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Most people if they lived forever would find themselves bored with life. It is only the young and dying who are foolish and desperate enough to think immortality would be a gift. Living for a millennia and a half is enough time to have seen every plot twist and curved, chaotic ending in all its variations. It’s like watching every television program and realizing you know how everything is going to end before it even happens because you’ve seen it all before. Life no matter the century is the same bare bones construct just with different dressing and set design. Kings were still around and still known to be arrogant. Democracies while lovely ideas were shown to be prone to fallacy and ruin. Corruption still ran rampant with those who wield any sort of power and the masses still bend to the rulers will without realizing they are stronger and more powerful than any one lone ruler or government could hope to be.
Which is why, with a great heaving sigh, Merlin found himself once more locking his front door; his keys jingling in the crisp, misty morning air. He had decided on using keys as a new year’s resolution along with eating healthier and exercising more. It was his way of changing things up in his daily routine without changing. He was a man of his word; after all, even if time had dulled the memory of the man he had sworn his promise to. The lane he walked down from his house was paved with cobble stone older than any other resident living in Albion; besides himself obviously. He snorted at the thought of the name. The residents were adamant back in the 1600’s when the crusade against witchcraft and those deemed practitioners of the craft were renewed with a vigor that Merlin hadn’t seen in an age. He had watched over this land and its inhabitants in the best way that he could given he just stopped being a tree a century or two before. The people who worked the land could trace their lineage back all the way to Camelot and the child Gwen had been carrying when the King died. Those ancestors driven from their home by Saxons forced to meld into the countryside as commoners leaving behind the only way of life they had ever known. They had done it with an ease that Merlin found insulting given the way he always reacted to large amounts change. The druids that had come to live in Camelot under the Queen’s rule and later her son’s had helped hide the royal family from the invaders. They whispered in their ear of a man that had stood at the side of their grandfather back when Albion was first united. They spoke of how he hid among the wilderness to afraid to leave his post at the Lake where his master rested and far to wild to live among people comfortably again.
For many centuries these stories were told and believed and when by chance encounters happened they would meet Merlin either as an old man or the late twenty-something he had been when his King had perished. Most thought him mad or of little importance until a plague swept through the land and despite all the best efforts of the healers both magical and not people began dying in droves. Except that no one who lived in the areas surrounding the lake fell ill with the sickness while those in surrounding areas were not as lucky. By protecting the land where the king’s castle had sat and the land around the lake he protected its people as well. It was then that it started and at times Merlin cursed that moment. Trinkets began showing up at his door, food from the local crops mysteriously popping up in his pantry, new clothes replacing his rags. It was slow progress the relationship between Merlin and what would become his people but it was a start nonetheless. It was when the witch trials happened that Merlin strengthened the wards around the lake making it harder for outsiders to notice it let alone walk into its borders. An invisible shield would allow trespassers in but not without warning the residents before hand and giving them plenty of time to hide while Merlin and those he had begun training went to investigate possible threats. It was during the witch trials that Albion became known as lle diogel for both magic practitioners and those who sympathized with their plight.
It was after the trials had once again settled into the background of a culture that harbored prejudice and hatred against those that were different from the majority; that a young girl named Enid walked up to his door with shaky hands, a sweaty brow, and firestorm of determination in her eyes. He knew who she was or rather who her ancestors had been. Souls and those they came from are imprinted on people like dew on a blade of grass. She was a descendant of the royal family of Camelot not that she was truly aware of it and not that it mattered anymore. There was very little need for royalty in the countryside especially from someone who was more than a couple centuries away from the last ruling family member. Her presence had a purpose however to annoy him to death or to at least give it a valiant effort. She said it was her duty to take care of him that she had seen it in a dream and that a gwraig mewn llyn had told her so. He had promptly shut the door in her face only for her to crawl through the window and begin bustling around his house moving the curtains aside so light would flood in and grabbing a broom to sweep up the layer of dust that had collected on the floor. He had just stared at her like dog with its head cocked to the side while glancing at the door he had closed and wondering why it had betrayed him.
That was the start, the start of a family making it their mission to look after him. To watch over a man who was perfectly capable of looking after himself, if anyone cared to ask, which they never did. As Enid grew up and got married he thought he would finally be rid of her; a sobering thought to be sure, instead she moved her new husband in and insisted to Merlin that they add on to his home. A home that had three rooms plus a sitting and kitchen area but no it wasn’t big enough because they would need a place to put a baby when they decided to have one. So that spring Merlin along with some of the other magic users created a seamless addition on to the house and it was that winter that a babe graced the halls of his home. When Enid eventually died as all the people around him did her daughter took her place as his caretaker despite his insistence that she owed him nothing. She would simply smile and say the gwraig mewn llyn would disagree. She was also quick to let him know that while there was obligation there in her duty there was also genuine pleasure in it. Merlin’s home was after all her home and Merlin was her family and if Merlin’s eyes filled with tears and he locked himself in his room at hearing such things he would not admit it for a great while.
