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Everyone knows the myth. When Albion’s need is greatest, the once and future king will rise again.
To some, this is hope and to others, a threat.
To Merlin, it is his entire being. He was put on this earth to serve Arthur Pendragon and he will continue to serve him until the end of time, however long that may be.
He has spent many years in waiting, biding his time. He will have to wait some time more, for though a Pendragon does rise, it is not the one he expects.
“You.” Says Uther Pendragon as he rises rather gracefully up from lake Avalon. “Sorcerer.”
Merlin, who is very much not expecting this, points at himself questioningly and answers, only just remembering that he should probably not speak in modern English, “Me? A sorcerer? I don’t think so.”
“You have magic, boy.” Spits Uther, who has been unceremoniously dropped on the ground. “I’ll have you on the pyre by dawn.”
“Yeah,” Says Merlin. “about that.”
After much incredulous yelling from Uther, Merlin finally manages to get him to leave the bank of the lake and drags him to his car. This is where it all goes wrong.
In Merlin’s defence, he was planning to bring Arthur Pendragon back to his car, and Arthur should have been a little more at ease around what he might assume to be magic. Uther, on the other hand, screams as soon as he turns the engine on.
“It’s a transportation device.” Merlin sighs as Uther reaches for a sword that is not there and settles on brandishing a twig he found in his hair at the steering wheel.
“Sorcery!”
“No, electricity.”
“Magic!”
“Uther, it's not magic. Stop being an idiot.”
Uther glares. “You can't speak to your king that way, boy. Once we get back to Camelot, you will burn.”
“I’d really rather you didn’t burn me.” Merlin shrugs. “It would be so inconvenient. It always takes me forever to regenerate after a burning.”
“Sorcerer!”
“Uther, for goddess’s sake. Shut up.”
“Evil sorcerer! Guards!”
Merlin groans. “Ugh. I didn’t want to knock you out, but really you don’t leave me any choice. Honestly. This is your own fault, you know.” And with that, he flicks his wrist, sending Uther’s head lolling back as he falls asleep.
Uther’s general unconsciousness makes it much easier for Merlin to lift him up and dump him into the boot of the car. He figures that Uther doesn’t really deserve a seat, and it would be a pain to make him sit up. With that done, he slams the boot and makes his way to the driver’s seat.
The ride home is uneventful and devoid of screaming, which Merlin really rather enjoys. Unfortunately, the screaming is back by the time he has managed to lug Uther inside his house and deposit him on a kitchen chair, as he wakes up during the process.
Unsurprisingly, the first word the king says as he wakes is “Sorcerer!”
Merlin sighs. “Yes, we’ve established that.”
“Where have you taken me? I demand to return to Camelot, immediately!” Uther snaps, glaring with that crazed glint that Merlin remembers so well.
“Right.” Merlin says. “First, I’m going to put the kettle on because I need some sort of caffeine for this conversation. Second, shut up. Please.”
Uther splutters and screams again, while Merlin digs around in his drawer for a pair of earmuffs. Annoyingly, there are none, because they’re not something he thought he would ever need to own. Abandoning his search for ear protection altogether, he decides to get on to the tea part of the evening and then settles down on the sofa, turning the tv up to its highest volume in a futile attempt to drown out the medieval king doing an excellent impression of a banshee in his kitchen.
He supposes that eventually he will have to explain the situation to Uther, but for now, he is content with blindly watching an episode of Strictly and ignoring the constricting terror that his heart feels at Arthur’s absence.
He wakes up in the morning to discover a cold cup of tea all over his jeans and the tv still playing, although now it has decided to subject him to Love Island reruns. Merlin shivers with horror and scrabbles around for the remote to turn the darned thing off.
Then, he remembers that Uther Pendragon is currently in his kitchen, which is an inconvenience to say the least.
Sighing heavily, he makes his way down the hall to find Uther dozing, his head slumped on the table. Merlin sighs again. He has a feeling he will be doing that a lot. Well, he’d better start on some research.
