Chapter Text
Ageing was always a pain, literally. Every joint seemed to creak and ache, and it always made him grumpy. Thank the heavens, this was his last day as Dragoon. Or Merlin Emerson, as it said on his not-very-legally-obtained ID. Today was the day the old man ‘retired to his country house’, and his young grandson took over his cottage. Some of his elderly acquaintances may note that he was startlingly similar to his ‘grandfather's’ younger days, but that never amounted to much.
Merlin approached his little cottage, situated a little way down the road from The Lake. As he stepped in, the white beard and hair shrank and wrinkles smoothed over. The years wore off his person as he got busy, putting on the kettle, arranging the bunch of fresh flowers he’d picked a little while ago in the vase. They were purple today. And on the shelves above them were the most mundane of his vast collection of books, consisting of a surprising amount of ones on Arthurian legend. Some of it was really infuriating, like Leon’s total absence, the bunch of knights he’d never even heard of, the loss of Gwen’s true heritage (the number of weird ways to spell her name was endless fun, though) and so on. But It rarely failed to make him laugh, flipping through them and imagining Arthur reading all this. That is, if he even knew English on getting resurrected. One of Merlin’s greatest fears was having Arthur panic in Anglo-Saxon at the sight of a car.
The shrill ringing of the alarm pulled him out of the semi-amused, semi-wary pondering, and Merlin sighed. Don’t get it wrong, Merlin did love the job of an Archivist/linguist (he’d done it a few times before) but everyone had their lazy days. Getting this done now would only make his first day easier though, and even after thousands of first days, being prepared only made them easier. Plus, he could laze about tomorrow, maybe even have some time with Freya.
Thus motivated, Merlin dragged himself to the study lined with shelves crammed with more books and knick-knacks from all over the world, and from many time periods – his real library. A few shelves were also laden with an array of vials and bottles, some which he'd preserved from Gaius’ original stash. This cottage had been here nearly as long as him, and though he’d periodically spent long periods away traveling and learning and generally living like a nomad, this was home. Let it suffice to say, the list of owners of the cottage was a long list of Emersons.
Merlin flipped open his laptop and set to work. When he finally looked up from it, It was well beyond 10pm; no wonder his stomach was making whale noises. A sandwich was definitely called for.
***********
The sunlight streaming through the windows was way too bright for the first thing in the morning. Merlin sat up and felt the crick in his neck as he blinked the glare away. He’d fallen asleep on the couch again, and decided immediately this was the last time, because a stiff neck was a terrible affliction, magic or not. After a brief bout of panicking that he was late on his first day, Merlin realised it was Sunday. He slipped out, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. A few splashes of cold water and coffee would bring him fully back to the land of the living again.
Halfway to the bathroom, Merlin froze as his magic tingled in the tips of his fingers, thrumming excitedly. All the bleariness flew away in a single second.This wasn’t something he’d felt in years, but the surge of Old Magic that followed was unmistakable.
Avalon.
Vanishing into nothingness for a brief instant, Merlin was on the grassy banks of the Lake the very next moment. Everything seemed extraordinarily still, not a movement was to be seen in the water or the trees. His eyes flew immediately to the road he walked down just hours ago. Nothing except the occasional car cruising by. Merlin looked the other way, along the long green shoreline. There wasn’t anything at-
What was that?
A bundle of grey and red lay where the water met the land. Cautiously, a spell on the tip of his tongue, Merlin moved towards it. It suddenly stirred, and the grey gleamed silver in the light. He went still for a second. Heart picking up pace with his feet, he rushed towards the figure on the bank.
It was unmistakable. The chainmail, red cloak and sword.
Merlin reached Arthur just as he scrambled to his feet, looking at Merlin in bewilderment.
“ Mer lin?”
Strange as it was, despite knowing from experience that he had a magically extra-enhanced memory, Merlin had always had the fear that he'd forget how his friends looked, how Arthur looked. That the image in his mind had gotten somehow warped over the years. Merlin stared. Just stared and stared at the dishevelled blonde hair and the wary look and the totally familiar features with relief and shock and joy and- and whatever the hell it was that made one feel like their insides were spaghetti and heart a billion times bigger.
“You’re back.” He could barely believe the words even as they left his mouth.
Arthur broke into a wide grin, and Merlin’s poor heart suffered another blow as he lunged forward and wrapped him in a huge hug. Merlin laughed into it and held back, clinging to that stupid red cloak like he’d vanish if he let go. Arthur pulled back, and held Merlin at an arm’s length by his shoulders as he examined him head to toe. “What are you wearing ? And what happened to your hair!?”
He was back and he spoke English!
Merlin beamed back. “A lot has changed..... You’ve been gone for quite a while.”
Arthur’s smile slipped a little. “How long?”
Oh, Arthur…
"Tell me." he insisted, the smile fading slowly when Merlin didn't reply for a few long seconds.
Merlin said softly, “Fifteen hundred years.”
Arthur stared, before exhaling deeply. “That’s...longer than I’d anticipated. I just......”
