throne room behind them, the ruin and destruction seems to seep into Merlin’s bones. He glances at Arthur, and from the look on his face, he must be feeling it, too.

“Arthur…if you’re ready to go…there’s one more place I want you to see.”

Arthur frowns at him. “What is it?”

Merlin smiles proudly. “It’s a surprise. Let me show you.”

Arthur still looks puzzled, but he nods, and Merlin leads him quietly out of Camelot.

... 

“Merlin…you built all this? By yourself?”

Merlin laughs. “Don’t sound so surprised. Yes, I built this. With my own two hands, too. No magic required. Well, except the spell that kept it from from collapsing, but other than that….”

It’s a small one room hut. Kitchen, table, two chairs, two large bookshelves against one wall. The huge bed is the only sign of luxury in the place. It’s small, quaint; perfect for just one, and yet capable of accommodating two. The warlock may or may not have taken some pointers from Thoreau.

“It’s not much,” Merlin admits. “Just a place I would come to sometimes to think. To get away from the world.”

Arthur turns to him and says sincerely, “It’s perfect.” Merlin beams with pride.

He happily shows Arthur around the small cottage. While it’s lacking in modern conveniences, diagrams, photographs, and art cover the walls. Merlin shows Arthur da Vinci, Michelangelo, Raphael, Monet, Van Gogh, Picasso, and Dali. Arthur marvels at all of it, especially the photographs. The Taj Mahal, Pyramids of Giza, Empire State Building, Great Wall of China. He doesn’t understand how photos can manage to look so real. His favorite is a glossy photo of Earth seen from space. If Merlin hadn’t already explained space travel to him he would’ve said it was a picture of someone’s dream.

Then Merlin sits down on the floor with Arthur and shows him some of his favorite books. Chaucer, Shakespeare, the Grimm Brothers, T.H. White (“He got quite a few things right, actually.”). He shows him Poe, Lovecraft, King, and Stoker. Austen, Dickens, Shaw, Wilde. Woolf, Joyce, Hemingway. Thoreau, Twain, and Whitman. Shaw, Doyle, Wodehouse, Tolstoy. Frost, Browning, Keats, Tennyson, Shelley. Verne, Wells, Asimov, Bradbury, Adams, Orwell. Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, and Pratchett. Merlin especially enjoys telling Arthur about a certain boy wizard named Harry Potter.

Arthur seems to enjoy the children’s stories most. Alice in Wonderland, Dahl, Sendak, Beatrix Potter, Silverstein. A.A. Milne holds a special place in Merlin’s heart. Arthur becomes strangely attached to a book of Dr. Seuss stories, and Merlin reads him “The Sneetches,” “Yertle the Turtle,” and “Green Eggs and Ham.” He reads “Horton Hears a Who” to him twice (“This Dr. Seuss: he seems to know what really matters. Was he a famous physician like Gaius?”).

At this point, the sun is sinking low. Merlin lights a few candles while Arthur cooks what’s left of the rabbit they caught for breakfast.

Chuckling, Merlin sets out the plates. “My, how the tides have turned.”

“Come again?” Arthur asks, glancing up from the fireplace.

“I never thought I’d see the day when the King of Camelot cooked food for his lowly servant.”

Arthur hurls a piece of firewood at him from across the room, and Merlin laughs as he deflects it with his magic.

“Cheater.”

They eat at the table, and Merlin appreciates how something as simple as dinner with Arthur can feel so good. When Merlin’s cleaned up, using water from the well he’s built in the backyard (“Are you sure you didn’t use magic?”), Arthur sits down on the edge of the bed. Eventually, Merlin joins him.

“What’s on your mind?”

Arthur smiles, but it’s a sad sort of smile. “I like this place, Merlin. I do. It’s just…seeing Camelot like that. Knowing that everyone I once knew is just...gone. It’s….” He bows his head and goes quiet, and Merlin reaches out and squeezes his hand firmly.