When Uther wakes again, Merlin is on his third book and his fifth cup of tea. He may have a problem.
“Right.” He says. “So. Um…”
Uther glares at him. “Where am I?”
“In my kitchen.”
“Nonsense. This is no kitchen.”
“Have you ever been in a kitchen?”
“I don’t have to answer to you, sorcerer.”
“Right, so you’re a privileged arsehole who can’t even cook. Got it. can you either help me start on some research or leave me alone? Actually, scratch that. You won’t be able to read modern English. Just go away, will you?”
Uther’s face turns a very interesting shade of red as he shakes and seethes. “I am your king, boy. You do not dismiss me. And I will not ‘help’ you with your ‘research’. I am a warrior!”
“You can’t read the book, can you.”
“Of course I can… no. I can’t. what is this sorcerous language, boy?”
Merlin, who is already having trouble remembering old English after millennia of not using it, sighs again. “This is English, Uther. Modern English. Your language doesn’t exist anymore.”
“Sorcery!”
“How can this possibly… oh I give up.” Merlin groans and gets up to get himself another cup of tea. While he puts the kettle on, he waves a hand in the general direction of the next book on his pile. Rread that. I translated it into old English for you. Breton, if you want. Whatever. Just read it. In fact, let me just cast a spell so you can speak modern English. It’s so hard remembering all the old English grammar. And…” he pauses as Uther’s mouth opens in protest, “Don’t even think about complaining. I want you here about as much as you want to be here. If we can figure out a way to send you back and replace you with Arthur, we’ll both be happy. Ok?”
Uther, who has probably never been spoken to like that in his life, gapes and sits numbly down to open the book.
Merlin finishes making his tea and then settles down with his own book, pouring over the footnotes and searching for anything that could possibly rid him of the nightmare that is Uther Pendragon.
This search continues for several days, and Uther complains for each one of them. At one point, Merlin has to threaten him with evil magic to get him to shut up, and then he flinches every time Merlin turns on a light switch.
“You know,” Merlin says, just after lunchtime on the third day, “There must have been a reason for you to rise again. Like, the prophecy says that in Albion’s greatest need, the once and future king will rise. Obviously, you’re not him, that’s Arthur, and it must have confused one Pendragon for another, but there must have been some event that lead to you returning in the first place.
“What do I care? I was happily enjoying my afterlife until you and your sorcery ripped me from it.”
Merlin groans. “And here we go with the sorcery again. Let it go.”
“I will not.”
“Anyway,” he says pointedly, “I have a theory. Well, actually I have lots of theories, one of which involves me having somehow pissed off the goddess so much that She sent you to torture me for all eternity. I don’t know what I’ve done, but that’s certainly an option.”
Uther frowns. “What is ‘pissed off’?”
“It’s a modern thing, you wouldn’t get it. anyway, I’m perfect all the time, so I don’t see how I could have upset her. Therefore, the leading theory is that there’s been or is about to be some hideous, world ending, catastrophic event that would cause the once and future king to rise. The government hasn’t said anything, but I don’t trust those bastards as far as I can throw them. And I can throw people a long way.”
“The government? He is the ruler of Camelot now? That is an odd name. is he a sorcerer?”
Merlin’s eyebrows rise in an impressive impression of Gaius. “Oh my god, I forgot to tell you about democracy! Oh my god. Wait a sec, let me grab my phone.”
What follows is a surprisingly fun few hours of Merlin explaining modern British politics to an extremely discombobulated Uther.
“So you’re telling me that the king voluntarily removes himself from the ruling process and allows mere commoners to make decisions?”
“Oh yeah, the monarchy is just a figurehead. I say we abolish them”
“Insolent boy. You’re talking to a king!” growls the king without a kingdom or people to rule.
“Not anymore. Unless you want to go to Buckingham palace and have a word with Charles?”
“I have a mind to.”
Merlin snorts. He would love to see that.