“Hey, it's okay. We’ll talk afterwards, let’s get you to my place first.” Arthur nodded distractedly. He looked so lost, and it was heartbreaking. As Merlin led him towards the path to the cottage, a truck roared by on the road and Arthur immediately tensed and reached for Excalibur.
“Arthur.” Merlin put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s just a truck, no worries.”
“A what?”
Avalon had apparently not blessed him with miraculous knowledge of the modern world except the language. “It's....a mode of transportation. Like we used to have horse carts and carriages?”
“Oh. It's....pretty large.”
Leading on, Merlin smiled. “There are all sorts of vehicles, of all shapes and sizes and colours.” Merlin felt he was floating in the air. He was talking to Arthur. Arthur . After centuries. This didn’t feel real at all.
They walked back through the woods in silence and Merlin couldn’t look away from him. It almost felt like a dream or illusion that would vanish with the blink of an eye. Arthur seemed -understandably- lost in thought. But even through the giddy joy, a pang of worry poked and prodded. Kilgharrah had said he would return when Albion needed him the most. And he hadn’t come back anytime throughout numerous Wars and Plagues and other uncountable horrors. What was it that made him come back now? A chill crept down Merlin’s spine. What could be worse than that?
Unable to shake off the premonition, Merlin walked in silence. There was stuff they had to deal with before any other crisis erupted around them.
***********
Merlin opened the door of the cottage with a flourish, and led Arthur down the small hallway. Arthur paused at the end of it, taking in the living room. His eyes lit up as he smiled at the Pendragon crest on the wall above the mantelpiece. “You kept it.”
“And some other things. Some of Gaius’ old books, rare ingredients, so on.”
Arthur wandered over to the shelves in the room, running a finger across the array of books. “You read a great deal more than you used to.”
Merlin fought back a giggle as Arthur’s eyes passed unrecognized over a copy of the Idylls of the King; now was not the time. “Well, it wasn’t like I had the time to read, I was run ragged between you and Gaius and saving your life everyday.” Arthur suddenly looked quite guilty, and Merlin scrambled for a change of topic. “By the way, do you want to change? Take a shower maybe?”
“A what?”
“A bath, I mean.” Merlin shook his head. Arthur considered for a moment before deciding. “I’m good, I’ll just take off the chainmail...” Merlin stepped forward and helped him off it. Arthur looked a bit baffled, and then smiled again. “The most powerful sorcerer in the world, and you still help me with my chainmail?”
Without pause, Merlin replied, “It would be a pain watching you get tangled in it, trying to get it off.”
“I can take off my chainmail just fine. I know the basics of dressing, Merlin.”
Merlin huffed. “You know, Gaius told me about the time he tried to dress you and you both tore up Gwen’s favourite nightgown.”
“That was hardly my fault! Besides, none of it would have happened if you weren’t off at the tavern all the time.”
Merlin bit his lip. Arthur paused for a moment before deflating like a balloon. “You weren’t in the tavern were you?”
“No. I only ever went along with you and the knights, or when I had to haul back Gwaine occasionally. It was just Gaius’ favourite excuse.” Merlin grumbled as he headed to the kitchen. Opening the cupboard, Merlin debated whether to start Arthur off with tea, coffee, or hot chocolate. Arthur had a decidedly sweet tooth, and Merlin just knew it in his bones he would love chocolate.
Arthur’s words drew him back into conversation. “You were off saving me, or Camelot all those times, weren’t you.” Merlin looked back at him, unsure of how to respond. Arthur’s face showed no anger or trepidation, but he looked at Merlin as though seeing him for the first time. It was.....weird. Merlin turned back to the chocolate.
“I’ll be just a minute,” Merlin told him, as he poured the chocolate into mugs before heading into the living room once more, only to the sight of Arthur curiously poking a finger at an electrical socket.
“No! Arthur!” He yelled out in panic. Arthur jumped at the sudden cry, and blinked. “You’ll shock yourself to death. Just....sit.” Merlin waved to the couch and Arthur blinked again before obediently taking a seat. He must be really frazzled by all the new stuff to listen without protest.
“You can’t go about touching everything. It’s not safe. I’ll explain it all to you, okay?” Arthur nodded, and reached for his mug. Merlin watched in anticipation as he eyed it’s contents suspiciously. “What’s this?”
“It's called ‘chocolate.’ Go on, try it.”.
Arthur blew at it, and then took a tentative sip. Merlin smiled smugly as his eyes widened. “This is........ I have to admit, this is quite nice." Then, slightly warily, "Is it Magic?”
Merlin laughed. “No, no magic, it’s just that awesome.” Soon enough, they finished the drink, and Merlin grew a little more nervous with every passing moment. He knew the moment (more like hours) of reckoning was close, but he was terrified of what would happen. Maybe he could delay it for a little while yet.
“What happened, Arthur? In Avalon?”
His face contorted into something between a grimace and a smile. “Well....I met someone. Someone you know, actually...Freya.” Huh. Freya never told him anything of her job or Avalon, because no one living was supposed to know of the matters of the Other Worlds. That’s just how it was.
Merlin nodded. “Yeah.....we keep in touch.” Understatement of the century.