Thus it continued as each new generation took up the mantle of caretaker and it was only on the eighth generation that he realized that when in private each woman would speak in his first tongue. A language long since mutated and changed from the one to which he was born hearing. He asked why they spoke it when no one else did and they replied that you speak it and as long as one person knows the language then another person needs to know it as well. After all a conversation requires at least two partners. He had shaken his head with a small laugh before turning back to his books. Which now numbered in the thousands and additional rooms had been added to his house to accommodate said books.
CLANG! Merlin jumped from his musings down memory lane and glanced around noticing the Lowry boys had knocked over their mother’s gardening pot leaving it a shattered mess. He watched as the horror dawned on the boys’ faces when their mother’s voice could be heard screeching at them. Merlin watched as the boys turned red and stared at their shuffling feet while their mother yelled at them for once again rough housing. He waited until they had apologized and scampered off into the house to get a broom and dustpan before waving his hand in greeting while his eyes flashed gold. The pieces of the pot rising into the air and melding them back together as if they had never been separated in the first place. He gave the mom, Carla, a wink and a grin before continuing down the road that led to the main street of the village.
The village itself was an odd mix of old, modern, magical, and mundane. Very few people owned cars preferring to use bicycles or walking and those that did own a car often found themselves carrying a large carpool of people to places that were farther away then right in town. Kids and adults alike walked the street with ear phones on and music blaring from their phones. Stores mostly had central heating and air but homes had wood stoves for heat and fans for warm summer days. There were no chain stores or franchised restaurants instead a café ran by a magical couple was at one end of the street and a bakery ran by a non-magical single mother was across the street. The mechanic was also the farrier and the archery coach. It was a small bustling village that was the focal point in the area known as Albion. A couple hundred feet from the town’s outskirts was the Lake of Avalon.
Albion had once again become lle diogel as the harsh anti-magic sentiment reared its head again. The religious alt-right factions around the world had doubled down on the abominations that they viewed magic users as being and when their religious rhetoric did not garner enough support they switched to magic users being charlatans that simply were good as smoke, mirrors, and petty science. This latter viewpoint was often met with stiff opposition from the scientific community which had some understanding of magic but was still largely an unknowable variable and thus was known not to be simple misdirection and trickery of light. Attacks and discrimination were common against magic users and while it was technically against the law to do so most assailants were never convicted or received slaps on their wrists before being sent on their way. Many of the out and proud users who work tirelessly to try and change legislation, societal view points, and a discriminatory culture came from Albion or other strongholds like it. Many of his neighbors wished he would get involved but also knew that he couldn’t because while the world was aware of magic they were not aware of Merlin and his issue of immortality. Besides the last thing Merlin wanted was to be involved in politics-in no version of his many lives did he prefer the backstabbing spotlight of the political arena. That wasn’t to say however that he did not have friends who were in the thick of it fighting the good fight. No his purpose was much simpler to wait, to protect, and be a silent sentinel over his people and this small patch of land. It was at times a lonely job as his friends withered and died and gave rise to new friends but as a smile graced his face he didn’t think he would have it any other way.
He stopped in front of the café which like any café at 7:30am in the morning had a nice healthy line to the front door. He opened it just as a young woman with a toddler on her hip and a coffee in her hand walked out. Melissa, he thought her name was, smiled and said thank you while the little boy looked at Merlin crossed his eyes and stuck his tongue out. A laugh escaped his throat as he found himself sticking his tongue out as well.
“Oh, you decided to embrace your inner child.” He was mid-eye roll before he even realized he was doing so and as he walked through the front door he glance behind him to see Mya with her usual tongue in cheek expression.
“I thought I managed to get rid of you for the day.” Was his only reply as he took up his place in line. She was his shadow just as every generation before her had been since Enid.
“Please, have you ever been so lucky? Besides if you insist on waking up before daylight then you will have to suffer my presence as you get coffee. I don’t function without coffee.” She brushed her dark hair from her pale face. Merlin sighed, as much as he complained about her presence; he had felt her absence on his walk this morning. Her usual chatter was never far from him and if it wasn’t for her humor and easy-going nature he would have found her constant presence grating.