“But don’t worry, a bunch of rich old people still have lots of say in the decisions. That’s what the house of lords is for. Kind of like your old court.”
“So this kingdom still has some semblance of sense.”
“Sure, Uther. Sure.”
Uther frowns again, his fingers tapping on the table. “But they really allow commoners to govern? Really? They are incapable of making any sort of decision. What do peasants even do all day? Their minds aren’t large enough to govern.”
“Uther,” Merlin warns, “You’re getting into Jacob Rees Mogg territory, we’ve talked about this.”
“I still don’t see the problem with this man. Or that Johnson fellow. Fine and noble men from what I’ve heard.”
At this point, Merlin is going to need another cup of tea, or maybe even coffee. “Of course you would be a Tory.” He buries his head in his hands.
Their research continues for a week and it is beginning to seem fruitless. Merlin’s extensive book collection has nothing to offer, and neither does the internet after he spends a whole day teaching Uther how to use it. He does get a kick out of seeing Uther google his own name though.
“Right.” He says on Saturday. He has spent a whole week of his life dealing with a brat of a king and he is exhausted. “I’m going out to town. I’m trusting you to stay here and not touch anything. Got that?”
Uther furrows his eyebrows and Merlin gets the horrible feeling that he’s not going to like his next words.
“I will accompany you.” Uther decides.
He was right.
“Excuse me?”
“I do not trust you alone, boy. Who knows what sorcery you might get up to.”
“Uther, I am over a thousand years old. I am not a boy.”
“Quiet, boy. I also wish to see my subjects in this ‘modern’ era.”
Say what you will about Uther Pendragon, but the man has a stubborn will that not even Merlin can break. He sits on the bus half an hour later, Uther in the window seat next to him. Merlin sighs yet again.
Uther’s hand reaches gradually inches over to the pole at Merlin’s left, and he slaps his hand away.
“No, we’re not there yet.”
“But I want to press the button.”
“Don’t press the button!”
Uther sulks for the remainder of the journey and doesn’t thank the bus driver on their way off, the monster.
Merlin tries to get him to sit quietly in the library while he shops, but the king refuses to leave his side, much to chagrin.
He follows him to the vegetable shop, making remarks to the shopkeeper that would not be out of place in a student bar. He follows him to the charity shops where he drops off some donations while Uther sneers. He follows him to his favourite art gallery, the knick knack shop that he frequents and all his usual haunts. But, most heinously, he follows him to Greggs.
“What is this place?” Uther wonders as they join the queue. “It smells of failure.”
Merlin whirls round. “How dare you! This is the best thing to come out of this miserable country.”
“It is common and awful.” He insists. His tune changes however, when he gets a taste of the sausage roll Merlin has bought him.
“Boy, what is this. I require ten.”
Merlin smirks. “the Greggs sausage roll, truly the pinnacle of British cuisine. Not that that’s saying much.”
“Another!”
“You can buy a pack of four if you heat them up yourself. I’ll get some for the house if that’ll stop you complaining about my cooking. You should try the vegan ones as well.”
His eyes widen. “Yes boy.” he breathes. “Acquire a month’s supply of these ‘sausage rolls’ and I will forgive all of your many transgressions.”
“Right.” Merlin rolls his eyes. Uther strides up to the counter where the poor employee is trying to serve the next person in line.
“You, sausage roll maid, do you make these?”
“Um… I guess I put this batch in the oven, yeah.”
“You are truly a master of your craft. Boy, provide her with gold, so that she can continue the creation of these wonders.”
“Oh, I can’t really…”
“Boy,” Uther’s tone is low and threatening.
“Alright, alright! Here, have a twenty just for dealing with this idiot. And four more to cover your entire stock of sausage rolls”
The poor girl stares in awe and befuddlement as Uther flounces out of the door, arms laden down with four packs of sausage rolls.
“Boy, I wish to acquire Greggs.” He says as they stagger down the street.