Arthur smiled. “It’s good to know you had someone all this while. Well, I asked her who she was. Insisted on knowing, really. And she told me.” He paused, and added after a moment “ I know it doesn’t help any now, but.......I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t know any better, Arthur.” Merlin hated it when Arthur sounded so.....so small. Defeated.
“But I should have.” He looked down, refusing to meet Merlin’s gaze. Merlin took a deep, shuddering breath before sitting a little straighter.
“Arthur. There’s something I have to tell you. A lot of things, really. Years worth of things.”
That drew his attention once more, and Merlin must’ve looked more nervous than he thought, because Arthur said, “You don’t have to do it right now, if you don't want to.”
Merlin shook his head. "I have to." If he lost his nerve now, Gods know when he would find it again.
*********
They sat in silence for a long, long while. Merlin’s mind was a mess, but a deep seated relief took precedence. It was done , for better or for worse. Arthur finally knew everything, and whatever happened afterwards wasn’t up to Merlin. He could only hope for a reaction as accepting as Gwen’s, or any of the others, but....
He was startled when Arthur broke the silence. “And what happened after my....well, death?”
His voice was carefully even, and just went further towards unsettling him. He’d rarely been unable to gauge Arthur. Nevertheless, he answered.“Gwen ruled Camelot, for three whole decades. Within the first year, Magic was legalised.”
Arthur smiled, and it was part wistful and part proud. “Then she had the courage to do what I couldn’t.” Swallowing audibly, he steel himself before asking, “And who.... Who was her King?” Despite the bravado on his face, Merlin knew him too well to not recognize the pain behind it.
“No one, after you. She wore the crown alone.”
The relief and astonishment weren’t hidden in the least, and Arthur visibly floundered for a few seconds as Merlin watched with a wide grin. “How did she do it? With all those pompous asses who could barely even stand it when she became Queen!?”
Merlin shrugged. “It’s Gwen we’re talking about. She managed everything, all by herself. If your rule heralded Camelot’s Golden Age, she made it reality. “
Arthur smiled softly. “I’m glad.” He sighed, and sadness darkened his eyes. Loss. Merlin had experienced it enough times to recognise it.
“And what of you, Merlin? What did you do?”
Merlin fidgeted with the hem of his tee nervously. “I was part of the Round Table. I acted as a liaison between various groups; the Druids, other peoples with magic. We worked mainly on integrating magic into society once more. Lots of stuff. It was a time of great peace and prosperity and knowledge, you know, between Gwen, and Mithian, and Queen Annis.”
Arthur listened carefully, with that slight frown he always had when fully focused on something. “And after that?”
“Well.....a couple centuries later, things changed. There were wars, and kingdoms changed and grew and collapsed. I left Camelot pretty soon after Gwen and the others passed on; no one else was left for me there. Albion flourished for a couple centuries, but change was inevitable. I traveled to all sorts of places. Taught at times, learnt at others. No one except the druids knew who I truly was, but I kept silent about it most of the time.”
“What about now? Do you still have to hide your magic?”
“Not at all. Magic is....well, it's much better. Of course, there is always some prejudice, always will be, but it's not illegal or frowned upon. It’s part of School curriculum, even the kids born without magic learn about it.”
“Things have definitely improved then.” Arthur placed a hand on his shoulder, and Merlin looked back up at him. He nodded and tightened his grip reassuringly. “I’m happy for you, Merlin.” He swallowed, as though bracing himself for something, and said “And I’m sorry.”
“Arthur, no-”
“Merlin, stop. I- I have to say this.” Merlin sighed and waited. Arthur looked so devastatingly upset and guilty as he spoke that it was painful. “For years you suffered through all this, all by yourself. I should’ve seen it. I should’ve known. I didn’t earn the loyalty you showed to me.” His voice was strained, and tears blurred his vision. “We all make mistakes. Some much greater than others. But what matters is that we learn from them.”
Merlin smiled as the warmth spread all through him, and the tension in his frame eased away. For the second time that day, Arthur surprised him with a hug. He laughed as he hugged back. “Resurrection has turned you into a real hugger.”
He pulled back with a scoff. “Not in the least. It’s not like I’ve never hugged you before, is it?”
“The time I had to carry you to Avalon doesn't count, you were dying. So nope.”
“Well, I distinctly remember doing so when I found you in the forests, that time when you were wounded.” Arthur scrunched up his nose. “ I smelt like bog the entire day!”
“I don’t......wait. That’s when I was enchanted to assassinate you. I don’t remember anything.”
“Ah.” Arthur sighed. “I can hardly believe we’re actually having this conversation.” Merlin laughed again. Me neither.
He glanced at the clock. “Oh, shit! It's noon already. I haven’t had breakfast, but you haven't eaten in fifteen hundred years. I’ll whip up something.” As he headed to the kitchen, Arthur trailed after him. He watched as Merlin put a pot of water to boil and rummaged for the packet of spaghetti he knew was somewhere in here. Arthur ogled the blue flame of the stove, and shook his head dejectedly. “I’m never getting used to all this.”