“I have told you that you don’t have to wake up when I do after all you don’t have classes until noon. Which I find boggling because back when I went to school we got there at dawn and worked until dusk.” It was halfway through that sentence when he realized he sounded like an old man reminiscing about how things used to be back in the good ole days.
“Okay Grandpa, let me stop you there before you start breaking out phrases like whippersnappers and ‘get off my land’. “ She had hunched over and shook her hand at him like she was holding an imaginary cane. He shook his head and smiled at her before turning back to look towards the front of the line.
After ten minutes of waiting they walked out with their coffees in hand and parted ways as she went to go work at the mechanic shop and he went to the bookstore. The bookshop was on the other end of the village secluded off to itself and in full view of the lake. He stopped and stared at the silent body of water with its lightly hanging mist hovering just above it the sun peaking out just enough to cause the water to gleam. He shook his head and entered into the shop.
He loved working there though he rarely worked around the customers. Yes, they were his people and he would protect them to his last breath but most of the time groups of people made his skin crawl and his mind go dizzy. Instead he worked in the back sorting through inventory and handling the rare first editions and old historical texts. It was quiet solitary work and it was perfect. The stakes were also not very high. Oh, every few decades he would go back to school refresh his knowledge to reflect the times and practice as a doctor, nurse, lawyer, police officer, bartender, school teacher, historian, and an EMT. He had been other things to of course. He had lived to long to not sample many more professions but it was those that stuck the most. Out of all of those he loved being a teacher because while most of the times group of people were over stimulating groups of kids were simply fun and comforting. Kids were innocent and honest. They said what they thought and meant what they said. It was a refreshing change from the adults in the village who not only knew who he was but understood what that meant. The power he wielded and the never ending nature of his life. The children knew all of this on a superficial level but that wasn’t what mattered to them. They wanted magic tricks, story time, and games of tag around the lake. They saw him as Merlin the man. That was something he had been missing for so long. Oh, how he missed the days where people treated him as if he was beyond ordinary to the point of being undeniably mundane. Everything had been simpler then despite the secrecy, paranoia, and constant danger. At least time made it seem so; he figured if he could somehow speak to his younger self that he would disagree with the simpler assessment. Such was the gift of unending time.
Hours passed as he sorted through books and looked through the new historical texts. He liked seeing what information was accurate and false but he also like reading about what had happened in the rest of the world. He had always stayed in his little bubble here in this part of country. Before he used to travel through what had once been the real Albion-the united five kingdoms- but as time passed and familiar faces gave way to suspicious strangers he had stopped wandering and set up shop by the lake where Freya was his only consistent company.
Ding, Ding, Ding the chiming resounded in his head as a shiver raced down his spine. His head snapped up with his heartbeat thudding in his throat; someone was at the gate. With a swiftness that Mya would joke was unsightly for a man of his age he stood and walked out of the shop toward the gate. Once he was passed the buildings he mouthed a few words, eyes flashing gold, and disappeared from the street. He reappeared in the tree line just inside of the gate but out of view of whoever stood on the other side. It wasn’t uncommon that people, often children, showed up or were left at the gate because of the magical abilities they possessed. Some of the teenagers around the village called him Professor X which was a reference he did understand despite what they might think. It was also unfortunately common that people would try to assault the village through the gate. They always underestimated the protections Merlin had placed around his home. If anyone with ill intent crossed the gate line an alarm would sound and they would find themselves completely frozen with zaps of electricity flowing through their body if they tried to move. The weakest point to his protections was when the gate opened because it was in effect a hole in the ward which was why the gate could never be opened without Merlin there. No matter the frequency, time of day, or inconvenience when the proximity ward sounded Merlin had to answer the call.
He didn’t like thinking about the close calls and losses that had happened through the years in order to have perfected such a rigorous and complex method of protection. The outside government battled daily to either protect this place or to see it destroyed. Merlin despite his aversion to politics would not let the latter happen. They would have to kill him first and after over 1500 years and multiple assassination attempts no one had been successful yet including himself. The biggest proponent of Albion’s destruction was one Uther Pendragon-though in this day he called himself something different- he spoke with the same ferocity and blind hatred as he ever had. He also unfortunately was still a wordsmith and had a loyal following of people worldwide who would like nothing more than to see magic burned out of existence. Uther had a son and that son he had been told looked an awful lot like the son he had, had before. Said son was known to go against his father on every turn in regards to magic and the people who used it. Merlin did not know. Merlin did not want to know. He may be waiting for a man to return but he was also waiting to see if things could be different this time. This time it was him who had people to protect, who were under his guidance, he would not fail them again by throwing them away for a destiny that taken so much away from him. He was done being the loyal dog and perhaps that was his age that caused bitterness and pessimism to fester in heart but fester it had. If this son was Arthur he wanted to see if the understanding they had reached in his final days and the loyalty they shared with each other for a decade was enough for a used-to-be-king to seek out his once-upon-a-time-servant.