“You mean like buy? You want to buy Greggs?”
“Exactly. Only I will have access to its wonders. I know you are rich enough to achieve this.
“Uther, no.”
“Uther yes!”
The weeks go by and Uther gets no more tolerable. He does however gain an understanding of the modern world that lets Merlin leave the house without panicking that it will be burnt down when he gets back. He still doesn’t let him use the internet unmonitored, because if Uther Pendragon finds reddit, the world will actually end. Good goddess he hopes that man never finds reddit. He has, unfortunately, come across Tumblr and Twitter, both of which Merlin has forbidden him from going on under any circumstances.
Merlin spends an inordinate amount of money on Greggs.
In a way, Uther is like a teenage boy who Merlin has to somehow keep under control, and it is an exhausting and an emotionally and physically draining experience. This is why he never had kids.
Uther seems rather enthused about politics, which Merlin doesn’t discourage, but prevents him from going too far into. As long as he doesn’t find out about Britain First, it’s all good.
He does have to physically stop Uther from buying a train ticket to London in order to go to the house of commons and ‘give them all a taste of a true ruler’, but he figures that is a small price to pay all things considered.
He’s been keeping an eye on the news every day, stuck in anticipation of whatever world-ending event has brought Uther back, and it is a few months later that the BBC reporter, her face grave, breaks the news.
“Due to unknown circumstances, there is a nationwide shortage of Greggs sausage rolls, both vegan and meat. A spokesperson from the company said that their suppliers simply cannot keep up with the sudden demand and that they advise all customers in the South to continue shopping at Pret a Manger, and those unfortunate enough to live in the North to retreat inside their homes to wait out this travesty. Remaining supplies will be distributed based on proximity to Newcastle, and we are very sorry for your collective loss.” The newsreader pauses, wipes a tear from her eye, and continues, “Truly a devastating blow for the country. In other news, inflation has gone up again.”
Ah. This is it. The news that destroys the country. Merlin won’t be surprised if there is an uprising in a few days.
“Uther!” he calls, “I’ve figured it out!”
“So you’re saying that I came back in order to cause the crisis that will lead to my son’s return?” Uther questions incredulously after the news broadcast has finished and the BBC has moved on to Doctor Who.
“Exactly. Fate knew that I would have to introduce you to Greggs, and that you would fall in love with it so much that your greed would devastate the nation’s supplies. Therefore, Arthur will be forced to return and save the world from you. Just how it was in the old days.”
“I will not apologise for my actions. I am the only one who deserves Greggs. I will not sacrifice my happiness for sixty million peasants.”
“And that will be your downfall.” Merlin says. “Right, I’m off to lake Avalon to get Arthur. You coming with?”
“I suppose I must.” Uther grumbles. “I will bring my sausage roll with me.”
They scramble into the car, Uther moaning something about seatbelts being uncomfortable and Merlin burying his head in the steering wheel and taking a long sip from his travel mug. The journey doesn’t get much better until they get within sight of the lake and they both fall silent, perhaps awed by the mystic and generally magical nature of it.
Merlin parks on the road and drags the king by the sleeve down the path leading down to the bank.
“This is it.” he breathes. He can feel the power rustling through the trees and whistling under the ground. His chest tightens, perhaps with nerves or perhaps simply from the pure magic around him. He feels whole for the first time in centuries.
Uther stands next to him, looking distinctly annoyed by the magicalness of the moment.
There is a slight ripple in the water and Merlin finds his feet moving without his permission, feeling weightless as he rushes to the lakeside and watches. He has been waiting for this moment for centuries. For millennia. He has lived hundreds of lifetimes, waiting solely for this moment in time.
A hand breaches the surface of the water and Merlin gasps despite himself. He knows that hand. It is the hand of one experienced in the world, someone who has seen hardships and betrayal and…
“Freya?”
“Merlin!” the lady of the lake beams as the rest of her surfaces. “it’s so good to see you! How have you been?”