“I want to show you something.” Merlin goes to his jacket and retrieves a small leather pouch from a pocket. He gets another small object from the bookshelf and sits back down.

“My father made this for me the night before he died.”

And Merlin hands Arthur a small hand carved wooden dragon. Arthur stares at it for a minute before his eyes light up with realization.

“The Dragonlord. Balinor, he was…oh, Merlin. I’m so sorry. That explains why you were so upset when…and you had only just met him. Merlin….”

The small dragon has already been worn smooth by Merlin’s hands, and Arthur fingers the soft wood gently, as though he’s afraid it might break.

“‘No man is worth your tears,’” Merlin says quietly, lost deep in memories.

Arthur looks up sharply. “I was wrong about that, you know.”

Merlin laughs. “I know, Arthur. You were wrong about a lot of things.” He adds “clotpole” for good measure.

“Hey!” Arthur smacks him on the head, earning another great smile from the warlock. Then, he opens up the pouch and pulls out a folded piece of paper. It looks old, very old, and it creaks like it will turn to dust any second. Merlin unfolds it carefully, and Arthur puts down the dragon and takes it.

“This looks like one of those fotter…potter….”

“Photographs.”

“Pho-to-graphs on the wall. Only…it’s me.”

Grinning, Merlin says, “Yes, I made it using magic. That night we went to the tavern and I won all your money.”

“That night you…?” The tone of Arthur’s voice changes faster than Merlin thought possible, and he has to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

“Yes?”

“Did you use magic to win?”

Merlin tries to look indignant, but he's pretty sure Arthur can see through it. “Me? Cheat? Arthur, I can’t believe you'd accuse me of-”

“Merlin.”

But he can’t help himself. He bursts out laughing, and it’s the only answer Arthur needs. The king smacks him upside the head again and calls him an idiot, and it’s about what Merlin expected.

The warlock explains, “I made it when I got home that morning. I…I wanted something to remember the night by. I never thought…I had no idea how grateful I’d be for it so soon.”

“Merlin.” Arthur is touched, and he reaches out and rubs his hand gently along Merlin’s back.

“I’m grateful; this way I could never forget what you looked like," Merlin responds sadly.

They sit in silence for a minute as Merlin pulls himself together. Eventually, Merlin speaks again. “And of course, I still have this.” From the small bag he pulls out Ygraine’s sigil and hands it to Arthur.

“I’ve kept it safe all these years. There’s a small hole on top; I wore it on a chain for awhile, but it broke ages ago. I-”

Without warning, Arthur drops the sigil onto the bed and kisses him. Merlin falls into it gratefully, though the way Arthur kisses him is intense; as though he wants to mold them together and make them inseparable.

When Arthur pulls away, he says nervously, “I..I’m sorry.”

“What on Earth are you apologizing for?” Merlin asks, torn between laughter and incredulity.

There’s a time when Merlin would not have believed that the king could ever be bashful, but he does, sitting next to him, madly blushing. It is endearing to Merlin, knowing that even he, Arthur, was not always self-assured.

...

Merlin always expected that he'd be the one falling apart when he and Arthur finally got together. That two thousand years of waiting would make him a miserable wreck. But in the end, this night becomes all about comforting Arthur. And maybe that's how it should be. After all, Arthur had used his dying breath to comfort Merlin, to assure him that he hadn't failed, to thank him for all that he had done, to help Merlin cope with his passing.

So maybe it makes sense that Merlin spends their first night together telling Arthur he has nothing to apologize for. Telling him that everything is going to be okay, assuring him that what happened in the past is over and that they've got all the time in the world ahead of them. That maybe they can start over.

Arthur makes love to Merlin two more times that night, and if Merlin loses control of his magic at one point and causes the bed to tremble and lift a foot off the ground, Arthur is polite enough to not rub it in. Merlin sleeps more peacefully than he's slept in two millennia.

That is, until he wakes up at sunrise and screams as the Earth rips itself apart beneath his feet.