With a sigh Merlin stepped out from the shadows and stood directly in front of the gate and while it might have a trick of the wind he though he heard gasps from the other side of the fence.
“What is your purpose here?” His voice carried and brooked no argument. The sun shone in his eyes protecting the visitors from his sight.
“We are here to see a friend.” A man’s voice answered. He knew that voice, he heard it in his dreams, and cursed it in his nightmares. Merlin glanced at the sun and gently flicked his hand to one side causing clouds to form and completely hide it from view causing the village to darken slightly in the overcast light.
The people standing before him were the faces of friends but different as well in minute ways. Hairstyles varied slightly, clothing definitely differed from what they once wore, and the looks in their eyes all mirrored the others. Haunted, hopeful, determined, and anxious were some of the emotions he caught swirling in the depths of their eyes and the planes of their faces.
“The question is does your friend want to see you?” His reply showed no emotion while his mind swirled with conflict. It would not be the first time someone had tried to trick him by showing him faces he desperately wanted to see. It would also not be the first time he had hallucinated their faces either. The mind and heart could be cruel masters but he truly felt that something was different this time. Mya, come to the gate. He commanded to his friend via telepathy.
Arthur, for there was no question that who he was seeing, stepped forward until he was standing right at the gate. Merlin couldn’t remember if his eyes had always been so blue but the deepness of the color and honesty he saw there made his breath catch in his chest.
“I can only hope so, Merlin.” His voiced cracked slightly and genuine apprehension dawned on his face as he realized that maybe Merlin did not want to see them-did not want to see him.
A swift crack broke the tense silence followed by a muffled curse as he saw from the corner of his Mya stumble from where she had appeared.
“You called, Boss?” Her eyes were questioning as usually visitors at the gate was not something she found herself dealing with. Her eyes widened when she saw who the visitors were she looked at Merlin understanding and sympathy flooding her features.
Is that who I think it is? They’ve come back? They were questions she already knew the answer to but how else was she supposed to handle the situation. After all King Arthur, Queen Guinevere, and the Knights of the Round Table had always been a story to her. Portraits lined the wall of Merlin’s home that held their faces only in the portraits there were crowns and swords.
You can see them too? The hopefulness in Merlin’s voice broke her heart and she was reminded again of why generation after generation the members of her family swore loyalty to this lost and broken man.
Yes. They are real. Your dementia is not messing with you today. The last said with sarcasm dripping from the words. A small smile crossed Merlin’s face as he stuck his tongue out at her for a minute forgetting his audience until a snort of laughter brought everything back into focus.
He looked back towards the group and saw Gwaine laughing at his childish display while Gwen and the others had smiles on their face despite the confusion of a silent conversation happening between them. Merlin flicked his hand again and the door opened and if they noticed the way both Merlin and Mya tensed up they didn’t say anything about it or the sighs they released when everyone of the group was able to step foot into the village without triggering the ill intent ward.
Arthur walked right up to him and Merlin thought he probably should have met him in the middle but his feet seemed planted in place as his mind raced with thoughts he couldn’t focus on and wasn’t sure he wanted to.
Merlin looked over the face of the man that haunted him, that dogged his steps for ages, and caused him to weep the loss of it on many occasions. It was the face of the man that he had loved so long ago; a love that at the time was forbidden by their own morals of fidelity. His blonde hair still glinted in the sun and Merlin startled to notice that at some point he had cast the clouds away. His eyes were searching Merlin’s face just as Merlin’s were searching his and perhaps it was wishful thinking but Merlin thought he saw that same old love shining in his eyes.
“Well, Sire, it’s about time you showed up.” If his voice wavered a bit no one could blame him. Fifteen hundred years of waiting was coming to fruition right in front of him.
“I’m just Arthur this time.” His voice was quiet and his eyes intent and despite being surrounded by people this exact moment felt private.
“Alright then, just Arthur, follow me we have some catching up to do.” He glanced at the rest of the group who were busy trying to be covertly nosy and failing. He nodded and smiled at them before setting off quickly towards the other end of the village where his house was waiting for them-- with enough rooms for all of them including Mya. He couldn’t help but wonder if maybe that had been the point all along.