“Not so great. I’ve been looking after an ancient medieval king for the last few months. It’s been hell on earth.”
“Oh yeah, that. Well, thanks for taking care of him. It’s been so nice to have some peace and quiet in the afterlife.”
“I’m sure it has. Not that it isn’t lovely to see you, but where’s Arthur?”
Freya grimaces. “Oh yeah, him. He’s on his way. He’s just being a bit of a pain. He’s refusing to give his sword to the sihde guards. There’s rules, you know. No ancient weapons in the mortal world. Oh, looks like he finally gave in, here he comes now!”
And she reaches down under the water, re-emerging with another hand, one that Merlin knows like his own, even after all this time. Arthur Pendragon rises from the lake Avalon as he was always prophesised to do.
It’s a bit less graceful than Merlin imagined. Rather than rising like some sort of angel, he thrashes about in the water and splutters expletives at Freya and the guards down below. That is until he catches sight of Merlin and Uther on the bank.
His mouth drops open and Merlin swears he sees some tears in the corner of his eyes.
He doesn’t blame him – Merlin’s sobbing.
“Merlin!” He gasps out. “Where have you been? Why did you never join me?”
Merlin feels his own face fall. He isn’t sure he can speak with all the tears running down his face. “I’ve spent so many years wishing I could.” He manages. “I’ve spent so many years waiting. Waiting for you, waiting for my pain to end.”
“Merlin…”
“But you’re here! You’re actually here!” he rushes forward, ignoring Freya’s concerned gaze and the water’s cold touch. He grasps Arthur’s hands, turning them over in his own. “You’re here. You’re real. It’s really you.”
He collapses to the ground. Arthur holds him there.
“I’m here.” He murmurs. “I’m here. You’re not alone.”
“I’m sorry.” Merlin says. “I couldn’t save you. I have all this power and I couldn’t save you.”
“You idiot, Merlin. You did save me. You saved me by being my friend.”
“But I-“
“I’m here now.”
Merlin doesn’t know how long they stay like that. It could be hours, it could be mere minutes. No amount of time is long enough for Merlin to touch Arthur’s hands, his face, to make sure that he is really there. Alas, the time, in its cruelty, waits for no one.
“Look,” Freya says after a while. “This is all very touching, but we are all here for a reason. And you two should probably get out of the water - we don’t want Arthur getting hypothermia.”
This startles the two of them enough that they both fall on their backs in the water, and struggle up soaking wet.
Merlin would laugh if he wasn’t weeping.
“Arthur.” Uther nods as his son emerges from the lake.
Arthur fumbles a little, as if he hadn’t even noticed the man’s presence. “Father. How are you… what are you doing here?”
“It turns out that Uther was sent back to life to cause the catastrophic event that would lead to your resurrection.” Freya explains. “He’s set into motion a horrific set of events that you and Merlin will have to solve, but once you do, you’re free to live out the rest of your days in peace. Sound good?”
“I… what on earth have you done, Father?”
Uther grumbles something about sausage rolls under his breath.
“Your prat of a father caused a shortage of a key staple of people’s diets which led to a national emergency. The country is in anarchy. I think our first stop should be Newcastle – that’s where the uprisings are starting. They’re hoarding all the remaining sausage rolls for themselves.”
“Merlin, what are you talking about? What is a sausage roll?”
“You’ll see.” Merlin grins. “Freya, can you dispose of the surplus Pendragon?”
“I beg your pardon, boy!” Uther splutters. “I will not tolerate this disrespect! I have graciously allowed you in my presence for all these months and this is the thanks I get?”
“I’ll take care of him.” Freya promises. “come on, Uther. Back to Avalon.”
“No, no!” Uther screams, brandishing another twig from the ground. “I have discovered the secrets of the universe, I cannot go back!”
“Come on.” Merlin says to Arthur as they walk away from the feared tyrant of Camelot who sounds very much like a toddler having a tantrum. “I’ll get you caught up.”